13th Apostle by Richard F. Heller, Rachael F. Heller Read Free Book Online

exhibit at Israel Museum’s Shrine of the Book will be gone—back under lock and key—perhaps forever.
    Gil finished reading. “Yeah, so?”
    â€œI can’t believe you don’t get it! Look, right now the Museum has the first scroll in their hands, and Ludlow has the diary that may show them where the second scroll is hidden. If they can get their hands on both of the scrolls at the same time, they should be able to figure out where the treasure is hidden. The problem is, that within a couple of months, the Museum’s got to return the first scroll. If you don’t help them find the second scroll before they have to return the first, they can pretty much kiss the treasure good-bye.”
    George smiled with satisfaction and continued. “They’re caught between a rock and a hard place with all their contributors watching. If you can find some hidden message in the diary that leads them to a second scroll, you can just about write your own ticket.”
    CyberNet’s ticket, you mean. Still, Gil had to admit it didn’t sound half bad.
    â€œYou said this Reuters’ article is how old?”
    â€œSix months, more or less.”
    â€œWhich is it? More or less?” Gil asked.
    â€œAhah! Got your interest didn’t it? Knew it would. Actually, the article’s about eight months old. From what I can see, it was written before Ludlow and DeVris got their hands on the diary. Now, with the possibility that the diary might connect The Cave 3 Scroll with a yet-to-be-uncovered second scroll, they must be desperate. I’m telling you, we could get a bundle for this one.”
    Shaking his head, Gil smiled at the big lovable manipulator he called boss. He was hooked and George knew it.
    â€œHere are your plane tickets. You’ve got a red-eye that leaves out of JFK at eleven tonight. Ludlow’s still on his way back to London, but I’ll nail down the contract by fax within a couple of hours, that is, unless you still want me to pass this whole thing on to one of the other guys, in which case…”
    â€œShut up and give me something to write on,” Gil muttered, reaching for a pad.
    Gil caught George’s fleeting look of supreme satisfaction.
    Think you know me so well, don’t you?
    In his eagerness to sell Gil on the idea, George had left out one vital detail. The news article carried none of the banners or pop-up ads that brought those websites revenue. Clearly, George had cooked up the article to sell Gil on the deal.
    Gil shook his head. He had no idea why George was trying so hard to pull this one off, but whatever the reason, he was game for it.

Chapter 9
    Day Five, early morning
Entrance Gallery, Shrine of the Book
Israel Museum, Jerusalem
    Tuesday was Kids’ Day at The Shrine of the Book Museum. Hassan Ben Gaza hated the weekly intrusion. He hated the indulged children. Most of all, he hated their infidel parents and grandparents who had expropriated the land of his ancestors.
    A group of schoolchildren blocked his way. He skirted around them with practiced skill. Had he been seen, Hassan would have been forced to endure their taunts. Twisted across the shoulders and back, his huge skull looked as if it might topple off his misshapen body. A matrix of wrinkles crisscrossed his face. It was no wonder that more than one child, confronted by Hassan in the hall, had whispered the word “mummy” to a giggling companion. Their derision held more truth than they would ever know. Like the mummies who filled the screens of the old horror movies that Hassan so loved, he too waited patiently to make his dream of retribution come true.
    Four years earlier, Maluka had rescued Hassan from a life of misery and crime. Out of work and desperate for money in a city in which forty men competed for even the most menial of jobs, Hassan had been spending his nights breaking into cars. The few shekels for which he risked his life and freedom were