The Jerusalem Diamond (21 page)

“We have to wait here for Mehdi.”

“Suppose he doesn't come?”

“Suppose he does? After two thousand years in the earth, another few days won't matter to the
genizah
.”

“In those few days someone else could make the same translation.”

She looked at him.

“You don't understand.”

“I think I'm beginning to,” she said.

That evening they spoke only when necessary. She opened cans of fatty lamb stew for their supper, followed by more of the thick coffee. He made no comment but she saw his reaction.

“Tomorrow you may prepare the food,” she said placidly.

That night she slept facing the wall, like an angry wife. He kept himself balanced on the outer edge of the cot, avoiding her haunches, which he had come to particularly admire. She snored, a disgusting sound. He told himself she didn't have to worry that he would become serious about her.

In the morning he went back up to the plateau early. In the relative coolness of one of the stone huts he pored over the scroll photostats. Each of its puzzles could be unlocked by a tiny key like the one she had given him with the ancient name of a desert community.

He didn't know enough.

Leslau knew more but hadn't been able to do anything.

He faced the fact that he didn't really want to help Leslau. There was little chance that this work could be his, but nevertheless he coveted it.

He saw someone emerge from the Snake Path, a muscular, stocky man dressed in tan slacks and a white sleeveless shirt open at the throat. His skin was dark and a neat dab of Arab-style mustache adorned his upper lip. He moved across the plateau with correct rubbernecking aimlessness, making his way toward Harry.

When he reached him he stopped and nodded.

“
Shalom
,” Harry said.

“Hi.” The man touched the doorway of the hut. “These walls are beautiful, aren't they? Simple and tight. They knew what they were doing.”

“They've lasted.”

He was looking about. “I'm supposed to meet someone here.”

Ah. Harry sighed. “So am I.”

The man smiled. “You were smart to wait in the shade.”

“I'm Hopeman.”

“What?”

“Harry Hopeman. From New York.”

“Oh.” He took Harry's outstretched hand gingerly. “Lew Friedman. Cincinnati.”

He felt more outraged than ridiculous.

“Hey, there she is.
EMILY!
” He waved at a blond girl. “She drove around to climb the easy side while I came up the Serpent.”

“Smart. Enjoy.
Shalom-shalom
.”

Alone once more, he sat on the comforting earthen floor with his legs crossed like an Arab apprentice. Though he suspected he had as much chance of solving another passage as of wearing down Masada, he went through them one by one, trying synonyms and changing punctuation while he waited for the man named Yosef Mehdi to come and take him where he might buy the Kaaba diamond or, perhaps, be crucified for his sins.

Three tour buses came in succession. A small boy asked him if he was selling something. Mostly the people just glanced into the hut as they passed, as though he were an uninteresting animal in a zoo.

By midafternoon they were all gone. The cable-car cage opened to free only one passenger, a portly man who came puffing toward him with such agonized pleasure on his face that Harry knew he had come to Masada in order to be able forevermore to tell the boys at the temple he had put on his
tefillin
in the world's oldest
shut
. His black
kepah
tipped as rakishly as a Mousketeer's ears, he clutched an overstuffed
tallit
bag of blue velvet embroidered with a Jewish star in silver thread, the sort of lumpy bag Harry's father had carried. It was safe to assume that in addition to a
siddur
, the prayer shawl and a set of coiled phylacteries, the bag contained perhaps a pack of gum, an orange or an apple, maybe a roll of Tums. Harry smiled as he approached.

“It's over there.”

“What is?”

“The synagogue.”

The man set the
tallit
bag on the ground and held out a pudgy and manicured hand. “I am Mehdi, Mr. Hopeman,” he said.

He settled himself to the earthen floor with a series of grunts and sighs and smiled ruefully. “You do not have a weight problem. You cannot realize.”

Harry shook his head, fascinated. “Do you have the diamond?”

“With me? No.”

“When may I see it?”

Mehdi looked away. “There are difficulties.”

Harry waited.

“We must agree upon a minimum.”

Harry was shocked. “A minimum bid?”

“Yes. Two million, three hundred thousand dollars.”

He shook his head. “The time to tell us about minimum bids was before I left New York.”

The man nodded, apologizing, murmuring that it could not be helped.

“Listen. In the past twenty years you've disposed of at least four gems. You still have a number of diamonds which you undoubtedly intend to sell in the future, one at a time.”

Mehdi blinked at him calmly. “You appear to know a great deal about me.”

“I do.” He leaned forward. “I make you a promise. If I'm unfairly treated, I'll do everything in my power to make it extremely uncomfortable for you to sell diamonds anywhere in the Western part of the world.”

“I also know who you are, Mr. Hopeman. I know of your position in the diamond industry. But I do not like threats.”

“I don't make threats,” Harry said. “In the board room of every Diamond Bourse is a long conference table. Around it meets a special group of judges. If a complaint against a person is upheld by that kind of court, he can be barred from doing business with recognized diamond dealers all over the world. That doesn't mean he can't unload gems through less scrupulous channels. But his return will be pennies on the dollar.

“You've brought me half way around the world. And caused me no small inconvenience and discomfort. You promised that in return I would inspect the Kaaba diamond and bid on it. I expect to be allowed to do just that.” He took the red garnet from his briefcase and placed it near Mehdi. “Worthless.”

“Surely not,” said Mehdi.

“You have described it as having historical interest. Do you have proof? Some kind of documentation?”

The man shook his head. “It was always listed in the inventory as a biblical-era stone.”

Harry grunted. “Not exactly worthless. I offer you one hundred and eighty dollars for this garnet.”

Mehdi nodded. “It is yours, a gift. You see, I believe you. Let there be trust between you and me.”

“Trust?” The intuition that could be a curse as well as a blessing gnawed at him. “You're keeping me in reserve. Nobody will pay that price. I think you're already into negotiations with another buyer, and that part of the price is political.”

“What an imagination! You assume too much, Mr. Hopeman.”

“Perhaps.”

“I am sorry for your inconvenience. Truly. Go to a hotel where you will be more comfortable. I shall contact you within two days. My solemn promise.”

“No, no. I've had enough of waiting in unlikely places. Write to me. Care of American Express, Jerusalem.”

Mehdi nodded.

“I'll stay in Israel eight more days. That gives you one week plus a day for your letter to reach me. If I don't hear from you by then, I'll return to New York and place a complaint.” He sought Mehdi's eyes. “Politics brought ruin to you once. Politics can ruin again.”

Mehdi struggled to his feet. Harry couldn't tell whether what was in his eyes was admiration or disdain. “
Shalom
, Mr. Hopeman.”

“
Salaam aleikhum
, Mr. Mehdi.” They shook hands.

When the cable car had left the plateau he gathered his things and walked down the ramp. Tamar glanced up quickly as he came into the cabin. “Something?”

He told her.

“You think we are in trouble?”

“I think he's squared it with the Arabs.” He looked around the dingy cabin and sighed. At least he could get out of this place. This situation.

“What can they offer him that we can't?”

Harry was already throwing dirty laundry into his bag.

“Honor,” he said.

As they drove through the outskirts of Jerusalem, he asked if she wanted to go to the hotel.

“No. To my apartment,” she said. She gave him directions. The car ended up before a shabby stone building on a street of shabby stone buildings.

“Shall I help you with your things?”

“It's a small bag. The guitar isn't heavy.”

“Okay. I'll call you soon.”

She smiled without anger. “Goodbye, Harry.”

David Leslau's office was closed when he telephoned.

Ordinarily, Harry was a critical hotel guest. Now the room seemed incredibly clean and spacious. He soaked for a long time under the shower and then ordered dinner very carefully from room service: potted chicken, mushroom salad and champagne. After the meal the white sheets and the good mattress were a sensual experience.

But he didn't sleep.

He heard the elevator. A voice in the hall, the hum of the air conditioner. The whine of an electric motor somewhere deep within the building. Alone on Masada he hadn't been lonely. In Jerusalem he suddenly felt bereft.

He left the bed and got out the notebooks. He turned to the report on the Inquisition Diamond and began to read the words Alfred Hopeman had written there forty years before in Berlin.

Type of stone, diamond. Diameter, 4.34 centimeters. Weight, 202.94 carats. Color, canary yellow. Specific gravity, 3.52. Hardness, 10. Single refraction, 2.43. Crystalline form, hexakis-octahedron; this diamond was formed by the twin intergrowth of two large hemihedral crystals
.

Comments: This gem is of good quality but derives its enormous value from its great size and history
.

When uncut, octahedral diamonds invariably are striated with triangular pits. There is no such pitting in this cut diamond. The 72 facets are beautifully even. There is fine proportion from the culet to the girdle and from the girdle to the table. It has fire, but neither the fire nor the canary color is displayed to full potential in its briolette form, a pear-cut stone bounded by facets on all sides. Yet the diamond is awe-inspiring, offering the best work of the early period. It was cut about five hundred years ago by the hands of a master craftsman
.

14

A STONE FOR THE HOLY FATHER

The ripening child was like a melon in his wife's belly, causing Anna to move ponderously when she went about her tasks. Yet the floors of the little house were as bone-white as any in Ghent. Their son Isaac was warmly dressed and regularly fed, and there was always fire banked or burning in the grate
.

“
Why can't you rest?” Vidal asked her peevishly
.

“
I am fine
.”
The bell at the front door tinkled, and she moved out of his workshop
.

He sighed. The small white diamond on the table in front of him was covered with ink marks, which he continually changed as he made new calculations on the slate. His mind wasn't quick; he recognized this better than anyone. It wasn ‘t feeble, thanks be to the Most High, yet neither was it the sort of mind that allowed his brother Manasseh to be a rabbi and a scholar, or that had shown their late uncle Lodeyck, rest in peace, the gem-cutting secrets that were the salvation of their family in these troubled times. Julius's hands were sure and clever, but he was forced to go over his calculations a dozen times before he trusted his planning
.

Anna returned. “It is a monk
.

“
A Benedictine, from the abbey
?”

“
A Dominican, Julius. “She was troubled. “He says he has come from Spain,” she said
.

No one but Anna was allowed to see his workshop. He went to the front room where the visitor waited by the fire. “I bid you good day. I am Julius Vidal
.”

The man, who said he was Fray Diego, presented him with a gift, two cans of Spanish wine
…
He had become accustomed to the soft brown robes of the local monks, and the friar's black habit brought back the past with a shock
.

“
I have journeyed a distance to see you, from the priory at Segovia. Our Prior, Fray Tomás, wishes to commission you to prepare a diamond in León
.”

Julius frowned. “Perhaps a diamond owned by the Count De Costa
?”

“
The diamond has been donated to Holy Mother Church
.”

“
By whom
?”

Fray Diego pursed his lips. “By Estabán de Costa, Count of León. It will be a gift to our Most Holy Father in Rome
.”

Vidal nodded, certain the friar knew he had twice been summoned to Spain by the Count De Costa and had twice refused to go. “Your Prior does me too much honor
.”