Page 57 - Three Adventures

The Nazarene Foreskin

throughout the Mediterranean as Berytus. The great earthquake, tidal
wave and fire which destroyed most of the town in 551 A.D. left
nothing but rubble on the site. When the Crusaders conquered the
town in 1110, construction began on the Cathedral of Saint Elias. It
is entirely possible that knowledge of subterranean chambers hidden
beneath the new church was lost in the interim. I believe last week’s
unfortunate demolition has provided me a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity to unearth unknown major works of art. Just about
everything else in my field was discovered, catalogued and analyzed
long ago. If I can make this discovery, it will assure my success in a
very competitive academic environment.”
Her eagerness was almost palpable. Scoop wondered how the
middle-aged male professors on her thesis committee would
withstand it.
“Maybe so, and maybe I know exactly where to take you, but that
area is off limits. Soldiers—all Christians, remember—are guarding
Saint Elias against looters and desecrators. Mosaics and icons fetch a
pretty price at auction in London, I’m told. I was able to make an on-
the-scene report because I got there within minutes of the explosion.
By the time I left the perimeter had been secured by the military.
Even if I accepted the responsibility of taking you there I couldn’t get
back in.”
“Ah, but I could, Monsieur Reedle.”
Scoop jerked his head at the source of a familiar voice.
“Oh. Manur. I didn’t hear you.” Thick carpets, rubber-soled shoes,
total engrossment—Scoop didn’t need to search for the source of his
surprise: the man had an uncanny ability to appear and disappear
without much notice being taken. A very useful trait working with a
camera among hostile and well-armed people. “Miss Violet Cohn-
Diaz: meet Manur Chovel, my sometime photographer and
interpreter.”
“Enchanté, mademoiselle. Do you speak French?” Manur bent to
kiss her hand, displaying to good advantage his thick growth of black
hair. Scoop scowled, recalling he had invited the Lebanese to join
him in the bar for a late afternoon business meeting.
“No, I’m so sorry, Mister Chovel—is that how you should be
addressed?” She was all innocence and delight.
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