‘No, no, no!’
Sliding a wide right on to Forsyth Avenue, Flaherty fought the steering wheel to straighten the car on the slick road. He leaned on the horn and depressed the accelerator again. Now he had Dumbo’s attention. The guy planted himself in the centre of the street at twenty metres, levelled the Glock at the Concorde’s windshield.
Dipping below the dashboard, Flaherty jammed down on the brakes while cutting the wheel hard to the left. The round thwunked into the passenger-side doorframe. The Concorde swung into a sideways skid, but the forward momentum kept it along a direct line for the shooter.
Still low, Flaherty reached for his underarm holster and unsnapped his Beretta.
There was a thump that continued over the car’s rear window, then trunk, that was certainly the gunman. Flaherty immediately popped up and saw the Corolla directly ahead. He braced himself for the impact. The huge Concorde’s bumper clipped the side of the Corolla and the car spun another ninety degrees so that he was now looking at the erratic tyre tracks he’d left in the snow.
The downed gunman was already making a move for his fumbled Glock, his right leg hobbling from the car-jumping stunt.
Flaherty threw open the driver’s-side door, thrust the gun between the V opening and pulled the trigger. The shot wasn’t well aimed, but it forced Dumbo to abandon the Glock and go scrambling for cover behind a concrete construction barricade that cordoned off the sidewalk beside the museum’s new American Wing.
While keeping his eyes on the barricade, Flaherty reached across to the passenger door, pulled the handle, and pushed it open.
‘Brooke, it’s me, Agent Flaherty! Get in the car!’
There was a sickening pause that had him wondering whether Dumbo’s third shot had found its intended target.
‘Brooke! Let’s go!’
Finally, he heard feet crunching through snow. She bounded into the seat beside him then pulled the door shut.
‘Stay down,’ he told her.
After confirming in the rearview mirror that the street behind him was empty, Flaherty pulled his door shut, shifted the car into reverse, and pushed down on the accelerator, spinning the tyres. As soon as the car got moving, he flipped the gun to his left hand, powered down his window, and hung his arm out.
Sure enough, Dumbo jumped out over the barricade and began running at the car. Like every tenacious assassin, he was gripping a backup pistol. Flaherty immediately shot at him. His left-handed aim was lousy, and the assassin sensed it - didn’t break stride or deviate to either side, just kept coming.
‘Damn, he’s fast,’ Flaherty grumbled. He fired again and saw the round spit snow close to the assassin’s feet. He pushed harder on the accelerator, trying like hell to keep the car on a straight line. Another quick glance in the rearview showed that the intersection was directly behind. No time for a three-point turn. Blindly racing into traffic wouldn’t be smart, either. That meant another fancy manoeuvre.
‘Keep down,’ he told Brooke.
Flaherty pulled his left arm in and jerked the wheel all the way to the left while at the same time easing off the gas. With the tyres grabbing nothing but ice and powder, the car initiated a wicked spin. At the ninety-degree mark, he cranked the wheel in the opposite direction and pushed down on the accelerator again. The timing was good, but the result was far from perfect. The car slid more than the 180 degrees he intended, caught the kerb and the snow heaped along it. Luckily, it wasn’t enough to stop the car from moving forward. Anticipating the assassin’s next move, Flaherty ducked low, pulled the wheel slightly to the right and gave it more gas.
The rear window clacked three times in quick succession - one round cutting into the top of the dashboard, one drilling into the aftermarket Bose stereo, and one pounding into the steering wheel an inch above Flaherty’s hand.
Flaherty punched the gas and held the wheel straight. When he poked his head up over the dash, he realized that blind steering had put the car on a collision course with a three-car commuter train plodding along the above-ground median railway - the Green Line. And he realized that if he jammed on the brakes, he’d either sideswipe the train, or be crushed by a huge municipal dump-truck-turned-plough that was heading right for his door with its air horn blaring.
‘Hold on!’ he yelled to Brooke.
He hit the gas harder and cut the wheel sharp left. The car cleared the plough and skidded sideways into the train’s path. The conductor had apparently anticipated what was happening, and brought the train to an abrupt stop, just as the Concorde thudded over the rails and continued a sideways slide into a snow bank.
With no time to think, Flaherty got the car moving again and didn’t look back.
Despite his years, the elderly monsignor wove deftly through the aisles of the subterranean library. Hazo trailed closely behind him, scanning the amazing collection of manuscripts in the sealed bookcases. There were no windows in sight, making him wonder how deep beneath the mountain they were.
‘I’ve been told that your collection contains some of the world’s oldest books and scrolls,’ he said to make polite conversation.
The monsignor shook his head and swatted his hand at the idea as if it were a fly.
Though Hazo didn’t appreciate the old man’s crotchety disposition, he knew the monk had good reason to avoid the topic. Back in the fourteenth century the monastery’s entire collection had to be clandestinely relocated to avoid destruction by Timur’s invading Mongol army. The monastery itself could not escape partial destruction and remained abandoned until 1795. With a similar threat now brewing outside these walls, Hazo guessed the monks were rightfully concerned about opportunistic looters sacking the library.
‘Here.’ The monsignor stopped at a bookcase. He slid open the glass door, pulled out a leather-bound codex. He eyed Hazo’s crucifix. ‘First, let me ask you: as a Christian you are familiar with the stories of the Bible … the book of Genesis?’
‘I am.’
‘Then I presume you know the Creation story? How the world began?’
Hazo nodded.
The monsignor’s lips twisted into a wry smile. ‘Is that so? Please, tell me what you know.’
Unsure of how this exercise could possibly relate to his query, Hazo conveyed what he could recall: how in six days God created Heaven and Earth then made light to separate day and night across the formless waters … then land and sea, vegetation … then sun, moon and stars … then creatures from the waters and the birds to fly above the earth … then he ordered the land to be covered with living creatures dwelling upon it. And finally he created Adam then Eve. When he’d finished, the monk seemed impressed.
‘Not bad,’ the monsignor said. ‘Like most Christians, however, you have made a critical omission, though I will not fault you for it. It is a very minute detail that is easily overlooked. We’ll get to that shortly. Come, there is a table over here.’ He motioned for Hazo to follow.
Entering a study niche, the monsignor brought Hazo to a work table and set the codex on a bookstand. Using a flat-tipped stylus, he began gingerly leafing through the ancient pages.
Looking on, Hazo admired the book’s wonderful text and drawings complete with gilding and vibrant colours. The pages were deeply stained along the corners by countless fingerprints - oils and contaminants left behind in the vellum, he guessed.
‘The problem with books and scrolls,’ the monsignor explained while turning the pages, ‘is their fragile nature. Time is cruel to them. You can see these discolorations in the black lettering.’ He indicated where complete passages had faded from crisp black to a greenish brown. ‘In the old days metals, like copper and lead, were mixed into the ink. Naturally, metals oxidize over time. If there hadn’t been men dedicated to preserving and transcribing these ancient works, they’d have been lost long, long ago. We’ve begun to digitize the collections … to
permanently
preserve them.’ He kept flipping pages. ‘Did you know that 7,000 monks once lived on this mountain?’
‘I did not,’ Hazo admitted. With the monk hunched over the book, Hazo now realized just how stooped the man’s shoulders were; partly from age, Hazo was sure, but partly from the decades-long repetition of this very act.
‘Yes, it is true. Seven thousand monks. And many of those men dedicated their lives to the task of preserving our history. Without them …’ He shook his head gravely while keeping his eyes buried in the pages. ‘Though some criticize the accuracy of transcriptions through the ages, there come times when source material - the very origin of a story - is discovered, and it vindicates the written legacy. What you found in that cave is a fantastic example. Ah, yes. See here,’ he said, stopping on a page and tapping the lollipop tip of the stylus on its central drawing. He straightened and took a step to the side. ‘Look familiar?’
Hazo stepped closer and leaned in to examine the drawing, which replicated images in his photos. ‘Oh my,’ he said. The detail was incredibly accurate. So accurate that he could only believe that the artist must have seen the cave itself. ‘It is the same.’
‘A perfect match, I would say.’
‘And the words?’ Judging by the characters that matched the inscriptions he’d seen in the church, they appeared to be Aramaic. ‘What do they say?’
Strangely, the monk didn’t need to read the text to answer Hazo.
‘The words speak of the beginning of recorded history. A time when God cleansed the earth with water to begin anew. When the first woman created by God had returned to paradise to seek retribution.’
‘This has to do with Eve?’ Hazo said, now completely perplexed.
The old man shook his head and smiled knowingly. ‘This is the mistake you made earlier. Not
Eve
.’ He whispered conspiratorially: ‘Lilith.’
‘Lilith?’ Hazo scrutinized the ancient drawing. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Eve was
not
the first woman created by God,’ the monsignor explained. ‘The Bible is full of contradictions. And the scriptures’ opening pages are no exception.’
From a nearby bookshelf, he retrieved a bible; opened the front cover and turned to the first page.
‘If one carefully reads Genesis 1 and Genesis 2, one will discover two separate accounts of God’s creation of humans. In Genesis 1, man and woman are created simultaneously. Listen.’ He traced the lines of the Bible with the stylus then read, ”’So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”’ His eyes shifted up from the page. ‘Just like He created every living creature in duality to facilitate procreation, you see.’
‘Simultaneously,’ Hazo said in a low voice. How could it be? he thought.
‘That is right. Yet it is the second account told in Genesis 2 that most remember. When a lonely Adam wanders the garden paradise, and God, in afterthought, decides that man needs a spiritual companion.’
‘When God takes Adam’s rib to make Eve.’
The old man smiled. ‘Not literally a rib. A better translation would refer to “his side”,’ he corrected, before continuing: ‘Eve was Adam’s
second
partner, his consummated wife, who the Bible tells us was destined by God to be dominated by her husband. Lilith, the
first
woman created by God, was much the opposite. She had a voracious sexual appetite, always demanding to be, how shall we say … on top of Adam. She was anything but subservient.’
‘But it doesn’t say those things in the Bible, does it?’
The monk smiled. ‘That, too, is true. Any references to Lilith’s name were long ago removed from Genesis by the patriarchal Catholic Church, which didn’t like the idea of such a dominant female figure. However, if you wait here a moment, I can show you another picture that will help you understand this. You are like me, a visual learner, am I right?’
Hazo smiled. ‘I suppose I am.’
‘This is good, because pictures hold many truths, many secrets. I’ll just be a moment.’
The monk disappeared behind the stacks, and in under a minute he returned with a modern coffee table book titled
Masterpieces of the Vatican Museums
. He opened it and laid it flat on the table.
‘In 1509, Michelangelo painted Lilith’s picture on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel - the fresco called
The Temptation of Adam and Eve
.’
In the index, he found the correct page and flipped to it. Then he turned the book to Hazo so he could better see the photo.
‘Michelangelo based this narrative painting on an apocryphal text called
The Treaty of the Left Emanation
, which told that after God had banished Lilith from Eden, she’d vengefully returned in the form of a serpent to coax her replacement, Eve, into eating the forbidden fruit.’
Hazo studied the image that combined two scenes: the half-woman, half-serpent, entwined around the tree, reaching out to Adam and Eve, and beside it, the angel expelling the couple from the paradise.
‘This is the pivotal event in Christianity that speaks to Original Sin and the downfall of humankind. All attributed, of course, to the sin of a woman.’
‘Amazing,’ Hazo said.
‘There is one obscure reference to Lilith in the Old Testament as well. When Isaiah speaks of God’s vengeance on the land of Edom, warning them that the lush paradise will be rendered infertile and pestilence will bring desolation.’ Going back to the Bible, the monsignor turned to Isaiah 34. ‘Now listen to this: “The wild beasts of the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of the island, and the satyr shall cry to his fellow; the screech owl also shall rest there, and find for herself a resting place. There shall the great owl make her nest, and lay, and hatch, and gather under her shadow.” A bit cryptic, yes. Unless one reads the original text from which it was transcribed.’ He then read from the page’s right-hand side: Hebrew text panelled alongside the English translation. ‘The literal words are: “yelpers meet howlers; hairy-ones cry to fellow. Lilith reposes, acquires resting place”.’