The Temple Mount Code

41

‘We didn’t discuss any of the particulars of our visit on the phone. What would make you ask that?’ Lourds regarded Professor Namati with increased interest.

‘Because if you actually have that book, your lives are in danger. You should have gathered that much from yesterday’s events.’ Namati studied them. ‘Though I suppose you already knew that.’

‘What makes you think that what happened yesterday had anything to do with a book Lev might have found?’

Namati shrugged. ‘Perhaps it didn’t. But the last time I talked to Lev, he’d mentioned bringing you in to look at the book. He was convinced that he’d gone as far as he could on it.’

‘Have you seen the book?’

‘Sadly, no. I was curious, but Lev felt the last place it should be was in Iran. There are people here that desperately want that book. Outside interest in what he was doing here caused Lev to leave before he’d finished his research.’

Miriam shifted slightly in her chair. ‘Why do you say the book is dangerous?’

Namati stared at her for a moment, then scratched his chin. He shifted his attention to Lourds. ‘Why is she here?’ He glanced at Miriam. ‘I mean no disrespect.’

Miriam stiffened slightly, and Lourds knew she was miffed, but to her credit she didn’t say anything.

‘I asked her to accompany me. Her Farsi is much better than mine.’

‘Really?’ Bright suspicion dawned in Namati’s eyes as he focused on Miriam. ‘How is it you speak Farsi so well?’

‘My father was born in Tehran,’ Miriam replied effortlessly in Farsi. ‘He spent most of his adolescence here, then went away to university and met my mother. He told me on many occasions, before I lost him, that love has a way of transporting a seed to new and fertile ground where it springs anew.’

Namati smiled, and his eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘You do speak Farsi well.’

‘Thank you. My father taught me the language and refused to let go of his heritage. My mother learned Farsi as well, and we spoke it often in our home.’

‘Have you been to Tehran before?’

‘Several times. My father traveled here every time he could. He brought me when he was able.’

‘How long has it been since you were last here?’

‘Years. I lost my father and have not been back till today.’

‘I am sorry for your loss. And, time permitting with Professor Lourds’s good grace, I can take the two of you around and show you some of the changes that have taken place in the city.’

‘I would love that.’

Namati leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands together. He switched back to English. ‘As far as why that book is dangerous, have you read the story in it?’

‘I’ve translated some of it.’ Lourds shrugged. ‘It seems to be a retelling of the Prophet’s early days. Nothing overly interesting. Other than the fact it’s supposed to be written by Yazid ibn Salam. I haven’t had it carbon-dated, but Lev’s notes indicated he had.’

‘The book was carbon-dated. I’ve seen those reports. Lev sent me part of the translation, and I’d have to agree that on the surface the story isn’t anything that scholars haven’t already seen. Except for one thing: Lev mentioned there was a legend of Mohammad’s own Koran, written in his own hand as God told it to him. And the Scroll that foretells the future of Islam.’ Namati’s voice lowered. ‘That alone can get you killed by devout Muslims.’

‘For the book?’

‘Or over it. If the story is true, and among some of my peers, that statement would be considered sacrilege, there are some who would kill to possess the book if you were not Muslim. They feel the book must be recovered and Mohammad’s lost Koran and Scroll found.’

Lourds resisted the urge to point out that he knew the Ayatollah was one of those ‘peers’ who would do that. Klaus Von Volker’s involvement proved that.

‘And if the story is a lie, there are other Muslims who would see that book destroyed as an abomination. No matter if it is of historic significance.’ Namati took a breath. ‘When Lev was here, asking around about the book and this new legend of Mohammad, he had to be very careful. He thought some of the fundamentalists had already sniffed him out and were on his trail.’

‘Were they?’ Miriam sounded tense.

‘Perhaps. I don’t know. When I first heard Lev had been killed, I thought the fundamentalists were behind his murder. As it turned out, the men who killed him were German mercenaries.’

‘What do you think about the legend?’

‘You mean, do I believe it?’ Namati shrugged. ‘I am a Muslim. I believe in the teachings of God, but I don’t believe that God wants genocide for the rest of the world. I believe the Scroll could exist, and that it might foretell the future of the Muslim world. But many believe the Scroll would give the Muslim faith power over the rest of the world. That God’s wrath is somehow writ on that Scroll and any Muslim who possesses it and wants to can bring down furious punishment on nonbelievers.’ He paused. ‘Have you heard of Winston Cardwell?’

‘The British historian who’s written extensively on the Muslim world?’ Lourds not only had heard of the man, he’d recently met Cardwell at a large signing in London while promoting his latest book.

‘Yes.’

‘Lev had talked to Cardwell about the book, hoping for some direction on his research. Cardwell didn’t have any information that Lev didn’t already have, but he evidently began searching for the truth of the tale. Somewhere along the line, he asked the wrong people. Two days ago, he was found murdered in a terrorist safe house in London. Someone had beheaded him.’

Lourds winced. Winston Cardwell had been a good man, overly ambitious, perhaps, and certainly pushy. But he hadn’t deserved such a fate. ‘That’s horrible.’

‘So you can understand why I might suspect your investigation into this book could have prompted an attack such as the one you faced yesterday.’

‘I do.’ Lourds took a breath. ‘I haven’t found any mention of what happened to the Koran and Scroll after Mohammad lost them. Do the legends say anything about that?’

‘They do. According to legend, a religious man among the workers constructing the Dome of the Rock found the Koran and the Scroll. He was moved by God to hide those things within the building.’

Lourds’s blood sang in his veins. At last they had a potential final resting place for the objects Lev had been looking for. No wonder his friend had been in Jerusalem. Lev must certainly have felt he was sitting on top of the find of his life. ‘No one knows where he put those things?’

‘If anyone knew, they would have been found long ago.’ Namati clasped his hands. ‘Scholars have searched for the Koran and Scroll for generations.’

‘But they didn’t have the book Lev found in Cairo.’

Namati nodded. ‘It is as you say. Lev was also convinced he’d found a map that led to the Koran and the Scroll. Was there any mention of that in his notes?’

‘No.’ Another wave of excitement surged through Lourds. There had been no mention of a map, but maybe Lev hadn’t written about that on purpose, afraid of his notes falling into unfriendly hands. Or maybe there was another hidden message Lourds hadn’t found yet.

‘Well, he was convinced he’d found the map, but there was no way to decode it.’

‘Did Lev say where he found the map?’

‘He told me it was part of the book, that he found it by accident. That was only a day or so before he was killed. It was a recent discovery.’

‘“Part of the book”?’

‘That’s what he said, yes.’

Lourds nodded at the clock on the wall. ‘Maybe I could take you to lunch now.’

Namati smiled. ‘That would be wonderful. Would you care for the local cuisine?’

‘I would love the local cuisine.’

Namati turned his attention to Miriam. ‘And you, Miss Abata?’

‘I haven’t had genuine Persian food in many years. I’d love it.’

‘Then we will go in memory of your father.’

Named after the Alborz Mountains, which jutted up so proudly in northern Iran, the Alborz Restaurant occupied a comfortable space in the neighborhood. Tehran splashed into the foothills, and the mountains towered above even the Milad Tower, the tallest structure in Iran, and the four largest telecommunication towers in the world.

Lourds took in the white-capped mountains as he walked from the car to the restaurant. Even though Tehran was brimming with things from the modern world, the overpowering shadow of the nearby mountains still made it seem Old World, tucked into the security of a natural barrier against enemies.

Namati quickly negotiated a table for them, and they were led past diners facing heavily laden plates of chelo kebabs loaded with steak, chicken, lamb, and salmon. The amount of food looked daunting, but Lourds felt capable of meeting the task. The French breakfast hadn’t stayed with him as long as he’d expected.

The server showed them to a table.

Reza remained standing while everyone else sat. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Professor Namati, I’ve got some work I can be doing while you eat.’

‘Nonsense.’ Lourds gestured to a chair. ‘I’m treating.’

‘I appreciate the offer, Professor Lourds, but I am experiencing some indigestion. Please. Enjoy your meal. I will be up front when you need me.’ Reza turned and walked away.

Lourds felt bad for the young man. ‘Did I hurt his feelings earlier when I excused him from our meeting?’

‘Reza isn’t so vulnerable. I wouldn’t worry about it.’ Namati reached for the hummus and smeared it onto a slab of homemade bread.

‘A college student turning down a free meal?’ Lourds shook his head. ‘That just sounds wrong.’

Namati chuckled. ‘Some of the students are still embarrassed about eating in front of strangers.’

‘That only means you go hungry a lot when you get out into the world.’ Lourds spread hummus over a chunk of bread after Miriam had helped herself. The aroma of the tahini, garbanzo beans, garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil was intoxicating and tasted even better.

They ordered the chelo kebabs, lamb for Miriam and Namati, and Lourds selected steak.

‘I feel I must point out another possibility for Lev’s death.’ Namati took a short breath. ‘I don’t mean to undermine your interest in this book, but legends are sometimes that: beautiful or terrifying stories. Both, in this case. I know the Eastern and Western worlds would view the existence of Mohammad’s Koran and the Scroll in much different lights.’

Lourds slathered another piece of bread with hummus and waited.

‘Lev Strauss was my friend, and he was a very progressive thinking man. I don’t know if he talked much to you about his views of Islam and Judaism.’

‘Somewhat. I’ve always been more interested in forgotten history than in fixing the world’s views of God.’

‘Yet, in this case at least, both of those goals appear attainable.’

‘Perhaps.’

Namati brushed that away. ‘If that Koran and Scroll exist, you will be in a position to shed some light for the world. If you find them. But I digress. As I was saying, Lev had remarkable mien. He believed that the Jews and the Muslims could find a way to live together. He believed in the peace process. He actively tried to reach out to the Islamic world, and I was one of his chief supporters. The far right in his own country hated him.’

Lourds knew that was true. Lev had always been a man to follow his own course through the world, and his loss was going to make the world poorer for it.

‘It’s very possible that his own people murdered him.’

‘With Austrian mercenaries?’ Miriam’s rancor with that statement echoed in her words.

‘Is it any easier to believe that someone in Iran hired those mercenaries?’

Before Miriam could respond, Lourds lightly kicked her foot under the table. She ducked her head and returned her attention to her plate.

Namati focused on Lourds. ‘You remember Yitzhak Rabin?’

‘Of course.’ The Israeli politician and military general had been assassinated while serving as prime minister in his country. Yigal Amir, a right-wing Israeli radical, killed Rabin for signing the Oslo Accords, which had come out of the first face-to-face arrangement between Israel and the Palestine Liberation Organization.

‘He was, perhaps, a message for our time.’

‘What message?’

‘That the Jewish and Islamic worlds are not yet ready to come to an arrangement that will leave both happy.’ Namati shrugged. ‘Lev was still a believer, and I loved him for it, but I also feared for him.’

‘I hope that’s not true.’

‘Would it be better if the men behind his murder were Islamic extremists?’

For a moment, Lourds was tempted to tell the man they had proof that Lev’s death had come through orders of the Ayatollah. The anger over his friend’s death burned harshly in him. But he curbed it, knowing saying that to anyone who might be connected to the Revolutionary Guard could get him killed.

‘No. It wouldn’t be better.’ Lourds glanced at the front of the restaurant as their chelo kebabs arrived.

Reza sat in the foyer and talked on a cell phone. As Lourds inhaled the aroma of the flame-broiled beef on a bed of basmati rice, he glanced through one of the restaurant windows and spotted a black car with two men in it parked across the street.

He tried to remember if they’d been there before and couldn’t. However, it was unusual for two men to sit inside a vehicle in the heat. The temperature had almost reached a hundred degrees. He glanced at Miriam and saw she had noticed the men as well.