The 13th Apostle. Richard Heller
the power of MWT Videos behind me, I believed I could inspire the public to demand the truth, though recently I have begun to doubt it.
“This, on the other hand,” Maluka continued, “is a collusion in the making. And if we are able to procure the scroll described in the diary, if indeed—as Ludlow believes—it dates back to the time of Jesus, every eye in the world will be upon us. This, my friend, is a gift from the hand of Allah. A discovery so great that none will dare deny it. And, most importantly, one that might yet be acquired before the Christian Infidels can once again swallow it up.”
Hassan had been reluctant to give up so easily. “But if Ludlow and DeVris locate the scroll, they won’t hide it,” Hassan had protested. “Why don’t we let them find it and bring it to the world?”
“As others before them did with many of the Dead Sea Scrolls?” Maluka asked pointedly. “No, DeVris is a poor academic in a world of very wealthy supporters. He watches contributors, without blinking an eye, write checks for ten times his annual salary. He has become bitter and greedy and sees the scroll only in terms of the potential wealth it may bring him.”
“But Ludlow…” Hassan interrupted.
“Yes, Ludlow sees the scroll’s worth in terms of the truth it may hold. He is honest but weak. A bad combination. If they find this scroll, DeVris will sell it to the highest bidder, and Ludlow will have no say in the matter.”
Hassan hesitated. He knew better that to contradict his mentor. His fear of making so great an error in judgment would allow to him to give in. “But they worked together on The Cave 3 Scroll,” Hassan protested. “They were both instrumental in getting it here so that all the world might see it. Wouldn’t they do the same for the new scroll?”
Maluka shook his head. “Ludlow, yes. DeVris, never. When the two of them first arranged to get The Cave 3 Scroll brought here from the Amman Museum, DeVris had only one thing in mind. If he got the actual scroll in his hands, he hoped he might discover some clue to the treasure described in The Cave 3’s writings.”
“The treasure that no one has yet uncovered,” Hassan echoed thoughtfully.
“Exactly. If DeVris had believed that he could extract favors or fortune by keeping it hidden, he would have done so.”
Hassan had thought long and hard about Maluka’s answer.
If what Maluka says is true, what then might DeVris be willing to do in order to get his hands on the new scroll?
TEN
Later that morning
Office of the Director of Acquisitions Shrine of the Book, Israel Museum
Dr. Anton DeVris glanced down at the caller ID on his cell phone. Just what he needed, a call from Nathan McCullum, CEO of White Americans to Save Christianity. DeVris braced himself for the quick thinking he required to keep track of all of the lies, past and present.
McCullum’s voice was warm and sympathetic, almost believable. “I just heard about Ludlow,” McCullum began. “How tragic. So sorry for your loss.”
After having read an account of Ludlow’s brutal murder on the Internet, McCullum could have been expected to act in a number of predictable ways: he might have voiced his displeasure at not having been informed immediately by DeVris of the turn of events; he might have demanded an earlier estimated time of arrival for the translation of the final section of the diary; or he might have reminded DeVris how much he was paying him to keep things on schedule. A sympathetic acknowledgement of DeVris’ loss, with not a single mention of the diary was not only out of character, it was downright suspicious.
Ludlow had been working full-time at the Museum when McCullum had first contacted DeVris more than six years earlier. McCullum’s initial phone call to DeVris was of a completely innocent nature, related only to a donation.
“My accountants say I can use a tax break,” McCullum had explained. “And given all the negative press that Evangelicals are getting in the States these days, an ecumenical donation couldn’t be bad for WATSC’s image.”
WATSC, an acronym for White Americans to Save Christianity, was not your typical Evangelical congregation. Having risen from the back swamps of KKK country, WATSC—pronounced “watt-see”—found fertile ground in twenty-first century finance. In his climb to the top, McCullum, grandson of the founder, traded in Bible pounding for handshaking of the most influential kind. The big money that backed him and his enterprises agreed with his far, far right view of the world and had a vested interest in helping steer the U.S. in just the right direction.
Ludlow had tried to convince DeVris that WATSC was far more than a powerful political-financial institution. The old man couldn’t have been more vehement if DeVris were being courted by the devil himself.
“Please say you’re joking,” Ludlow had gasped when he first learned of McCullum’s initial donation. According to Ludlow, WATSC’s Nazis, as he called them, were so right-wing they made Adolf Hitler look like a bleeding-heart liberal. “I’m telling you, Anton, they’re not like you and me. When they want something they’ll do anything to get it. No holds barred.” When DeVris had refused to turn down the donation, Ludlow added his final admonitions. “You’re way out of your league with this one. I hope to God you don’t live to regret it.”
DeVris had told McCullum about Ludlow’s predictions of doom. They had a good laugh together about it. From that moment on, encouraged by McCullum’s reaction, DeVris had begun to see Ludlow as little more than a past-his-prime academic.
Only DeVris’ assurance that McCullum’s contribution was a one-time occurrence had calmed the old boy down. God only knows what Ludlow would have done had he known the DeVris-McCullum connection would be ongoing.
In exchange for McCullum’s continued contributions to DeVris’ ever-growing personal retirement account, the Director had used his authority and veto power within the Museum to help McCullum’s cause. The sum total of DeVris’ memos, speeches, and power votes helped squelch any actions—within and without the Museum—that might have allowed nearly all of the Dead Sea Scrolls to be put on public exhibition. The translations that would have followed would have most certainly challenged some of Christianity’s most sacred writings.
“The last thing we need right now is fuel for another attack on the Church,” McCullum had explained. “Lord knows, we had enough with those trumped-up child molestation accusations. Challenges to the historical validity of the Bible do no one any good, much less God-fearing Christians who do not need yet another test of faith.”
DeVris had accepted McCullum’s point of view with grace, resisting temptation to add his personal thought that any such test of faith might have a considerable impact on WATSC’s billion-dollar Evangelical empire as well.
To tell the truth, there were moments when Ludlow’s disquieting predictions stirred a bit of fear in DeVris. A short phone call from McCullum, however, never failed to put the whole thing right.
Last year, Ludlow’s decision to retire had come as a more than welcome announcement. The Professor’s return to England had allowed DeVris the luxury of easy communication with McCullum. Not that DeVris was doing anything wrong. After all, he had never actually voted against his conscience. He simply allowed himself to keep an open mind to McCullum’s insights. The fact that his votes helped to keep particularly provocative sections of the Dead Sea Scrolls under wraps was not as much testimony to his loyalty to McCullum as it was to the cogent points of McCullum’s arguments.
Had others known of McCullum’s support, they might have accused him of selling out. He would have argued that he simply was buying into a responsible approach to information sharing. Give the people what they can handle. No more. No less. It was better for them, and it was better for the world at large. And if, at the same time, McCullum’s contributions helped make up for the Museum’s unfair and inadequate pension policy, so much the better.
Ludlow’s rare visits to the Museum to do research were always preceded by a courtesy call