Read Online The Lost Testament by James Becker - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Becker
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parchment itself isn’t damaged, and that suggests that the ink has simply faded because of the passage of time. How soon do you need the results?”
Husani smiled.
“The same as always, my friend. Yesterday or, if you can’t do that, as soon as possible. This relic will earn me no money at all while it’s in your laboratory.”
“Very well. I shall try my best, although I am not promising anything.”
“Excellent. Thank you, my friend.”
“It might also be worth getting an accurate estimate of the age of the parchment using radiocarbon dating. I can’t do that at the museum, because we don’t have the expertise or the equipment, but I could send it out to an external laboratory.”
“I thought that method of testing destroyed the specimen?” Husani asked.
Mohammed shook his head, then nodded.
“It does, but these days, with modern techniques, the laboratories need only a tiny sliver of material to work with. So do you want me to try to get a date for the parchment? I could take a very small clipping from the edge. It would hardly be noticeable, and if you can show independent proof of age, that would probably help you when you come to sell it.”
“Yes, it’s a good idea. Just make sure that the piece you cut off is as small as possible. Let’s meet back here tomorrow at five.”
Minutes later, the two men stood up, exchanged a few last words and then separated, Mohammed walking back to the museum where he worked, while Husani headed in the direction of his home.
From that moment on, both men’s lives were to be changed forever.
14
Before Ali Mohammed began carrying out tests on the parchment, he examined it closely under the bright lights on his workbench. He didn’t know how much of the text Husani had been able to read with the naked eye, but there were certainly several words that could fairly clearly be seen. It was also obvious to him that the text was indeed written in Latin, as Husani had indicated at their meeting.
What’s more, two words in the text stood out, because they both appeared to be proper names, and he decided he would quickly check to see if they were significant in the context of Roman history.
The bulk of the data in the Cairo Museum computer system was concerned, predictably enough, with the history of Egypt and the surrounding area, and apart from a single reference to a known place name in ancient Judea, his search proved fruitless.
Many museums around the world are linked on a kind of academic Intranet—a restricted-access wide-area network, to allow scientists and academics in one country to directly research the work of other professionals studying the same field but in different countries—and he did a general search of this resource as well, but with exactly the same result.
Almost as an afterthought, he wrote a brief e-mail requesting specialist assistance, looking up the name of the recipient from his extensive database of contacts around the world, and marked the message as high priority before sending it.
15
The instructions he had been given were clear and unambiguous, and the timescale extremely restricted. Nevertheless, the contractor—the name he was using for this particular job was simply “Abdul”—did not act immediately. That would be the mark of an amateur, and he had always prided himself on his consummate professionalism.
So before he did anything at all, he found a quiet corner on the road a little before noon, a position that gave him a clear view of the house. He placed his begging bowl, with a few coins inside it, on the ground in front of him and sat down cross-legged, his back against the wall behind him. With his ragged brown cloak wrapped around him to conceal his muscular body, the tattered hood covering his head and leaving his face invisible in the shadow, he looked just like any one of the thousands of beggars on Cairo’s streets. He made certain that his hands remained out of sight, because everyone in his trade knew
Husani smiled.
“The same as always, my friend. Yesterday or, if you can’t do that, as soon as possible. This relic will earn me no money at all while it’s in your laboratory.”
“Very well. I shall try my best, although I am not promising anything.”
“Excellent. Thank you, my friend.”
“It might also be worth getting an accurate estimate of the age of the parchment using radiocarbon dating. I can’t do that at the museum, because we don’t have the expertise or the equipment, but I could send it out to an external laboratory.”
“I thought that method of testing destroyed the specimen?” Husani asked.
Mohammed shook his head, then nodded.
“It does, but these days, with modern techniques, the laboratories need only a tiny sliver of material to work with. So do you want me to try to get a date for the parchment? I could take a very small clipping from the edge. It would hardly be noticeable, and if you can show independent proof of age, that would probably help you when you come to sell it.”
“Yes, it’s a good idea. Just make sure that the piece you cut off is as small as possible. Let’s meet back here tomorrow at five.”
Minutes later, the two men stood up, exchanged a few last words and then separated, Mohammed walking back to the museum where he worked, while Husani headed in the direction of his home.
From that moment on, both men’s lives were to be changed forever.
14
Before Ali Mohammed began carrying out tests on the parchment, he examined it closely under the bright lights on his workbench. He didn’t know how much of the text Husani had been able to read with the naked eye, but there were certainly several words that could fairly clearly be seen. It was also obvious to him that the text was indeed written in Latin, as Husani had indicated at their meeting.
What’s more, two words in the text stood out, because they both appeared to be proper names, and he decided he would quickly check to see if they were significant in the context of Roman history.
The bulk of the data in the Cairo Museum computer system was concerned, predictably enough, with the history of Egypt and the surrounding area, and apart from a single reference to a known place name in ancient Judea, his search proved fruitless.
Many museums around the world are linked on a kind of academic Intranet—a restricted-access wide-area network, to allow scientists and academics in one country to directly research the work of other professionals studying the same field but in different countries—and he did a general search of this resource as well, but with exactly the same result.
Almost as an afterthought, he wrote a brief e-mail requesting specialist assistance, looking up the name of the recipient from his extensive database of contacts around the world, and marked the message as high priority before sending it.
15
The instructions he had been given were clear and unambiguous, and the timescale extremely restricted. Nevertheless, the contractor—the name he was using for this particular job was simply “Abdul”—did not act immediately. That would be the mark of an amateur, and he had always prided himself on his consummate professionalism.
So before he did anything at all, he found a quiet corner on the road a little before noon, a position that gave him a clear view of the house. He placed his begging bowl, with a few coins inside it, on the ground in front of him and sat down cross-legged, his back against the wall behind him. With his ragged brown cloak wrapped around him to conceal his muscular body, the tattered hood covering his head and leaving his face invisible in the shadow, he looked just like any one of the thousands of beggars on Cairo’s streets. He made certain that his hands remained out of sight, because everyone in his trade knew
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