ER?”
“I didn’t have a chance. They had already left by the time I got there. I was able to get a name and number of one of them, Robert Farrell. I put it down at the bottom of the page.”
“Did you get to speak with her mother when she came in to make the ID?”
“I wanted to but got called out on another case before she arrived. And then when I returned, she’d already left. I’m sure Bart would be more than happy to follow up.”
“What I think I’ll do is call myself. My curiosity has been tweaked.”
“If you change your mind, I’m certain one of the day investigators would do it.”
“Thanks for your help,” Jack said.
“No problem,” Janice replied.
Jack disconnected with the forefinger of his left hand while still holding on to the receiver. With his right hand he pawed through the OCME record, looking again for the ID sheet for Mrs. Abelard’s phone number. The second he found it, the phone rang under his hand. It was Vinnie, saying all was ready down in the decomposed room.
After a moment’s hesitation, Jack replaced the receiver on the cradle. There was no rush to speak with Mrs. Abelard, as it was not a call he relished having to make. He was happy to put it off until he finished the next autopsy, although had he any inkling about what he’d learn from the mother, he wouldn’t have put off the call for a second. Mrs.
Abelard was going to tell him something he never would have guessed.
6
5:05 P.M., MONDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2008
CAIRO, EGYPT
(10:05 A.M., NEW YORK CITY)
S o there you have it,” Shawn said. “Sorry it’s taken so bloody long. Greek was obviously not Saturninus’s forte. As I mentioned after the first reading, the letter is signed simply Saturninus, with the date of the sixth of April, AD 121.”
For a few beats Shawn studied his wife. She didn’t move or even blink. She had a dazed expression on her face; she didn’t even seem to be breathing.
“Hello,” Shawn called, to get Sana’s attention. “Say something! Anything! What are you thinking?” Shawn stood up and stepped back to the desk, where he gently deposited the papyri sheets for their protection, using the assorted weights to hold them flat. He slipped off the white gloves, placed them on the desk, and then returned to the straight-backed chair. Sana had followed him with her eyes, but it was clear her thoughts were on what she’d been hearing over the last few hours. When Shawn had laboriously finished reading the letter the first time, she’d seemed equally shell-shocked, managing to say only that she’d needed to hear it again.
“I know I didn’t do a good job at translating it,” Shawn confessed, “especially that first time. Again, I’m sorry it took so long, but the grammar and the syntax are both so convoluted. It’s obvious that Greek was not Saturninus’s first language, and because of the sensitive nature of the subject matter, he did not want to entrust the writing of the letter to a secretary. His mother tongue would have been Aramaic, as he was from Samaria.”
“What are the chances it is a fake? Perhaps a second-century fake, but a fake nonetheless.”
“That’s a good question, and if the letter had been addressed to one of the early Orthodox Church fathers, the idea it was a fake might be something I’d question, if only to discredit the Gnostic heretics by making a direct association with them and the archvillain Simon Magus. But it was sent to an early Gnostic teacher, from someone who had theological inclinations in that direction. This was kind of an ‘inside communication’ sent to someone with answers to specific questions. There’s almost zero chance it’s a fake, especially where it ended up. It wasn’t as if someone ever expected it to be found.”
“When do you believe the codex was put together? I mean, when was this letter presumably sandwiched into the leather cover?”
“Let’s say it had to be before approximately AD 367.”
Sana smiled.
“I didn’t have a chance. They had already left by the time I got there. I was able to get a name and number of one of them, Robert Farrell. I put it down at the bottom of the page.”
“Did you get to speak with her mother when she came in to make the ID?”
“I wanted to but got called out on another case before she arrived. And then when I returned, she’d already left. I’m sure Bart would be more than happy to follow up.”
“What I think I’ll do is call myself. My curiosity has been tweaked.”
“If you change your mind, I’m certain one of the day investigators would do it.”
“Thanks for your help,” Jack said.
“No problem,” Janice replied.
Jack disconnected with the forefinger of his left hand while still holding on to the receiver. With his right hand he pawed through the OCME record, looking again for the ID sheet for Mrs. Abelard’s phone number. The second he found it, the phone rang under his hand. It was Vinnie, saying all was ready down in the decomposed room.
After a moment’s hesitation, Jack replaced the receiver on the cradle. There was no rush to speak with Mrs. Abelard, as it was not a call he relished having to make. He was happy to put it off until he finished the next autopsy, although had he any inkling about what he’d learn from the mother, he wouldn’t have put off the call for a second. Mrs.
Abelard was going to tell him something he never would have guessed.
6
5:05 P.M., MONDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2008
CAIRO, EGYPT
(10:05 A.M., NEW YORK CITY)
S o there you have it,” Shawn said. “Sorry it’s taken so bloody long. Greek was obviously not Saturninus’s forte. As I mentioned after the first reading, the letter is signed simply Saturninus, with the date of the sixth of April, AD 121.”
For a few beats Shawn studied his wife. She didn’t move or even blink. She had a dazed expression on her face; she didn’t even seem to be breathing.
“Hello,” Shawn called, to get Sana’s attention. “Say something! Anything! What are you thinking?” Shawn stood up and stepped back to the desk, where he gently deposited the papyri sheets for their protection, using the assorted weights to hold them flat. He slipped off the white gloves, placed them on the desk, and then returned to the straight-backed chair. Sana had followed him with her eyes, but it was clear her thoughts were on what she’d been hearing over the last few hours. When Shawn had laboriously finished reading the letter the first time, she’d seemed equally shell-shocked, managing to say only that she’d needed to hear it again.
“I know I didn’t do a good job at translating it,” Shawn confessed, “especially that first time. Again, I’m sorry it took so long, but the grammar and the syntax are both so convoluted. It’s obvious that Greek was not Saturninus’s first language, and because of the sensitive nature of the subject matter, he did not want to entrust the writing of the letter to a secretary. His mother tongue would have been Aramaic, as he was from Samaria.”
“What are the chances it is a fake? Perhaps a second-century fake, but a fake nonetheless.”
“That’s a good question, and if the letter had been addressed to one of the early Orthodox Church fathers, the idea it was a fake might be something I’d question, if only to discredit the Gnostic heretics by making a direct association with them and the archvillain Simon Magus. But it was sent to an early Gnostic teacher, from someone who had theological inclinations in that direction. This was kind of an ‘inside communication’ sent to someone with answers to specific questions. There’s almost zero chance it’s a fake, especially where it ended up. It wasn’t as if someone ever expected it to be found.”
“When do you believe the codex was put together? I mean, when was this letter presumably sandwiched into the leather cover?”
“Let’s say it had to be before approximately AD 367.”
Sana smiled.
Similar Books
![Fire of the Wolf [The Gray Pack] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)](https://fs.dianahicksbooks.com/498033/thumbs/152x264/fire-of-the-wolf-the-gray-pack-siren-publishing-menage-amour.png)
