He smiled slyly and silently, stood up, and walked to his desk. From a drawer he retrieved a folder and took out a few papers, then returned and sat next to her.

“I was looking at some of your work,” he said as he put the papers on his lap and removed the paper clip that held them together.

Kerry recognized the title of the paper on top. It was a photocopy of an article she had written on a Hispanic art exhibit. “I did not know you were interested in modern art, Minister.”

The minister chuckled. “Can’t say I am.” He inspected a picture to the right of the main title and shook his head. “My interest is in you.”

“Me?”

“Your writing.” The minister smiled at her. He fingered through the copies and held one out. “Who’d have thought that writing about an old mill could be so passionate? I like your writing, your angle. The expression, the people’s feelings, what would you call that?”

“Human interest?”

“The human interest. Yes, precisely. I see that in all these. You care about the subjects of your article, much more than the issues they are discussing.”

Kerry gave him a thoughtful look. “Most of the time I knew little about these issues. But you’re right; my interest is in the people.”

“You see into their soul.”

She smiled awkwardly. “I just try to relate to them, try to understand…”

“You have a gift, dear. The Lord has given you a great blessing.” His voice rose a little and her unease grew at the force of his compliment. “I like how you deal with these people.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled.

The minister slid the clippings to the side. “Commendations, great work.”

Kerry looked at him silently.

“You’re not employed currently, are you?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“No, I’ve done some freelance work, but I am researching a book.”

“Great, what’s it about?”

“Well,” she hesitated for a moment, “I’m interested in the issues of immigration and social change in metropolitan cities.”

“I think that there is too much change going on. We have surrendered our cities too easily to degeneration.” His voice rose again and his body tightened, but only for a moment. He caught himself before getting deeper into his preaching mode; he smiled and shook his head. “But that’s for another time. As I said, I like your work, and I have an idea, if you would hear me out.”

“Sure.”

“As you have seen on our broadcast, sometimes we try to mix things up, to give our message some variety and be more informative to our audience; we bring in some political and social reports, to educate and share ideas.”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to get you involved with that.”

His offer took her by surprise. She thought for a moment, wondering how she should answer. “I’m not trying to be modest or anything,” she said, fumbling for words, “but that’s a different field. Television is a totally different world. Surely you have others…”

“I do appreciate the differences,” he interrupted her, “but I was thinking of interesting topics, real life stories that would appeal to the average man who’s not necessary committed to Christ. Just to get their initial interest. I’m thinking that someone like you with a good understanding of the outside world would know how to tap into the human interest.”

“I had a lot of fun as a city editor for the Sun, but television, I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to be on camera if you do not want to. Let me make it simpler than that. Let’s not talk in the abstract. Let me give you a concrete idea and see what you think of it.”

“I’m listening.”

“All right. There is a professor of archeology visiting Rice University from Chicago. My understanding is that he is a world-renowned Egyptologist. Now that’s a topic that can be very interesting. We all have seen the Pyramids and heard the stories about the Pharaohs.”

“Yes, I saw the poster outside.”

The minister laughed. “I admit, it’s one of my personal interests. Still, I think that many people are interested in Egypt and the Middle East. Do not forget that ancient Egypt plays an important part in the Bible, from Joseph who was sold into Egypt, to Joseph and Mary, who fled there with their child Jesus. I personally would like to learn more about what ancient Egypt was like, what evidence has survived of Joseph or Moses or any of the other prophets.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s intriguing, but…”

“Here’s what I was thinking about,” he interrupted her. “I’m going to ask you this as a favor. Try to meet with this Egyptologist, talk to him, and see what kind of an impression he presents. Is he someone that we can trust to bring on our show? See if he has some information that might be interesting to our audience. Are there any insights that he can give us on Egypt and the Bible? What new things is he working on? Maybe something can come out of it. Do you mind trying that, please?”

“If you’d like me to,” she conceded reluctantly, “I can give it a try.”

“I would really appreciate it. What about meeting him the day after tomorrow…you can tell me what you find after the broadcast?”

“What, that’s too soon!” she objected. “I need to make an appointment with the professor, and…”

“Let’s just try it. You know those professors, they teach a class or two a day and have the rest of it to spare; I think you’ll be able to get with him. It is my understanding that he’ll be leaving soon, so we don’t really have much time.” The minister stood up.

She was doubtful, but he wasn’t going to let her refuse his request. “I’ll try,” she said halfheartedly.

“Please do, and thank you again. Good night and God bless you.”

“Same to you,” she mumbled softly as she shook his hand and walked out of the office.

The cold, early spring air was refreshing as Kerry walked toward her car, but her emotions chilled as she drove out of the parking lot into the street. A few yards away she passed by a small motel. If she were to have noticed the RV parked there, she might have seen a man standing in the dark with binoculars aimed at her. He had been watching her since she left the building and came as close as twenty feet away from her. As she turned onto another street out of his sight, he was busy repeating her license plate number to himself.

The man walked inside and to the back of the RV. The windows were sealed with black material. Inside, there was a long table with a number of electronic devices. Another man was sitting by the table, with headphones on. An audio recorder was running next to him. He had a small black hat over his short light-brown hair, and sideburns curled down beyond his beard. He took the headphones off, shook his head, and said, “Nothing.”

“So what do you think, Meir, is she in on it?” David asked.

“Not from the way she was responding to him.”

“Then it must not be very important,” he said with disappointment.

“We’ll see what she reports back to him. The Egyptians were not clear. I don’t know what to say. Sometimes I feel as if we are wasting our time.”

“I got her car’s license number,” David said halfheartedly “I’ll see what I can find out about her tomorrow. There might be something to it.”

Kerry drove home almost in tears now that her plan for a calm evening of joyful contentment had been frustrated. Her hold on the elation that had so satisfied her less than half an hour earlier was fading away as an old familiar preoccupation seeped back into her awareness. She dreaded the doubt and the self-reflection that she knew would soon follow. Usually an afternoon of choir singing would sustain her for a day or two, but her meeting with the minister had erased any hope of that. Kerry’s loathing of the lack of control over her emotions was as disquieting as the emotions themselves. And as she had done endless times before, she tried to reason through her feelings and began by going over her discussion with the minister.

Her misgivings toward the minister were amplified by his questions about her career. “‘The issues of immigration and social change in metropolitan cities,’ where did I ever come up with that?” she sneered. Her memories went back to a park bench lunch many months ago. “You cannot just take time off and leave town if you are the city editor and expect the job to be waiting for you! Why are you doing this?” The friendly and frank warning from the managing editor demanded a sincere answer. Instead, she gave him an excuse, a halfhearted attempt at easing the concern of a colleague and friend—not an act of deception, but of self-preservation. “To write a book.”

“What am I doing here?” she wondered, as she had done many times before.

But that was not the right question. How did I get here? would have been more pointed. A question of how assumes a process and that would be how she, Kerry Rosemond, came to be in Houston. It began over six months ago on a quiet and seemingly uneventful Saturday night. She had finished with all the work for the Baltimore Sun Sunday edition much later than usual and didn’t feel like doing anything social. She ended up in her apartment eating a take-out dinner in front of the TV with her thumb actively on the channel button. Soon enough she had shut her aching eyes and leaned back into the soft cushions of her couch.

Then…music, and choir singing. It was a vaguely familiar tune that resonated in her mind with long-forgotten memories of church in her early teens. Her feelings were transformed. The warmth of untainted memories of childhood blended with the singing and filled her with comfort, smoothing out the restlessness and the ache. The music went on for a number of minutes, and once in a while she would remember a segment or a word and hum along. When the singing stopped, she opened her eyes, and there she saw the minister. The screen was filled with his large, round, silver-topped face, dominated by a beguiling smile and shrewd eyes. The minister spoke about the Messiah and the need to prepare for the Second Coming of Christ. His words took her back to Sunday school; they awakened more childhood memories. Broken but vivid memories swept over her. That was the release that her body had wanted. Without thinking, she turned the TV off and let her memories sweep her into sleep.

After that night she watched the broadcast regularly. Her initial sentimental experience was not repeated, but she didn’t mind. The music and the singing moved and engrossed her, but she had a hard time with the minister’s sermons; they were either too politically opinionated or doctrinally complicated for her liking. For a while she would tape the program and watch it only from tape, fast-forwarding through most of the talking. But the more she listened to the minister, the easier she was able to ignore him. At one point she bought a number of gospel music CDs, but the effect was not the same. Something was missing in music alone, the aesthetic enjoyment was always present, but somehow it was incomplete.

At the first chance, she had flown to Houston to attend a live broadcast at the ministry, and the experience was spiritually overwhelming. The thought of moving to Houston came into her mind on the flight back to Baltimore. For weeks she tried to resist, claiming no rational justification for such a significant life change. A relentless and overpowering feeling that she could not ignore tormented her, and she longed to return to Houston. She thought of looking for employment in Houston, but she knew that she did not have the emotional stamina to get excited about job hunting and interviews. Honestly, she knew neither why nor how long she was going to stay there, so she conjured the idea of the book to preserve her self-image and professional standing.

By the time Kerry arrived at her apartment, she had found no answer for her feelings and was depressed at the dark mood that had overtaken her. Her self-resentment was breeding anger at the minister Then, in a fresh clarity of mind, she wondered why would she be angry with him? Granted their interaction had soured her feelings but why? How could he have managed to turn her emotional state upside down while being interested and flattering toward her? Her reaction to him was out of proportion to anything he had done or said.

With her new understanding, a sense of relief eased her outlook, and she turned to thinking through her feelings toward the minister. Grudgingly, Kerry admitted that she had disliked him from the first time she had seen him on her TV’s screen. But somehow, over the last six months she had glossed over those feelings and was able to repress them enough that they did not interfere with her enjoyment at being part of the Millennium Hour broadcast. She no longer was able to fast-forward through his sermons and preaching, but his words had no emotional effect on her, or so she had thought.

“Why hadn’t I liked the minister?” Kerry asked out loud as she soaked her body in the warmth of a peach scented bubble bath. She reflected on her question as she watched the shadows of her flickering candle dance over the bathroom wall.

Kerry tried to identify something the minister had done or said that would answer her question. There was a thing or two from their earlier discussion, but these did not account for six months of antipathy. There was nothing specific to account for her feeling. She simply had never believed what he said. She had listened to dozens of his sermons and speeches. Even during their conversation this evening, the problem was not in what he said or how he said it. It did not matter. It was just that she did not believe him.

He was like King Lear in a production that she had seen during her undergraduate studies at Princeton. There was something wrong with the show that she could not identify but that kept distracting her in every scene with King Lear until she recognized it, halfway through the third act, and almost too late to allow her any enjoyment of the play. She did not believe the actor. She had been prepared to lose herself in Lear’s self-destruction, but it had never happened. “I never believed the bastard,” she mumbled to herself as the intensity of her emotions washed away.

After a few more minutes of mental and physical relief, Kerry turned her thoughts to what she was going to do about the minister’s request in light of her feelings toward him. Should she ignore his request? Should she drop out of the choir? Or should she try to change her feelings? Dropping out was out of the question. She had invested too much in her move to Houston to just let go. She could not ignore the minister, either. She had to find a way to work things out with him. The minister had taken one step toward her with his offer, and she at least should try to meet him halfway. It was an opportunity to see if she could control her feelings. Now that she was able to acknowledge and understand how she felt toward the minister, would she be able to change? The thought appealed to her. It was an experiment in cognitive therapy. If she were to take his offer seriously, then she might be able to find the way to merge her divided self. Being part of the broadcast as a journalist and a member of the choir could bring both professional and spiritual fulfillment. Maybe at last she would make peace with her move to Houston.

The next morning, energized and driven, Kerry took on the challenge of meeting with the Egyptologist. She needed to call him and arrange for an interview, preferably for the next morning, and then use the rest of the day to learn more about Egyptian archeology. In more normal, unhurried circumstances she would take a week or so to investigate the topic before conducting an interview with an expert. Now all she had was a day.

The Egyptologist was lukewarm when she phoned his office requesting an interview. Without prior research, and wishing to omit mention of the minister, she could not give him a specific reason for the interview nor a concise topic that she wanted to discuss with him. It was better to keep things as open and general as possible. As the minister had predicted, the professor’s availability on short notice was not a concern, and the interview was set for one thirty the next day. After some thought she organized a three-item to-do list:

1- Archeology in Egypt.

2- Professor Karl Seaport published works.

3-The professor’s personal information.

The last item was the easiest one. She called Rice University and asked for the professor’s academic credentials. Over the phone a secretary read her a summary paragraph that the department had prepared about him as a visiting professor.

Professor Seaport, Karl: BA 1962, Archeology and Anthropology; MA 1965, Middle Eastern Archeology: University of Chicago. PhD 1970, Egyptology: UC Berkeley. Expertise in: Egypt’s early dynasties, ancient mythology, and religion. A world-renowned authority on hieroglyphics. Spent three years in Egypt from 1972–75. A professor at the University of Chicago, taught at the American University in Cairo and the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, and spent two years at Oxford University, England. On average spends three to four months in Egypt every year engaged in archeological work. Authored a large number of articles on the history, religion, and practices of ancient Egypt, two textbooks on hieroglyphics, and an introductory book on archeology.

For the first two items on the list it was necessary for Kerry to drive to the university’s library. She was able to find a copy of the professor’s Introduction to Archeology and two other books entitled The Ancient Egyptians and The Gods of the Egyptians. She decided to copy five of the most recent articles published by the professor. Two of them were coauthored with Dr. Martin Harland of the British Museum in London. They dealt with the development of hieroglyphic signs of Egyptian deities. The other three articles dealt with recent discoveries from digs in a little-recognized kingdom in Upper Egypt.

For the rest of the day she tried to read as much as possible of what she had gathered, which was not an easy task. Her lack of prior knowledge in the subject resulted in her having to read and reread the material to be able to discern significant points that she could use in a discussion with the professor. It was even more difficult to identify issues that could be eventually simplified for presentation on the broadcast.

The next day Kerry arrived on campus well before one o’clock. She used the extra time to find her way to the professor’s office; then she walked over to the library for a final look at the materials she had gathered.

When she arrived for her appointment, the professor greeted her warmly, which helped put her at ease. He was in his early fifties, rather short, but well built, with wide shoulders and an inflated chest. He had thick, curly black hair. He was not the skinny, tall, blond archeologist running around in long khaki shorts that she had imagined. He spoke directly and in a high-toned voice.

“I always felt that archeology had a sense of adventure. Is that what attracted you to it?” Kerry asked after they had both settled in.

“The adventure is in the mind,” Seaport responded, pointing at his head. “It is much more tedious work in the field, but as a freshman, yes, you might say that I thought that there was an adventure in it. And to be honest with you, I had my share of adventures. Not life-threatening ones, really, but a sandstorm here and there, a runaway camel. I would call these adventures.”

“I understand that you travel a lot in the Middle East.”

“Yes, I do. I have to keep up with my field.” He smiled. “Do you travel much for your work?”

“Nothing exotic,” Kerry shook her head. “How would you describe your interest in ancient Egypt, Professor? Is there still a thrill? After you have seen the Pyramids for the hundredth time, is there still a WOW…”

“Oh yes. The physical presence of the ancient structures—I don’t think it is something you can get used to. Their majesty is just the beginning. As I tell my students, the ancient Egyptian culture is one of thousands of years; it can touch us on many different levels.”

“For example?”

“Well, I think it is a question of what one is seeking. There are those who find interest on what I call the ‘insipid’ level, dealing with ancient Egyptian curses, and magic or hidden treasures. Others’ interest lies on the ‘stupefaction’ level, the geometric dimension of the Pyramids, how long it took to build them, and how many slaves must have died in the process. And there are the few who take a ‘pensive’ interest. They want to understand the utility of archeology and what the lessons are that ancient Egypt has left.”

“Did they leave any?” she asked.

He answered, smiling, “I do not think they were much occupied with the future, even though one might consider the many monuments they left as containing a timeless message. They were not preoccupied with change. For them, life was consistent and continuous, as the sun shines every morning so the Nile floods every year. If there is a lesson in these structures, it is in realizing that what we do today will have an effect for generations to come.”

“I understand that throughout history many of these structures were looted or destroyed. Does this remain a concern?”

“The Egyptians built their monuments, for example the Pyramids, far from their civilization’s main crossroads, but a population explosion in Egypt in the last three decades has wiped out the divide, and as a result, the survival of these structures is jeopardized. For example, seeping sewer water from nearby neighborhoods weakens the foundations of the Sphinx. The quality of the dry desert air that has acted as protective shield for millennia is changing drastically due to human presence and pollution. As in many parts of the world, the tension between modernity and nature is present in Egypt and is taking its toll on the heritage of ancient Egypt.” The words rolled off his tongue like a political statement that he was accustomed to giving. He seemed convinced of it, but still there was an underlying sense of repetition, that made the words ring like a cliché.

Kerry thought of trying a different topic. “From what I read, it seems that you have some interest in the literary heritage of the ancient Egyptians.”

“Yes indeed, my interest in Egyptian archeology is on the ‘erudite’ level. The ancient Egyptian has left us a splendid literary treasure that, so far, we have not been able to take full account of culturally.”

“Why?”

“I think the answer is contained in a number of reasons. First, we do not usually consider the Egyptians as part of Western civilization. Historically and culturally we begin with the Greeks. The truth is that the Egyptians had tremendous impact on Greek civilization, but unfortunately, we do not have sufficient records to adequately identify their influence. Second, the difficulty and limitations of the hieroglyphic writing system of the ancient Egyptians has restricted the spread of their literature into other cultures. Unlike Greek manuscripts, very little Egyptian writings survived outside Egypt. The system itself became unintelligible. During the last centuries of ancient Egypt, mainly the priests and scribes mastered the use of hieroglyphics. With the Christianizing of Egypt, this knowledge was lost. As you might know, it was not until 1799, during Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt, that the Rosetta Stone was discovered. The consequent deciphering of its hieroglyphic characters by the English physicist Thomas Young in 1818, and Jean François Champollion in 1822 opened the door for the uncovering of ancient Egypt.”

“I was told that you are considered a world authority on hieroglyphics,” she said quickly, before he could continue in his “lecture” mode.

“It is a very humble honor,” he said with a soft smile. “When there are not many who are interested in a subject, it is easy to become a world authority. I would say that my interest in hieroglyphics is facilitated by a capacity for visual artistry. In many cases, archeology is like putting a puzzle together, whether it is trying to figure out how ten shreds of pottery connect, or trying to identify the floor plan of a recently unearthed palace. A strong imagination is handy in these situations. I am personally fascinated by hieroglyphics and the ability of the ancient Egyptians to produce a remarkably imaginative and detailed system.”

“You said that the priests were the last to hold the knowledge of hieroglyphics, so was it a sacred system?”

“As you might know, the word hieroglyphs is a Greek one meaning ‘sacred inscriptions,’ and the Egyptians believed that the language had mystical aspects to it, that for example the images or pictograms they used could be endowed with the magic power of the thing they stand for. But the fact is that as with most languages, Egyptian has evolved through the centuries to what we classify as Old to Middle then Late forms, with each period having its own emphasis and peculiarities. You could say that the ancient forms were mostly religious, but there is a lot of information about daily life, commerce, shipbuilding, science, literature, and so forth with the later forms. This information can be quite scattered and unorganized, but for those willing to put forth the effort much can be learned.”

“Is that where your current interest lies, in organizing what is available, or do you seek new discoveries?”

The professor thought for a few moments then answered, “Archeology in Egypt today has two main objectives. The first is preserving what we have, such as the Pyramids and other structures. This is usually accomplished in cooperation with specialists in historical restoration and preservation, and in general is under the control of the Egyptian ministry of antiquities, assisted by international cultural bodies. The second objective is to work with the sites that are not yet fully discovered, and mine them for hidden knowledge. This brings me to Egypt two or three months every year. Many are satisfied with what they see on the surface. I think that Egypt has much, much more to offer.”

“Does that mean that what we know today about the ancient Egyptians is not accurate?”

“All knowledge is accurate to a certain degree. In archeology you can never say that you have all the information, because tomorrow someone might be digging a foundation for a house in a village in the middle of nowhere, and a tomb or something will appear with new, brilliant information. The ancient Egyptians built hundreds of temples over the ages, and many more tombs of important and less important individuals. In essence, we never know what tomorrow might bring. At the same time, existent information is always open for new interpretation. For the last five years a major inquiry has been taking place to reidentify an ancient civilization in Upper Egypt that for years was largely unknown. Suddenly we have all this evidence that prompts us to go back and rethink the whole project. As I said, sometimes it takes some imagination to put all the pieces together.”

“So are you working on something new, a new discovery or reinterpretation that’s significant?”

The professor grinned and hurriedly said, “We always think that what we are working on is significant.” He chuckled for a moment, forcing Kerry to smile as well. But then, as if remembering something, he retained a serious posture and said thoughtfully, “I have some information that might turn out to be very important, but it will probably take a while to verify and publish.”

“Very important?”

“Yes, but I can’t say more about that.”

“What about biblical archeology? Is there evidence in Egypt for biblical events?” That seemed the more appealing subject for the viewers of the minister’s broadcast.

The professor seemed surprised by her question. He looked at her thoughtfully, then said, “Depends on which events you are looking at. Egypt was one of the main powers in the area for thousands of years, and it was an influential culture. Take for example the book of Proverbs. The ancient Egyptians had similar books of proverbs and sayings of wise men, and some scholars believe that there is a close parallel between these books and the biblical Proverbs. In my opinion this should not be a surprise. Those cultures were open to each other and shared many similarities.”

“What about Moses and the crossing of the Red Sea? How much evidence is there for that?”

The professor stared at her, and Kerry thought she saw surprise and alarm in his eyes, even fear. But quickly he seemed to collect himself. “Up to now the evidence for the story of the Exodus has been very scanty. There are some records that mention a tribe that some tend to identify as the biblical Hebrews…” He stopped for a moment to consider his words more carefully, then continued cautiously, “There might be some stronger evidence, but as I said you need to have a good imagination for the pieces to fit together…”

“So you think that, ‘with some imagination,’ the story of the crossing of the Red Sea can be confirmed by Egyptian sources.”

He laughed a short laugh that sounded artificial. “You make it sound like a political scandal or something. I am sorry, but I can’t say more about this topic, but as I said, new discoveries are always possible.”

“What about other events, Joseph who was sold into Egypt for example? Is there any mention of him?”

“You need to understand that even though there is not a direct confirmation of biblical events with hard Egyptian evidence, there are still some points of comparison.” He seemed relieved at the change of topic. His voice became stronger and more relaxed as he continued, “For example, in the story of Joseph the interpretation of dreams is a significant element. It happens to be that the ancient Egyptians were very much intrigued with dreams, and they wrote books about how to interpret them.” He paused momentarily, watching Kerry as she wrote in her notebook, then continued, “Another point is Joseph’s rejection of the seduction of his master’s wife; there is an Egyptian story of two brothers with the same motif.”

Kerry found his examples to be interesting, but they seemed too remote to build a report around. To her surprise she felt a little disappointed, so she asked, “So in your opinion, looking to Egypt to confirm biblical events is not useful?”

“As I said, up till now all evidence was, as I explained, very circumstantial.”

Kerry was surprised by the phrasing of his answer and wanted to make sure that he meant what he said. “Are you implying that there is something new?”

The professor was going to say something, but he changed his mind and instead looked at his watch, saying, “Sorry, but I really can’t say any more.”

Kerry’s did not feel satisfied; her experience and instincts were telling her to pursue the question. “What about off the record?” she said and put her pen down.

“Off the record?”

“Yes. I am just trying to understand what attracts you to ancient Egypt. What do you find so compelling that you go back, year after year, to the sandstorms and the bucking camels?”

“The Nobel prize.”

“You want to win the Nobel prize in archeology?”

“It doesn’t exist.” Seaport smiled at her puzzled look. “There is no Nobel prize for archeology.”

“Oh.” She tried to smile sheepishly. “But…”

“The Nobel prize enshrines major turning points. You’re familiar with the term paradigm shift?”

“When the way of thinking changes because of a major event?.”

“Yes.”

“And you think you’re onto something that significant?”

Seaport shrugged, but his eyes were beaming. Kerry felt a little frustrated thinking of her upcoming meeting with the minister. Whatever the professor had in mind wasn’t going to help her tonight. She took her notepad and glanced over her notes. What she had now seemed enough for an initial interview, and she wanted to leave on a positive note to keep the door open for further discussions.

“Thank you, Professor,” she said warmly. She took a business card from her purse and handed it to him. “Here is my card, and please let me know when you can talk about your new discovery. I hope that it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you if I call again. I’m sure that as I go over my notes, many questions will come up, and I’ll need to follow up on them with you.”

“Sure, if I can be of help,” he said halfheartedly.

“Thank you again,” she said and left.

As she drove away from the campus, she realized that there wasn’t much time left before she had to go to the ministry’s building for that night’s broadcast. She decided to arrive early and use the time to brief the minister on the interview so that she would not have to be delayed after the program.

As Kerry drove past the motel and into the studio’s parking lot, the RV was parked in the same place it had been two days ago. She entered the building and headed to the third floor. As she walked down the hall from the elevator to the minister’s suite, the floor was alive with sounds and activities. The doors were open, unveiling fully occupied and equipped offices as good as, or better than, she saw at some major newspapers. She began to appreciate the full-scale operation of the ministry. It was not just a one-hour broadcast four days a week; it seemed more like a full network. This realization gave Kerry a different perspective on the minister’s offer. It was becoming more and more attractive, and the feeling of guilt for her mistrust came back to trouble her. When she arrived at the reception area, there were two older women occupying the two desks.

One of them greeted her cheerfully, saying, “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

“Yes, I need to see the minister.”

“Do you have an appointment with him?”

“No, not for now.”

“I am sorry, but the minister is usually busy. Can I get one of his assistants to help you?”

“No,” Kerry said thoughtfully; she was weighing if it was worth trying to see him now or whether she should just wait until after the broadcast. “I have an appointment with him for later this evening, but I had some free time now. Could you please tell him that Kerry Rosemond would like to see him now if possible?” Her request was direct and assured, leaving the secretary no easy way of refusing.

“Just a minute, dear,” the secretary said, but her tone wasn’t as pleasant as the words, and she went into the minister’s office. A moment later she came out, keeping the door open, and motioned for Kerry to enter.

“Please, come in, sit down; I will be with you shortly,” the minister called from behind his desk, then went back to dealing with papers in front of him. Shortly after, he got up and joined Kerry on the sofa.

“Sorry if I came at an inconvenient time. I’d rather talk to you now.”

“I am usually busier before the broadcast, but I am happy you came by. I hope you have some good news.”

“Well, I met with the professor and had a fairly good visit with him. Not as long as I’d have liked, but I was able to discuss a few issues with him. I’d call it more of a preliminary meeting. I just wanted to brief you and to talk about where we go from here.”

“That’s wonderful,” he said cheerfully. “Give me an overview of your discussion.”

Kerry opened her notebook and began to summarize what she and the professor had discussed. The minister kept listening, his face expressionless. He seemed preoccupied with his own thoughts. He did not ask any questions until she came to the last part of interview and her questions about historical evidence supporting biblical events.

“Could you repeat the question, please?” he interrupted. Kerry reread the question.

“Now, please read me the answer.”

Kerry began reading the answer. The minister was listening intently and thoughtfully. He asked her to continue reading from her notes, interrupting her occasionally to ask her to repeat the professor’s words.

“He does not seem to be giving you definite answers.”

“No.”

“Did you think that he was trying to hide something?”

The question surprised Kerry. “Hide something?”

“As an experienced reporter, you would sense if someone wasn’t being open with you. You know, trying to hide some information. Did you have that impression about the professor?”

“Well,” she thought for a moment, “he was warm and spoke freely for most of the time. Toward the end he became less assured. I don’t know if that’s because the interview moved from discussion to speculation. As an academic, he might not have been very comfortable offering speculations.”

“Did you get the impression that there was something new or interesting that he is working on?”

“He did mention that he was working on new discoveries.”

“What were they? Did he say?”

“No.”

“So would you say that he tried to hide that from you?”

The professor did not divulge what he was working on. But why call that hiding? Kerry closed her notebook and looked at the minister. She hesitated, trying to choose her words carefully. “Is there something in particular about the professor that you are hoping to learn?”

The question took the minister by surprise, but only for a moment. Then with his normal smile, he looked Kerry in the eyes and said softly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything, I was just trying to get a feeling for the professor. Many so-called academics have been so biased against the Bible that I think sometimes important evidence of its events is easily dismissed, while any point of criticism or doubt is pursued with zeal. I am in the business of building faith, and I like to be cautious with the information and the people I have on my program.”

Kerry did not know how she should interpret his words. “I didn’t tell the professor that you asked me to interview him. I told him that I am working freelance.”

There was a brief moment of silence, as each evaluated their positions. Kerry did not care anymore about the report; she just wanted to leave the office.

The minister broke the silence, saying as he stood up, “Why don’t we think about this over the weekend. I’ll talk to you about it next week and see where we stand.”

“Good,” she mumbled.

The minister extended his hand. She shook it coldly and left the room and headed to the choir’s dressing room. She hated the way she was feeling. The minister dialed the phone. After two rings a heavy male voice with a strong accent answered, “Egyptian Embassy, may I help you?”

“Commander Kamal Arif, please.”

“One moment.” The minister was put on hold.

“Commander Arif speaking.” The voice was warm and the accent less noticeable.

“This is Minister Rauly.”

“Good evening, dear friend, how are you doing?” The voice became warmer. Reflexively, the minister smiled. “I am doing good, alshukur li Allah.”

“I thank Allah for all his blessings, too,” Kamal responded with a laugh.

“I had someone talk with the professor. He did not seem to be forthcoming; he has some new things in the work, but he would not discuss them.”

“Okay, any details at all?”

“No. But it is in the area that you mentioned.”

“I see. Maybe it is time for me to meet the professor. I’ll be in Houston tomorrow morning.”

“It will be a pleasure to see you again, Commander, if you have the time.”

“I hope I will. I’ll be in touch with you. Many thanks.”

“God bless.” The minister was glad to have this matter out of his hands. He did not like how he had to use Kerry, and he thought about how he could get that behind them without any hard feelings. Impressed by her efficiency, he thought that he might offer her a job.

It was just after eight o’clock Friday morning when Professor Karl Seaport entered his office. He opened the window blinds, letting the morning light brighten the room. A flashing red light on the side of his phone system indicated a message. The professor pushed a button.

“Professor Seaport, this is Kamal Arif, from the Egyptian Embassy in Washington. It is Friday morning. I am flying into Houston today and would like to meet with you between ten thirty and eleven o’clock to discuss an urgent matter. I apologize for the short notice, but it is very important that I meet with you today. I will be at your office as soon as I can. Thank you.”

The professor tried to remember if he should know Mr. Arif. He replayed the message again to see if he would recognize the voice. But he had no recollection of meeting Mr. Arif or having heard his voice before. Then there was a moment of comprehension. He sat down on his desk and replayed the message a third time.

Seaport unlocked a drawer and retrieved a thick brown envelope. He held it in his hands, thinking about what to do with it. He then opened it and slowly emptied its contents onto the desk. First came a letter-sized white envelope, followed by a number of black-and-white pictures, and finally a larger envelope. He picked up the larger envelope, opened it, and gingerly removed its contents. He placed a piece of papyrus paper with five columns of hieroglyphics on the table and unfolded it. Green and blue symbols stood out prominently against the light-brown paper. The professor inspected the hieroglyphics intently. When he finished reading, he reached to the bottom drawer of his desk, opened it, and took out two sheets of white bond paper. Slowly he slipped one of the sheets underneath the papyrus and laid the other one on top of it. He then took out an empty manila folder from the drawer and slipped one of its sides underneath the first sheet of paper, and picked it up. He then gathered the pictures and the letter and put them in the folder as well. From a file cabinet in the corner of the room, he took out two copies of journal articles and placed them in the folder on either side of its contents. He slowly walked back to his chair, sat down, and put the folder to the side of the desk, on top of a pile of other papers and files.

He thought for a few minutes; then he reached into the desk’s top drawer and retrieved from it Kerry’s business card. He found her phone number and dialed it. The phone rang, waking Kerry up. Her head was heavy and she felt tired. She reached for the phone on her desk on the fourth ring.

“Hello,” she said with a yawn.

“Hello. Is this Miss Rosemond?” he asked.

“Yes,” she slowly answered.

“This is Professor Seaport.”

“Professor,” her voice became stronger and lively, “oh, how are you?”

“I want to apologize for ending our meeting so abruptly. I…I had to prepare for a class, and…”

“That was fine. I understand.”

“I feel that what I told you yesterday needs some clarification; I’d like to have another go at it, just to make sure that you didn’t misunderstand what I said.”

“Sure. I have a thing or two that I would like to clarify as well.”

“Maybe sometime next week. I just wanted to make sure that you will not make use of our interview before we get a chance to visit again.”

“It will probably be weeks before anything comes of it, if ever.”

“Fine, but meanwhile I have to ask you not to discuss our interview with anybody else. I don’t want my words to be misunderstood or taken out of context, please.” Kerry could feel a note of urgency and pleading in his voice.

“Is something wrong, Professor?” She was concerned.

“No, nothing is wrong. Just being cautious. I’ll call you early next week to arrange for a meeting. Good-bye now.” He hung up before she could say anything else.

The professor leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, thinking of his last trip to Egypt. He flew into Cairo around the end of October. It was a good time for digging in the desert climate. In the fall, the temperatures are mild and no rain was usually expected. He rented, as usual, an apartment in the Giza neighborhood where he could see the Pyramids in the horizon from his balcony. It was his fifth visit to Cairo working on a program sponsored by the United Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization and the Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities.

For the last couple of years, Seaport and his colleagues had been working on unearthing a small settlement northwest of the Giza pyramids. It was first discovered about twenty years earlier, but because it was considered to be from the Mamlouk era around the eleventh century, not much attention had been given to it. Throughout the last two decades, European volunteers and archeology students worked on it during the summer. Then, three years ago, they reached another level that indicated older structures of ancient Egyptian origin. It was then that the professor became involved in overseeing the new discoveries.

Of special interest to him was a particular tomb, the walls of which were covered with large and well-preserved hieroglyphic reliefs and murals. He was responsible for the interpretation of the writing, assisted by Omar Shafi, a local Egyptian archeologist from the American University in Cairo, representing both the Ministry of Antiquities and the Egyptian Museum.

The first two years of his work on the site were very productive. He and Omar were able to identify most of the writings as part of traditional burial sermons similar to the ones contained in the Book of the Dead. Since most of the writing was hymns to Osiris, the god of the underworld and of judgment and resurrection, they dated the tomb no earlier than the Sixth Dynasty, when the worship of Osiris became widespread in ancient Egypt.

By the second year, all the writing had been identified and interpreted except for on a small part of the wall where the meaning remained ambiguous. It was a reference to a “temple for two water holes” built far in the East, where the rays of the sun god Ra first shine and their warmth enters the heart of Osiris, passing through him into the two water holes. The professor solved the mystery of this small section of the wall during his last visit to Egypt. Two more tombs in the area were discovered, and some of their writings shed light on the origin of the settlement.

The settlement was called Twin Wells, a slight modification of the reference to the two water holes in the first tomb. From other historical records the archeologist came to believe that this settlement was one of two settlements in the area. As more of the ancient settlement was unearthed, they concluded that a fierce sandstorm must have destroyed the original Egyptian settlements, and it was not until centuries later that the area was reinhabited. These conclusions led them to believe that a sister settlement was not far underneath the hills of sand, and the search began to find it.

After one month of searching, the other settlement was discovered under about twelve feet of sand, and Seaport worked on setting the parameters for the initial steps of removing the sand and identifying the borders of the settlement. The process required hiring a large number of workers to pack the sand and transfer it beyond the set boundaries, and the erection of barriers to prevent the sand from moving back. Within weeks, the initial shapes of the settlement began to appear. He had about a month left before he started his visiting residence at Rice University, so he was anxious about the second phase of the excavation. As more of the settlement layout was becoming clear, Seaport and Omar chose an eight-foot-square area and directed the more careful and slower removal of deeper sand from it.

Whether it was luck or their expertise, the site turned out to be a rewarding one. Within days they uncovered the remains of a house filled with artifacts, from pottery to small pieces of gold, but the most important of all was a small stone box that contained some gold instruments with hieroglyphics on them. It was a rare and unique discovery that would have enabled them to identify the period of the settlement more accurately. It was then that things changed suspiciously.

First, Omar was transferred to another assignment and an unfamiliar man was assigned in his place. This came as administrative changes at the Egyptian Museum took place. The new assistant was a bright young man who seemed very knowledgeable about ancient Egypt. He was experienced with archeology, but he was very cautious and hesitant about the progress of their work and always eager to consult with his supervisors at the Egyptian Museum. Soon, workdays were lost because of trivial and dubious reasons. Doors that were usually open for the professor at the museum and the Ministry of Antiquities were closing in his face as personnel changed and stricter regulations were put in place. The professor became increasingly frustrated with the situation as his days in Cairo came to an end.

At the time, he attributed the problems and changes to bureaucratic imbecility. That’s how he explained the situation to Dr. Ian Dreeve, a young English archeologist who came to replace him from the British Museum in London. Dr. Dreeve was energetic and enthusiastic. This was his first assignment as a leading archeologist. In contrast to his enthusiasm about the discoveries, he had a cynical personality when it came to human interaction. Seaport’s impression was that Dr. Dreeve had some cultural dislike of the Egyptians and that he was excessively suspicious of the changes and delays they experienced. When Seaport left Egypt, it was the first time that he had left frustrated and disappointed.

During the three months since the professor left Egypt, Dr. Dreeve kept him updated on the work and its progress. Dr. Dreeve would contact him every weekend via e-mail, sending him lists of artifacts discovered, areas unearthed, structures identified, and so on. The professor was pleased that the work seemed to be moving much better than it had when he was there, but Dr. Dreeve would regularly include comments of suspicion and mistrust directed at his Egyptian assistant and the other officials.

Then last Saturday, to his surprise, Dr. Dreeve’s update did not arrive. He sent Dr. Dreeve an e-mail inquiring about the delay, but he received no answer. He was worried that something might have happened, so he tried contacting him by phone but could not reach him. He tried the museum in Cairo, but no one seemed to know where Dr. Dreeve was. When all his efforts failed, he contacted his colleague and longtime friend, Dr. Harland at the British Museum in London and asked him to reach Dr. Dreeve. On Tuesday he received a message that Dr. Dreeve had taken a week off and left Cairo, but no one knew where he went.

On Wednesday, he received the brown envelope in the mail. It was posted from New York, but its contents were from Dr. Dreeve in Cairo. There were pictures from the digging site, from the original and the newly discovered settlement of Twin Wells. Then there was the sheet of papyrus Dr. Dreeve had found. The grade of preservation of the papyrus was astonishing, but its text was shocking. As he tried to read through the writing, the style and the form of it struck him as odd. It was definitely from an older period than the settlement was thought to be from. As he was able to identify some of its contents, he found himself doubting the authenticity of the manuscript. In the last twenty years he had read every piece of ancient Egyptian writing ever found, most in the original. This text did not conform in a number of aspects to the known literature, and it became evident that extensive research would be necessary before any judgment concerning the parchment or its contents could be made. He decided not to take any action until he talked with Dr. Dreeve first. Seaport was hoping that Dr. Dreeve would return to Cairo by the weekend and would supply him with more information about the papyrus.

Even with his doubts, he did indulge himself in thinking about the possibility of its authenticity and the effect that it would have. It could be the greatest historical discovery of the twentieth century. Then came his interview with Kerry the next day, and he had almost slipped into referring to it. Wisely he was able to hold himself before divulging too much. The content of it was exactly what Kerry was asking for, and it was hard to keep it to himself.

This morning’s message brought with it the realization that if the papyrus was authentic, then it was the property of the Egyptian government, and transferring it to the United States was illegal. Both international and American laws set restrictions on the transfer of cultural properties, and his possession of the papyrus could implicate him in criminal offenses. He found himself in a dilemma. If the Egyptian diplomat’s visit had anything to do with the papyrus, then he was in danger of incriminating Dr. Dreeve and probably himself. Their reputation and status in academia were in danger. Dr. Dreeve would probably be arrested in Egypt and put on trial. So many Egyptian artifacts were taken outside the country, either by occupying armies or illegal smugglers, that the Egyptians were hypersensitive to any infringement on their so-called cultural heritage. On the other hand, the papyrus, once its authenticity was established and its contents fully understood, would be a world-class discovery. A discovery this important comes maybe once in a century.

“This could be the Egyptian Dead Sea Scrolls,” he murmured in frustration. He was one of a handful of experts qualified to interpret and evaluate its contents. It was his right to work on it. It would be the wonderful culmination of all his work in Egypt and his scholarship in Pharaonic history and mythology. He needed more time before taking any action. He needed to talk to Dr. Dreeve so Seaport would not endanger his safety and reputation. Whatever Commander Arif was coming for, Seaport could not tell him about the papyrus. He had no intention of keeping it permanently away from Egypt. Once its authenticity and meaning were confirmed, he would send it back to Egypt. Ultimately no harm would be done.

The professor got up, threw the empty envelope in the trash, and left the office to get some coffee. When he returned there were two men waiting by his office door. There was no doubt that they were Egyptians. He walked toward them and said, “Can I help you gentlemen?”

“Professor Seaport?” one of the men asked. He was the older of the two, in his late thirties, athletically built and tall. Both were dressed in suits and ties.

“Yes.”

“I am Commander Arif, Kamal Arif of the Egyptian Embassy in Washington. I left a message this morning. We got in a little earlier than we expected. Do you have a minute?” He extended his hand to the professor.

“Of course,” responded the professor as if he had remembered something obvious. He took the commander’s hand and shook it. “Yes. I was surprised by your message, Commander,” he continued as he unlocked the office door. “Please come in.”

“Call me Kamal. I use commander out of habit; I was released only a year ago. This is my assistant, Mr. Ali Sa’ed.” The professor and Mr. Sa’ed shook hands cordially.

“How can I help you, Mr. Arif?” Seaport asked as they sat at his desk.

“Are you familiar with Dr. Dreeve?”

“Yes of course, he replaced me on the Two Wells digging site about four months ago. Incidentally, I have been trying to get hold of him. Is he okay?”

“That is what we are trying to find out. Dr. Dreeve left Cairo over a week ago, and no one has heard from him since. No one seems to know where he is, and the minister of antiquities is getting concerned. We hope you will be able to help us locate him.”

“As I just said, I have been trying to reach him myself for the last few days, but I couldn’t. I’m not sure how can I help you.”

“Why is that?” Ali spoke for the first time. His voice was clear and with little accent.

The professor gave Ali a questioning look. “Why what?”

“Why were you trying to contact him, Professor?” Kamal asked.

“He has been sending me weekly reports about his work. I expected one last Saturday, but when it did not arrive, I tried to contact him, to see if anything was wrong.”

“Can we have a copy of his reports?” Kamal asked.

The professor hesitated for a moment. “I am sorry, they are electronic reports, sent through e-mail. I don’t usually save them. There isn’t that much in them anyway.”

“Isn’t it odd that you would miss a report that doesn’t contain much information?” Ali questioned him.

The professor felt defensive. “They are important given my interest in the archeological significance of the site. It was Dr. Dreeve’s initiative to provide me with these reports, and I’ve come to look forward to them.” He tried to sound casual as he continued, “They became like news briefs from Egypt, so when he failed to send one last week I was worried and tried to…”

“Why would you be worried?” Ali interrupted.

“I do not understand.”

“What Ali means is, was there any reason for you to think that Dr. Dreeve’s safety was in danger? Did he inform you that he was at risk? Did he receive any threats?”

“No, none of that, I was just concerned. When something you expect to happen doesn’t happen, you worry.”

“Was there anything in these reports that would indicate what he was planning to do last week or where he would be now?”

“No, I don’t recall any such information. I am sorry; it seems that I can’t offer you much help. Is that what you flew all the way here for?” He did not believe that the two men flew from Washington just to discuss the whereabouts of Dr. Dreeve.

“Professor, I was told that you are a good friend of Egypt and have done great work in advancing our knowledge of its history, so we are here on a friendly visit,” Arif spoke softly. “I am sorry to say that we have good reason to believe that Dr. Dreeve is involved in smuggling artifacts out of Egypt. We have reason to believe that his disappearance is connected with an attempt at illegal excavations for the intent of robbery and smuggling.”

“What? Nonsense,” Seaport snapped at him. “Dr. Dreeve came to Egypt with the highest recommendations.”

“He was under surveillance for some time. We are confident of his illegal activities, and we believe that he has accomplices. It’s in your own best interest to cooperate with us.”

“Are you accusing me of something?” the professor growled defensively. For months he and Dr. Dreeve have had to deal with endless obstacles and delays in their work, and now they were being accused of dubious activity. “I have worked in Egypt for years, and I’ve found nothing but friendship, cooperation, and gratitude until last year. Suddenly everything has changed. People have been transferred from jobs that they had for years with excellent performance. Everywhere I turned I was faced with delays and inefficiencies. Now you say that Dr. Dreeve was under surveillance. What is really going on?”

“Things are changing in Egypt,” Ali answered in a cold and controlled voice. “If you do not cooperate with us, you will never be welcome in Egypt again.”

“What! This is…”

“Five days ago,” Kamal interrupted their altercation, “Dr. Dreeve was at Cairo Airport, and we believe that he was attempting to smuggle important artifacts. We believe that these artifacts were given to a passenger heading to the United States, where they were mailed to their final destination.” Kamal leaned forward and rested his hands on the desk. He looked directly at Seaport and continued, his voice soft but sharp, full of confidence and threat, “Professor, we believe that you have these artifacts, and we want them back. I hope that I am making myself clear.”

The professor felt drops of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. “There is something very wrong here, Mr. Arif. I’ll have to call Ambassador Karamah in Washington and resolve this situation with him directly. As far as I am concerned, there is no more for us to discuss.”

The two men did not move or show any intention of leaving. “This is between you and us, Professor, and it will have to be resolved now.”

The professor looked at the two men with concern. What they wanted was within their reach. His confidence in his position was shaky, and his concern for Dr. Dreeve’s safety became more acute.

The silence in the room was broken by a knock on the door, adding to the tension. There was another knock. “Come in,” called the professor.

The door opened and Kerry entered halfway; when she saw the two men she stopped.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Professor,” she said, looking at the two men.

“Oh, no. It is okay.” He stood up. He was surprised to see her, but he immediately saw a chance to use her visit to his advantage. His main concern was to get the folder away from his office. He stood up and said a little erratically, “Let me introduce you to Sally Slovtsik; she is one of our graduate students. Sally, this is Mr. Arif and Mr. Ali from the Egyptian Embassy. Here.” He grabbed the folder and handed it to her. “I have gone over your project, and I think it’s very promising. I’ve made some notes on it, but as you can see, I can’t discuss them with you now. Take it…we’ll go over it later.” He extended the folder to Kerry, looking into her eyes.

Kerry was bewildered. For a moment, she thought that he had mistaken her for someone else, but then she saw the pleading in his eyes and decided to play along. “Oh, okay, that is fine. I understand. I’ll just go and read over your notes, and then I’ll call you later. Thank you.” She took the folder and left.

The professor sat back at his desk, filled with relief. “Gentlemen,” he spoke confidently, “I am sure that there is a huge misunderstanding. I don’t think I can help you any further. I have no information about where Dr. Dreeve is nor about any illegal activities he may be involved in. I’d really like to help you out, but you have to be more understanding and trust me.”

“Professor,” Kamal smiled softly. His tone was mild and even pleasant. “We have been traveling since about six this morning. It has been a long morning for us. We are hungry, and I am sorry we came down a little hard on you. Maybe we need to create a different atmosphere between us. Would you please join us for an early lunch? There are more sensitive issues that we need to discuss with you, and I am sure that after some food and a coffee we can have a better understanding of each other. We know that you are a busy man, but I think we can make the next hour or so worthwhile for you.”

The professor was relieved by the change in Kamal’s attitude. Concerned about Dr. Dreeve’s safety, he hoped to get more information out of them. “To be honest with you, I am very troubled by what is happening in Egypt. If I come with you, then you’ll have to explain what is going on.”

“I promise,” Kamal answered. “I know that during your last visit to Egypt you faced a lot of difficulties, and I think that I can explain.”

Kamal insisted that they use their car. As they walked toward the visitors’ parking lot, the professor pointed out the different buildings on campus. Kamal seemed interested and kept the professor talking by asking questions while Ali silently walked in front of them. When they came to the car, Kamal took the driver’s seat, and the professor sat in the front with him. Kamal suggested a restaurant he had seen as they drove in from the airport.

Kamal kept the professor talking about the university and the city, and it was several minutes before he noticed that they were driving past the airport.

The professor asked, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” But Kamal did not answer. The professor became alarmed and asked again.

“Professor, shut up and enjoy the ride,” Ali spoke from the backseat. The professor turned back toward him, and to his surprise, Ali was pointing a gun at him.

“Just relax, Professor,” Kamal said.

They drove for about thirty minutes, moving out into the hills. There was not much the professor could do but sit and wait. Kamal slowed, scouted the side of the road for secluded areas, and exited the highway. Soon they were driving onto a dirt road; the professor looked back and saw a large van pass by. It slowed down and came to a stop about hundred yards from the turnoff.

Meir and David stepped out of the RV and watched the car disappear into the woods.

“What do you think?” Meir asked.

David shrugged his shoulders. “We cannot follow them on this road. We will wait until they come back.”

The two men went back to the RV and sat down silently, watching the dirt road. About fifteen minutes later, the car reappeared and turned onto the highway. But they did not see the professor in the car.

Order Online