“Not yet,” she replied. “We’re still cataloguing everything. It’ll be a few months before we even have a confirmation on the age of the parchments.”

  “Speaking of parchment,” Lauren said, sensing an opportunity to turn the conversation back to the case, “we found this in Dr. Everett’s wallet.”

  She retrieved the parchment and handed the baggie to Mara. As soon as she saw it, she gasped and snatched it from the table. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “That’s it! That’s the missing page!”

  “Are you saying that Dr. Everett stole this page from the dig?”

  A shadow passed over Mara’s face. “I see no reason to speak ill of the dead. I’m just happy to have this back.”

  “I appreciate your desire to protect your colleague,” Lauren said, “but I’m here to solve his murder, not protect his reputation.”

  The shadow over Mara's face deepened, but she didn't demur further. "Yes," she said. "After Dr. Everett's death, several items were found in his belongings that had gone missing from the dig. Small stuff, mostly fragments of pottery and tools, stuff that would fetch a pretty penny on an online auction site but didn't have much value scientifically since there's an abundance of Greek pottery in the archaeological records. This parchment, though, this is important. We don’t have many records of the early church beyond what the apostles wrote, and the more we discover, the more we learn about what the origins of Christianity truly were.”

  Father Emilio shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This subject was naturally uncomfortable for him since science often contradicted or at least called into question the Church’s established narrative of its history.

  Maybe this will help him understand a little how I feel when he preaches at me.

  The unkindness of that thought made Lauren frown. It wasn’t as vicious as her earlier thought about the archaeologists being maggots, but it was unlike her. She liked Father Emilio, devout Catholicism and all. What was going on with her?

  “What can you tell us about this book?” Father Emilio asked.

  Mara tensed slightly. “Oh, not much yet. Like I said, we’re still cataloguing everything.”

  Lauren caught the tension and leaned forward. “Dr. Leoni,” she said, gently but sternly. “This is not the time to be secretive. We are still pursuing Travis Everett’s murderer. The best thing you can do right now is be absolutely honest with me.”

  Father Emilio frowned, displeased at the veiled hint that Mara was a suspect, but Lauren didn’t take the sentiment back. She liked the doctor, and she definitely didn’t believe that Mara could have murdered two grown men and strung their body up on wires, but that didn’t rule out the possibility that she was an accessory to the crime. After all, Dr. Demirci seemed insistent that there was more than one killer.

  Mara deflated a little and said, “Look, I don’t believe any of this, but some of the locals working the dig think that this book is cursed.”

  Father Emilio started at that. “This book?” he asked. “This book in particular, or all of the site in general?”

  “The site in general, yes, but they don’t seem to take that too seriously. This book, however, they refuse to touch. They say that whoever handles this book is cursed by Satan. We had to separate it from the other manuscripts and ensure that only members of the archaeological team handle it.”

  “Have any of the locals threatened you or anyone else for touching the book?”

  “No, not at all. They avoid it and whoever’s carrying it like the plague. Honestly, they’ve kept their distance from me since I handled it, and I only held it for ten seconds or so before giving it to Travis.”

  Lauren and Father Emilio exchanged a glance. The father was scowling, a typical expression for him when he was thinking hard about something. Lauren imagined he was wondering about the book itself, trying to determine if there was any possibility of an actual demonic curse.

  “May we see this book?” he asked.

  She hesitated. “I can, but…”

  “But?” Lauren pressed.

  Mara sighed. “The locals have a strict rule that no one is allowed to know where it is. You would have to be blindfolded to go see it.”

  Lauren frowned. “I thought you said that the book was handled only by the archaeological team.”

  “Well…” Mara said, lowering her eyes.

  Lauren’s scowl deepened. This was the third time Mara had been caught in a fib. She was beginning to reevaluate her opinion of the scientist.

  Father Emilio seemed to be reevaluating his own thoughts. “Dr. Leoni, where is the book now?”

  She sighed and said, “The local Imam demanded that we return the book to him.”

  “And you agreed?” Father Emilio asked incredulously.

  “He was rather… forceful,” Mara said.

  “Meaning?” Lauren said, the gentleness gone from her voice.

  “He… showed up with a number of townspeople and demanded that we give the Vision of Habakkuk to him. He claimed that we didn’t understand the forces we were messing with, and if we weren’t careful, we would bring ruin to ourselves. He said the book needed to be kept away from everyone and guarded or we would suffer greatly.”

  “And you didn’t think this was worth mentioning to us earlier?” Lauren asked. “If these locals were willing to show up in a mob and threaten all of you, what would have prevented one of them from killing Dr. Everett for touching the book.”

  Mara’s lips thinned, and there was a touch of defiance in her expression when she met Lauren’s eyes. “This site could be the most important record of early Christian history since the Dead Sea Scrolls. Some of the records here predate Christianity and could offer clues as to its early origin and development. If the locals push us out, this could all be lost to science. We need the locals to tolerate us at the very least, or we can’t do our jobs.”

  “And staying here is worth your friend’s life?” Lauren asked. “And yours? And all of your colleagues?”

  "Yes," Mara replied without hesitation. Seeing Lauren's incredulous stare, she added, "I don't expect you to understand, let alone approve. But yes, I and all of my colleagues are willing to sacrifice our lives to advance our knowledge of science. Someone has to be, or humanity will spend the rest of its existence in the dark.”

  Lauren didn’t have a counter for that.

  “We will need to see the book, Dr. Leoni.” Father Emilio said.

  “And we’re not going blindfolded,” Lauren added.

  “You’ll have to take that up with the imam,” Mara said curtly. Evidently, she, too, had rethought the friendliness the three shared earlier. "The book is no longer in our hands, and quite frankly, if anyone's going to piss off the locals, I'd rather it not be our team."

  “We will talk to the imam,” Lauren replied. She stood. “And we’ll have more questions for you and your team as well.”

  Mara’s lips thinned, but she didn’t protest. “May I keep that page?” she asked Lauren. “It might be our only chance to learn about that book.

  “No,” Lauren replied, taking the baggie back. “This is evidence in a murder investigation.”

  “But think of the knowledge we could gain!” Mara pleaded. “Travis gave his life for that knowledge!”

  Lauren met Mara’s eyes, and the scientist paled and shrank back. “Travis didn’t give anyone shit,” Lauren said darkly. “His life was taken. I intend to find the person who took it and make them pay. This dig might be more important to you than his life, but it isn’t to me. I suggest you keep that in mind the next time you try to withhold information from us.”

  “Lauren,” Father Emilio said softly, touching her elbow.

  Lauren took a deep breath and stepped away from Mara. “Thank you for your time, Doctor.”

  They turned to leave. Lauren wasn’t entirely surprised when she heard Mara cry, “Wait! I’m coming with you!”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but the defiance in Mara’s eyes told her it wasn’t worth the effort.

  God spare me from fanatics, she thought.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Altan was clearly unhappy with the idea of going to see a cursed book. “The locals have reasons for their superstitions,” he said. “Bad things happen to people who meddle in things they’re not supposed to. Imam Dogan has sequestered that manuscript for a reason.”

  He cast a sour frown at Mara when he said that, but the scientist ignored his stare and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the approaching mosque.

  The Helvaci mosque, like most small-town chapels, was modest in size and appearance. It was perhaps two thousand square feet, spacious for a house, but rather small for a church, though more than large enough to accommodate the town's worshippers. Lauren noted that the mud-brick building appeared to be older than most of the surrounding town.

  Altan confirmed that suspicion. “The mosque dates from the early eleventh century,” he informed them, “It is the oldest building still in use in town. Legend says it was built over the bones of the first imam in the region.”

  Father Emilio’s scowl deepened when he heard that.

  They were greeted in front of the mosque by the imam and two attendants. Altan bowed low and spoke in Arabic to the imam. Lauren couldn’t understand the words, but by Altan’s posture and his refusal to meet the imam’s eyes, she knew he was apologizing profusely for the upstart infidels’ clearly unreasonable request.

  He was just as surprised as Lauren was when Dogan replied in flawless English, “Very well. We’ll take you to see the book. You must be blindfolded on the journey, but we will allow you to examine the book when we reach our destination.”

  Father Emilio’s eyes widened in surprise. “That is an unexpected blessing. Thank you.”

  Dogan inclined his head formally. “Your reputation precedes you, Father. You are a renowned exorcist, even in Islam.”

  Now Lauren was surprised. “You know about Catholic exorcists?”

  Doagan turned to Lauren and said seriously, “We worship the same God, Miss Lamb. We disagree on how to go about that, but there is no disagreement on the fate that awaits the Devil and his servants.”

  Father Emilio looked as though he had some things to say about the claim of worshipping the same God, but thankfully, he kept those thoughts to himself, at least for the moment.

  “Thank you, imam,” he said, bowing slightly. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

  Dogan inclined his head. “Altan, you may wait here.”

  Altan breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, imam. Ma’a salama.”

  “Ma’a salama.”

  The imam nodded to his attendants, who stepped forward and carefully tied the blindfolds around the three foreigners. Mara hesitated briefly when one of them reached for her glasses, but at the imam’s assurance that the spectacles would be kept safe and returned to her when they reached their destination, she acquiesced.

  A hand gripped Lauren’s arm and led her into the mosque. She heard the whispered prayers of a few worshippers as they walked through the mosque toward what Lauren assumed was the back of the building. The hand on her arm pulled her to a brief stop, and the sound of a lock clicking open, followed by a waft of cool, musty air, told Lauren that a door had opened in front of them.

  “Watch your step, Miss Lamb,” one of the attendants spoke, also in English.

  He led her slowly down a flight of stairs. Lauren reached for a railing or wall to steady herself, and another hand gently but firmly pressed her hand back to her side.

  She heard whispering as they descended the staircase, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She couldn’t understand what was being said, but the voices seemed to crowd around her, whispering into her ear. She imagined she could hear some of them laughing.

  It’s just anxiety because of the blindfold, she told herself. Nothing here is going to hurt you.

  A pale glow shone through the blindfold, and Lauren felt pressure close around her chest. Images of the symbols from the tunnel flashed through her mind, and she felt a sudden and powerful sense that she had been here before.

  Nove te, prodigus.

  We know you, prodigal.

  She stiffened and stopped abruptly. The murmurings around her grew louder, but a command from Dogan quieted them.

  “Come with me, Miss Lamb,” he said. “It’s all right. Nothing here will harm you.”

  His words seemed to dispel the sickly glow, and the whisperings in Lauren's ear dispersed. She took a deep breath and nodded, then allowed herself to be led further down.

  They reached the bottom of the staircase a few minutes later. The pressure on her arm eased, but the attendant kept a hand on her back as he continued to guide them forward. Lauren wasn't sure how far underground they were, but there was clearly a tunnel system underneath the mosque. They walked for what felt like another fifteen minutes or so, turning left twice and right once. Finally, the attendant said, “Stop here, Miss Lamb.”

  Lauren did as requested, and a moment later, Dogan said, “All right. You may remove your blindfolds.”

  They did, and Lauren heard Mara gasp when the room around them was revealed.

  It was a rather innocuous room from Lauren’s perspective, brick walls with a low ceiling and a few torches for light. But there was a small podium ahead, and what lay on the podium was an ancient book bound with leather. The book was weathered badly and full of holes, but the color of the parchment and the words written on it matched the color and the language of the fragment Lauren held in her pocket.

  Father Emilio started forward until he was directly in front of the book. The attendants moved to stop him, but Dogan lifted his hand, and they allowed the priest to approach. Father Emilio didn’t touch the book, but he peered low and said, “Incredible! This is the Vision of Habakkuk!”

  Lauren lifted an eyebrow. “The what now?”

  Mara rushed to Father Emilio’s side and leaned close. “Wow,” she said. “We weren’t sure that book even existed!”

  “No written copies have been found before now,” Father Emilio explained, “this is an incredible find.”

  “And look!” Mara said, pointing toward the top of the page. The attendants started forward again, but once more Dogan stopped them. “It says here that Titus was the author!”

  “Saint Titus?” Father Emilio asked, looking at where Mara was pointing.

  “Yes!” she says. “It says, ‘The Vision of Habakkuk the prophet, transcribed by Titus the Saint.’” She turned a giddy smile toward Father Emilio. “If this is truly Saint Titus’s work, then we could be looking at a historical record of equal importance to the writings of Saint Peter and Paul the Apostle!”

  Lauren approached, though more cautiously than the father and the archaeologist. She pulled the baggie with the parchment from the book out of her pocket and carefully compared the two. It confirmed that they came from the same book. In fact, the page Lauren held was missing from this point in the manuscript. Lauren could see that the tearing in the book matched the paper she held.

  She could also see a symbol written on the top of the second page, two waves intersecting with a black circle in the middle. The same symbol as that on Altan’s amulet.

  Mara looked pleadingly at Dogan. “Imam, if I wear gloves and promise to leave the book here, can I please take pictures of—”

  “No one is to handle the book,” Dogan interrupted sternly. “Two have died already. It is dangerous. We brought it here for safekeeping, not display. I only showed it to you because it may prove useful in solving your case. Frankly, I believe it is the solution to your case. The devil is still at work among us. These victims meddled with something they should have left alone, and they have been rewarded for their foolishness.”

  Mara’s eyes narrowed at that, and Lauren stepped in before an argument started. “You said they both meddled with this book. We know that Dr. Everett stole a page from it, but how was Mehmet Kose involved?”

  The imam lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Mara’s eyes widened in realization immediately afterward.

  “You didn’t know?” Dogan said.

  “Oh God,” Mara whispered. “Oh God, I forgot.”

  “Forgot what?” Lauren asked. “What is it?”

  “Mehmet Kose was the man who discovered this book,” Dogan explained.

  Lauren turned to Mara. The scientist’s face was ashen. “He found the manuscript in the dig and alerted Dr. Everett.”

  “Did he touch the book?” Father Emilio asked.

  Mara nodded slowly. “He handed it to Dr. Everett.”

  Father Emilio crossed himself. Dogan and the attendants lowered their heads somberly. “The poor man,” Father Emilio said.

  Lauren was excited by the discovery as well, but not because she thought the curse was real. This was the connection between the victims. They had both handled a cursed book and had been killed shortly after.

  And the man who had threatened them with death was standing in the same room as Lauren.

  She turned to Dogan and said, “I understand that you threatened the archaeologists shortly after they started the dig.

  Mara blanched. “I never said that! That’s… I just said you warned us.”

  “And that’s all I did,” Dogan insisted. “Miss Lamb, I understand that you suspect me of being involved, but that isn’t the case. We warned the team to avoid digging in that valley, but we would not have taken matters into our own hands.”

  “Can you confirm your whereabouts on the nights of the murders?” Lauren asked.

  Dogan’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his tone remained even. “Of course, if you need me to. I was in the Mosque, and the elected officials of our town can verify that, as they were with me. I was leading them in prayer.”

  “Both nights?”

  “We have prayed together every night since the archaeologists arrived,” Dogan said, “that Allah might spare them from the curse that pervades that place.”

  “You mention that place exactly,” Father Emilio asked. “Not what’s found there, but the place itself.”

  “Some objects are more cursed than others,” the Imam said, “but the place itself is unholy ground. It is known in Arabic as Wadi Aldaal.”

 

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