Shrouded in Silence (41 page)

Guido frowned. "You're kidding." He looked again. "You're not!"

Jack grabbed his end and Guido took the other. They walked the table over under the light by the remains of some long-dead monk. A biretta on the skull gave the figure a ghastly, haunted look; bones dangling out of the deteriorating sleeves hung lifelessly. Obviously, some now departed priest had given the corpse a few touch-ups probably intended to convey a warning message of some variety or the other.

"We've got everything in order," Jack said. "You ready, Guido?"

"I think it is time to start calling me Jonas De Lateran again. Generations and generations of my family are standing behind me in this effort. This is a moment that the centuries have waited to see."

Michelle came bounding down the stairs. "I've got 'em." She held up a screwdriver, pliers, tweezers, and a small hammer. "Let's start the operation."

"Jonas, you are the one who should open the box. Your hands are the right ones and have been conditioned by a long family history."

Jonas picked up the screwdriver and hammer. He bowed his head and closed his eyes. After a deep breath, he said. "I'm ready."

The screwdriver slipped between the edges in the middle of the pieces of volcanic rock. With gentle taps, Guido began prying the sections loose. A popping noise signaled movement. Finally, the rock lid broke open. Guido picked up the top and lifted the piece to one side.

"There it is!" Michelle shrieked.

Jack leaned over and stared at two portions of papyrus lying one on top of the other. "I can't believe my eyes." He reached in his pocket for a pair of rubber gloves. "I brought these up earlier in case we got this far. I can't believe I'm about to touch this priceless document."

Michelle handed him a pair of tweezers. "I had these in my desk drawer. You'll need them to lift the pieces out."

Jack smiled. "We're about to open the treasure of the ages."

54

T
he dimness of the crypt settled around the room while long opaque shadows fell around the chamber. Jack leaned over the two sheets of ancient papyrus on the small table, studying them carefully. With the tweezers Michelle handed him, he pulled the fragile pieces apart and laid them side by side. Jonas De Lateran hovered over his shoulder watching carefully.

"The legend I picked up from my father was that some ancient ancestor named Plautius Laterani found this ending to the Gospel of Mark while pursuing the Apostle Peter," Jonas said. "When the male members of our family gathered in seclusion after each year's formal Easter services, they always shared such stories. Supposedly, the end had been torn off during Nero's persecution of the Christians. Of course, the centuries may have added to the stories, and this account may be nothing more than an old myth."

"Fascinating though," Michelle said. "It adds an aura to this moment. Come on, Jack. Keep looking."

"My father also said that Ambrogio di Laterani became alarmed during the Norman conquest of South Italy and Sicily in the last half of the eleventh century. His concern caused the ending to the Gospel to be hidden permanently. Ambrogio's fear precipitated the placement of the two portions behind the baptistery. Of course, none of these ancestors spoke or read ancient Greek so they had no idea what it said. Possibly, they even attributed magical powers to the text. Amazing story, isn't it?"

Jack bent closer. "The journey of these pieces of ancient parchment into the contemporary era is a big story unto itself. It will be an important part of the explanation we present when our translation work is done." He pulled the two pieces more directly into the light. "Let's see exactly what these lines say."

"As we all know, the New Testament was written in Koine Greek, which was the common language of the street," Jonas said. "The everyday folks made significant changes from the old Doric and Ionic dialects. The shifts produced a New Testament in the language of the common people."

"Yes," Michelle added. "We studied how the Ionic branch gave birth to the Attic dialect from which Koine sprang. Jack knows this subject well."

Townsend said nothing as his fingers moved quickly and adroitly across the lines of the manuscript. "The last lines that we have from Mark's Gospel say something like 'they went out and fled the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them; and they said nothing to any one, for they were afraid.' That's where this papyri should pick up the story."

"Does it?" Jonas pressed.

"Y-yes," Jack said slowly. "But it doesn't continue with a resurrection account. It suggests that Jesus defeated evil through his resurrection and the final victory over death was his. It ends by saying 'we have been delivered from the present evil age.'"

"Everybody raise their hands slowly," Albert Stein's voice echoed out of the darkness.

"Stein!" Jack barely whispered.

"I've got this gun trained on you, and I'm more than prepared to shoot," Albert Stein said. "Now back away from the table."

"How did you get here?" Jonas growled.

"I thought you would come back to the church to open the little stone sarcophagus. It's how you think, Jack. You've got that little macabre twist in your personality, and you love the past. You're mired down in those ancient texts. I was correct."

"You're projecting your own draconian motivations onto me," Jack said, lifting his hands in the air.

"And the doors need better locks." Stein motioned with his gun. "Back up against the wall. All of you."

"Do what he says." Jack stepped back. "You know what he's capable of."

Michelle and Jonas lined up beside him and started stepping back.

"This time I will win, Jack," Stein said. "You were lucky back at the church, but there's no one here to save you." He reached out and picked up the tweezers. "I'm putting the document back in the stone box and will be leaving with it." Stein carefully lifted the parchment back into the stone container. "I should kill all of you, but I want you to be around when the story comes out in the paper describing how I found the original ending to Mark's Gospel in a church baptistery in Rome. I know there'll be poetic justice in your seeing my victory."

"You're crazy!" Michelle hissed.

"No, I'm the winner." Stein grinned. "Now if you'll excuse me. I must be on my way."

"You'll never get away with this," Jonas said.

"Oh, but I already have." Stein started backing to the stairs. "I have a tight schedule this evening and must be about my journey. Good evening, dearest friends." He quickly hustled up the stairs. Moments later the sound of the church door slamming echoed through the building.

"Stein's escaping!" Michelle screamed. "We've got to call the police!"

"It doesn't matter now," Jack said.

"What do you mean?" Guido gasped.

"I don't get it." Michelle pleaded.

Jack slumped back against the wall and looked at the skeleton hanging leisurely against the wall with a biretta on its head. "Seems we are in the appropriate place to celebrate a death, a demise of a great search. Unfortunately, the Greek in this document is in the language of Plutarch. By contrast, the language of the New Testament was strongly affected by Hebrew and Aramaic. The Semitic influence came from the business and street usage of Greek. It was the natural living lingo of everyday life. This document was written in the language of literature with a much more formal structure. My guess is it was written by a professional scribe of some sort."

"What are you saying?" Michelle asked.

"The biblical ending of Mark and these pieces of the manuscript are different. It's like reading
Don Quixote
in Castilian Spanish and then going to Texas and speaking Tex-Mex."

Jonas slumped. "The pieces don't fit?" His voice fell. "After all these centuries, I find out that this carefully concealed document was a fraud?"

"It has importance," Jack said. "Anything this old is significant. Most, most, most sadly, however, is that it's not the authentic ending."

"We've truly lost everything," Jonas groaned.

"No," Jack said. "Dr. Albert Stein has lost everything. He'll discover in time that the manuscript is only a fake. As he would say, 'that's poetic justice.' "

Deafening quietness settled over the crypt. A pained appearance washed over Jonas's face and his mouth dropped. "We've failed." Jonas looked like he was about to become ill.

"No!" Michelle suddenly interjected. "No, not at all! We haven't failed. Take a second look. We've written a new chapter in an ancient story. This isn't the end of the road."

"What do you mean?" Jonas asked.

"One of the most intriguing stories of all time is how the Scriptures have been preserved and handed down through countless difficulties. We have everything from Codex Vaticanus and Codex Sinaiticus to a host of textual fragments including the Hesychian or Egyptian type as well as Byzantine texts. There are more copies of this story than any other ancient document. These countless editions bare witness to the extraordinary value that the ancients placed on this story. What Jonas's ancestors did in hiding the two fragments is itself an astonishing story reflecting the value they placed on the New Testament."

She paused and took a deep breath. "No, we haven't lost," Michelle said. "We've simply found another example of the importance of our work. Don't miss the fact that we, the three of us, have already experienced the fulfillment of the message written in these two pages. This very night we have already been delivered from evil in this age. We have escaped death this evening. We simply didn't find exactly what we've been hunting."

Jonas nodded slowly and then shook his head more emphatically. "Yes, yes, I believe you are right."

Jack rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "You're absolutely correct. Dear, I think you've remembered the most important truth of all. Regardless of the origins, the message on this ancient papyri remains true. It may not be Scripture, but its witness is true. By the grace of God, we've found our way through a multitude of skeletons in the world's oldest closet."

"I know we live in a complex time," Jonas said. "Still, it is amazing how events have turned out. Tony Mattei wanted to tyrannize and terrify by destroying his perceived and imaginary enemies, but even at this moment he's on the way to life behind bars. Albert Stein was willing to pay any price to gain prominence and fame, but he's running into the night to escape capture. A racist like Klaus Burchel ended up on the floor dead. And here we are. The survivors! It isn't what I expected either, but I am grateful. Yes, deeply grateful to be alive."

If nothing else, eventually Stein will have to turn the document over to other scholars for their examination if he wants any sort of credit for coming up with a fraud. If nothing else, he'll add another document for scholars to argue about. My hunch is that good ol' Albert is too arrogant to admit such a defeat."

"No," Michelle said. "We've done much more than circumvent an evil man. We have penetrated the darkness with an unquenchable light."

55

T
he typical congestion of Rome's street traffic continued at its usual frantic pace down Vicolo del Bologna in front of the Dar Poeta sidewalk café. Luichi walked from table to table taking orders and swinging the silver coffeepot with his usual artistic flourishes. Even though it was late November, sitting outside with a sweater on felt exhilarating. Somewhere down some boulevard, the sirens of a fire engine signaled an emergency. No one slowed. Off in the distance, the top of the magnificent dome of St. Peter's Basilica towered above the surrounding buildings.

Jack and Michelle Townsend sat leisurely at one of the small tables eating breakfast. Now and then, Jack casually looked up and watched the endless parade of all shapes and sizes walking down the street.

"You really enjoy watching the sideshow," Michelle said.

"Really? Hmm. Perhaps." Jack grinned.

"Perhaps, nothing," she said. "Those artichokes cooked in the Roman-Jewish style are the only thing you like more than watching the marching army of the strange and beautiful go by."