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It was the questioning Albright who first broached the subject of their objective, as Halstead doggedly followed a trail that led the four men and one beast towards the mountain the locals called Jabal al-Tárif. “What exactly is it that we’re looking for, Mister Hitler?” “More of the same, Doctor Albright,” Halstead replied as he leaned forward into a rising slope. “More writings for you to examine and authenticate, and more subjects for Mister Williams’s articles.” Albright did not speak again for a full minute. “What sort of writings?” Halstead climbed for several more meters before coming to a stop beside a massive boulder resting on a level section of the mountainside, beneath one of the mountain’s several cliffs honeycombed with caves. “Right around this boulder you’ll find a red earthenware jar six feet tall.” To Williams, he said, “I would suggest you set up your camera.” Then, in German, “Rudi, set up your own camera.” “Yes, mein Führer,” Hess replied as he reached for the nearest saddlebag. Albright came a stop beside his guide and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “And what scrolls will we find?” “No scrolls,” Halstead answered. “Papyrus codices, bound in leather, a total of thirteen. Fourth century Coptic translations of texts written hundreds of years before.” Albright waited to take all of this information in, then laughed at the sun as he returned his handkerchief to its pocket. “This won’t be my day, will it, Mister Hitler?” Halstead was slowly circling the boulder, examining the “sabakh” around it, the soft soil loaded with bird droppings from the cliffs above which the locals liked to use as fertilizer. “Why might you say that, Doctor Albright?” |