Then there would be the matter of actually making the dive. The thought of that one curled his hair a little bit. He would be breaking every fundamental rule of diving: You never go down at night; you never go down alone or at least without surface backup; you never go into something without having the first damned idea of what’s down there — how big it really is, how deep, what the water temperature is… all fundamental stuff. It would also be cave diving, the most dangerous kind of diving. He’d read books about it, and at the end of each one he’d sworn he’d never even try that.
As he stood in the shower, his better sense was fairly shouting at him not to go through with this harebrained plan. He should call Judith, tell her what he’d really been doing and what he’d discovered. She might not believe it, but once she told the archaeology world what he’d found, especially the slab, someone would mount a proper expedition.
He took a deep breath and then put off making his decision. Right now, it was time to get into character as an innocent tourist. He wondered what Adrian would have thought of all this. He could almost hear her: Go for it!
Judith was attending to her laundry when Professor Ellerstein called Saturday evening. Half expecting Skuratov, she had almost not picked up the phone. Hearing Ellerstein’s avuncular voice was a relief.
“Yehudit, how are you?” Ellerstein began, his voice solicitous. No hint of condemnation.
“I’m back, Yossi. I suppose you’ve heard what happened down there?”
“I have indeed. Armin Strauss called me. It seems we now have to have a meeting tomorrow. As much as I love meetings, I can hardly wait.”
“What are they saying?”
“They? Himself wrings his hands, as is his custom. The IAA is waiting for the security people at Metsadá to verify that no harm was done.”
“I think that will come out all right,” she said, trying to keep a hopeful tone out of her voice. The American better not have been digging. “They took a quick look around for me Friday morning. Nothing seems to have been disturbed.”
“Yes, that is what Strauss reported. That you felt the man really was just wandering around up there, communing with the spirits, exactly as he said he wanted to do. I think this is not all that serious. The man probably simply succumbed to the mystery of the place.”
She hesitated for a moment. “I’m not sure Colonel Skuratov will see it that way.”
This time it was Ellerstein who hesitated. “Colonel Skuratov? Who is this Colonel Skuratov? How is he involved with this matter?”
“He is someone important in the military security services at Dimona. He came to see me the night before we left for Metsadá. He told me that the IDF was concerned about what this American was doing, going down there.”
Ellerstein cleared his throat. “Oh, yes. I think I remember him. Odd-looking Russian. Some extreme history there. But Dimona? What on earth—”
“Yes, I had the same question. All he said was that they wanted me to watch this American for them.”
“Them? What them? You mean Shin Bet? Why would they care?”
“I have no idea, Yossi,” she said. “I–I had met this Skuratov before. He was one of the people from Dimona who came along the night they told me Dov had been killed. He is… memorable.”
“Yes, that’s the one. I remember now: The military cops called him Colonel Lazarus. A Russian Jew. They say that thirty years ago he escaped out of the Gulag and managed to walk out into Turkey. In the dead of winter. So he was interested in our Mr. Hall?”
“He came here to tell me to keep a good eye on him. Some good eye, hunh?”
“Does he know what happened?”
“I called his office yesterday morning, after calling the chairman. He had given me his card and asked me — well, ordered me, actually — to call if anything went out of the ordinary. I left a message. I assume he knows by now. I’m expecting his call.” Judith found herself looking out the window for that big black car. “I can hardly wait.”
“Yehudit, don’t worry about it,” Ellerstein said quickly. “These security people poke their noses into everything. You did what was expected of you. Don’t let this man browbeat you. It’s not as if you work for him. Forget about it. He calls, gives you grief, you tell him to call Strauss. You don’t work for those people.”
“Okay, Yossi. I’m glad you called. Now: What happens Monday?”
“That is a separate issue, Yehudit. Despite what happened down there. You can rest assured that what the American did has no bearing on that discussion. I trust you took some time to do a little soul searching?”
“Yes, I did. Believe it or not, Mr. Hall and I even discussed it. He offered to serve as a neutral sounding board. As he pointed out, he had no stake in the outcome. He was a good sounding board, actually. Americans. They are so damned… direct.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?”
“Your anger about his little adventure makes more sense now. You began to trust him a little, yes? Enough to talk to him, to talk about yourself. Then he deceived you.”
A long silence. “Yes, I suppose that’s partly true.”
“Let me change the subject a bit, back to Metsadá. What parts of the site did he seem most interested in?”
She had to reflect for a moment. “Parts? No one part, really. He found the whole thing of interest. As I told the chairman’s office, he spent one day up there by himself. The guards said he wandered all over the place, taking some notes, but not doing anything out of the ordinary. Although—”
“Yes?”
“One guy said he appeared to be surveying the middle ground. Between the western palace and the eastern gate.”
“Surveying?”
“Well, sort of measuring it. Pacing it off. Of course, there is nothing there. Only empty space between the major ruins.”
“I see,” Ellerstein said.
“You do?”
“Well, no, not really. I mean, that doesn’t sound significant, does it. Who knows what he was thinking. Is he going home now?”
“No, he’s going diving, at Caesarea. Underwater tours.”
“Yes, okay, that’s good. All done with Metsadá. Welclass="underline" Back to Monday. I think there is a way you might be able to short-circuit that whole problem. I mean, by taking the initiative right at the beginning.”
“What: Confess my sins? Rend garments? Offer to anoint some feet?”
“Not sins, Yehudit,” he replied, gently ignoring her sarcasm, “but perhaps explain that you realize that you’ve been wrapped in the widow’s shawl for too long. That you have thought the matter over, that you will work on coming out of your shell. That you will perhaps seek some professional counseling. That you will agree to engage in some collegial projects again.”
“Why should I offer to do these things?”
“Listen to you,” he said, laughing. “Have you forgotten your academic politics?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Because, if you can do this, you will take the pressure off the chairman. You will have raised the problem, instead of making him do it. You will propose the solution, the measures that must be taken. This relieves them from having to do anything.”
He was silent for a moment, and Judith saw the logic. No academic ever wanted to “do something” when it came to personnel issues.
“Then all they have to do is nod their heads enthusiastically, talk supportively. Talk, not act. These are academic bureaucrats, yes? Solve their problem for them, Yehudit, and all this talk of termination goes away.”