Crescent Dawn

“If you hear anything, anything at all, you let me know,” she said. She started to leave, then turned and faced him with an admonishing glare.

“When I find these murderers — and I will — I won’t treat kindly any accomplices, whether it’s by act or knowledge,” she stated.

“You have my word, Miss Elkin,” Brandy replied impassively.

The buzzer sounded as the front door was opened, and a lean man with a stiff upright posture walked in. He had a square handsome face, sandy combed-back hair, and roving blue eyes that glistened in recognition of Sophie. Dressed in worn khakis and a Panama hat, he cut a dashing figure laced with just a hint of snake oil.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovely Sophie Elkin,” he said with an upper-crust British accent. “Is the Antiquities Authority here to expand its biblical artifact collection beyond those acquired by confiscation?”

“Hello, Ridley,” she replied coolly. “And, no, the Antiquities Authority is not in the artifact-collection business. We prefer that they remain where they are, in proper cultural context.”

She glided over to the case of Jericho pots. “I’m just here to admire Mr. Brandy’s latest batch of forgeries. Something you should know a thing or two about.”

It was a stinging rebuke to Ridley Ba

His luck had run thin, however, when an underling brought him a small stone slab with an Aramaic inscription that dated to 1000 B.C. Ba

“Sophie, you know as well as I that Solomon here is the most reputable antiquities dealer in all of Israel,” he said, redirecting the conversation.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Be that as it may, it’s probably not a wise move for a reputable archaeologist to be seen hanging around a dealer’s shop,” she said, then stepped toward the door.

“Ditto, Miss Elkin. It was lovely seeing you again. Let’s do have a drink together sometime.”

Sophie gave him an icy smile, then turned and walked out of the shop. Ba

“A beautiful lass,” he muttered. “I’ve always wanted to cultivate that relationship.”

“That one?” Brandy said, shaking his head. “She’d sooner throw you behind bars.”

“She might be worth the trip,” Ba

“Investigating the theft and shooting at Caesarea.”

“An ugly incident, indeed.” He looked at Brandy closely. “You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”

“Of course not,” he replied, angry that Ba

“Do you know what was stolen?”

“Elkin mentioned some papyrus scrolls, fourth-century Roman.”

The description seized Ba

“Any idea of their content?”

Brandy shook his head. “No. I can’t imagine they’d contain anything astounding from that time period.”

“You’re probably right. I wonder who financed the theft?”

“Now you are starting to sound like Miss Elkin,” Brandy said. “I really haven’t heard anything about it. Maybe you should ask the Fat Man?”

“Ah yes. The very reason for my visit. You received the amulets from my associate Josh?”

“Yes, with a message that I was to hold them until we talked.” Brandy stepped to the back room, then returned with a small box. He opened it up and laid out two green stone pendants, each featuring a carved ram motif.

“A nice matched pair of amulets from the Canaanite period,” Brandy said. “Did these come from Tel Arad?”

“Yes. A former student of mine is leading a dig there for an American university.”

“That boy could get himself into trouble for looting an antiquities dig.”

“He’s quite aware of that, but it’s an exceptional case. The boy is actually straight as an arrow. He inadvertently trenched into a grave site and came away with some sterling artifacts. They actually dug up four identical amulets. One went to the university and one was donated to the Israel Museum. Josh sent me the other two as gifts for helping him in his career over the years.”

Brandy raised his brow while asking, “You want me to sell them?”

Ba

Brandy’s eyes lit up. “That is a very generous gift.”

“You’ve been a valuable friend over the years, and I may need your help in the future. Take it with my blessings.”

“Shalom, my friend,” Brandy replied, shaking Ba

Ba

“I’m taking it to the Fat Man,” he said.

“Wise idea,” Brandy replied. “He’ll pay you top dollar for it.”

Ba

21

Julie Goodyear strolled past a monstrous pair of long-silenced fifteen-inch naval guns pointed toward the Thames, then walked up the steps to the entrance of the Imperial War Museum. The venerated national institution in the London borough of Southwark was housed in a nineteenth-century brick edifice originally constructed as a hospital for the mentally ill. Known for its extensive collection of photographs, art, and military artifacts from World Wars I and II, the museum also contained a large archive of war documents and private letters.

Julie checked in at the information desk in the main atrium, where she was escorted up two floors in a phone-booth-sized elevator, then climbed an additional flight of stairs until reaching her destination. The museum’s reading room was an impressive circular library constructed in the building’s high central dome.

A bookish woman in a brown dress smiled in recognition as she approached the help desk.

“Good morning, Miss Goodyear. Back for another visit with Lord Kitchener?” she asked.

“Hello again, Beatrice. Yes, I’m afraid the field marshal’s enduring mysteries have drawn me back once more. I phoned a few days ago with a request for some specific materials.”

“Let me see if they have been pulled,” Beatrice replied, retreating into the private archives depository. She returned a minute later with a thick stack of files under her arm.

“I have an Admiralty White Paper inquiry on the sinking of the HMS Hampshire and First Earl Kitchener’s official war correspondence in the year 1916,” the librarian said as she had Julie sign out the documents. “Your request appears to be complete.”