Cross Bones Part 35

"What the h.e.l.l's going on?"

"Hevrat Kadisha." Jake threw the words over one shoulder, never taking his eyes from the entrance.

"I don't speak Hebrew."

"The G.o.dd.a.m.n bone police." Jake was panting from exertion.

I waited for him to explain.

"Da'ataim."

"That clears it up."

"The ultra-Orthodox."

"They're here?" I pictured men in shtreimel shtreimel and and peyos peyos rolling over the rim of the Kidron. rolling over the rim of the Kidron.

"In force."

"Why?"

"They think we have human bones in here."

"We do have human bones in here."

"They want them."

"What do we do?"

"Wait them out."

"Will they leave?"

"Eventually."

That was not rea.s.suring.

"This is insane," I said after listening for a few moments to the shouting outside.

"These cretins show up at excavations all the time."

"Why?"

"To hara.s.s. h.e.l.l, we often need police protection just to do our jobs."

"Isn't access to archaeological sites by permit only?"

"These head cases don't care. They're opposed to the unearthing of the dead for any any reason, and they'll riot in order to stop a dig." reason, and they'll riot in order to stop a dig."

"Is theirs a majority view?" In my mind's eye the bearded men now carried posters and placards.

"G.o.d, no."

Outside, the voices eventually stilled. Somehow, I found the quiet more disconcerting than the shouting.

I told Jake about the jackal.

"You're sure it was a jackal?"

"I'm sure," I said.

"I didn't see it run from the tomb."

"She was moving fast," I said.

"And I was focused on those morons out there. You're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Sorry," Jake said. "I should have checked before we went down."

I agreed wholeheartedly.

Outside the tomb, the silence continued.

I shone the light on my watch. Nine-seventeen.

"What's the law in Israel regarding human remains?" I asked, still speaking in a loud church whisper.

"Bones can be excavated if they're about to be destroyed by development or plunder. Once they've been studied, they must be handed over to the Ministry of Religious Affairs for reburial."

As we spoke, Jake kept his eyes on the small opening through which he'd just slithered.

"Sounds reasonable. Similar statutes protect native burials in North America."

"These fanatics are hardly reasonable. They believe halakha, Jewish law, forbids any disturbance of the Jewish dead. Period."

"What if a site is about to be bulldozed?"

"They don't care." Jake flapped a hand at the entrance. "They say build a bridge, dig a tunnel, reroute the road, encase the whole b.l.o.o.d.y tomb in cement."

"Are they still out there?"

"Probably."

"Who decides if human remains are Jewish?" My stomach was still knotted from my encounter with the jackal. I was talking mainly to calm myself.

"The guardians of Orthodoxy, themselves. Handy, eh?"

"What if ancestry's unclear?" I was thinking of the bones in the bag behind me.

Jake snorted. "The Ministry of Religious Affairs ponies up a thousand shekels for each reburial. How many do you suppose are declared non-Jewish?"

"But-"

"The Hevrat Kadisha say prayers over the bones and, voila, voila, the dead are converted to Judaism." the dead are converted to Judaism."

I didn't get it, but I let it go.

Ominous quiet slipped in from outside. Again I checked my watch. Nine twenty-two.

"How long do we wait?" I asked.

"Until the coast is clear," Jake said.

Jake and I fell silent. Now and then one or the other of us would shift, seeking to gain a more comfortable position. Being six-six, Jake shifted most.

My hip hurt. My shoulder hurt. I was cold and damp. I was sitting in garbage in a crypt waiting out folks who would have put the Inquisition to shame.

And it wasn't even 10 A.M. A.M.

An eon later, I again illuminated my watch face. Twenty minutes had pa.s.sed. I was about to suggest checking for cleared coasts, when a man shouted.

"Asur!"

Another took up the cry. "Asur!" "Asur!"

My stomach knot tightened. The men were close now, on the hillside just outside the tomb.

I looked at Jake.

"'Forbidden,'" he translated.

"Chilul!"

"'Desecration.'"

Something ricocheted off the outcrop above the tomb entrance.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?"

"Probably a rock."

"They're throwing at us?" If a whisper can be shrill, mine was.

I heard another something wing off the capstone.

"B'nei Belial!"

"They say we're children of the devil," Jake explained.

"How many are out there?" I asked.

"Several carloads."

A fist-size stone hit the rim of the entrance.

"Asur! Asur la'asot et zeh!" It had now become a chant. It had now become a chant. "Asur! Asur!" "Asur! Asur!"

Jake raised his eyebrows at me. In the darkness they looked like a solid black hedge levitating skyward. I raised mine back.

"I'll have a look," he said.

"Be careful," I said, for lack of a better contribution.

Squat-walking to the entrance, Jake dropped one knee, placed a hand on it, and craned out.

What happened next happened fast.

The chanting fragmented into individual cries.

"Shalom alaichem," Jake wished the men peace. Jake wished the men peace.

Angry voices shouted back.

"Lo!" Jake shouted. I understood enough Hebrew to know that meant no. Jake shouted. I understood enough Hebrew to know that meant no.

More yelling.

"Reik-"

There was a sickening crack, as rock hit bone.

Jake's spine arched, one leg shot backward, and he slumped to the ground.

"Jake!"

I scrabbled to him on all fours.

Jake's head lay outside, his shoulders and body inside the tomb.

"Jake!"

No response.

Reaching out, I placed trembling fingers on Jake's throat.

I felt a pulse, weak but steady.