The Lost Testament

48

As Husani had blearily opened his eyes, his mind had already been working hard. He needed to travel further, because once he revealed details of his find to the world, the spotlight would fall on him no matter where he went to ground. That was why he still wanted to get to Madrid.

And so, at a few minutes after ten that morning, he’d leaned back and tried to relax in his seat in the economy section of the Air Europa 737–800 for the two-hour flight to the capital of Spain.

Finding a hotel after he’d landed had been easy: he’d taken a cab ride to the centre of Madrid and just picked one of the cheaper-looking ones at random. Then he’d taken a nap in his room before finally opening up the tattered briefcase that comprised all his luggage. He’d spent a few minutes looking at the photographs Ali had supplied for him, slightly disappointed that several sections of the text on the parchment were still illegible, then he’d locked away both the photographs and the relic in the room safe and ventured out onto the streets of Madrid to do some shopping.

He needed clothes and washing gear, obviously, plus a bag or suitcase of some sort to keep them in, but he also wanted to find a good-quality case with decent locks for the parchment. The clothing wasn’t a problem, but tracking down a small and secure case was rather more difficult. Eventually he located something he thought was ideal in a specialist shop on the outskirts of the city centre. It was a normal-looking small briefcase, but far heavier than its appearance suggested.

This was because both the base and the lid were lined with steel plates, each with a double layer of Kevlar for additional security. The case was, the shop assistant explained to him, virtually impossible to get into without a key. Levers and hammers would have almost no effect on it, and even high-speed drills would find it difficult to penetrate the multiple layers of protection. It would even deflect a bullet from a pistol, thanks to the Kevlar, he claimed.

It was a very expensive item, and would have made such a huge dent in Husani’s remaining supply of euros that he took a chance and used his credit card to complete the purchase. He was going public quite soon with details of the relic, and so it really didn’t matter if anyone knew he was now in Madrid.

The other expensive purchase was a netbook, also bought with the plastic card. He would need to use the Internet, and probably use it a lot, over the next day or so.

Weighed down with his new purchases, Husani returned to his hotel and locked the door behind him. Then he booted the netbook, ran through the initiation sequence for the new machine, and started looking for an online Latin dictionary. Once he’d found one that seemed comprehensive enough, he started deciphering some of the sections of writing on the parchment.

By eight that evening, he’d translated about a quarter of the text that was legible, but what he’d read had only served to confuse him. It wasn’t what he’d expected, though in truth he didn’t really know what he’d expected. The sections he’d translated contained what sounded like legal arguments, none of which seemed either particularly interesting or revealing.

He locked the parchment, the photographs and his partial translation back in the safe, walked out of the hotel and found a quiet restaurant nearby where he ate a simple meal, his thoughts distracted and confused.

When he returned to his room, he looked again at what he’d so far managed to decipher, conflicting emotions coursing through him. Nothing he’d read on the parchment seemed important enough to justify the extreme measures that had been taken back in Cairo. Was he missing something? There had to be some vitally important piece of information, some dark and dangerous secret, hidden away within the text. He just hadn’t found it yet.

Perhaps, he mused, as he fell gratefully into bed, he would ask Ali Mohammed’s advice about how best to proceed. With his greater experience he would be able to read more of the Latin and find out why the parchment was so important. And he was in the business, and might well be able to come up with a few suggestions about who might be worth approaching first with a view to selling the relic.

With that comforting thought occupying his mind, he quickly fell into an exhausted slumber.