Watching the raw footage of the temple caverns and the scholar’s rocks, Lev was impressed. The find was already turning out to be one that would cause history books to be rewritten and launch future studies.
‘I remember Lourds from the Atlantis discovery he worked on a couple of years ago.’ Ezra sat on the low couch with his elbows on his knees. A pair of pistols lay on the coffee table in front of him. ‘And there was that cache of books he found in Istanbul that no one knew about. He’s an interesting man.’
‘Thomas would laugh to hear you say that. He would act like it was nothing.’ Lev smiled knowingly. ‘But inside he would preen like a peacock.’ He stretched out his leg and took the weight off the prosthesis. ‘When I talk to him about this, I’m going to ask him why he didn’t find this the last time we were in the Himalayas.’
‘You were in the Himalayas?’
Lev nodded. ‘A few times.’ On some of those instances, he’d been there on Mossad business watching Indian and Pakistani troop movements. ‘Thomas and I worked among the Muslim Chinese Uighur tribes. Both of us have linguistic backgrounds, and we documented a lot of information on the tribesmen. They served as the custodians of the Mongol Empire. Their records, once Thomas and I had them deciphered, gave us a lot of information about the Mongols, trade along the Silk Road, and the Uighur Khaganate.’
‘And you lived in the Himalayas while you were doing this?’ Ezra looked impressed.
Lev nodded. ‘We did. On the southwestern side of the Himalayas.’
‘Sounds like good times.’
‘It was.’
‘That was sarcasm, by the way.’
‘I know.’ Lev smiled. ‘That was about fifteen years ago, when I was better equipped for getting around in mountainous terrain, before I lost my leg.’ He continued watching the special, and for the time being, his own problems seemed far away.
That night, in front of his computer, Lev sorted through the digital images of illustrated manuscripts he’d assembled. He had read the translations so many times that he’d practically memorized them. Leaning back in his chair, he tried to gather his thoughts.
He was missing a key to the puzzle before him, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.
In the other room, Ezra watched ESPN on the television. European football filled the screen.
Thinking about Lourds, Lev accessed some of his off-site files and brought up photographs taken from the time he and his friend had spent among the Uighurs. Those had been good times. Both of them had been young and competitive, with each other as well as with their hosts.
And they had made friends. Over the years, Lev had kept in touch with some of them. A man who lived his life constantly on the go hung on to the friends he made even though he didn’t see them for years.
Closing out the pictures, Lev stared at the image of Mohammad flying on al-Buraq. He clicked through the images, then saw the one that most disturbed him: the one where Mohammad had unknowingly dropped his copy of the Koran and the Scroll that foretold the future.
When he’d first heard that story, Lev hadn’t been able to forget it. A united Muslim front would mean the end of Israel. The jihad would sweep across the globe, and the world would never know peace again.
No matter what he had to do, who he had to risk, the Book and Scroll couldn’t fall into Muslim hands. He had sworn that when he’d found the first image of the falling Book and Scroll.
Lev had wanted to know if the story was just a fabrication. Or if it was true, he had wanted to find those things and save his people.
He frowned, displeased at how firmly he’d gotten stuck on the project. It wasn’t his own hubris that kept him from seeking out help. The Israeli government hadn’t wanted him spreading the knowledge that he was looking for Mohammad’s lost Koran. Even admitting the Book might exist would be harmful to his people.
There were few people he could trust.
But he trusted one man. And maybe it was time to bring him into the fold.
If he would come.
Lev brought up Facebook and quickly went through his list of contacts.
Ziya Kadeer had been a young boy fifteen years ago when Lev had first met him. Now he was an import/export businessman in Artux, in the northeastern section of the Tarim Basin, the foothills of the Himalayas. They still exchanged letters, though these days they were more likely to be texts or Facebook messages.
When he checked, Lev found that Ziya was logged on to Facebook. He opened a dialogue box.
Ziya, how are you?
I am well, Professor Strauss! Good to hear from you!
They caught up for a few moments, then Lev made his decision.
Have you heard from Thomas lately?
No, but I see he is in the news! Again!!!
I know. He was always the lucky one.
Lev sent that, then immediately thought better of it and appended the message with another.
No, let me take that back. Thomas has put nothing ahead of his work. Those kind make their own good fortune.
And Lev had decided that what his own project needed was a little luck.
I have a favor to ask, my friend.
Anything.
Can you get someone to carry a message to Thomas for me?
You cannot call him?
I’d rather this be private. The only communications they have up in those mountains will be whatever the BBC provides. Or perhaps a short-wave radio.
Sure. But it will take a few days to get someone up there where they are.
I can wait. Thomas isn’t going anywhere for a while if he can help it.
Lev felt guilty for what he was asking Lourds to do, but it couldn’t be helped. Maybe if Lourds looked at the material for a day or two, he could help break the problem. Or at least provide a fresh perspective to work from.
I appreciate this, Ziya.
No sweat, prof. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t ever have been able to go to college. I owe you.
Thanks.
They talked a bit longer, then Lev passed on the message to Lourds, signed off, and returned to his work. At first, he thought he’d been too quick to send for Lourds, but tonight wasn’t the first time he’d considered getting in touch with his old friend. The Israeli government people Lev was dealing with wouldn’t be happy, though. They didn’t want outsiders involved in this project.
Gazing back at the television in the living area, Lev saw another television spot about Lourds and the find at the temple.
The Israeli government definitely wasn’t going to appreciate the way Lourds seemed to draw the public eye.
But Lev was convinced there was no other choice. He’d taken his search as far as he could on his own. It was time for new blood.
The cell phone on the desk vibrated. Lev picked it up and punched the button. ‘Hello.’
‘Lev?’
He tried to place the female voice and couldn’t.
‘I’m in trouble. I need help.’ The speaker sounded hurt and afraid. ‘Please, Lev.’
His fist tightened on the phone.
‘Lev, it’s Alice.’
Lev remembered her then. Alice Reinstadler had been Lourds’s lover when they’d all been attending the Vienna School of Languages. He’d always had a crush on her, but he’d never acted on it out of respect for Lourds. Then, after whatever had happened between Lourds and Alice had happened, she’d gotten married off by her parents to that racist imbecile, Klaus Von Volker.
‘Alice.’
‘Yes.’ She choked back a sob, but sounded happy that he’d recognized her voice. ‘I need help, Lev.’