The Sacred Cipher (5 page)

Rodriguez rapidly realized he would need all of that skill and experience if he was
going to help his brother-in-law create a catalog of the volumes now before his eyes.

“I never expected this,” Rodriguez said, bending at the waist under the low ceiling.
He stood close to the safe, intently inspecting what he could see of the books, scrolls,
and other documents stacked throughout the interior. “Tom . . . this . . . is amazing.”

“That’s why I was so anxious to get you down here.” Bohannon stepped toward Rodriguez
and leaned his hand on the door of the massive safe. “I don’t know what to make of
this. But I need to have some solid information to give to our board.”

Rodriguez looked at his brother-in-law and realized he had never seen Tom so animated,
or so nervous. Joe Rodriguez found a kindred spirit in Tom. Tom and his sister, Deirdre,
were raised in a Catholic family. But when their parents became “born-again Christians,”
it was Deirdre who was much more active in living her faith than her older brother.
Tom was sort of lost in limbo. Joe could relate to that. He was a lapsed Catholic
and the object of Deirdre’s constant prayers.

Rodriguez recognized that there was some of the kid, some of the investigator, some
of the taskmaster present today as Bohannon eagerly watched him caress the volumes
in the safe. Tom’s excitement meter was topping out. “Let’s get going, eh?” he said
to Joe. “Let’s find out what we have here.”

“Tom, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” said Rodriguez. He stepped away from the safe,
inched across the room, and rested himself against the old wooden desk, giving his
neck a break. “But I can’t examine these books here. This place is filthy, and the
contents of that safe could be worth—who knows what? We should get some of the airtight
bins we have at the library and transport the entire contents of the safe back to
the archival-recovery room at HSS.”

Bohannon stared at him blankly.

“Humanities and Social Sciences . . . the library on Bryant Park?” said Rodriguez.

The old plaster, broken through to create a rough door, smelled like decaying chalk.
Rodriguez could feel the grit in his teeth. His throat was desperate for water. No
more desperate than the look on Tom’s face.

“You can’t do that Joe . . . not yet.” Bohannon stood at the safe, his left hand resting
on the top of the door. “I need to know what’s in here first. We—”

“We, nothing,” interrupted Joe. “C’mon, Tom, look around. The best thing we can do
for these books and documents is to get them out of here. Get them in an environment
that’s a lot less threatening than this dusty attic. What’s the matter with you?”

Tom crossed the room and leaned on the desk next to his brother-in-law. His eyes were
on the safe.

“Joe, I know these books can’t stay here,” he said. “But I need to know . . . at least
have some information about . . . what we’ve found before we move anything. I report
to a board of directors. There’s a ‘need-to-know’ factor involved here. I have a responsibility
to tell them, but I don’t even know what we’ve discovered. Look, let’s get the stuff
out of the safe. Make a list of what we’ve found, some assessment of what it’s worth,
and then I’ll know what I’m talking about. After that, we can move the books to a
safer place. Whaddaya say?”

The back of Rodriguez’s neck, where his spine met his shoulder blades, tightened into
a knot. He looked around at the tight space, the dust of ages, and he shuddered. But
he also had a boss to whom he reported.

“Okay . . . but this is how it’s going down,” emphasized Rodriguez. “First, we clean
this place—with the safe doors sealed. We get some of the airtight bins from the library.
We’ll catalog all this stuff, but”—he raised an index finger to punctuate his point—“anything
I find that is precious or dangerously fragile goes in a bin and returns to the library
with me, immediately. Is that a deal?”

Over the next two days, Rodriguez orchestrated a meticulous process designed to preserve
and protect the books while creating a catalog of the safe’s contents. Their first
challenge was to clean the office, removing as much of the dust as possible, and then
to create within the office as many clean surfaces as possible on which to place the
documents. Rodriguez set up his laptop and connected to WIFI, not only for record
keeping, but also to help investigate and identify the contents through Libweb, the
Worldwide Internet Library Network. They also secured the room with a solid door.

Then began the painstaking process of gently removing each item from the safe and
minutely investigating it—first the cover and the edges, then the contents of the
book, hoping to uncover its origin and pedigree.

Between the two of them, Rodriguez and Bohannon began closing in on some answers.
The majority of the documents in the safe had been sent to Klopsch by his colleague,
the nineteenth-century English preacher Charles Spurgeon, who had accumulated them
during his many regular trips to the Middle East, or by those associated with Spurgeon
whom Spurgeon had asked to forward biblical documents to Klopsch.

After the safe was emptied, Rodriguez inspected its various small drawers and cubbies.
There were three small, inlaid drawers built upon the center shelf of the safe. The
two smaller drawers were closed and locked, and they had yet to find a key among the
contents of the safe or the office.

Opening the middle drawer, Rodriguez discovered a bundle wrapped up in a delicately
designed silk covering—a purse that was fastened shut. As he opened the purse, a sheet
of paper fell out and into the drawer. Rodriguez placed the purse on a shelf, picked
up the paper, and began to read. “Hey, Tom . . . listen to this . . .”

Dear Louis
,

I am enclosing a document of the utmost importance and sensitivity. Within it are
written certain assertions, which, if true and verified, will dramatically alter our
understanding of the past, our perception of the present, and our hope of the future
—
a future that may breathe of the same atmosphere you and I now draw into our lungs.
It is also one of the most dangerous documents in existence. A document that I am
convinced some men would commit murder to possess and other men would commit murder
to destroy
.

I convey it to you and place it into your sacred trust with a prayer to the Almighty
for your safety and a hope that you may discover how to unlock the veracity or illegitimacy
of the document and its claims, while at the same time avoiding any undue risk to
your personal well-being and the well-being of that anointed endeavor you have undertaken
along the Bouerie in New York
.

You may place your absolute trust and confidence in Dr. Schwartzman of Trinity, a
true friend of Christ and an able ally for your vital pursuit. Wire me with any revelations.
May our Lord and Saviour hold you in His most faithful hands
.

Charles

Perspiring from the cramped quarters in the small office, Rodriguez’s damp skin rippled
with an icy apprehension as he watched Bohannon walk over to the shelf and pick up
the silk purse. “What could this little package contain that would have Spurgeon fearing
for his safety and the safety of his friend?” Bohannon asked. He turned it over in
his hand, unfastened the clasp, reached inside, and withdrew a metal cylinder, about
the girth of a midsized telescope. “Joe, what do you think this thing is?”

Reaching out his gloved hands, Rodriguez took the cylinder, gently placed it on the
space he was using as a workbench, and pulled a lamp closer for more light. A round,
engraved metal container, about four inches in diameter and about eight inches long,
it had a thinner, metal rod running through the center. The rod had been turned on
a lathe, producing knurls and nubs for decoration on both of its ends.

“This is a mezuzah,” said Rodriguez, “a scroll container. The most common type of
mezuzah is the small container most Jewish families affix to the frame of their front
door. You take a small piece of paper, write on it a segment of the law—the Torah—and
insert it into the mezuzah. A religious person will touch the mezuzah and kiss his
finger every time he leaves or enters his home.

“They can be made of many materials, but metal is one of the longest lasting and most
common. This one looks like bronze. It’s not the most beautiful or ornate case I’ve
ever seen, but it sure looks old. See,” he said, pointing to the side of the case,
“the metal has begun to pit. What started out with a luminous shine is now streaked
with age. And there are signs of hairline stress fractures along the surface.”

Gently turning the case over, Rodriguez scanned its surface. “You know, a religious
mezuzah is never meant to be removed, never allowed to be discarded, because it contains
the words of God.” He continued his examination while he contemplated what he knew
about these scroll holders. On one side of the metal tube, tightly secured to the
side of the container, was a thin, three-sided, metal appendage about the size of
a pencil but in the shape of a “U,” with the open side against the cylinder. After
some inspection, Rodriguez figured this metal addition was a handle of some type,
but it appeared to be sealed to the side of the cylinder, apparently with wax.

“In order to get rid of a mezuzah, it has to be buried,” he said, gently inspecting
all of the container’s pieces. “Many synagogues around the world have repositories
where mezuzahs and scrolls are kept until there is a quantity large enough for an
official burial. But some are never emptied. One was discovered in Cairo with scrolls
written in the hand of Maimonides. Besides being used for religious purposes, a mezuzah
was often a protection for important documents.”

Gently twitching the metal rod that ran through the middle of the cylinder, Rodriguez
detected a tightening and slacking of something inside, a movement that also produced
the slightest movement in the metal handle. “Hmm . . . there is something in here.”

Bohannon came closer, hovering over the table where his brother-in-law was so carefully
working.

“There is definitely something inside,” Rodriguez said, “most likely a parchment that’s
attached to the rod and released by pulling on the handle. But there appears to be
only one way to get it open and get a look at the parchment inside. We’ve got to try
and unroll it, using the handle.” He looked down to the metal case on the bench. “There’s
just no guarantee what will happen. The parchment could break. Once we break that
wax seal, the parchment will be exposed to air and humidity again and could begin
to deteriorate.”

Bohannon looked him squarely in the eye. “It’s a risk, right?”

“Yeah,” said Rodriguez, nodding his head, “but Spurgeon must have risked opening it
up. And it survived well enough for him to send it to Klopsch.”

“It looks like a number of people have gone to extraordinary lengths to ensure the
safekeeping of this mezuzah. If there is a scroll inside, they obviously wanted somebody
to read it,” said Bohannon. “Seems to me it would be a crime not to take the risk.
Go ahead. Let’s see what’s inside.”

With the metal case still resting on the workbench, Rodriguez took a small, sharp
knife and cut into the wax seal. Then he grasped the metal rod in his left hand and
turned it slowly until he felt pressure from inside. Like a thief trying to crack
the combination of a safe, Rodriguez, his eyes closed, tried to sense the willingness
of the parchment to move. As his left hand made minute moves to turn the metal shaft,
his right hand slowly drew away the handle, pulling out the parchment. It was surprisingly
easy.

“There is very little drag. The parchment inside is turning freely,” Rodriguez said,
his eyes still closed. “I don’t feel any breaking or tearing.” Well before he had
reached arm’s length, Rodriguez abruptly stopped.

“I think that’s it. There was a slight pull up on the handle,” Rodriguez said, opening
his eyes.

“What is it?” Bohannon asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The Spurgeon parchment lay on the table in front of them, stretched out between the
engraved metal mezuzah and the small metal handle that had been on its side. Rodriguez
stared intently at the handwritten characters on the surface of the scroll.

The parchment was about five inches wide and just short of two feet long. It was covered
with twenty-one columns of symbols arranged in seven groupings—three vertical rows
of symbols in each of the groupings.