Yes, he’d start with Sammy, and later, he’d give his friend Israel Steinmetz a ring at Ha’Aretz, one the two leading daily newspapers in Jerusalem.Īs he made himself a quick sandwich he thought about the look he’d soon see on Grace’s face when she read the inscription. And this practice had not only fostered an easy and amicable relationship with the Antiquities Authority, it had also given rise to a most enjoyable friendship between Art and Sammy. For years Art had cheerfully turned over any findings or artifacts to the IAA, most of which found homes in various museums in and around Jerusalem. Samuel Cohen, and see if he couldn’t come right over with the pictures.
He needed to start making phone calls, but in what order? IAA or press first? He should probably start with the IAA’s director, Dr. He didn’t even bother with the hot tap “cold water rinses soap and grime just as well,” he reasoned, and he desperately needed a respite from the heat.Ĭlean, cooled and quenched, West set the empty water bottle on the weathered table that served as his desk. Barely taking time to remove the keys from the ignition, he headed straight for the bathroom. Just after passing the Pool of Siloam and the old City of David ruins, Art turned onto a quiet side street, and whipped into the fourth driveway on the left. And had he been culpable, he certainly wouldn’t have answered the call for help. A man of honor, the Palestinian Christian had shown him nothing but friendship over the past several months. “Who would seal me in a tomb, for Heaven’s sake? Did someone follow me? A prankster? Why didn’t I see them? Hear them?” Only briefly did his thoughts turn to Mustafa.
Propelling the bright blue Mini Metro towards his apartment, Art’s thoughts bounced like pinballs. Gratefully he listened to one ring after another until he began to worry that Mustafa had, for some reason, left the property. Silently offering a prayer that he had enough battery power, he punched in the numbers to the caretaker’s office. He used his sparingly, sharing the number with only a select few and keeping the ringer turned to silent. Think man, think! His cell phone! Normally he hated the things. He had tossed the collapsible spade aside before diving into the mound, so prying the stone loose was out of the question. Besides the waning flashlight, dwindling canteen, and digital camera, he had a handful of brushes, a small notebook and pencil and a bar of Halvah, a Middle-Eastern answer to a candy bar. He tried to focus his thoughts, taking a mental inventory of his pack. Perfect for storing bones inside stone boxes, the conditions in this tomb were anything but accommodating for living, breathing six-foot men. Soon, however, fear replaced fascination. Twice born of Yeshua, in sure hope of resurrection”