The Scroll: Moses the Untold Story

By Robert E. Emin

Would the contents of an ancient Egyptian scroll when deciphered threaten the three major religions of the world?

tienne Cloutier, a French-Canadian archaeologist, is asked by his longtime friend and colleague Haroun Abdul el-Kurdi, Department Head of Antiquities and the Cairo Museum, to come to Egypt to decipher a perplexing scroll that has just surfaced. He is told the author is none other than Moses. From the very start, there are outside forces trying to get hold of the scroll. His acceptance to do the deciphering sets off a series of events that threatens his very life. When the scroll is deciphered, it reveals that its contents are purely religious and discloses Moses early religious concepts. It is these new concepts that Moses would later pass on to the Children of Israel. When a meeting with the religious heads of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam is held and the contents and author of the scroll are revealed, hostility breaks out. In the end, it is the Vatican ambassador to Egypt who pleads that the scroll be kept a secret, hidden away, even suggesting that it be destroyed.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Apr 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490732473

Robert E. Emin

In The Scroll, Bob’s knowledge of modern and ancient Egypt is quite apparent, as seen throughout his novel in his ability to interweave the ancient Egyptian language and culture within the plot, making the story lifelike and attention-grabbing. Bob Emin received his degrees in metals and archaeology from the Museum School of Fine Arts, Boston University, Tufts University, and University of Alexandria, Egypt. He also creates jewelry, incorporating pieces of antiquity within its design. Bob lives in Newton, Massachusetts.

Book preview

Prologue

The Western Desert, 2006

The Find

N ineteen-year-old Abdul Jabbar Utbak sat back kneeling and wiped the perspiration from his face with the sleeve of his galabiya. ¹ With that done, he turned to see where his younger brother, Boulos, was and found him to his left on his knees, hunched over a pile of stones that had collected at the bottom of an outcrop of rocks, searching for the reddish semiprecious stone called carnelian. They had spent most of the morning in search of these elusive spherical rocks.

Hot and tired but mostly disgusted in not finding a single one, Abdul stood, brushed the loose sand from off himself, and cupped his eyes to protect them from the sun’s rays as he looked out over the foothills that surrounded the Theban necropolis. All he could think of, while shaking his head in disgust, was the time the two had wasted in searching for the elusive stones.

Esam, a fellah² from a village nearby Luxor, had shown them some of the carnelian stones he said to have found in and around the foothills near the Theban necropolis. These semiprecious stones were what the ancient Egyptians used in their jewelry.

The chances to make extra money by selling them to the tourist only heighten the desire of the two brothers to go and search for them. The only source of income for most of the poorer families living in and near Al Uqsur, Luxor, was made from the sale of trinkets sold to the tourist who, on a daily basis, inundated the ancient monuments of Thebes and Luxor.

Those able to work in any way they could to supplement the family’s income helped by making the trinkets or selling them, thus earning a few extra piastres.³ Abdul and Boulos now saw the opportunity to add extra income and took it.

Abdul reached over and fetched the canteen from his backpack. He removed its cap and took a mouthful of water, and after swishing it around, he spat it out. His thirst satisfied, he, again with his sleeve, wiped his brow. Cupping his eyes once more, Abdul squinted and looked up at the sun, which was, at that time of day, at its apex directly above them. He glanced down at his watch, and after seeing the time, he let out a long sigh. Fed up with having nothing to show for his hard work, he turned to his brother and said curtly, You’re wasting your time. Besides that, it’s already noon. Boulos stopped what he was doing and looked up. Abdul continued, There’s nothing here. It’s the wrong place. I’m tired and exhausted, let alone hungry. Let’s call it a day!

Maybe we’re in the wrong place, replied Boulos, refusing to accept failure. Esam didn’t say where to look. He just mentioned the foothills surrounding the Valley of the Queens, that’s all.

I don’t care, said Abdul, pushing aside Boulos’s remark. I’m tired and I’ve lost all interest. Can we just go home?

Seeing the look of disappointment on his brother’s face and not finding any carnelian, Boulos agreed, Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s hot and I’m tired too.

All they could do now was to go home empty handed and face an angry father who had tried to talk them out of such a foolish adventure. Seeing their eagerness and hearing their convincing argument that there were indeed carnelian in the foothills that surrounded the Valley of the Kings and Queens, he gave into them.

Boulos stood and shook the sand off his galabiya and took in a deep breath. Letting it out, he asked, What are we going to tell Papa?

The truth, answered Abdul. That there were no carnelian to be found.

Oh, yeah, retorted Boulos. Truth my ass! We convinced Papa that there were carnelian stones to be found. Now we go back and tell him we were wrong. He’s going to be pissed that we’ve wasted a whole day where we didn’t sell any trinkets. Yeah, that’s why he’ll be pissed!

Well, that’s the truth. What do you want me to do about it, huh? Abdul retorted.

Boulos not only saw Abdul’s look of despair but could hear it in the tone of his voice said with empathy, I’m not blaming you. It’s just that Papa will be mad. It’s nobody’s fault. If there is, it’s Esam’s.

Yeah, snapped Abdul. Like fools, we believed him.

Boulos said nothing, for he was too tired to get into a pissing match with his brother. It wouldn’t have done any good anyway, only serving to make each other mad, which would only cause their body temperature to rise. They didn’t need that as they were already hot.

Boulos turned to see where their dog, Abba, was. He had been beside him just a moment ago, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

Abdul, where’s Abba? he asked.

I don’t know, answered Abdul, turning around to look.

Where in Allah’s name could he have gone? asked Boulos. He was just here?

I don’t know! said Abdul abruptly.

The two had been too engaged in their heated tête-à-tête to have noticed that Abba had wandered off.

Placing his index and middle finger in his mouth, Abdul gave a shrill whistle. They could hear its echo reverberating off the mountain range behind them. Again, he whistled; and after the third whistle, Abba came running with his tail wagging.

He jumped from one brother to the other, licking their faces, and then took off in the direction he had come, as if to say follow me. The two brothers stood there dumbfounded with their mouths open.

The scene from that morning flashed before them. They had pleaded with their father against his better judgment to let them take the dog with them. Abdul had promised that he would keep Abba close to him at all times. Nevertheless, it was so sudden and quick; Abdul didn’t even have a chance to react.

Why me? moaned Abdul, standing with his arms held out from his body and his palms upward as if in supplication.

Why me? mocked Boulos. Because it’s your fault. You had to have him come. You told Papa you would keep Abba by your side, didn’t you?

Get lost! retorted Abdul in anger as he gave his brother a swift shove, which caused Boulos to lose his balance and stumble.

Get lost yourself! snapped Boulos, catching himself from falling and walking away, leaving Abdul standing all alone.

Now what? said Abdul aloud.

Crestfallen, Abdul let go what his brother had just told him, for he knew Boulos was right. He had promised his father that he would look after Abba. Now instead of going home, they had to go in search of him.

He found Boulos just over the ridge, squatting on his haunches next to Abba who was busy digging at the base of a dead acacia tree.

What’s he digging at? inquired Abdul.

I don’t know, replied his brother. He was digging at something when I came upon him.

What is it, boy? asked Abdul. Abba stopped digging and looked up. Seeing Abdul, he jumped up on him, giving Abdul a quick facial lick. He dropped down and returned to his digging. In his effort to get at whatever it was that had caught his attention, Abba had exposed a portion of a stone wall that had been built haphazardly. Stunned upon seeing a wall where a wall should not be, Boulos turned and looked up at his brother.

Abdul, unable to see the wall from where he stood but having seen the look of surprise in his brother’s eyes, asked, What’s wrong?

A wall!

A what?

I said a wall.

"Are you sure?

Yeah, I’m sure. If you don’t believe me, look for yourself.

Boulos stood up and stepped back, allowing Abdul to bend down to look.

Well, smart ass?

Abdul didn’t respond but knelt down to get a better look, for the sun still overhead presented a problem.

Imbedded in the sandy soil were small particles of quartz and granite mixed in with the limestone that acted like tiny mirrors that picked up the sun’s rays, reflecting them off in brilliant colors of purple, topaz, and red, which caused a glare, making it hard to see.

Seeing the wall, he said, You’re right! What’s a wall doing here?

How in Allah’s name do I know? said his brother. You better get up! Whatever Abba was digging for is probably still in there hiding. It could be a snake. Allah forbid, you don’t want to be bitten. We’re too far away in getting any help. Here, give me your hand.

Abdul reached up and took Boulos’s hand as Abba kept digging.

What about Abba? inquired Boulos. He might get bitten!

I wouldn’t worry about him. He can take care of himself. It’s us I’m worried about, answered Abdul.

Abba had dug enough sand away that the brothers, using precaution, were able to remove an adequate amount of stones. To their surprise, there before them lay a mummy wrapped in a red cloth. Still being careful, the brothers removed more stones; and in doing so, they discovered a dried leather bag lying at the foot of the mummy.

Is that what I think it is? asked Boulos with excitement.

Yes, replied his brother, who, without thinking, blindly reached in, took hold of the leather bag, by its straps, and lifted it out into the bright light of the day. To their surprise, the straps held!

Get out of here! Abdul shouted at Abba, pushing him away as Abba tried his hardest to get at the leather bag. He yelled at Abba again but only got his attention and cooperation when he took a handful of sand and threw it at him.

Abdul then lifted the bag and placed it down in front of him. He then took hold of the leather laces that tied the flap securely to the bag, and as he did, the laces crumbled in his hand.

Be careful, be careful! yelled Boulos.

I am! replied Abdul. What in Allah’s name do you think I’m doing?

He then took hold of the flap, and that too came free in his hand. The laces that held it to the bag came apart the same way as the others did. With the cover off, the two peered into the opening.

Wow! the two said in unison, looking at each other and then back to the bag.

Are those what I think they are? asked Boulos, his eyes wide opened.

Yes, replied his brother, they are!

There, sitting on the sand in broad daylight for the first time in some 3,322 years sat two papyri scrolls only protected by a dried leather bag. Speechless, the two brothers knelt with the bag between them, staring at each other, not knowing what to do or to say.

Boulos was the first to speak. What are we going to do? he asked.

Nothing, replied Abdul.

Nothing! Boulos shot back.

Yes, nothing, said his brother. We are going to put them back how we found them.

What! Are you crazy? Out of your mind? retorted Boulos, not believing what Abdul just said.

No, we are going to put them back, cover the grave as it was, go home, and tell Papa. He will decide what is best. Do you have any questions about doing that?

Boulos went quiet for a moment as if in thought. After some thinking, he realized what his brother had said was the wise thing to do. No, none, he finally replied and then said, There’s no way we can take these scrolls home without someone seeing them and raising questions!

Good thinking! said Abdul, who had knelt down and had placed the bag back inside the grave. Here, give me a hand with these stones.

The two went to work, and in no time, they had rebuilt the wall and covered the grave as they had found it. Abdul then broke a branch off the dead acacia tree and began to smooth the ground around the grave, especially the area where they had dug. While he was doing that, his brother found some stones of various sizes, which he then scattered around the gravesite. The scattered stone would act as proof that the site hadn’t been disturbed when they returned with their father. With that done, Abdul made one final pass with the branch.

Although it was still hot, the air had changed. The two brothers, now filled with euphoria over their discovery and with the knowledge that the day wasn’t a waste, started toward home with Abba by their side. They soon arrived at the spot where the two had been searching for the elusive carnelian stones now darkened by long fingerlike shadows caused by the high mountains.

Laughing, Abdul said, Papa will be well pleased with what we did today. Won’t he?

Yeah, replied Boulos, who then asked, How much do you think we can get for them?

I don’t know, replied Abdul. Papa must try to sell them first. We will have to wait and see.

The two brothers continued their walk in silence, thinking to themselves about the discovery and what their father might get from the sale of the scrolls. Also, there was the mummy, and who knows what else might be found?

As for Abba, wagging his tail, he walked beside the two brothers, completely oblivious to the magnitude and impact of his discovery.

The three continued to make their way down out of the foothills, to the valley floor below. Once there, they would board one of the many tourist boats that would take them across the Nile to Luxor and finally, after a short walk, to home.

Part One

One

The Call

É tienne had just turned off the shower and was about to step out when he heard the phone ringing from the be droom.

Merde! Qui appelle a ce moment de la matinee?⁴ he said aloud.

He grabbed the nearest towel to him off the rack and hastily dried the soles of his feet. He then wrapped the towel around his waist and hurried off to the bedroom.

Je viens! Je viens!⁵ he yelled as if the caller could hear him.

The phone was still ringing when lifted the receiver.

Bonjour, he said.

Bonjour, replied the voice at the other end. C’est moi, Haroun.

Étienne, not expecting Haroun to be calling him at that hour, hesitated, and then realizing it was indeed his old friend and colleague, said, Haroun! How are you? He paused and then asked, Is everything all right?

Yes, yes, I’m well, thank you, Haroun replied. I know it’s early, and I do apologize for any inconvenience I’ve caused you. If I disturbed you from sleep, please forgive me.

No! No! replied Étienne. You didn’t wake me. I was just about to step out of the shower when you called. Give it no thought. You don’t ever have to make an apology, Haroun.

I know, I know, but I wanted to catch you before you left for work. I have something very important to ask of you.

Étienne laughed. If you had called twenty minutes earlier, you would have caught me still in bed, so you did well.

Good! I know we haven’t talked for a while, but that’s not why I’m calling. Let me get to the point.

Could you hold on for a moment? asked Étienne. I haven’t completely dried myself off. I’m still dripping wet, and I don’t want to drip water all over the bedroom rug, so give me a moment to dry off.

Oui, oui, mon ami, by all means do.

It will take a second, said Étienne, placing the receiver down on the nightstand and hurrying back to the bathroom. He soon returned, sat down on the edge of the bed, and picked up the phone. There, he said. I feel much better now. It’s so good to hear your voice, Haroun, and yes, it’s been too damn long. Now what is it you wish to ask me?

Well, first, said Haroun, pausing, I don’t know how or where to begin.

Usually, one begins at the beginning, replied Étienne, laughing.

Very funny, mon ami, yes, very funny indeed, said Haroun, not laughing. I don’t know if you’ve heard or not about the incident that happened here a couple of months ago.

No, what incident?

I didn’t think you did, replied Haroun. Well, it’s not important. What’s important is we have the two scrolls here at our museum—

Scrolls? asked Étienne, interrupting, and then said, To answer your first question, Haroun, no. As for your second, what two scrolls?

Ah, that’s what I figured, but that’s not important, not right now. What is… Haroun paused and then asked, Have you any free time, if not, can you make some?

For what? asked Étienne.

Ignoring Étienne’s question, Haroun said, Don’t say anything until you hear me out. Hear what I’m going to ask, okay?

Étienne could almost hear in Haroun’s voice a pleading and answered, Yes, Haroun, I promise.

Good! I would like very much for you to come to Egypt. What I’m about to tell you has already been in all the papers here. Haroun then paused and, after clearing his throat, said, It was a couple of months ago that the antiquity service in Luxor got a tip that a sale was pending… I won’t go into details right now, but they intercepted the sale, arrested the individual, and confiscated two papyri scrolls, which are currently here at the museum. They interrogated the person, and he confessed that it was his sons—actually it was their dog—that discovered the grave.

Wait a second! said Étienne, interrupting. Did I just hear you just say a dog?

Ah, oui, mon ami, a dog! It seems that his two sons, along with their dog, were searching for carnelian in and around the foothills near the Valley of the Queens. It was their dog that discovered the grave.

Again, Étienne interrupted, What grave?

Please, I’m getting to it. Just give me a moment, okay? Let me see, ah yes, the brothers found their dog digging in the sand below a dead acacia tree, and when they went to investigate, they found that the dog had uncovered an ancient grave site and a mummy.

A mummy? asked Étienne now totally confused.

Yes, yes, a mummy, replied Haroun.

Are you now saying, besides the two scrolls, you have a mummy?

Yes, yes, that is correct. But it’s not the mummy we are interested in, it’s one of the scrolls. We have already conserved the scroll in question . . .

There was another pause on Haroun’s part, which Étienne noticed and asked, Is there something wrong? Are you all right?

Yes, yes, I’m fine, Haroun replied; however, his voice now took on a serious tone. It’s the larger scroll, he went on to say. For when the scrolls were confiscated by the antiquity service, they found that they had been badly mishandled and were damaged. From the many fragments, there was one that indicated who we believe was its writer. We now have that fragment here in the lab under lock and key. We are beside ourselves over the discovery. That’s why I’m asking if you can come to Egypt as soon as possible.

Étienne had never heard, let alone seen, Haroun in such a state as he was in now. Why Haroun was so adamant in having him drop everything and come to Egypt had him perplexed. He asked, Why right away?

Listen, mon ami, it’s important to me that you become involved in this discovery, and that’s why I’ve called you. I know we have able-bodied linguist here in Egypt who could do the deciphering, but I don’t want them. I want you and you alone. Have I made myself clear?

Yes, I understand what you are saying and want. You want me to drop everything and come to Egypt, replied Étienne. He then paused and asked, Before I commit myself, Haroun, I need to know more and why. What’s so important about this scroll?

Haroun, at first, didn’t answer Étienne’s question or concern but said almost whispering, I’ve told you what you need to know. I don’t want to discuss the scroll over the phone, he said, then added, Sometimes phones have big ears… if you get my drift. Haroun went silent, and after a second or two, he said, whispering, There are forces here in Egypt, Étienne, that would go to any means—and I mean any means—to prevent what little we know from surfacing… from being made known by others

Forces? What forces? And who are the others? inquired Étienne, now totally baffled.

They have already made themselves known. I don’t want to go into it now, not until I see you in person and not until then. Again, there was silence as if the phone went dead.

Étienne was unable to grasp or understand what Haroun was trying to convey to him, and now this silence caused Étienne to ask, Haroun, are you there? Is there something wrong?

Yes, I’m still here. I was trying to gather my thoughts together on how I was going to say it. You must promise me that you won’t mention what I am going to tell you. Again, there was a short pause, and then Haroun asked, You must promise me that you will keep this information to yourself and to you alone. Do you promise?

Yes, of course, answered Étienne, annoyed by his manner of asking. You know I will.

Good! As I said earlier, we have proof that one of the scrolls, if not both, was written by the hand of… Haroun had whispered the name so low that Étienne could not hear it.

I’m sorry, Haroun, he said. I didn’t get the name because you whispered it so that I couldn’t catch it. What did you say?

Moses! said Haroun, this time a bit louder. Did you hear me now?

This time, Étienne heard. His eyes widened as he became speechless.

Hello, hello, Étienne?

Étienne had heard but could not answer. After a moment to recover, Étienne said, Yes, Haroun, I’m here. Did I heard you right? You said Mos—

Ssssh, mon ami, please, please don’t say or repeat the name. Promise me.

Yes, yes, I promise, but I—

Please, Étienne, said Haroun, cutting him off. I’ve said too much already. I will tell and show you what we have, all of it, when you get here. When will that be?

Get there? I don’t know. I don’t know when I’m able to be free, Haroun. I teach, I have a job, I can’t just get up and go.

Well, can you? That’s why I’m calling . . .

Merde! He’s always been there for me whenever I’ve asked, and now he’s . . . Merde! I… I don’t know, said Étienne after thinking about it. Oh, what the hell. Yes! I can come, but the earliest would have to be after Wednesday of next week. I just had a book published by Oxford Press, and that’s when they are planning its release. I need to be here. It’s important, not only for me, but also for the university. You do understand that, don’t you?

I understand fully! By all means, you must, replied Haroun. It’s your research paper, is it not?

"Yes, it is. It started out as a paper but ended up as a book, The Religion of Ancient Egypt, Its Impact on Early Christianity."

Oh yes! You did tell me about it, but that was a while ago. You must bring a copy when you come. I’m looking forward to—

Whoa! said Étienne, interrupting him. Hold on, Haroun! Hold on for a second, not so fast. I didn’t say I was coming. I said the earliest would be after next Wednesday. I must check first with the university. I have obligations. I just can’t drop them and come—

Hearing after next Wednesday, Haroun heard nothing else. He was too excited over the chance of seeing his old friend whom he hadn’t seen in almost eight years and to have him be part of the team that he heard nothing after that. Haroun knew that once Étienne saw the scrolls, the mummy, and the other artifacts, but most of all, the proof that Moses did exist and was indeed the writer of the scroll, he would want to be involved.

Here, let me give you my number, said Haroun. By the way, I have a new office and title. I’m now Egypt’s chief of antiquities as well as the director of the Cairo Museum, but that’s not important. Have you a pen and paper handy?

Haroun, Haroun, I said I’ll… oh, never mind! One moment, said Étienne, who had never seen such tenacity in a person as he had in Haroun. I’m in the bedroom. I have to go to the den… just a moment. Étienne placed the receiver down on the bed, stood, and went into the den. He pulled the chair out from beneath the desk and sat down. Having found a pen and using the back of an envelope, he lifted the receiver and said, I have a pen and something to write on. What’s the number?

It’s 20-2-578066, said Haroun. If there is no answer, here’s the main number to the museum—20-2-578044. Have them page me. Do you want me to repeat the numbers?

No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be in touch with you with the date and information about my arrival. As I said, Haroun, it will be sometime after next Wednesday. It’s always good to hear from you. I’ll call you either by the end of this week or by the beginning of next week. Is that okay?

Yes, yes, by all means. It’s always my pleasure, and I look forward in hearing back from you.

A bientôt, said Étienne.

Au revoir, mon bon ami, au revoir, replied Haroun.

In the buff and with the receiver still in his hand, Étienne sat at the desk for a moment, contemplating what had just transpired between himself and his friend and colleague. It wasn’t until he heard the beeping sound from the phone did he realize he was still holding onto the receiver. He then placed it down on its cradle.

Still sitting, Étienne kept thinking to himself, He did say Moses, did he not? Mon Dieu, Moïse! They have proof of it? But what’s this about outside forces? It doesn’t make any sense at all, but if this is true, then it might be dangerous. Mon Dieu, what am I getting myself in to? But I did say I would, didn’t I?

He sat there thinking it over.

I do need a vacation, he said aloud. He thought a little more and said, Ah, what the hell, why not! That settles it.

With that said, Étienne stood and pushed the chair back under the desk, turned, and headed to the bedroom. There, after placing the phone down, he got dressed, put on his sport coat, picked up the loose change from off the dresser, and closed the door to the apartment. After locking the door, he exited the building. There on the stoop outside, Étienne looked up into the sky at the sun and smiled.

Oui, he said to himself. Ça va être une belle journée.

Two

The Inquiry

É tienne could hear Collette, his assistant, on the phone as he opened the door and entered the main office. Collette looked up, and seeing him, she glanced at the clock and acknowledged him with a nod.

Instead of going into his office as he usually did, he stood off to the side and waited for Collette to complete the conversation.

Bonjour, Étienne, she said as she placed the receiver down. You’re in early this morning.

Bonjour. Oui, Étienne jovially replied, smiling. I feel it’s going to be a beautiful day. Yes, indeed!

You seem to be quite elated for this time of the morning.

Yes, I am. I had a very interesting call earlier this morning. It made me feel as if I’m on top of the world.

If there is any reason to be, I guess that’s a good one, she replied, returning the smile. Is there something else you want?

Yes, there is, he answered. When you get a chance, would you kindly call Dr. Littleton to see if he has any free time, especially this morning, and if he has, will you make an appointment for me?

Certainly, she replied.

Thanks. As Étienne turned to leave, he said, And by the way, would you cancel all my appointments for today.

Collette looked over her glasses at him. My, she thought, that must have been some call. What about your interview at eleven-thirty with Nicole Boucard, she inquired?

"Nicole Bouc… oh yes! She’s the reporter from the newspaper Le Journal?"

Yes, she is.

By all means cancel it. I know it has taken me a week of Sundays to get that interview, but I just can’t do it! See if she would reschedule it. Tell her something very important has come up, thereby making it impossible for me to meet with her. Thanks for reminding me.

No problem, said Collette, eyeing him as he crossed the office and went into his sarcophagus, turned on the light, and closed the door. He was always glad that he wasn’t claustrophobic. Often, Étienne would jokingly refer to his office as such, for it was small and cramped, and to him, it felt like one. As an adjunct professor, he was thankful of having an office of his own. It was located in a gray stone Victorian building, number 855 Rue Sherbrooke, on the campus of McGill University. The building, once a private home, was now the Department of Anthropology. The first floor was turned into offices, whereas the other floors became classrooms. The two large front rooms were divided into four small cubicles, his being one of them. It was large enough to hold a small desk, two file cabinets, and an extra chair, a folding one. The only source of light came from the three French windows, now part of the main office. In the window nearest his cubicle was a small air conditioner that clinked and gurgled as it strained to keep his office as well as the others cool.

The first thing on Étienne’s agenda was to clear all of his voice messages and answer his e-mails. It was during the later one when his phone rang. It was Collette. Picking up the receiver, he said, Yes, Collette.

I’ve got Dr. Littleton on the other line.

Wow, that was quick! he thought. Good, I’ll take it, he replied.

Good morning, Étienne.

Good morning, Mitchell. Thanks for returning my call.

What can I do for you?

I would like to schedule an appointment with you sometime today, if that’s possible. I know you’re a busy man, but I need to discuss something in private that requires my immediate attention. It won’t take too long, about ten to fifteen minutes.

I do have a busy schedule, however, my three o’clock appointment has cancelled, so I can squeeze you in at that time. How does that sound? Is that good for you?

Yes, that will do, replied Étienne. I’ll see you then at three. Thanks.

Great! Étienne thought, placing the phone down. It’s not what I wanted, but I can work around it. He looked at the wall clock above the file cabinets. It’s eight twenty-eight; John should be in by now. I’ll try calling him.

He was referring to John Mitchell, the department head of ROM, the Royal Ontario Museum, in Toronto. If John wasn’t around, he could always leave a message with John’s assistant to have him call as soon as he was available. The phone began ringing.

Hello, Dr. Mitchell’s office, Shelly speaking.

Hi, Shelly, it’s Étienne here.

Oh, hi, Étienne. How are you?

I’m fine, thanks, and yourself?

Can’t complain, she replied. You want to speak to John, right?

Yes, if he’s available.

Gee, I’m sorry, Étienne, he’s in a meeting until noon and won’t be free until at least one o’clock. Do you want me to have him call you or do you want to leave a message?

Would you have him call me? It’s important. I’m free until three this afternoon. If he calls and I’m not in my office, please have him leave a message when I can speak to him. I need to speak to him today.

No problem, Étienne. I’ll have him call you.

Thanks, I appreciate it.

You’re welcome anytime, take care.

You do the same, he said, putting down the phone, That’s that, he said, leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head and the tip of his tongue rubbing back and forth over his upper lip. That’s what I’ll do, he thought as he leaned forward after noticing the time.

He stood and turned off the light. As he opened his office door, he saw Collette with her back toward him on the computer. He decided not to lock the door, and as he closed it, Collette, upon hearing him, looked up.

I’m going out to do an errand and then to lunch, he said. I should be back before twelve-thirty. Would you like me to pick up something while I’m out?

No, but thanks for asking.

No problem, he said. By the way, I’m expecting a call from John Mitchell from the ROM. I doubt he will call, but just in case he should, let him know I’ll be back no later than twelve-thirty.

Will do. Enjoy the good weather and lunch.

Thanks, I will, he answered, closing the office door behind him, and walking across the foyer, he stepped out onto Rue Sherbrooke.

Hmm, it’s not too bad out. Collette was right. It’s nicer outside than being indoors. Since the travel agency is nearby on the corner of Rue Metcalfe, it’s too nice not to walk. I’ll grab something to eat at one of the nearby restaurants.

A little after one o’clock, the phone rang.

Bonjour, said Étienne.

Étienne, it’s John. What’s up?

Hi, John, thanks for returning my call. I’m in a bit of a quandary. Do you remember my old colleague Haroun from Egypt?

Yes, I do. Why do you ask?

Well, he called me early this morning, and I’m hoping you can shed some light on what he told me since you are up on the news, or I should I say what he implied.

Sure, if I can help.

Well, I hope so. Anyway, he alluded to a recent discovery that took place nearby the Valley of the Queens about a few months ago. He said that two scrolls and a mummy were found. They’re now at the Cairo Museum. Have you had heard anything about that find? I hadn’t.

That’s interesting, Étienne, that you, of all people, should ask about it. Yes, just the other day, I was speaking to Ken, Dr. Boswell, the Director of ROM, on that same subject. John paused. I hope you don’t mind my asking why you are interested in the find.

No, not at all, John. Haroun called to see if I would be interested in getting involved in deciphering the scrolls.

I see, said John. I’ll be glad to tell you what I do know. A while ago, about the time you just mentioned, a couple of our conservators and assistants from the department were in Cairo to discuss an upcoming Egyptian exhibit when the artifacts you just described arrived there. However, a few days after their arrival, they were removed to a more secured area, just as your friend told you.

I don’t remember him telling me that, said Étienne.

Yes, it’s true. By chance, said John, continuing, two brothers made the discovery, but it was their father who tried to fence the scrolls. When that failed, he tired selling them on the black market. That’s when the Egyptian authorities stepped in and arrested the father. The scrolls just emerged and—

Yes, said Étienne, interrupting. I know Haroun told me that. It’s what he told me afterward that concerns me. However, there’s a problem as he swore me to secrecy, to which I agreed. Again, Étienne hesitated and then said with all seriousness, John, I’ve known you for years, and I feel I can trust you in keeping the secret.

Of course, Étienne, replied John. No problem, the secret is safe with me.

Thanks, John. I needed to hear that from you since I gave my solemn promise to Haroun, but, I have no choice to break part of my promise in order to get some answers. That’s the main reason why I called you.

As I said, whatever you tell me in confidence will stay with me, said John.

"Like I said, Haroun wants me to come to Cairo and decipher the scrolls

Yes, you’ve already stated that, but what’s the problem, the secret?

Before I tell you, John, do you know any other information about the scrolls themselves, what the subject was, or who might have written them?

Subject and who wrote them? said John, repeating the words. "Come to think of it, now that you ask, yes. There was a short article in the Arab News International, a local paper here in Toronto. An article in both Arabic and English from the Luxor Times mentioned a discovery. The article stated that the antiquity service there in Luxor came into custody of two scrolls but did mention anything more on them."

Hmm, said Étienne. All of that, Haroun had told me already. It was what he said after that concerns me.

And what was that? asked John.

He told me that there were ‘forces’ of some sort afoot but didn’t mention who they were. He said they would go to any means to prevent any information pertaining to the scrolls, especially the one in question, from surfacing. I don’t know much other than that. Unfortunately, I did say that I would go to Egypt.

I see, said John. That’s very interesting. He mentioned outside forces, huh? I wonder if that’s what it was that causes them to move the scrolls to a more secure area of the museum. As I told you before, our conservators who were at the Cairo Museum at the time heard that somehow, someone had leaked information about the artifacts. Since then, all information about them has been hushed.

That’s very strange, said

Reviews for The Scroll

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