“So,” DeSantos said, “the takeaway here is that there was no Jesus.”
“It’s not a new concept,” Roey said. “It’s been theorized, according to what I was told. But this is proof. As close to proof as you can get. Back before the religion was founded, before anyone could judge it. Pure witness to the thoughts and plannings of a person or a group of people who wanted to put down in writing something that they hoped would resonate with others.”
Benny got tired of waiting for Vail to play so he brought his ball back to DeSantos, who again grabbed it and lifted the dog off the ground.
“Why keep this secret?” Uzi said. “Why haven’t you gone public with Zayde’s translation — with his story? It’s of great historical, archaeological, and religious importance.”
Roey examined the inside of his empty mug. He rose and poured himself another cup, then did the same for the others. “Ask yourself this, Aaron: will it change anything?”
“Absolutely.”
“I mean in positive ways. There are those who’ll have their beliefs shaken. It could destroy their lives, shake them to their core.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Wait a minute,” DeSantos said as he lowered Benny to the ground and played tug of war with the ball. “I’m no expert, but my sister likes to dig into scriptures and I’ve gotten stuck in a few debates with her. One thing she’s pointed out is that the authors of the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke wrote to different audiences and painted different pictures of the person of Jesus — depending on what they wanted their audiences to understand. Seems to me that suggests Jesus wasn’t just one person, but a combination of people with diverse personalities who could appeal to many types of people by being different to each of them.”
“I don’t know much of the New Testament,” Uzi said, “but we don’t have to look at this as just a religious concept. Isn’t each of us really a composite — husband, father, law enforcement officer, brother, son, friend?”
“That’s true,” Roey said. “But the problem is you can’t strip out the religious aspect. This goes to the heart of Christianity. Jesus is the central figure. If you ‘prove’ that he never existed, it could shake people’s belief structure.”
“I agree with your dad,” Vail said. “Faith is a deeply personal thing. It gives some the will to survive, a purpose, a focus in life. To others, organized religion is a community. What good would come of harming the very thing these people believe in?”
“Not to mention the political damage to the Vatican,” Roey said. “It’s taken centuries to repair the relations between the Church and Judaism. The Church has apologized for declaring that the Jews killed Jesus. That was huge. And that’s just one example.” He shook his head. “No, the scroll’s best left hidden away.”
Uzi considered that a moment. “You’re being judge and jury, Dad. I think you need to make it available and let the scholars and religious sages draw the proper conclusions. For the people, the followers, if their faith is strong, a document can’t shake their beliefs.”
“But it can, Aaron. Religion is a very powerful thing, my boy. Trust me: the scroll’s best left ‘undiscovered.’”
“Well,” DeSantos said, “that’s the problem.”
“Why?” Roey looked at each of them. “You found it? You found the scroll?”
“It’s been found, yes. But we don’t have it. Someone else does.”
Roey waited, but no one volunteered additional information. “Well? Who’s got it?”
Uzi turned to DeSantos, who shook his head, warning him off.
Vail jumped in. “We can’t say. For now, let’s just say we don’t control them and what they do with the scroll.”
Roey’s face flushed.
“What’s wrong?” Vail asked.
“Someone came by last week asking about the scroll — the translation, actually.”
Vail, Uzi, and DeSantos glanced at each other.
“Who was it?” Uzi asked.
“Someone I knew many years ago. When you were a young boy.”
“And why would this person ask about something he doesn’t even know exists?”
“Because he does know it exists. He’s known about it for decades.”
“Who is it?”
Roey took another drink, then stared into the mug as he considered the question a moment. “Gideon Aksel.”
32
Gideon?” Uzi asked. “How the hell does a retired family physician know the director general of Mossad?”
Uzi struggled to put it together. Then he thought of what his father had said: things were not what they appeared to be.
“You were a Mossad agent,” Vail said. “Just like your father. Just like your son. Am I right?”
Uzi’s head swung to Vail — and back to his father — so fast that he heard the joints crack in his neck.
“Dad?”
Roey lifted his mug. Uzi grabbed his wrist. “Dad, answer her.”
“He doesn’t have to, Boychick. Knox knows your dad, your dad knows Aksel. Your grandpops and father were Mossad. For you …” He shrugged. “Seems preordained.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Roey said.
Uzi let go of his arm. “It had nothing to do with my father, Santa. I applied, they rejected me. It was Rafi Eitan who—”
“No.” Roey leaned back in his seat. “I was the one who killed your application. I didn’t want my son having the type of life I lived, the type of life my father lived. It wasn’t good for a family. Your mother — well, she was the one who made me see it. She asked me to make it so they wouldn’t take you.”
Uzi had applied but never got a response — which meant they were not interested. It wasn’t until Rafi Eitan, a legendary Mossad operative, pulled strings. That’s when Uzi got the call that started his career in spy work. Or so he thought.
Roey grabbed another slice of jerky and tossed it to Benny. “You were exceptionally bright, Aaron, and loved technology. Your mother and I wanted you to pursue that. But if we’d come out and told you that, you never would’ve listened. This way, you made the decision for yourself.”
“With some ‘help’ from you and Mom. You manipulated me.”
“All parents manipulate their children — to eat healthy, to do their homework, to be kind to others—”
“This is different. I was an adult.”
Roey nodded slowly. “I know. I told your mother it was wrong. You were happy at Intel, but I knew you still had that burning desire, the same burning desire I had so many years before. Unless I removed that hold I’d placed on your name, you wouldn’t get anywhere, and I knew it wasn’t something you could accept. So I called Gideon.”
“You knew Gideon?”
“I worked under him early in his career. We’ve stayed in touch.”
“Are you still working for them?”
“You know I can’t answer that.”
As Uzi sat there, a horrible thought occurred to him: if his father had not paved his way into Mossad, Dena and Maya would still be alive.
He rose from his chair and clasped the back of his neck.
Uzi willed himself to stop thinking like that. He had an important case. People were depending on him. He had to focus, push it aside.
“Boychick, you okay?”
“He’s wondering, Hector, if he should disown me,” Roey said. “If I’d left well enough alone, if I hadn’t removed that barrier, he never would’ve gotten into Mossad and his wife and daughter wouldn’t have been murdered.”
“Uzi,” Vail said.
“He’ll be fine,” Roey said. “He just needs a minute.”
Uzi turned to Roey, a hollow, emotionless look on his face, and said, “We’ve got a case to work.” He stood up and pushed in his chair. “Thanks for your help. And the coffee.”