"Craig Parshall has written a gripping book that is a must-read. Few
authors have the experience and ability to write with such conviction
and realism. You will not want to miss this book."

Jay Alan Sekulow, Chief Counsel, The American Center for Law and Justice

"Intriguing and intense, The Resurrection File pulls you in with complex
characters and a breathtaking pace. It keeps you in with its
undercurrent of eternal truth. Woven throughout are hot
topics--terrorism, the endless Arab-Israeli conflict, and questions of
fundamentalist fanaticism." But ultimately, it's the people you will
remember. Craig Parshall's first novel is a winner that will satisfy
your soul and mind."

Janet Chismar, News & Culture senior editor, Crosswalk.com

"Craig Parshall is not only a brilliant lawyer currently practicing in
the Washington, D.c. area, he is an excellent fiction writer. The
Resurrection File is one of the most fascinating books I have read in
years. It is powerful."

Tim LaHaye, educator, minister, and coauthor of the best-selling LEFT
BEHR series

"If you are captivated by the work of John Grisham, you are really going
to love The Resurrection File. It's not a good book to start reading if
you need sleep, because you won't get any. A very compelling read it is."

Tim Wildmon, author, vice president of the American Family Association,
and host of American Family Radio

RESURRECTION FILE

CRAIG PARSHALL

HARVEST HOUSE PUBIISHERS EUGENE, Oregon

All Scripture quotations are taken from the New American Standard Bible
rather, can 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used
by permission.

The following Scripture quotations in this book are not identified in
the text: page 184 John 20:2; Luke 24:11; Matthew 28:17; John 20:5; 20:6-7

Cover by Terry Dugan Design, Minneapolis, Minnesota

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously.

1 It is the intent of the author and publisher that all events, locales,
organizations, and persons portrayed herein be viewed as fictitious.

THE RESURRECTION FILE Copyright can

2002 by Craig . Parshall Published by Harvest House Publishers Eugene,
Oregon 97402

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Parshall, Craig,
1950The resurrection file still Craig Parshall. people. cm. ISBN
0-7369-0847-1 1. Clergy--fiction. I. Title. PS3616.A77 Rbledg 2002
813'.ed--dc21 2001043634

AD rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any
means--electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any
other--except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior
permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America. 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10
stBC-CFIRST 10 9876 5 4321

To my wife, Janet, who followed in the footsteps of the Gospel women.
Like them, she hurried to this doubting man many years ago, brimming
with extraordinary news about the tomb.

Acknowledgments

Much appreciation is owed to my administrative assistant, Marilyn
Clifton. Her typing, editing, research, and constructive suggestions
were invaluable, including her input as a member of the U.s.. Marine
Corps. Sharon Donehey's help in managing the office and interacting with
editors was truly helpful, particularly as we approached deadlines.

My wife, Janet, was as always a source of inspiration, who also gave me
the benefit of her pragmatic eye. So much of us is "between the lines"
of these pages--the mountains and valleys that mark the pursuit of
justice, the land of Israel, the archaeology of the Bible, the frontier
where the gospel meets public policy, the influence of the media, and
both the primacy of truth and the power of love.

I must also thank my now-adult children, Sarah, Rebekah, Samuel, and
Joseph, for their love of the bedtime stories I invented for them as
children. As an eager (but discerning!) audience, they taught me the
interpersonal connection that can come with storytelling. (and now that
Allison and Matthew have married into the

2 Parshall family, I look forward to a whole new generation of rapt
listeners, yet to be born!)

And, of course, a very special note of thanks is due to Harvest House
Publishers: to Terry Glaspey and Carolyn McCready, for taking a chance
on a new novelist, and for their unbounded support and encouragement in
the creative process; and to Paul Gossard, for his superb suggestions in
the final edit of the book.

Monroeville, Virginia In the Near

Future

Will CHAMBERS WAS LATE AGAIN. For the last year or so the forty-year-
old attorney had been getting to his law office late almost every day.
This morning his head felt like it had been pressed in a trash
compactor. Coping with a hangover was part of Chambers' daily routine.
Today, like most days, he was recovering from his liquid diet of Jack
Daniels. He had spent the last night in the usual manner--sitting alone
in the great room of his empty, half-restored pre-Civil War mansion,
listening to music, and drinking himself numb. He would drink until
things hurt a little less for a while--and his personal demons were a
little more fuzzy and a little less distracting. And he would fall
asleep in his chair with his golden retriever lying next to him on the
floor. Then, about two or three in the morning, he would awaken, stumble
up the winding staircase, and fall into bed. Clarence, his big dog,
would pad up the stairs close behind and bound onto the bed next to him.
This morning, amid the hammering inside his head, Chambers suddenly
remembered that he had to be in court. He was grabbing around his
cluttered office trying to locate his case file when Betty, his
secretary, yelled for him around the corner. Chambers walked into her
area. A lit cigarette was hanging out of Betty's mouth. "Will," she said
in an exasperated voice, "You've got to get going. You're going to be
late for court." Will took two fingers and snatched the cigarette from
her lips, crushing it out on a message pad at her desk. "This is a
non-smoking office, Betty," he said. "Geez, you know that." Betty's eyes
narrowed. "You're going to be late for court. Have a nice day." The
lawyer looked at his watch and saw that he might not make it to the
central Virginia federal court on time. He stopped for a split second to

3 examine the framed photograph of his wife that was prominently
displayed on his bookshelf. He stared at the pretty face in the
photograph, then carefully placed it back on the shelf. For a moment, he
felt the old buried sorrow clawing once again to the surface. A noise
outside jolted him back, and he grabbed his briefcase, picked up his
suit coat, and dashed down the stairs, his almost shoulder-length hair
flying wildly behind him. When Will reached the street below he crossed
it at a run, heading to his red-and-white 1957 Corvette convertible.
There was a yellow parking ticket stuck underneath the windshield wiper,
which he didn't bother to retrieve. He leaped into the driver's seat,
tossing the briefcase to the seat next to him, and in one continuous
motion started the car and wheeled it around in a half circle, cutting
off a tour bus driver. By the time Will had swung his car around by the
front of his building, Betty had bolted out of the front door. She was
waving the case file above her head that Will Chambers had forgotten.
Will slowed his car down and motioned for her to toss it into the moving
Corvette. With a lunge, she threw the thick brown folder onto the
passenger seat. Will waved at her without looking back as he gunned the
engine and accelerated out of sight, the yellow parking ticket flapping
wildly underneath the windshield wiper.

While WILL CHAMBERS WAS MOTORING on the Interstate toward federal court
in north-central Virginia, a small panel truck with a lone driver was
heading toward New York City from across the river. The white vehicle
bore only a sparse message in black lettering that read "Pay Load Truck
Rentals." The truck was nearing the New Jersey border, heading for the
George Washington bridge into Manhattan. Traffic was jammed to a crawl
that morning during the tail end of rush hour. Several years had passed
since the attack on the World Trade Towers. Renovation and construction
at ground zero was nearly complete. Gritty New Yorkers, refusing to
succumb to a bunker mentality, had returned to daily life. But memory
had been altered. Like a flag raised and lowered in daily salute, the
images of destruction had continued to speak a warning and a resolve.
Then one day last year, a van had pulled up in front of the New York
Stock Exchange. Two Middle Eastern men in the van bowed their heads in
prayer. Then they shouted something.

4 That was when the driver touched his sweaty thumb to a homemade
plastic button connected to a wire that disappeared into the back of the
truck. And then he pushed down, causing the van to evaporate in a blast
that rocked Wall Street. In the months that followed, it became clear
that the prime suspect was Abdul el Alibahd, a rising leader in a
Syria-based terrorist network. But the FBI was still lacking clear
evidence linking him to the Wall Street bombing. For a while, magazines
and television news programs carried Alibahd's face--bearded, deeply
lined, expressionless, with black turban and tinted sunglasses.

8 Craig Parshall

So once again, New Yorkers had to shake off the dust, mourn their dead,
clear the rubble, and carry on. But this particular morning, thirteen
months after the Wall Street attack, normalcy seemed to reign, at least
for a while. Cars and trucks inched along toward the bridge into the
city. In the middle of the traffic was the white rental truck. A New
Jersey state trooper sat in his parked squad car, watching the snaking
line of vehicles. Officer Ezer Nabib took off his wide-brimmed trooper's
hat and scratched his head, then smoothed his hair back. Nabib, a Sufi

Muslim, had only been on the state patrol a few months when the Wall
Street bombing took place. He resented the fact that those claiming that
they were serving Allah had, again, committed unspeakable acts of
slaughter. None of the other troopers said anything. They didn't have
to. Nabib felt it in their eyes, and their grim silence said it all. The
trooper eyed the tide of snarled traffic. Then he heard the code number
of his squad over the dispatch. He picked up the receiver. "Officer
Nabib here." The female voice at the other end started talking. "We've
got a suspect vehicle, a rental truck heading toward the river, plates
are JMBLEDCEX. Here's the VIN..." Nabib jotted down the VIN in his
daybook. Then he asked, "Suspect for what? I think I see our vehicle
here in the traffic jam, heading for NYC." The radio dispatcher was
silent. "Copy, please," Nabib continued. "Suspect for what? I've got no
probable cause for a stop. Do you have some warrants outstanding? Is
this a stolen vehicle? What's the deal? Advise." "Proceed with extreme
caution." "Please identify yourself, dispatcher," Nabib shot back.
"Annie, is that

5 you?" The other voice said, "Follow the vehicle with extreme caution."
Nabib slammed his squad car into gear and swooped into the safety lane,
pulling up to a few car lengths behind the truck. "Track the vehicle and
then apprehend on the other side of the river," the voice said. "That's
New York," Nabib countered. "I suggest we call NYPD right away. I can't
arrest over there." "Apprehend on the other side. Secure the vehicle.
But use extreme caution.

It may be carrying very dangerous contraband." "Request to speak to the
barracks commander," Nabib countered nervously.

The Resurrection File 9

But that was when the communication ceased. Nabib pushed the call button
on his handset. Nothing. As the trooper followed the truck across the
bridge, he snatched his cell phone and quickly punched in the number for
headquarters. A familiar voice announced, "State Patrol..." But before
the trooper could talk, the cell phone indicated low battery. Then it
blinked off completely. Nabib tossed it aside in disgust. The truck was
exiting the bridge on the other end, heading into New York City. The
trooper switched on his lights and siren and pulled up next to it. He
glanced into the cab and motioned the driver over. Nabib quickly exited
the squad car, wishing he could have called for back-up. The driver, who
looked Middle

Eastern, produced a license that identified him as "Rahji Ajadi." After
frisking the driver and finding no weapons, the trooper ordered him to
the rear of the truck. "Open it slowly," Nabib instructed him. The
trooper had already un-holstered his side arm. The driver rolled up the
door, and the trooper peered in cautiously. A tarp covered something
long and large. "Lift up the canvas," Nabib ordered. He stared at the
sleek metal that was unveiled, then gestured at the driver to pull back
more of the tarp so he could get a better look. Then the trooper saw the
familiar symbol on the side of the gleaming steel. His knees almost
buckled. Nabib snapped up his head and pointed his weapon at Ajadi. "Out
of the truck," the trooper screamed, "on the ground now! Now, get down
now, spread them on the ground or I blow your head off." Ajadi dropped
to the pavement like a weight was tied to him. Nabib scrambled back with
his revolver trained on the driver. A whirling sound of high-speed rotor
blades sucking and slicing the air made the trooper

6 look up. Three U.s.. Army helicopters were sweeping down to his
location, as a chorus of car horns was beginning to rise in angry
confusion along New York harbor.

Will Chambers wheeled up to the federal court building for the Central
District of Virginia and roared down into the underground parking
garage. He grabbed his briefcase, stuffed the file into it, and started
walking at a fast clip toward the front doors of the courthouse. He
could see the huge figure of his client, William "Tiny"

Heftland, pacing out front, waiting for him. Heftland was wearing
bright-red suspenders, a white shirt, and a tie. He stood six-foot-four
and weighed about two hundred and seventy pounds. Back when he had
worked as a beat cop with the D.c. police, and later in the Middle East
in the security force of the State Department he had been in mean, lean,
fighting shape at two hundred and twenty pounds--most of it muscle. But
after a permanent knee injury, problems with his supervisor and,
ultimately, a discharge from government work, he was on his own now as a
private investigator, cruising around in his black Cadillac, filling up
on cheeseburgers and shakes, mostly doing surveillance in divorce cases
and serving process. The years had caught up with him. "Hey, good
buddy," Heftland called out to Chambers as he saw him coming. "Man, did
you hear about that truck they stopped in New York?" Will, in his mad
dash to the courthouse, hadn't turned on the radio and didn't have a
clue what Tiny was talking about. And frankly, he didn't care. He did
not respond to the big private eye until he was two inches from his
sweaty bulk. "Don't give me the "good buddy" treatment," Will said. "Why
haven't you paid your bill? You still owe me five thousand dollars from
the last case I handled for you. And you still haven't paid the retainer
for this one yet." "Yeah, okay, I was going to be talking to you about
that. First of all, I'm good for the money."

The Resurrection File 11

"Is that it?" Will asked. "That's your best shot--you're good for the
money?" "Hey, we're not going to break up a wonderful friendship over
something like money, are we?" Heftland quipped as they entered the
court building. "I'm waiting for the "second of all." You said "first of
all." So where is the "second of all"... ?" Will asked as they both

7 climbed up the stairs at a fast clip.

"Okay, second of all, I just sent you a really great case the other day.
This Reverend Angus MacCameron guy, who is being sued in federal court
in D.c. I mean sued big time. Guess who the attorney is on the other
side? Just guess? J-Fox Sherman himself--head legal terrorist with that
real blitzkrieg-type law firm in D.c. The name escapes me. But a really
big-time law firm." : "Get to the point, Tiny," Will said, panting a
little as they topped the be marble stairs to the second floor. Tiny was
breathing heavily, trying to keep It up. so "Okay, so anyway, Reverend
MacCameron hires me to do some P.i. work on the lawsuit for him--some
investigative stuff--to check out the plaintiff I who is suing him in
the lawsuit, this Herr-Doktor type with like a dozen out different PhDo
degrees. The plaintiff who is going after MacCameron is this I Dr.
Albert Reichstad guy--nice name, huh? So I am right in the inside loop I
on this case. And get this--the Right Reverend asks me for a recommenI
dation on legal counsel to defend him. So I sent him your way. I said
you I were like the genius of the American legal system as far as I was
concerned. So, the way I figure it, that ought to count for something,
right?" I Will Chambers stopped in his tracks. "No. It doesn't count for
anything. I Ethically, a lawyer can't split fees with non-lawyers for
case referrals. And I that's what it would be if I give up a fee from
you because you send me a out case. Give me a break, Tiny" I "Okay,
well, hey, I'm trying here. You know. Just give me some time. 1 You'll
get your money." to "Look, Tiny, my partners are putting pressure on me
about my receivI ables. I know you and I go back a long way. I wouldn't
be hammering you out unless it was important. We have to get your fee
collected, okay?" very "Sure, Will, okay," Tiny reassured him, wiping
some of the sweat off his 1 brow. As they turned the corner in the
hallway they heard the echoes of voices ahead of them from the area
outside the courtroom. There they saw E.. several protestors with signs
denouncing abortion. They were being lectured I by two federal marshals.
With news of the New York City truck incident 1 spreading, security at
federal buildings in the District was on full alert.

8 "Protest signs inside the courthouse.

That would be a big no-no. Judge Ramington is going to have their heads
on a platter," Chambers said as they approached the group outside the
courtroom doors. Heftland grabbed Will's arm and stopped him short.
"Look, W. I really need you to do some magic here. I know you can do it.
If I get convicted, my license is going bye-bye. I'm done. You've really
got to get me off on this one." "Tiny, I don't do magic. I do law. I'm
not Houdini." And then Will looked at Tiny so panicked expression and
patted his big shoulder. "I'm going to do my best. I promise." They
skirted the group of protestors, and as they entered the courtroom Tiny
grabbed Will's arm one more time. Looking down at Will's feet, he began
muttering something. "Look, Tiny, it's going to be alright," Will said,
brushing him off and pointing for him to sit with the large group in the
audience section. Will turned and made his way to the front row. A thin,
plain-looking young woman with long brown hair grabbed Will's coat
sleeve as he walked by the rows of benches. He noticed a little brass
pin on her blouse in the shape of tiny baby feet. "I am praying for
you," she said quietly. "My client is not part of your antiabortion
group," Will said, trying to pull away from her grasp. "That's okay, I
am praying for you anyway." "Sure," Will said. "That's good." He quickly
sat down with his briefcase and tried to catch his breath. A few seconds
after Will had sat down, the side door swung open violently, with a
bang. Judge

Roger Ramington strode out, his black robe flowing. The bailiff barked
out with a loud voice, "All rise, this court is now in session, the
Honorable Roger . Ramington is presiding, silence is commanded, God save
the United States and this Honorable Court." "Be seated," Judge
Ramington called out, and he perched himself behind the bench. He was
completely bald, with a head that had a shiny, even polished,
appearance. His eyebrows were dark and bushy, and he carried a
square-jawed look that let you know he was rarely amused, always in
control, and relished presenting himself as the veteran Marine that he
was. "I have been informed by the clerk that all of the defendants on
the docket today are here on Complaints alleging violations of federal
law, namely 18 United States Code section 248, the Federal Access to
Clinics Act, otherwise known as F.a.c.e.

9

"These Complaints all apparently have to do with alleged antiabortion
protest activities three weeks ago at the Tri-County Women's Health
Center," the Judge continued. "Now listen carefully, each and every one
of you. I am about to explain why you're here. I want absolute silence.
This is raostyour day of trial. This is only a preliminary hearing to
determine whether there is probable cause to . continue your case
forward toward trial. That means that merely enough evidence need be
presented by the prosecution to show that a crime was probably committed
and that you probably committed it. That's all. Nothing more is needed.
"I am informed that all of you, except one, are defending yourselves and
do not wish to have lawyers representing you. That is your right. On the
other hand I've always believed that, as they say, anyone who is his or
her own lawyer has a fool for a client. "Now, the prosecution will
present its witnesses and evidence. You may then cross-examine those
witnesses, but your right to ask questions will be extremely limited. It
will be limited by the rules of evidence, of which you may know very
little. It will also be limited to the issue of probable cause-- not
guilt or innocence. And in all likelihood you won't know the difference
there either, because you're not lawyers. "You need not testify on your
own behalf--comin fact you have a Fifth- Amendment right not to. If you
decide to testify today you are running a great risk because, A) You may
say just enough to hang yourself, and were I'm not your lawyer. Don't
ask me what you should do. And were if you start telling me about your
pro-life views and beliefs, I don't want to hear them because they have
nothing to do with these charges against you as far as the law is
concerned. If you violate this rule and start telling me why you are
against abortion I will cite you for contempt. "Now, with that, let's
all have a nice day here in the United States District Court." Judge
Ramington capped off his speech with a smile. Though it was not exactly
a smile. It was more like the grin that a Doberman pinscher gives you
when it pulls its lips back to bare its teeth. The clerk called Will
Chambers' case first, as it was the only one with a defendant who was
represented by an attorney. "Case number

01 CR 657, United States of America vs. William Tinney Heftland." Will
Chambers and Heftland approached the bench. "Are you William Tinney
Heftland?" the judge asked.

"Yes, Your Honor--but my friends call me

10 "Tiny.""

14 Craig Marshall

"Don't mistake me for one of your friends, Mr. Heftland. That would be a
serious error. Are counsel ready?" Will and the prosecuting attorney
both nodded. "Before you call your first witness," the judge said to the
prosecutor, "does anyone want to make a short opening statement?" But
then something caught the eye of the judge. He lunged forward and leaned
over the bench to get a better look. The judge was staring at Will's
feet. Will looked down and his heart sank. "Counsel, approach this
bench, and I mean now," Judge Ramington snapped.

Chambers and the smiling prosecutor approached the bench. Ramington gave
a discreet nod to the court reporter and she stopped typing on her steno
machine. "Counsel," and with that the judge looked down at the file on
the desk to remind himself of the name of the defense counsel. "Mr.
Chambers. Yes.

I've had you in my courtroom before. Would you care to explain your
footwear to me?" Will glanced down at his woven leather sandals. He had
forgotten to replace them with the dress shoes that he kept by his desk
specifically for court appearances. "These are imported, hand-tooled
leather sandals from Italy, Your Honor." And then he quickly added, "And

I do apologize that in the rush to arrive at court on time--and I know
that Your Honor is a keen observer of time--I apparently forgot to put
on my dress shoes." "You ever come in here again with sandals, looking
like a hippie, you're in contempt, sir." "It won't happen again." "And
get a decent haircut, mister," the judge added. "Yes, Your Honor,"
Chambers replied. And then he added, once he noted that the court
reporter was getting everything down on the record again, "And I do
appreciate the Court giving me a critique on my hairstyle." Judge
Ramington shot a steely-eyed look at the court reporter, who then took
her fingers off the keys again. "Don't go there, Mr. Chambers. Don't
play games with me. I was doing you a big favor. You want me to put my
opinions of you on the record, I will be glad to do that. You want
everything on the record, be my guest. You've got some kind of chip on
your shoulder, counselor. I really don't care where it came from. You
get it off. Now go back to the counsel table and take care of your
client's case."

The Resurrection File IS

Will nodded silently. The prosecutor, who had

11 been standing as a mute witness at side-bar during the entire
colloquy, was grinning. Will sat down at the counsel table next to Tiny.
His exasperated client only had two words for him. "Nice opening." The
prosecutor called, as his only witness, a police officer who had been on
duty on the day that several dozen pro-life demonstrators showed up at
the abortion clinic and sat down in front of the doors. Will knew that
Tiny had been there that day. But he also knew that he didn't block the
doors. In fact, Tiny was there that day to serve a Summons and Complaint
on one of the doctors for a medical malpractice lawsuit.

In order to get closer to the front door and then to make his way inside
to serve the papers, he had pretended to be one of the pro-lifers. That
was when he was arrested. The officer methodically described the scene
that day. The blocking of the doors. The fact that women could not get
in to get abortions. The arrests. Then the officer described how one
William Tinney Heftland had been there, in the midst of the protestors,
and how he had been arrested as he was seated with them in front of the
doors. "Your witness," the prosecutor announced to Will after concluding
direct examination. Chambers paused for a minute. The courtroom became
silent. The officer shifted in his chair. Judge Ramington began tapping
his pen on the bench. Then Will began. "Are you sure my client was there
that day?" "Sure." "How do you know?" "He's hard to miss." The judge
chuckled. "What was he wearing?" "Red suspenders, I think." "How do you
know?" "I remember." "You don't remember it just because he's wearing
red suspenders now?" "No, of course not." "You are sure my client, Tiny
Heftland, was sitting down in front of the doors--rather than simply
standing up?" "I'm fairly sure." "Is there some question in your mind
about the suspenders, though?"

16 Craig Marshall

"Perhaps." "Do you have pictures in your file there that could refresh
your recollection?" The prosecutor jumped to his feet. "Your Honor,

I think we know where this is going. Mr. Chambers is trying to go on a
fishing expedition here. He is using the preliminary hearing simply to
get discovery about the prosecution's case. He just wants a look at the
police photos." "Oh, so you do have photos," Will snapped at the
prosecutor sarcastically. "Where are you going, Mr. Chambers? You're
wasting our time," the judge barked out. "Your

12 Honor," Will replied, "the federal rules of evidence permit me to
have a witness refresh his recollection with anything that can revive
his memory on a material point." "How is this "red suspenders" thing
material? I'm not going to let you endlessly test the credibility of the
witness--that's not what you do at a preliminary hearing." "It is
material," Will continued, "if we can show that a large man--and I think
that we can all agree that Mr. Heftland is large--that a large man
wearing red suspenders who was a private investigator and a process
server-- and who matches my client's description--was not seated on the
ground obstructing the clinic doors, but was in fact trying to get into
the doors to serve lawsuit papers on one of the doctors when he was
arrested." Judge Ramington stared at Chambers. Then he pulled out the
charging document from the court file and started reading out loud.
"Alright. The violation here is that the act was done with
obstruction... or that he intimidated or interfered with someone trying
to get reproductive health services...because thatpetson....who is
obstructed is trying to get those services. In other words, a process
server.. dismay or may not be part of an obstruction--and I suppose he
would not be there because people are trying to get in to get abortions
done.

He would be there for some other reason. Objection overruled. Officer,
answer the question." "Yes, the police photos would probably refresh my
memory." The officer glanced through the pack of photos in his file. "I
can't tell." "Why not?" "Because your client--Mr. Heftland--is not in
any of these photos." "Your Honor, I would like to see those photos."
The judge glanced over at the prosecutor.

The Resurrection File 17

"At this point I guess I don't have an objection," the prosecutor
deadpanned, "if

Mr. Chambers wants to help prove the government's case by identifying
his own client in the photographs and placing him at the scene of the
offense." Will took the pack of photos and quickly spread them out over
the counsel's table. He began staring at several of them, but none
showed his client. "Okay, counsel, proceed," the judge said. But one of
the photos had caught Will's eye, and he lifted it up to look at it more
closely. "Now, Mr. Chambers," the judge said. Will did not flinch, but
stared at the photo--transfixed by something he thought he saw. "I will
be terminating your

13 cross-examination, Mr. Chambers," the judge said, his voice rising.
Now Will was holding only one photograph in his hand as heiturned to
face the witness. He looked the officer directly in the eye. The officer
shifted a little in the witness chair. "Is it a fact, officer, that my
client--rather than sitting down in front of the doors of the clinic and
obstructing patients from getting in--was actually standing up, in his
bright-red suspenders, and waving the lawsuit papers that he was trying
to serve on one of the doctors inside the clinic--in fact, waving those
papers over his head?" "No, I don't believe so. I would have
remembered." "Would it refresh your memory to look at a picture that
shows that very thing?" "No. Because I just looked at those pictures.
They don't show that." The photo in Will's hand was taken to the clerk
and marked as an exhibit and handed to the officer on the stand. "Look
at the picture. Look very closely.

Look through what is on the surface and look deep into the
picture...deep into the photograph," Will said. "I'm sorry, but this is
absurd, Your Honor," the prosecutor blurted out. "This is starting to
sound like some kind of cheap parlor trick--maybe defense counsel would
like to hypnotize the officer into seeing something that isn't in that
picture." But the judge was not looking at the lawyers, he was looking
at the witness. And the officer had changed his expression as he was
looking at the photo.

18 Craig Parshall

"Does that photo portray something different than your recollection,
officer?" the judge asked. "Not exactly, but..." the officer responded.
The prosecutor was on his feet again, but before he could say anything
the judge reached over and grabbed the photograph from the witness and
looked at it himself. "There's nothing here, Mr. Chambers," the judge
said, "that shows your client at all. All I see is a group of the other
protestors sitting in front of the doors of the clinic." Tour Honor,"
Will said, and now his voice was calm and deliberate, "look at the
glass--the reflection in the plate-glass window of the clinic-- not at
the people sitting in the foreground of the photo, but into the
glass..." The judge stared at the photo, and then silently passed it
back to the witness. The officer's shoulders slightly slumped. There was
a little turning-up at one corner of his mouth, as if he were trying not
to smile nervously. "Officer," Will continued, "an

14 overcast day that day?" "Yes." "A lot of reflection on the
glass--almost like a mirror?" "Yes, counselor, that would be one way to
describe it." "And that reflection in the glass of the window
shows--faintly perhaps, but clearly enough--it shows my client, red
suspenders and all, standing off in the distance with his hands held
over his head, and papers in them?" "Yes." "And there is someone else in
the reflection of that glass, approaching him?" "Yes, counselor, there
is." "Who is that?" "That's me, I think, in that reflection, coming up
behind him...I guess to arrest him. While he was standing up." "And
certainly not obstructing the doorway?" "No. To be honest, I guess not."
The prosecutor wisely decided not to attempt the hopeless task of trying
to rehabilitate his witness. He waived any redirect examination. That is
when Judge Ramington gave a short and dispassionate explanation for his
decision to dismiss all of the criminal charges in the case of United
States of America vs. William Tinney Heftland. Will and Tiny walked out
of the courtroom together. Tiny gave him a huge bear hug while Will
fought back a little embarrassment in front of the court personnel
walking by in the halls.

The Resurrection File 19

"Oh, man, I owe you big-time," Tiny said.

"I don't just mean paying my bill. I will do that. But if there is some
way I can repay you. Some favor-- anything." He was beaming. "Sure,"
Will said. He was smiling too. Then Will hooked one of Tiny's suspenders
with his finger and pulled on it. "Lucky suspenders." "You got that
right!" Tiny said and strode off with a big wave. Will turned around to
leave. He noticed the fragile-looking woman with the little baby's feet
pin, standing in the hallway, smiling at him and waving. He thought he
heard her say something like "praying for you" again. Will gave her a
half-wave as he walked out of the courthouse toward his car.

Washington, D.c.

While Will Chambers was concluding his case that morning, a meeting was
being held at the law firm of Kennelworth, Sherman, Abrams 6c

Cantwell on Street in downtown Washington, D.c. Street was
affectionately known as "central power" in legal circles. Its glass
buildings housed the most powerful lobbyists, lawyers, and political
insiders in the most powerful city on the planet. In the law firms cavernous

15 suite of offices, attorney Jay

Foxley Sherman, senior partner and long-reigning chief of the firm's
litigation section, was seated at the twenty-foot-long mahogany table in
the large conference room. Next to him was a law clerk with a legal pad
and an associate attorney.

Sherman had distinguished looks, with silver-white hair and wire-rim
glasses. As one of Washington's elite trial lawyers, he was at the top
of his game. Beltway magazine had just voted him the best litigator in
D.c. for the rich, the powerful, and the politically connected. He had
represented Senators caught in scandal, and a foreign ambassador accused
of spying. Sherman had won a successful defamation lawsuit on behalf of
a former president whose name was maliciously tarnished in a television
news program. Fortune 500 companies came to him when their executives
were indicted for white-collar crimes. These were the caliber of clients
that paid Jay Foxley Sherman his six-hundred-dollar-per-hour fee. But
today, "Just-Fox" Sherman (as he was called by those who knew him) was
not happy. He was struggling to look friendly and diplomatic. But
underneath his calm demeanor and his twelve-hundred-dollar Italian suit,
a volcano raged. Sherman was the kind of lawyer who insisted on absolute
control over his clients. He demanded that they never talk to the press,
never give interviews--and never appear on national television--without
his prior approval. Control was his ultimate addiction. His trial experience

The Resurrection File 21 had taught him that when you lose control of
the client, you lose control of the case. And when that happens--more
often than not, you end up losing the case itself. J-Fox Sherman didn't
try cases to lose them. Sherman's expression was neutral, but his face
was flushed. The beltway lawyer had good reason to be irate. Just a few
weeks before, he had filed a libel and defamation lawsuit on his
client's behalf in die United States

District Court of the District of Columbia. Shortly afterwards, and
without consulting Sherman, the client had appeared on national
television to discuss matters that went to the very core of his case.
Sherman's client, Dr. Albert Reichstad, sat across the conference table
with a strained look, but his raised eyebrows and subtle smile revealed a

16 measure of arrogance. Reichstad's hair, professionally dyed a dark
brown to cover the gray, was short, and his beard was well-trimmed. His
retiring good looks went well with his expensive Harris-tweed jacket and
imported tie. Though Dr. Reichstad was a scholar and an academic, he was
not at all the rumpled, absent-minded-professor type. His clothes, and
his manner, disclosed the kind of financial power that few professors
ever experience within the cloistered life of the university. "Start the
video," Sherman barked to the law clerk. The clerk jumped to his feet
and scurried over to the big-screen television that was smartly situated
inside the floor-to-ceiling mahogany wall cabinet. He slid the video
into the VCR and clicked it on with the remote control. "When did this
program air?" Sherman asked, with the tone of a man who was about to see
his client jeopardize his lawsuit on national television before his case
was even a month old. Before Reichstad could answer, the associate
attorney snapped out the answer. "Four nights ago." "Good," Sherman
rapped out. "With all the news coverage that just broke this morning on
the truck incident in New York, there's a good chance no one will even
remember it." The video started in the middle of a commercial. A sleek
automobile was gliding through the wet streets of a big city at night.
Mellow jazz music filled the air. A deep voice in the background said,
"This kind of power and prestige isn't for everybody. But then, you
aren't just anybody." Sherman was impatiently tapping his black onyx pen
with pure gold detailing on the table. He glanced momentarily at his
reflection in its dark, rich wood.

22 Craig Parshall

Then the commercial ended. The program began with the pounding rock
music of a studio band. The camera zoomed in to the host, who was seated
at the desk with the distant lights of Los Angeles in the
background--Billy Hampton, former college English professor, former
comedy writer, former Las Vegas stand-up comedian, and now the driving
force behind America PM, the hottest late-night show on television.
Hampton was leaning back in his chair, his head bouncing to the band's
accompaniment. The music ended and the studio audience applause died
down. "Tonight we have a real treat. Harking back to my days as a
college professor, I've asked

Dr. Albert Reichstad, professor of

17 anthropology at Harvard University, to join us. Dr. Reichstad has
recently shocked the world with his revelations about an ancient
document that he discovered. And get this--he believes that this piece
of papyrus is a missing part of the world's oldest writing about
Christianity.1' With that Hampton held up a picture from a Time magazine
article. It showed Reichstad studying a large lighted display on his
desk, which contained a magnified replica of a fragment of papyrus
writing. In the photo, a pretty young female student was standing next
to Reichstad, looking on. The title on the magazine page read, "The
Resurrection Disproved? Dr. Albert

Reichstad Finds the Missing Key to the Gospels." Hampton continued,
"He's here to impart his impressive knowledge about one of the world's
most profound subjects, the real Jesus of history-- and while he's at
it--he's also going to reveal an even more important mystery--how an old
guy like him gets dates with the really good-looking young women in his
class"--Hampton held up the magazine photo and said, "I didn't know you
had a PhDo in that subject--"' (the audience laughed loudly) "won't you
welcome Dr. Albert Reichstad, or as I like to call him, BigAir Dr.
Reichstad entered the studio stage smiling brightly, confidently. He
shook Hampton's hand vigorously and sat down next to the desk, waving to
the studio audience. Before Billy Hampton could launch into his initial
questions Reichstad interrupted him. "You know, the woman in the
magazine picture was one of my best students," Reichstad explained. "But
I'm surprised at you, Billy--we are in the twenty-first century now.
Women really shouldn't be viewed as mere ssr objects or just dating
partners. In my class, I'm happy to say that every young woman is
encouraged to reach her full intellectual and professional potential."
The audience ignited in raucous approval.

The Resurrection File 23

"Okay, so I deserved that one," Hampton came back lightly. "I guess that
just shows how desperate I am--trying to pick up chicks with the help of
a guy who is old enough to he my grandfather." The audience laughed and
applauded loudly. "No, but really, Doctor, all kidding aside, it's great
to have you here," Hampton continued. "Now this subject is really heavy.
And you, of course, you're kind of a

18 heavyweight yourself in the scientific community. Professor of
anthropology at

Harvard--author of numerous books--two PhDs--and *" this one really gets
me"--(hampton was studying the "bio" sheet in front of .."hm) "Voted by
the students at Harvard as the most beloved professor for * the third
year in a row'--you know, when I was a teacher, I bribed my stujk! dents
with As but it never got me anywhere." When the laughter died down Dr.
Reichstad bowed his head slightly 4 and then said, "You know, that honor
is the one I prize the most. You see, I it believe that impacting
students--touching them and showing them someHave thing about the truth
of where the human race has been, an3 where we might be going, that is
the greatest thing an educator can do. Now, in my II
field--Middle-Eastern anthropology and archaeology--I try to give my
students a glimpse into the cradle of civilization. Teach them what
motim vated people thousands of years ago to believe the way they did."
8 "Well," the host jumped in, "that brings us to this discovery of
yours-- and this is really, I guess, a little like Columbus discovering
America or - Edmund Hillary being the first guy to make it to the top of
Mount Everest. I mean, this is gigantic. Truly amazing, Doctor. You come
across this little scrap of ancient paper that is part of the first--I
guess you would say part of will the actual original "gospel," if we can
use that term, about the life--or actual ally more like the death--the
burial of Jesus. Suddenly, this could be the, most important discovery
in the history of religion. From this little scrap of be paper we
realize that what the Christian religion has been teaching about Jesus,
the folklore and the myths about his being raised up on the third day,
be and the whole Easter thing--we really have to give that up now. And
you : are the man--Dr. Albert Reichstad--you are the guy who did it all.
You are : the one who has really caused--if I can say it this way--you
have caused a . religious revolution." 5

Reichstad paused and smiled. Then he reached out and touched the be
coatsleeve of the television host. BY "You know, Billy, I must tell you
and your wonderful viewing audience

something. I believe that what is really amazing is the human spirit. It
is the

ability of the human race to continue to seek out truth--and then when it

19 is found, to embrace it even when it's uncomfortable. Even when it is
very

24 Craig Parshall scary for us because it makes us face new horizons of
our evolutionary adventure as humans. But I really think the Christian
church--and not just Christians, but all people of good will everywhere,
and all religions--I really think we are all coming to the realization
that the story of Jesus being raised from the dead and being God, the
mythic story that some of us learned in Sunday school as little
children--it was a wonderful story, and it made us all feel good, but
now, as twenty-first-century humans, we must honor the real truth about
Jesus. "We now know with certainty, because of the discovery I was
privileged to make, that he was not God, and he didn't walk out of a
tomb after he died. I believe the evidence from this remarkable papyrus
fragment--we scientists call it the 7QA fragment--that was written just
after his death and burial really does prove that beyond any doubt. But,
you know, Billy, something of Jesus did live on. And that's what is
really important. Jesus stood for love and tolerance among all people.
Now that is the enduring truth he left for us. And of course, the
truth--as the words of Jesus tell us--the truth will make us free." The
audience applauded wildly, and a few people were whistling. Billy
Hampton was beaming from ear to ear. And then he applauded the moment
himself, nodding his head up and down. "Dr. Albert Reichstad, ladies and
gentlemen," Hampton said, inviting the audience to convey their love to
this distinguished man of science. "We will be right back after this."
The video screen went to fuzzy white as the tape ended. Sherman was
silent. His face was no longer red. His brow was relaxed. He tossed a
thick, stapled packet of papers across the table to Dr. Reichstad. "That
is the libel and defamation lawsuit that I filed in federal court here
in D.c.," Sherman intoned, "to vindicate your professional reputation as
a scholar and a scientist against the lies and accusations of murder
published against you and your discovery of the Jesus papyrus--by that
Christian fundamentalist preacher, MacCameron. I suggest you read it
again. Take it with you." Then the master trial lawyer eased back in his
chair slightly. "I will say this--I think you handled yourself fairly
well on television. Not everyone can sell themselves on the tube,"
Sherman said. "But I am telling you right

20 now, if you go to the media any more--or if you start showing up on
Geraldo Rivera, or Jerry Springer or whatever--any more media
whatsoever--and I mean anywhere--I don't care if it's on the morning
farm report in North Platte, Nebraska--if you do ariy more media

The Resurrection File 25 on this subject without talking to me first, I
am off this case. And you will be looking for a new lawyer." "I
understand," Reichstad replied quietly but smugly. Sherman started to
rise from his chair, but his client raised an index finger in the air.
"Just one final question, Mr. Sherman, before you go." "Yes?"' "Has our
defendant been served with these lawsuit papers yet?"' Sherman looked to
his associate, who glanced at his file and said, "Reverend Angus
MacCameron was served by our process server last week" "Have we heard
from MacCameron's attorney yet--do we know who he hired as his lawyer?"'
Reichstad asked as a follow-up question. "That's two questions," Sherman
shot back sarcastically. Then he smiled at his law clerk and nodded for
him to answer. "Not yet," the law clerk answered. "We will get notice
from his defense counsel in a week or so," Sherman said blandly. "Some
local schlepp, some country-bumpkin attorney, will probably give me a
call, asking if I will agree to an extension of time to file be their
response to our Complaint for damages. And of course, I will be ever
still so courteous--and I will courteously tell him that I have no
intention of ^granting any extensions in this lawsuit." At that the law
clerk and the asso'? date snickered. Was: "No, I really don't think we
should worry about who opposing counsel is that. going to be," Sherman
continued. "I doubt that this guy--comth Reverend & MacCameron and his
little magazine, Digging for Truth--comh libelstslander I insurance.
It's just too expensive for some little shoebox publication like this. I
So you're not going to see him defended by one of the big insurance
defense I'firms. Here you've got this right-wing, fundamentalist pastor
and his little magazine--which, by our estimate, has a circulation of a
couple of thousand readers if they are lucky--so, who is a guy like that
going to be able to get I' as his lawyer?" ft "What about religious
institutions, foundations--conservative religious Igroups?" Reichstad
questioned. "Won't they offer to fund the defense of his I case? Make
this case a cause celebre?" I. Sherman

21 "chuckled a little. "We've investigated this MacCameron. He's I such
an oddball--even as fundamentalists go, he is on the fringe. He's on
i'the outs even with the conservative Christian groups. He seems to have
I; offended everyone in the evangelical camp. And the Catholics won't
touch Ilium with a hundred-foot pole because he's insulted them too. No,
I don't see him getting any help from other groups. He's out on a
gangplank, all by himself. Besides, whoever the guy gets to represent
him, I don't think we're

26 Craig Parshall too worried, are we, fellows?" With that, Sherman
looked to the associate and the law clerk who were both smiling
confidently. The associate knew that this was his cue. He was now about
to spread the final layer of gold-tinted public relations. "There is a
saying around town, Doctor, about Mr. Sherman as a trial attorney," the
associate explained proudly. "When Mr. Sherman goes to court, they call
it "Sherman's March to the Sea." You know, like setting fire to the
crops, burning the homes, and laying waste to the enemy." Sherman smiled
broadly at that, and then added, "Now Dr. Reichstad, when we've won this
case and decimated the other side, you will have to answer one little
question of my own." "Oh?" Reichstad responded. "What is that?" "Well,
it's your money--and believe me, you and your institute will be spending
lots of it on this case..."--at that, Sherman's associates smirked--
"but," he continued, "I'm still not clear why you are suing an obscure,
penniless eccentric like MacCameron. Really, why bother?" Til answer
that right now," Reichstad snapped back, his eyes widening. "If I don't
finally take a stand against the quacks like MacCameron, then pretty
soon the scientific community starts to take shots at me as well. This
lawsuit is designed to send a message, Mr. Sherman." J-Fox Sherman
smiled agreeably, though he still doubted his client's explanation. He
stood up from the table, shook hands with Dr. Reichstad, and paused a
second to stare him in the eye--the last reminder of who would be
controlling this case--who was the client, and who was the lawyer. And
then Sherman walked out of the room. He glanced at his Rolex. He didn't
want to be late for his lunch meeting on Capitol Hill.

With Will Chambers out the door and on his way to court, Betty Sorenson
could finally catch her

22 breath. She straightened her silver-and- black hair and lit a
cigarette as Will's Corvette taillights disappeared from view. But she
had barely taken her first puff before she noticed a small entourage
coming directly toward her on the sidewalk. In the lead was a slightly
disheveled man who looked to be in his sixties, carrying an old, very
tattered briefcase. He had thick glasses but a square- jawed, handsome
face with a fair complexion. Behind him was a strikingly beautiful woman
in her mid-thirties, with dark hair and a flashy designer outfit.
Following behind was a man in a dark suit with a small briefcase.
"Excuse me," the older man in the lead asked, "is this attorney Will
Chambers' office?" Betty quickly tossed her cigarette down and smiled
politely. "Yes, his office is on the second floor. I am his secretary,
is he expecting you?" "My name is Angus MacCameron," the man said with
an accent tinged by a subtle burr. "This is my daughter, Fiona.

You may know her from her music andrecords. She's a famous Christian
singereay know." Fiona cut in, smiling. "Just like a father, he's always
bragging on me! My father has an appointment with Mr. Chambers. My
manager and I would like to sit in, if that's alright." Betty tried to
smile and look detached and professional, but inside she realized that
several more spinning plates in her boss's circus act were smashing to
the floor. "Won't you follow me?" she said, and motioned for them to
follow her up the stairs, secretly hoping that Jacki Johnson, the
assistant lawyer in the office, was free to meet with them--and somehow
explain why Will Chambers wasn't.

28 Craig Panhall

The threesome was seated in the lobby. Betty then disappeared quickly
down the hallway toward the rear. She poked her head inside a neat,
well- furnished office. Jacki Johnson was dictating into the video desk
recorder, but when she saw the look on Betty's face, she stopped in
mid-sentence. Jacki was a woman in her mid-thirties, with short,
sculptured hair, large, pretty eyes, and smooth, coffee-colored skin.
She was petite, but carried herself with the confidence of someone who
could be tough and forceful. She straightened her tailored suit as she
swung around in her executive chair. "Judging by the look on your

23 face, I'd say you need my help,"

Jacki said. "We've got a couple of new clients in the lobby expecting to
see W." "Oh. And of course Will isn't here, I suppose?" "Naturally."
"You want me to handle it?" Jacki asked calmly. "Look I'm sorry to do
this.. disag," Betty said with exasperation. "I'll be glad to meet with
them. Do you have any idea what this conference is about?" "Haven't the
foggiest," Betty replied as she walked with Jacki down the hallway. Then
Betty stopped and turned to Jacki, and in a hushed and serious tone
said, "I think you should also know that Hadley Bates was on the phone
this morning, just before Will ran out the door." "And?" "And, he didn't
want to talk to W. Not exactly." "What did he want?" "Well,"

Betty continued in a whisper, "he wanted to know Will's schedule. And he
wanted to know whether he was going to be out of the office all morning.
So I told him that Will was scheduled to be in court all morning." "And
what did our esteemed managing partner have to say?" "He just said,
"Very good."" "Is that all?" "Yeah. He just said, "Very good." You know
how he does, in that "I'm HAL the IBM computer" voice of his." "So what
was that all about?" "I really don't know. I got the feeling that Hadley
was glad that Will was going to be out of the office this morning. I've
got to tell you, I have a bad feeling about today. Okay, so we all know
that Will and Hadley have never gotten along. But I think Will has
finally pushed him too far. Will doesut return his calls. He never
attends the partnership meetings anymore. I think that the other shoe is
really about to drop. I've got really bad vibes about this."

The Resurrection File 29

Jacki smiled and walked past Betty, straight to the lobby, where she :
shook hands warmly with the threesome. They introduced themselves and
she invited them into the conference room. Jacki explained that Will
Chambers had been "detained" in court and that she was going to handle
the interview. She offered them coffee but they declined. Jacki quickly
sized them up as folks who were friendly and courteous--but who
definitely wanted to cut to the chase. The older man started first.
"Miss Johnson, I have to ask you a question before I get into my case.
It may strike you as a bit odd. But, considering the unique aspects of
my case, "I I absolutely have to ask. You see, my case--the reason that I am

24 here--really ",*, deals with the most important question that has
ever been asked in the last % two thousand years. And even a bit more
than that, this case is about a fulleafou scale attack, a massive
conspiracy, by the prince of darkness--against the ..k church of Jesus
Christ. So here is the question--are you a believer in God, Miss
Johnson?"' ft Jacki paused. She was used to strange cases and strange
clients, particu'More' krly after practicing law with Will Chambers for
a while. Will had often knowledge remarked to her about that great
paradox of the law: how the most profound civil-liberty issues often
seemed to be wrapped around the lives of difficult, bizarre, and obtuse
people. And working with Will, she had met a lot of m`ou them. Yet even
in that, she had never heard a more audacious description of iou a
lawsuit than the one just delivered by this man with the soft, friendly
Scotfi tish accent. It "Well, I was raised by my aunt to be a good
Mississippi Methodist," she answered. "Church on Sunday mornings, and
Sunday evenings, and Wedm nesday nights. I won a couple awards for
church attendance and Bible readBut ings back then. Yes, Mr.

MacCameron. I am a believer in God." "You see," MacCameron continued, "I
ask you this for a reason. The Bible says that "the fool says in his
heart there is no God," so I want to make sure that my lawyers are not
fools." MacCameron's face lit up with an be impish smile, and for a
moment Jacki couldn't tell whether this old man was 'pulling her leg.
She studied him closely and concluded that beneath his warm and
infectious smile he was deadly serious. "Which brings us to Will
Chambers," Fiona MacCameron said. "Because he is the senior lawyer in
this office, we are interested in some of his background. I assume that
Mr. Chambers would be the one primarily handling this case. My father is
very interested in hiring Mr. Chambers. But, to be honest, I have
some--well--some questions." "What kind of questions?" Jacki asked.

30 Craig Parshall

Fiona sat poised and attentive, and waited for a moment before
responding. Jacki recognized the line of clothes--strictly New York
fashion. Fiona's makeup and hair had the touches of an expensive salon.
As she folded her left hand over her right hand and rested them on the
conference table, Jacki noticed the French-manicured nails.

She also observed that there was no wedding ring on

25 Fiona's hand. "I've read some background research that Bob, my
manager, provided to me about Mr. Chambers," Fiona continued. "I was
impressed and certainly intrigued. Will Chambers is a fascinating and
obviously a very talented man. But our questions have to do more with
his personal life." "The truth is, we have heard some unsettling things
about Mr. Chambers," the man in the dark suit stated. "Since I am Ms.
MacCameron's business manager, when she found out that her father seemed
intent on hiring Mr. Chambers, she contacted me. I, in turn, contacted
some people in the legal community to check up on him. I know that in
the past Will Chambers handled some high-profile cases. But the word
I've received is that the man now has some serious personal issues. In
point of fact--that he is an alcoholic and his days as a trial lawyer
may be over." Jacki's eyes flashed with irritation. Controlling herself,
she began to explain. "Folks, let me tell you something. I came to this
law firm because ofWill Chambers. I was a law student at NYU. And I
probably would have stayed up in

New York to practice after law school. But I read an article in a
magazine about this attorney down in Virginia. How he took on a case on
behalf of a young Hasidic Jewish boy and his family up in the Bronx. The
Jewish boy had been beaten up, set on fire, and left for dead by some
neo-Nazi group in New York. Somehow he survived, miraculously, but he
was terribly burned. "Now, two of the thugs who did this horrendous
thing were caught, tried for attempted murder, and convicted. But the
ringleader was never caught. Will Chambers filed a lawsuit for the
Jewish family against the owner of a trucking company in the Bronx who
was suspected of being the driving force behind this racist Nazi group.
One of the two convicted guys had tipped Will off to the fact that the
trucking company owner was the guy who gave the order to "be sure and
burn a Jew tonight." "So I read in this article how the Virginia
lawyer--Will--was poring over the records of the trucking company one
night in his law office at three in the morning--searching for something
that could tie this trucking company owner to the Nazi group and to the
torture of this little Jewish boy. He went through the papers, page
after page. Document after document. The

The Resurrection File 31 rest of his stafFhad already gone home and were

26 asleep. But he wouldn't give up. Then, in the middle of these
thousands of pieces of paper that had been produced to him in the
lawsuit, he found a little crumpled note in the handwriting of this
trucking guy, talking about "Kristallnacht tonight" Kristall-nacht--the
"night of broken glass"--was the name given to the evening when the
Nazis went out on a rampage through German cities, smashing the windows
of Jewish stores and killing Jews. Well, the note had been written on a
little calendar pad and ripped out--and the date on the calendar was the
same day the little Jewish boy was attacked. "Well, that broke the case
wide open. Will tried the case in front of a jury and collected ten
million dollars in damages against the trucking guy, and he ended up
getting the trucking company as part of the damages. The company was
turned over to the Jewish family. They are still running it to this day.
And the former owner, based on the evidence that Will discovered, was
later charged with criminal conspiracy and is now serving thirty years
in prison. His "After reading the magazine article about that case I
decided to come down and interview with Will's law firm when I graduated
from law school. And I asked him about that lawsuit, and about why he
was so certain that he could find that one piece of evidence to prove
his case." The room was silent as Jacki finished the story. "Will looked
at me, and he said this: He said it's like being buried alive in a
tunnel, or a cave, and you're in total darkness--but you know that as
long as you keep digging, and if you are going in the right direction,
you're going to break out. He said his cases were the same way. He told
me that if you keep digging for truth, and you're heading in the right
direction, you're bound to break through to justice on the other side.
"So that's why I came down here to Virginia to practice law with this
firm. I wanted to practice with a lawyer like Will Chambers. As for
these "personal problems"--his wife died tragically about two years ago.
He had a bit of a setback. But despite that, Will Chambers is still
probably the best trial advocate I've ever met." Angus MacCameron threw
his hands up in the air as if he were a referee at a football game and
someone had just scored a touchdown. "Praise Jesus!" he exclaimed. "Did
you hear that, dear Fiona? "Digging for truth!" He said "diggingfor
truth"."" Then he looked at Jacki, who was staring at him with a puzzled
look

27 "Don't you see, Miss Johnson?

Digging for truth. That's the very same as the name of my magazine. I
wrote the truth disab this fraud--Dr. Reichstad--and his phony
"discovery" in my magazine, in Digging for Truth

32 Craig Marshall magazine. And that's why I've been sued. And your
boss, Mr. Chambers, is going to vindicate me and help me to tell the
truth to the whole world! God has his mighty hand upon us today, can't
you see it?" The business manager tried to break in, but MacCameron
interrupted him. "Oh, Bob, I know you want to protect me, and I know
that my precious daughter wants me to be careful. But God has been in
this from the first. When I hired that private detective to do some
investigative work for me on this lawsuit, I asked him if he knew any
good lawyers. And in the very next breath he mentioned your boss, Miss
Johnson. He said that Will Chambers is the best in the business. So here
I am. As far as I'm concerned, it's settled. I want to hire Mr. Chambers
and your firm to defend me. I want to hire Will Chambers to save the
Christian church from the deception of the evil one." And then, patting
the conference table with his hands, MacCameron added, "So, we start
today, aye?"

For Will Chambers, winning in court had always been the first thing and
the last thing. But now--and in fact for a long time--it was not enough.
Now it merely provided him with a handy excuse for celebration, usually
alone, usually drinking himself into the regions of full-blown self-
pity, of which he was already hovering at the borders on a daily basis.
Driving back on Interstate 95 after winning Tiny Heftland's case, Will
entertained the idea of going straight back to the office. Working
through lunch. Getting things under control at the office. As he cruised
along in his Corvette convertible with the music blasting he decided to
turn his cell phone off. He started to sour on the idea of skipping
lunch. He needed to celebrate. Will pulled off the freeway and into
Monroeville. He decided he would go over to the Red Rooster tavern and
grab a sandwich and a few drinks. At the tavern, he ordered a steak
sandwich but only took a few bites. He downed several vodkas while he
pretended to watch the Orioles game on the overhead television. Will
lost track of time. But he got to thinking that maybe he had had too
much to drink. He figured that he would go to the

28 office, put in an hour or so, and then go home early and sleep it
off. When he pulled up in front of the law firm building he noticed a
truck parked in front with men loading it. On his way up the stairs he
noticed the moving men were carrying furniture that looked familiar.
Then he realized they were walking down with the lobby chairs from his
office. He began to run up the stairs but missed a step and almost fell
Face down. Jacki

Johnson was waiting for him in the empty lobby area of the office. "What
is going on?" Will yelled out. "We've been trying to call you on your
cell phone."

34 Craig Parshall

"I turned it off." "Well, what can I say?" Jacki said, visibly upset.
"Things are real bad. The partners voted you out, W. They're taking you
out of the firm. They pulled the plug on you. The partnership
property--the furniture and everything-- is being taken down to the
Richmond office. They're closing the office here in Monroeville." Jacki
could see that Will was thunderstruck "I'm really sorry to hit you with
this," she continued. "They're sending you a check for your share of
your partnership interest--less the amounts they say are due to the firm
from you. We got the message by email and then by fax just a few minutes
before the moving men arrived. They've taken all the files, and they say
they have contacted all the clients. You're closed out for good,
Will--I'm so sorry." "This is not the partners, I'm telling you that
right now. This is all because of that twisted "managing partner" Hadley
Bates--he's behind this, that little scumbucket." Will ran toward the
telephone in his office. Jacki grabbed him and looked him in the eye.
"You've been drinking," she said in an irritated voice. "I'm going to
kill that..." "No. You're not going to pick up the phone, not right now.
If you do, you'll end up saying something to Hadley that you'll regret."
"He can't do this." "He can. And he did. You have to move on. I think
I'd better drive you home in your car. Betty can follow us in mine."
Will was shaking with rage, but he was too humiliated to look at Jacki,
so he kept his back to her. "Come on," Jacki said sympathetically,
putting her hand on his back. "I'm going to drive you home to that big
old mansion of yours. I just wish you had someone to be with you
tonight." "I'll be fine," Will muttered, but his voice was

29 barely audible. Jacki drove Will's

Corvette away from the office with Will sitting in the passenger seat.
"This is ridiculous," Will snapped, "I had two drinks." "Oh? Just two?"
"Maybe three." "That's all you'd need now. To get arrested for DUI. You
know, you don't need an assistant lawyer. What you need is a full-time
nanny, a dri11 sergeant, and a priest, all rolled into one. And frankly,
Will, that person is not me." "Give me a break."

The Resurrection File 35

"No. You give me a break. I tell people you're one of my heroes. Which
is really a remarkable thing considering the fact you're white, and
you're a guy. But I'm tired of handling your screwups, like that client
conference this morning." "What client conference?" Jacki sighed heavily
and shook her head. "There is other stuff going on out there in the
world, Will, besides your pain. You are going to have to get around to
doing whatever you have to do--forgiving yourself for Audra--getting on
with your life. Check yourself into rehab. I don't know." "I'm no
alcoholic." "Maybe not. But I'm seeing you heading for a cliff. And I'd
rather not go along for the ride." Then Jacki took her left hand off the
steering wheel and, reaching over across to Will, waved her hand in
front of his face. "Look at this, Will, what do you see?" Jacki asked.
"Nice manicure." "The ring, Will, the ring. Howard proposed to me two
weeks ago. I've been wearing this diamond on my finger for two weeks. I
wanted to see how long it took you to climb out of that cave you live in
and notice it." "I noticed it." "Then why didn't you say anything?
"Congratulations." "Jacki, I'm happy for you." Anything." Will looked at
her, then he laid his head back against the headrest, and looked out the
window. "Congratulations." They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then
Jacki said, "We need to talk business, W. You and me. My life is taking
a different turn now. Howard and I are going to be married. I have to
have my career settled. I can't afford to work in an office where I
don't know what my future is." "Come on, you know what your future is
with me." "Do I? Hadley said in his e-mail that the firm has secured
written consents from every one of your clients in the last forty-eight
hours--to dump you, now that you are out of the firm, and to continue
with the firm instead." "Every client? He's a liar." "Let me amend
that," Jacki said. "Every

30 client except two. One is that big loser

Tiny Hefdand. Bates said that you can have him, and any money due to the
firm from him--as if you will ever recover it--you can keep. And then
there's just one other client."

36 Craig Marshall

"Yeah. Well, I just finished Tiny's latest case today, so I guess that
means I've got only one client." "What happened in court?"

"We won. Great, huh? A victory for a nonpaying client, and on the same
day that I get booted out of my law firm." "Will, stop feeling sorry for
yourself." "Listen, Jacki, Hadley has got to know that I will be taking
him to court over the way he is dissolving my partnership share." "You
want a friend's advice?" Jacki's voice was rising. "And frankly, I may
be one of your only friends right now. Let it go. If you need to
negotiate the figures with Hadley, let me work on him for you. But don't
make this a bloodbath." "Okay, so where do you fit in this mess?" Will
asked. "Hadley wants me to stay on with the firm--relocate up to the
D.c. office," Jacki said, a little bit more softly. "Which actually
works out well, I guess, because I'm barred in D.c. And Howard works up
in northern Virginia, so I would be closer to him and have a shorter
commute. And what I guess I am saying is this--Will, I can't afford to
stay on with you if you're going to go it solo now. I mean really,
besides Tiny, you've got only one client." "Jacki, listen to me. I can
build up the practice in a very short period of time. I want you to hang
in there with me." "Will, I don't want this to be any harder than it
already is. Maybe I can help you out a little here or there, on the
side. You know, if you need someone to cover for a deposition once in a
while or do some legal research. But I have to stick with the firm. I
know that sounds like I'm copping out on you. But my mind is made up.
I'm sorry." Will gazed ahead blankly and said nothing for a few minutes.
Jacki had made her point.

He had been her mentor and friend. As of late she had covered for him,
and even nurse-maided him since his wife had died. But that was all
changing now. As Will sat slumped down in the seat of his prized
Corvette, his long hair whipping in the wind, he was simply tired of
fighting--tired of caring. Finally Jacki broke the silence. "So, you
want to know something about your sole survivor? The single client that
you've got left?" "Yeah. Who's the lucky

31 winner?" Will asked sardonically. "Angus MacCameron.
iJmrfw^MacCameron to be exact. He's the new, client I took for you this
morning. A little weird--he actually made me take a "loyalty oath"--he
wanted to make sure I believed in God. I'm going to be real interested
to see whether he asks you the same question."

The Resurrection File 37

Will gave Jacki a strange, puzzled look.

It was the kind of look you would expect from someone at a Chinese
restaurant who had just opened a fortune cookie and then read his own
name inside. Jacki continued talking, not noticing Will's expression.
She was looking for the cross street to start leaving the city--to leave
the historic district with the two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old churches
and the little shops and houses that were cloistered together, shoulder
to shoulder--with their wood-planked front doors and black-iron door
knockers--tucked up close

. to the cobblestone sidewalks of Monroeville. "So this MacCameron
definitely has a one-of-a-kind case. He wants to out be defended in a
defamation and libel case. You've really got to read the' Complaint to
believe it. Angus MacCameron and his magazine, Digging for, Truth, are
both defendants. He's alleged to have written an article that Hbeled
this big-wig professor about an archaeology discovery," Jacki %
explained. "Some kind of ancient writing found over in Israel. The
plainWill tiff--Dr. Reichstad--has published some scholarly journal
stuff about the fflh writing--it's apparently a two-thousand-year-old
piece of papyrus. ReichWill stad has been saying that the fragment
proves that Jesus was never resurMore rected. MacCameron really flipped
out over that and then wrote some nasty stuff about Reichstad in his
little magazine." I'll "Angus MacCameron. Why is this sounding
familiar?" Will was musing. out "I don't know," Jacki replied. "You
sounded like you didn't know about I the appointment." "I don't remember
this meeting being scheduled," Will commented. ft. "But Tiny was telling
me about referring some new case to me. Oh man, Him this must be the
case." Will gave out a low groan. "You know, I don't think Tiny has sent
a decent case over to me in all the years I've known him." "No, that's
not true. Remember that case involving the police chief--I think that
one was a referral from Tiny.

32 Remember? The city wanted to terBut minate him for drinking on the
job." "Yeah. I guess you're right," Will said, sounding distracted and
distant. "What was the deal on that case?" "They said he showed up drunk
at a bank robbery in progress." "Yeah, that's it. He was the chief of
police of some small town in southern Virginia, wasn't he?" Jacki asked.

Br "Yeah," Jacki said, "I remember that. They had the bank surrounded. A
single gunman was holding some hostages. And somebody died, right?" "An
officer died in a shoot-out," Will responded quietly. "The board of
inquiry blamed him for giving the order to go in shooting rather than

38 Craig Parshall waiting for the hostage negotiators. They said his
drinking was a contributing factor." "So how did the case end?" Jacki
continued. "I got him his job back. There was a technical mistake in the
way they fired him. We won on a procedural argument." Not "Whatever
happened to hint--the police chief?" Will was silent. "What ever
happened to that guy?" Jacki asked again. "He died." "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah."
"How?" Will was silent again, but Jacki probed a little more. "So what
was the deal with that guy? Did he stay on with the police department
awhile, before he died?" Will didn't respond at first. But when he did,
his voice was almost inaudible. "After we won the case I tried to
contact him. I called him at his house. He hadn't showed up at the
police station for a couple of days. He didn't answer the phone. So I
took a drive over to his house. His car was parked outside. The shades
were drawn, so I couldn't see in. I knocked on the door. No answer. I
called the police." Will paused for a few seconds.then he concluded.
"They broke down the door. They found him sitting in a chair with a
glass of booze in his hand. Eyes wide open. His liver disintegrated--or
he had a heart attack--something like that." They were in the Virginia
countryside now, and Jacki pulled the Corvette into the long driveway
that led, through the arch of trees, up to Generals'Hill. Jacki pulled
the car to a stop near the front pillars of the old mansion, and then
turned it off. She eased back in the seat for a moment. There was only
the sound of the breeze rustling in the leaves, and a few birds up in
the trees. "Can he pay? This MacCameron guy?" Will asked. "He's got
funding from the magazine, so he may be

33 able to pay a fairly substantial retainer.

I really didn't talk money with him. I figured you ought to do that. His
daughter, Fiona, was with him. She's some kind of Christian singer. A
very classy-looking woman. I did notice she didn't have a wedding ring,
which is interesting. Especially with a face that looks like it belongs
on a fashion magazine. I got the feeling she's sort of looking after
dear old Dad. But Dad says he won't take a penny of his daughter's
money--he insists on

The Resurrection File 39 funding his defense himself. This guy
MacCameron, he's really a hoot. You laiow, a real "praise the Lord"
type, except I think he's Scottish or something. And I read the article
he wrote against this Dr. Reichstad; it's something else. He brought the
article with him. He really goes after Reichstad." "Oh. Like how?" Will
asked, trying to act uninterested. "Like accusing him of fraudulent
scholarship in interpreting this piece of ancient writing he found. And
MacCameron even implicated Reichstad in the murder of an archaeologist
friend of his in Jerusalem." "Boy, that's a bad start to the case.
Accusations of professional incompetence, coupled with the imputation of
the commission of a crime. Classic examples of defamation per se," Will
noted. "Tiny told me J-Fox is representing the plaintiff. Arguing a case
against Sherman is like getting your teeth drilled."" "Yeah. This
Professor Reichstad must be really well-connected to snag the Sherman
firm,"" Jacki said, her voice trailing off. And then she added, with
some genuine empathy, "Will, even if the money for your fees is there,
maybe you need to let this case go. Sherman is going to try to bury
you," Jacki continued. "Once he finds out that you are on your own, and
that you're out of the firm, he's going to smell blood--it's going to be
like a great white shark in a feeding frenzy. Not that you couldn't
handle it. But is it worth the hassle? Maybe you ought to cash in your
401ggk) and just take some time off." But Jacki could already see that
Will was thinking about the case. "Anyway," Jacki continued, "the way

MacCameron describes it, this Reichstad is a media hound, and he's
clearly a public figure. So that means that your only real defense is to
prove a lack of actual malice on MacCameron's part. I mean, that's
basically what your defense would

34 be, right?" Jacki so question hung in the air as the leaves rustled
around them in the treetops. "Maybe not." "Oh?" Jacki gave Will a
strange little smile. "So what's the defense? I mean, assuming you even
want to get involved in this dogfight. What would the defense be?"
"Truth," Will said as he reached over for the car keys and pulled them
out of the ignition. And then added as he climbed out of the car, "Truth
is always a defense to a lawsuit for libel and defamation." Down at the
bottom of the long, winding driveway Betty pulled up with Jacki's car.

40 Craig Parshall

"You going to be okay?" Jacki asked.

"Sure. Me and Clarence. A man and his dog." Jacki then told him, with
strained optimism, "I checked on our office space. The rent is paid up
through the month. The firm gave notice they were vacating. I called the
landlord. I hope that was okay. I told him that you would be personally
renting the space from then on. He said you can keep working out of the
same office, as long as you can come up with the rent." "Fine. Say hello
to Howard for me," Will said. "Tell him he is a very lucky man." "Look,
it will take me a couple days to clear out. So you'll be seeing some
more of me. I do think you will have to talk to Betty. She wants to know
if you can afford to keep her on," Jacki added. "Tell her

I'll talk to her tomorrow." "I'll do that," Jacki called out as she made
her way down the driveway. "Oh, don't forget, you've got this Reverend
MacCameron coming back in again tomorrow. He wants to meet you
personally." Will Chambers waved goodbye and trudged in the front door.
Clarence, his golden retriever, came loping across the living room, his
big pink tongue flapping. Will gave his dog's head a quick pat as he
headed for the liquor cabinet.

After POURING HIMSELF A GLASSFUL of Jack Daniels, Will settled into the
oversized chair in front of his big-screen television. He flipped
through the channels and began downing the glass of whiskey in
generous*-gulps. After losing interest in a made-for-Tv movie, Will
switched back to the news. But he found himself thinking back to the
police chief in Hadleysburg. He couldn't forget the day that he entered
the house with some of the offi' cers from the police department. He
remembered the stench, and he @ou: recalled the bizarre and terrible
sight of his client sitting, in full uniform, in ,r his chair in front
of the television set. There was a full

35 glass still in his hand. His eyes were empty, fixed straight ahead.
The chief's skin was yellowish @ou 'and artificial looking, with black
discoloration around his lips and eyes and in the folds of his skin. I81
Will got up and poured the glass out in the kitchen sink He went to
thewh refrigerator, found some orange juice, and poured it into another
glass. And I then he sat down at the table that overlooked the rolling
green hills and the out white-flowered mountain laurels that spotted the
acres of what he used to out think of as "our property." I No, he
thought to himself, it is not "ourproperty."There, was no "ours" I
anymore. It was only his. The whole world had been divided into that
which I was his and everything else that belonged to everyone else in
the world. But I us, and we, and ours, no longer existed. Audra was
gone. She was no longer Ipart of this huge house. Her perfume didn't
precede her into a room anyimore. Her laugh didn't make him smile
anymore despite himself. She was I not there to keep him from taking
himself, or his work, too seriously. He I thought about the feel of her
hair when it brushed against his face. He felt ithe aching loss of her
touches and caresses.

I 41

42 Craig Parshall

He had met Audra at Georgetown during his law-school years. She was in
the art department. She was an earthy blonde with a quirky sense of
humor and an easy, winning smile. When he moved from his first job at
the ACLU in New York to rural Tennessee for the Law Project of the
South, she supported him. Audra sold her paintings at galleries in the
tourist towns and taught art in the community colleges. But when Will
was fired from that office and then finally got the job with what was
then Bates, Burke, Meadows & Bates, Audra had hoped it would last. And
it did, for a while. But after five years, the rest of the partners
suggested that Will move up to central Virginia to open a branch office.
They said it was to get him closer to D.c., where they wanted to open
their third branch, but Will felt the real reason was to get him out of
the Richmond office, where he had become a constant irritation to the
others. Yet after the move to Monroeville, both Will and Audra felt an
immediate sense of belonging. It was a city with a lot of charm and
history. Monroeville was connected with several of the Founding Fathers.
General Robert . Lee had once marched

36 down the street, right past the very building where Will's office was
now located. The buildings and shops had carried their age quietly and
well among the pear trees that lined the streets, trees whose blossoms
would draw tourists in the spring through the fall. But it was Generals'
Hill, situated prominently in the rolling Virginia countryside just
outside of Monroeville, that most symbolized the couple's sense of
belonging. They had bought the dilapidated pre-Civil War mansion with
the idea of restoring it. Audra poured herself into the loving
reconstruction of the great house. It was small as Southern mansions go,
but to them it was a thing of beauty. It had tall white columns in the
front, and a huge fan- shaped window just below the peak of the roof.
Inside there was a curving staircase that led to the second floor. Audra
taught a few art classes at the local college. She split the rest of her
time between the restoration of the house and painting in watercolors
and acrylics in the studio that they had created in one of the extra
rooms. She loved the house, but with her pacifist's heart had tried to
get Will to agree to change the name of the mansion from "Generals'
Hill" to something less warlike. But Will was too wedded to historical
truth for that. The mansion had switched hands between the South and the
North several times during the course of the Civil War. The name of the
place was enshrined in local history. Besides, Will liked the idea of
living in a house that had been near the focal point of great battles.
After all, he thought,

The Resurrection File 43 he made his living as a legal combatant in the
new civil wars of justice. "Generals' Hill" just seemed to fit. There
was something poetic about living in a place with a name like that. But
their idyllic life did not last. Audra longed for a baby but could not
get pregnant. She threw herself into her painting and created a
successful career as an artist. Her showings increased around the
country. Tensions grew in the marriage. Audra moved out of Generals'

Hill--just a temporary separation, she told Will--but he was too proud
to ask her back He had stared at the phone a hundred times, thinking
about calling her at her apartment in Georgetown, but each time he had
decided against it. She would call Will from time to time. He had lived
for those calls, carefully disguising how much his heart and soul were
dying without her. And then one day the calls had stopped. When he
learned of his wife's terrible death during the robbery

37 of her apartment, the walls of Will Chambers' life had started
crumbling down around him. More than anyone else in the world, Betty and
Jacki had had ringside seats to Will's Slow-motion collapse into
cynicism and booze. Will lost track of time as he sat at the kitchen
table. But he suddenly became aware of the news report on the
television. The announcer had said the words "nuclear weapon just
outside New York City." Will bolted up and stepped into the living room.
The news anchor was dialoguing, in a steady but tense voice, with an on-
location reporter outside the FBI office in New York. The reporter was
talking. "Unconfirmed reports have come in that the rental truck was
bearing Vermont license plates. Also unconfirmed, at least as of right
now, is what kind of weapon the truck was actually carrying. There is no
word yet on what seems to be the foremost question on all our minds: Is
this rental track, with its cargo, tied to last year's bombing on Wall
Street? Some are wondering whether today's activities signal an all-out
terrorist attack on the United States." The-anchor solemnly took over.
"The FBI has refused up to now to specify exactly what was in the truck.
However, sources in the State Department have reported that--and I am
quoting here from one source--it was "apparently a device designed for
mass destruction." And when we pressed the issue with one high-ranking
source in that department, asking whether it was in fact a
"thermonuclear weapon," that source refused to comment. Jim, are you
hearing anything on that down there at the FBI headquarters in New York
City?"

44 Craig Parshall

"No, but there is plenty of speculation that the truck may have been
carrying some type of thermonuclear device. But, of course, no one will
admit or deny that," the reporter responded. "Jim, what about the fact
that the State Department is tied into this incident?" the anchor
continued. "We usually think of the State Department as having oversight
only in matters of foreign policy. But here we have it involved in
domestic national security. What's your take on that?" "That is one of
the strange twists in an already very strange story," the reporter said,
and then glancing down at some papers in his hands, he noted, "yet we do
know this. On April 1, 1999, in a move that really did not make many
ripples in Washington, there was a

38 bureaucratic reorganization of sorts. That in itself is certainly
nothing new. What happened was that the Arms Control and Disarmament
Agency was merged with the Department of State. So ever since that time,
there has been within the State Department an Undersecretary for Arms
Control and International Security Affairs. The present undersecretary
is Kenneth Sharptin. He is also doubling in his prior capacity as
Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern Affairs. Or as most folks
would know it, "Middle Eastern" affairs." "So," the anchor announced,
"filling in the gaps, the State Department has an interest in this case
from an arms-control or international-security standpoint?" "That's
certainly the speculation down here on the street. Which only fuels the
idea that the weapon on that truck may have been--well, the kind of
weapon we reserve only for our worst nightmares." "Thank you, Jim." Then
the news anchor turned full face to the camera. "In case you have just
tuned in, we have a breaking story. This morning, a rental truck
entering New York City was apprehended as it exited the New Jersey
Turnpike for what appears to be a major weapons violation, at the very
least. And potentially a very grave risk to our national security.
"Action was taken by the U.s.. Joint Forces Command, a joint military
and law enforcement network created back in 1999--in this case, the
Defense Department, the National Security Agency, the State Department,
and branches of the military, together with the FBI, and working in
conjunction with the New Jersey State Police and the New

York City Police. As a result of investigation by this massive task
force it was learned that a truck, carrying what officials are now
calling only "a very menacing and very dangerous weapon," might be
heading toward New York City. Such a truck was in fact stopped. Its
driver, a middle-aged man of Syrian descent, but a citizen of
Jordan--Rahji Ajadi--was arrested. There were no passengers in the
truck. The contents within the truck are--at this time--still a mystery. But

The Resurrection File 45 unconfirmed reports within the State Department
have suggested that it may have been carrying some type of device of
mass destruction--possibly a thermonuclear weapon. "The driver, Mr.

Ajadi, is in custody in New York City at

39 an undisclosed location. We have been told at this time only that he
does not possess a valid passport. We know of no criminal charges as of
yet But we will certainly keep you apprised of any further details as we
receive them. "But one final interesting note. Jim Williams, our
reporter in New York City, has already commented that this is a story
of'strange twists."'Well, here is yet another one. "In a twist of
remarkable irony, the truck was stopped by a New Jersey State Patrolman,
Ezer Nabib, an Arab and apparently a devout follower of Islam. He had
been put on the alert for the make and model of the truck. Apparently
the United States government had also received an anonymous tip that the
truck might be carrying a very dangerous weapon, and federal authorities
and the military all converged on the scene. "By the time the FBI and
the Pentagon and all the other high-powered agencies had arrived,
Officer Nabib already had the driver under arrest and the truck secured.
Clearly, if there is one hero that is emerging in this story, it is
State Patrolman Ezer Nabib, who just may have single-handedly averted
one of the worst terrorist attacks in the history of our nation.
"Lastly, there is of course much speculation that this incident may also
be tied to Abdul el Alibahd, one of the world's most-hunted
international terrorists and a suspect in the Wall Street bombing of
last year. Folks up in Manhattan who have had to recover from the
horrendous World Trade Towers tragedy, then had to deal with the truck
bombing may nearly have had to face yet another terrorist attack--but
this one much worse. It is too early to tell--yet--how close we may have
come to the brink of nuclear destruction within our own borders if it
had not been for the courageous work of New Jersey State Trooper Ezer
Nabib."

Will kept the television on into the night, catching every detail of the
news story. While there were a variety of opinions given by military and
law-enforcement experts, authors on terrorism, and cultural and
religious commentators--who noted the irony of an Arab Muslim foiling
the apparent suicide mission of an Arab terrorist--no new information
was forthcoming. Will wanted to pick up the telephone and call
someone--anyone--to talk about the news. But he realized he had no one
to call. When his eyes were too heavy to stay open, he plodded up the
curving staircase to go to bed. His faithful dog, Clarence, followed him
close behind.

40

In PREPARING FOR THE DAY'S MEETING,

Kenneth Sharptin, undersecretary of the State Department, made sure that
the committee members would not enter the State Department building
through the main entrance at and 22nd Street. The press, smelling a
story connected to the frightening events of the day before, was already
posted there. Instead, he had his staff usher all the members of the
committee in through two separate side entrances. All except
one--Colonel Brad Buchingham, the special envoy from the Pentagon. By
contrast, he made sure that the Colonel--in uniform, his chest heavy
with medals--came in through the main doors in the front. That way he
could be seen, with the full press corps there, coming to meet Kenneth
Sharptin--coming to confer with Undersecretary Sharptin--coming to
advise him. Five minutes before the Pentagon limo was to show up,
Sharptin strode out of his spacious office and down the hallway with
flags of all the nations of the planet arrayed along the top of the
walls. He got on the elevator and headed down to the first floor. He
glanced at himself, mirrored in the reflection of the smooth steel in
the elevator. Perfectly razored Ivy League haircut.

Blue pin-striped suit. Light blue shirt with a red tie, and a tiny
American flag pin on his suit coat lapel. Just right. Several dozen
television cameras were already perched in the driveway in front of the
State Department building. The entire gathering could be seen from a
large stretch of Street--in the heart of D.c."s power lane of government
real estate. Two of Sharptin's deputy assistants were already waiting
for him by the front doors with briefing folders in hand, at the
security clearance gate. The guards stepped back and opened the doors
for him.

The Resurrection File 47

The press was there waiting for him. And then Sharptin heard one of his
favorite sounds--the click of handheld cameras and the whir of
shoulder-mounted video units. "This is not a press conference,"
announced Sharptin as he smiled and paused on the front steps. "The
White House released a statement yesterday, and we all stand by the
President's words on the apprehension of the suspected terrorist and the
rental truck yesterday in New York City."

Then Undersecretary Sharptin, with a slightly furrowed brow, pleaded
with the reporters:

41 "Please--please, ladies and gentlemen, please let our special envoy
from the Pentagon in." Colonel Buchingham was getting out of the limo
with a small briefcase in his hand. He didn't wait for the reporters to
part. He cut, weaved, and dodged past them and through them, like a
halfback. He strode up the stairs to Sharptin, who was waiting with
hands outstretched as if he were a high priest granting a bureaucratic
blessing to the Colonel. Sharptin extended his hand. But Buchingham did
not shake it. Instead, Buchingham stopped directly in front of the
Undersecretary, looked him in the eye, and said, "Kenneth, what you've
got here is a media dog-and-pony show. Do not--I repeat--do not ever do
this to me again." Buchingham did not wait for Sharptin, and walked past
him and through security, directly to the elevator. Sharptin and his
assistants scurried to catch up and caught the elevator just before the
doors closed. On the floor above, the group exited and made their way to
the large conference room. As soon as the Ad Hoc Committee on Cultural

Engagement convened and the roll call was recorded, Undersecretary
Sharptin made a short introductory statement. He explained how
fortuitous it was, in his opinion, that the regularly scheduled meeting
of the committee just happened to land on the day after the terrorist
truck incident of the day before. He assured them that there would,
indeed, be some discussion on the truck incident. But he urged them to
see that event within the larger picture of the agenda of the committee.
Sharptin then reviewed the history of the Ad Hoc Committee and its
ever-evolving mandate. First, he reminded them of the announcement, a
year before, of the disappearance of Saddam Hussein and his family
members in Iraq. How they were presumed to have been assassinated in a
coup in Baghdad. Sharptin reviewed how he acquired authorization from
the Secretary of State to put this committee together as a means of
dialoguing about the possibilities of democracy in Iraq and other Middle
Eastern countries.

48 Craig Parshall

This was followed by a few democratic reforms in Iran, and even talk of
modest attempts at equal rights for women in countries like Saudi
Arabia. The United Nations Conference on Women was ecstatic. The leading
feminists from around the world began to meet and draw up hasty plans
for combating patriarchy in the Middle East. All of this had kindled a
wave of enthusiasm in the Department of

42 State. Now, it seemed, was the time to take daring new steps to bring
the Middle East into the new century--to make them economic and even
cultural partners in peace. And then came the classified reports from
within the White House of potential oil shortages and projected
petroleum production shortfalls for the United States in the coming
years. As a result, there was renewed urgency in trying to find areas of
common ground with the Arab OPEC nations. But now, a Middle Eastern
terrorist had been caught in the midst of an apparent plot to smuggle,
and perhaps even detonate, a thermonuclear weapon within the shores of
America. "This is the time," Sharptin said in concluding his
introductory comments, "for us to embrace a whole new vision--a new way
of thinking about international security and global peace. "Let me
suggest this as the question we have to face: Where can we find an
ultimate common ground between the East, with its rich heritage of Islam
and obedience to spiritual conscience--and the West, with its powerful
belief in individual responsibility characterized primarily by the
Christian tradition? Is there a way we can bring unity and peace between
these two important traditions, and in doing that, really secure the
safety of America more than we could have ever dreamed before? "Let me
suggest--a whole new construct for peace. Let me suggest that violent
religious differences and cultural differences are not a necessary part
of the international equation. People--let me dare to suggest that this
pattern of religious and cultural conflict can be changed--it is not
just a part of the inevitable. And we all know that religious and
cultural conflict between East and West is a matter of grave national
security." Sharptin then called on the members of the committee who were
from the Arab-American Cultural Alliance to comment.

"What can be accomplished through finding common ground between the Arab
and OPEC nations on the one hand, and the West on the other, is this,"
one member noted. "First, a community of sharing in oil reserves.
Second, a chance at expanding democracy in the Middle East. And third,
we can achieve what could never be achieved before this. There is a good
chance that the Arab nations will give absolute assurances of a
willingness to police, and even punish, the terrorists within their
borders as long as

The Resurrection File 49

., the West shows appreciation--and not suspicious denigration--for
their religious traditions."

43 Colonel Buchingham was clearly irritated. "So," the colonel shot out,
"if the U.s.., England, Canada, if these nations show some respect for
Allah, then the OPEC nations are going to keep their oil prices down and
their production up--and they will even start arresting the terrorists
that are currently roaming at will within their borders? Is this what
you are saying? Is that your idea of national security? "When you
geniuses come up with the newest, dumbest idea for, national security,
then the very first folks who pay the price for it are those so kids
from your hometown who wear the uniforms," Buchingham continued. that
"They're the ones who get turned into hamburger helper because one day
you woke up with this really bright idea about national security." from
Sharptin tried to redirect the conversation. jKnowledge "Colonel, your
life has been devoted to the use of military force to pro.n tect
American interests. And we all are very grateful for that. *But now is
the time to wage peace, rather than wage war," Sharptin chided. "Now, the Kj

Pentagon may not appreciate the need for the West to respect the
traditions will of Islam, but here in the State Department, we take that
very seriously. This is not a new idea. Both government leaders and
nongovernmental groups, have been working for years on the issue of
reconciliation with the Islamic if countries." His But Colonel

Buchingham was not about to be diverted from his course, and he kept
charging ahead., "And what I was about to say was that last, but
certainly not least," the will Colonel concluded, "it strikes me that
you are talking about getting the U.s.. government into the Islam
business. Isn't that what you're really talking about here?" Sharptin
jumped in. "Colonel, I'm afraid you have made several flawed
assumptions. We are not talking about the United States government
officially promoting Islam. We are merely talking about fostering an
atmosphere of tolerance toward the cultural traditions of our Muslim
partm ners in peace. After all--who but the Arab nations themselves has
the best , opportunity to stop the terrorists within their own borders?
The only thing the Arab nations lack is the motivation to do so. That's
what we are talking about here. Simply providing the motivation to the
Arab nations to do the policing within their own nations that we--as a
separate Western nation-- Mi could not possibly have the right or the
ability to do ourselves." Several members of the committee started
talking among themselves

44 excitedly.

50 Craig Parshall

A question was then raised regarding the nature of the weapon on the
rented truck that was stopped the day before. "Right there is another
problem I've got," Buchingham protested. "Do you realize that this
operation is being pulled out of the hands of the military--comand has
been entirely co-opted by the FBI and the State Department? We have
absolutely no intelligence on the nature of the weapon or device in the
truck. That vehicle was whisked away before our Pentagon representatives
had an opportunity to inspect it. We've been boot-kicked right out of
the loop. This whole operation stinks." "Thank you for your enlightening
comments, Colonel," Sharptin commented, evoking a few chuckles from the
group. "But I think that what we have got to focus on is this: By what
means can we create a new way of thinking about the common ground
between the rich tapestry of Islamic tradition--and the relatively
young, but democratically vibrant traditions of the West? Let's all
think on that--let's focus on possible answers to that question for our
next meeting." The meeting was adjourned. Colonel Buchingham, as the
others were leaving the room, leaned over to the center of the large
conference table toward the starfish-shaped speakerphone in the middle
of the table. He touched the ON button and the green light went on. He
touched it again, and the light went off. "I noticed," the Colonel
growled, "that the green light was off during our meeting. I presume,
therefore, that there was no one else listening at the other end." "That
sounds a little paranoid," remarked Sharptin curtly. "Sure," Buchingham
responded. "But a little paranoia builds a lot of national security.

By the way, isn't this the same conference room that the Russians were
bugging a couple of years ago?" "You can rest assured that after that
incident we had it swept for bugs. And we've doubled our security
measures." "That'll make me sleep like a baby tonight," Buchingham said.
"It truly will." Then he donned his cap, grabbed his briefcase, and
exited the room. Sharptin went over to the door of the conference room
and locked it and then sat down at the long table and looked through his
notes. He glanced at his watch. At exactly fifteen minutes to the hour
he pushed the ON button of the speaker phone. "He will speak to you
now," a female voice said. "I'm ready," Sharptin replied. After two more
minutes of silence a man's voice came on. "Fine meeting,

45 Kenneth, I'm pleased."

The Resurrection File 51

"Thank you, sir. Did everything come through alright?" "Reception was
limited. A little too much echo. That Buchingham's a problem," the voice
said. "I can handle him," Sharptin responded, with a sense of bold
reassurance. "I hope so. I'll be in touch." "What's the timetable?"
Sharptin asked. Til let you know." "Things are moving quickly," Sharptin
said, with a little urgency in his voice. "I don't like repeating
myself. I said that I will be in touch." With that the voice was gone
from the speakerphone. Sharptin sat for a minute at the conference
table. He relished it all. And he particularly enjoyed the thought that
he had confidential access to perhaps the most powerful man in the
world. Sharptin made his way back to his office. There was a letter
tying on his desk that had been couriered to him from the White House
Chief of Staff while he was in his committee meeting. Sharptin smiled.
Perhaps things were moving faster than he had thought. The convention
was twelve months away. The vice-president's colon cancer had come at an
opportune time. He had been assured that he was on a short list of
consideration by the President and the party leaders for the
vice-presidential slot. The only downside had been his lack of name
recognition. Yet he was confident that, too, was being remedied. His
years in Washington had taught him that two kinds of people could
engender power in Washington--the feared and the revered. Yes, Kenneth
Sharptin thought to himself. And very soon, I shall be both

WlLITTLE CHAMBERS ARRIVED AT THE

OFFICE a few minutes ahead of his conference time with Angus MacCameron
so he could talk with his secretary. Betty was there waiting for him,
sitting at the reception desk with her arms crossed in front of her. He
had barely closed the door when Betty started in. "I don't want any loss
of benefits. No salary cut. Same hours. I want my financial package to
be exactly the same as it was when I was being paid by the firm." "No
argument from me," Will replied, trying to be cheery. "No offense, but
are you going to be able to afford me?" "Oh yeah, of course," Will said,
keeping up his usual confidence. "One more thing." "Yes?" "As I'm sure
you noticed, the firm took our law clerk and our paralegal. They were
put back in the Richmond office. I trust you are going to be taking on
extra help. Because I am not going to double as a paralegal as well as a
secretary, and

46 whatever else." "Sure. No problem."

"And just one more thing," Betty said, her eyebrow slightly raised.
"What is it?" "Well," she said, "you're a connected guy. Tell me
something." "Yeah?" "Are we all going to be blown off the face of the
earth?" "Well, no, I don't think so. But this thing is scary, huh?" "I
was telling Teddy last night as we sat there watching the news, "Teddy,
honey, we've had a good life together. But I don't want it to end in
some kind of nuclear explosion.""

The Resurrection File 53

"No, I know what you mean," Will replied. "Nothing like being melted
into the concrete to ruin your whole day." Just then Angus MacCameron
walked in through the door. His daughter Fiona was with him. Will stood
looking at Fiona as she smoothed her hair back slightly. He searched
momentarily for something to say, but failed. He wondered whether he had
met her before. Yet he knew that could not be true. Whatever the
connection was that he felt, he couldn't put his finger on it. He
struggled to say something witty, but failed again, and only managed a
wide smile. "I hope you don't mind that I brought my daughter, Fiona,
with me. Bob, her business manager, couldn't make it," MacCameron said,
looking for a response from W. Will was still studying Fiona when Betty
chimed in. "Please pardon the state of the office. They've taken the old
lobby furniture away. We are.. disin the process of doing some
reorganizing." "Refurnishing," Will added. "Well, shall we sit down and
have a chat?" MacCameron said. "Somewhere where there is a chair?"
"Sure. Let's have a...chat." Will replied smiling, and led them into the
conference room. He shook hands formally there. Fiona had small hands,
but a firm grip. When he introduced himself to "Ms. MacCameron," she
smiled brightly. Will noticed that when Fiona smiled she had little
dimples in botli cheeks. "MacCameron was my family name," Fiona
remarked. "But when I started performing I decided to take my Scottish
clan name--Cameron. I go by Fiona Cameron." "That was my idea," Reverend
MacCameron interjected, smiling broadly at his daughter. When they were
settled in, Will led his client through the initial questioning. He
started with his personal and family background. Then Will moved on to
interrogate him a little more thoroughly about his

47 professional credentials. Will learned that MacCameron had been born
in Glasgow, Scotland, to working class parents. He gave a little
background on why the family, some two-hundred-fifty years before, had
changed the family name from Cameron to MacCameron--to avoid retaliation
by the English, who were at war with Scottish patriots at the time. He
was educated at Aberdeen University. He received further schooling, in
archaeology, at the University of Edinburgh, where he did

54 Craig Parshall some teaching while he was pursuing his graduate
degree. He did not complete his studies--moving instead to the United
States. Once in America he received both a master's in Biblical
Archaeology and a Master of Divinity from the College of the Piedmont in
West Virginia. Later he became an assistant pastor of a small church in
Pennsylvania, but after only a few years he left there and did some
teaching and a little freelance writing for a few religious periodicals.
Then he founded his own archaeological magazine, Digging for Truth. It
had started on a shoestring budget, but slowly he built up a following.
Later he was able to move to Israel, where he and his wife settled into
a small apartment in Jerusalem. MacCameron would scurry around to
various digs and report back to his readers on them. He openly admitted
that he was not well-received by the other archaeologists in Israel. And
he was even less well-received by the academics back in the United
States. The only notable exception was a close friendship with a noted
expert in Semitic languages and Middle Eastern history by the name of
Dr. Richard Hunter. Hunter had worked for the British Museum but spent a
considerable amount of time in Israel and the surrounding countries.
MacCameron and Hunter had become good friends while they were students
at the University of Edinburgh. They had remained close right up to the
time of Hunter's death, which had occurred within the last year. Hunter
had been found, shot in the head, in his tiny field office in Jerusalem.
Last, MacCameron described to Will with enthusiasm how he led several
biblical archaeology tours every year--mostly for his faithful
subscribers. "Why did you leave the University of Edinburgh?" Will
asked. "I was teaching some classes to the undergraduates. I had an

48 American student--a very pretty and wonderful girl named Helen,"
MacCameron explained. "Very bright. She just dazzled me. After she
finished my class that term--by the way, she was an excellent student--I
asked her out for tea. And then for walks down by the sea. And picnics.
Well, we fell in love. She had to return to the States because she was
over in Scotland for only a two-term study project. I followed her to
America. We were married here in the States less than a year after
that." When Will started homing in on the allegations in Dr. Reichstad's
Complaint, and on the details of the lawsuit, he turned to Fiona. "Ms.
Cameron..." "Call me Fiona," she said, smiling. Will knew what had to
come next. But he regretted saying it.

The Resurrection File 55

"Okay, Fiona." Will responded. Tomorrow going to have to ask you to
leave the room at this point. The attorney-client privilege of
confidentiality protects everything your father and I say--because he is
the client But it does not protect you. If you stay in this room you
could later be called as a witness by the other side and forced to
divulge everything that we talk about." MacCameron's face became
animated, and he blurted out, "Well, let me assure you, Mr. Chambers,
that I have nothing to hide from Reichstad's storm troopers--absolutely
nothing. Anything we talk about here, he is welcome to find out about."
"That may be your gut reaction, but that's terrible litigation
strategy," Chambers explained. "The way this game is played is this: We
make them sweat for every piece of information. If they don't ask the
right question, they don't get the right answer. And believe me--knowing
this law firm that is on the other side--they will probably end up
asking most of the right questions. So the point is, I'm afraid, Ms.

Cameron--Fiona--I'm afraid that you will have to step outside." * At
that Fiona stood up and put out her hand to W. He shook it warmly. "I
think that's my cue," she said. "I noticed that little cafe across the
street. I've got my cell phone with me. 1'il see if I can get a cup of
tea there. I can make some phone calls while I wait. I'll be there
waiting for you, Da." She kissed her father on the cheek Then Fiona
turned to Will, smiled sincerely, and said, "Mr. Chambers, it has been a
pleasure. I will ask that the Lord give you special wisdom in dealing
with my father's

49 case." "Sure, thanks," Will said, not knowing exactly how to respond.
"It was a pleasure." Will studied her carefully as she left. As soon as
the door closed Will dove into the background facts of the lawsuit.
MacCameron had brought with him several back issues of his magazine to
show to the lawyer. As Will probed his client and glanced through the
magazine, he groaned inwardly at the titles on the covers. One of
them--in bold print that seemed to scream--was "Christ's Second Coming
and the Discovery of the Sacred Red Heifer!" Another pronounced, "Are We
on the Verge of Discovering the Old Testament Ark of the Covenant?" But
Will was dumbfounded at the cover of the December issue that had caused
the lawsuit. As he stared at it, he wondered why this relatively
intelligent--and not entirely eccentric--fellow had not consulted a
lawyer before printing such a journalistic monstrosity.

56 Craig Parshall

On the cover, in the upper-right-hand corner, was the picture of his
friend, Dr. Richard Hunter. In the left-hand corner was a picture of
someone MacCameron described as a good-natured and well-liked
antiquities dealer in Bethlehem, by the name of Harim Azid. The face of
each man was framed within a circle with red crosshairs. The point
seemed painfully clear. Both men, who had died within a short time of
each other--Azid by apparent suicide and Hunter in an unsolved
murder--were being touted, by Will's client, as victims of some kind of
murder conspiracy. The black headline beneath their pictures proclaimed:
"THEY DID NOT DIE IN VAIN!" And then the subtitle underneath read: "Dr.
Albert Reichstad's Phony, Anti-Christ "Discovery*--and How It Is
Connected to These Tragic and Suspicious Deaths." Chambers, a champion
of freedom of speech, suddenly found himself wondering why MacCameron's
sophomoric and incendiary magazine should really be worthy of First
Amendment protection. He thought back to another client of his--Billy
Joe Highlighter, an evangelist whose case Will had handled--and it had
cost him his job. Now, Reverend MacCameron. Did he really want to make a
career of defending religious fanatics? "Was it really necessary for you
to refer to this Dr. Reichstad as the Antichrist?"' Will asked. "First
of all, Mr. Chambers, I did not call him the Antichrist. I described his

50 so-called discovery as an "anti-Christ discovery." Which it was."
"Okay, explain that one to me." "Most certainly. The Bible teaches that
the spirit of this world--the whole world system of the world, the
flesh, and the devil himself--is the spirit of Antichrist. So therefore,
Dr. Reichstad's "discovery" is being used by the spirit of this age--in
fact by the devil himself--as the most cunning form of deception yet to
be unveiled in our day." Will hardly knew where to start as he heard
MacCameron's preposterous minisermon. The spirit of this world, he
thought to himself, includes me. AndAudra. Was our marriage part of the
spirit of anti-Christ? And what about Jacki? And a whole lot of other
wonderful, decent people? As Will thought about it, this MacCameron had
apparently consigned them all to condemnation and everlasting hell
because they hadn't stashed their brains in their dresser drawers with
their socks--as MacCameron obviously had.

The Resurrection File 57

MacCameron must have noticed that Will was thinking deeply about 1
something and not paying attention. "Well, do you want me to continue?"
MacCameron asked. "Sure. Go to it." "As I was saying. First, this
so-called "discovery" is being used by the spirit of anti-Christ.
Second, you, Mr. Chambers, have no idea who this Dr. Reichstad is." Will
then asked his client what he knew about Dr. Reichstad's backy ground.
MacCameron described Reichstad's scholarly background in detail. Jii, He
then produced a thirty-five-page curriculum vitae of

Reichstad's that lou had been dug up by Tiny Heftland, whom he had hired
to investigate 4L Reichstad immediately after being sued. Jou Flipping
through the massive professional bio of the plaintiff--Reichw stad's
degrees, and honors and awards, and twenty pages of published scholJll
arly articles, books he had written, teaching assignments around the
world, rk, and the conferences he had hosted--that was when Will thought
he heard be the voice. I'll It was the voice somewhere in the
unconscious that trial lawyers learn to heed. Will knew that
all-important voice; it was the one that tells a lawyer later on "I told
you so." He had always felt that it must be similar to the knowledge
whisper in the back of the brain that tells some very lucky folks not to
get - on that airplane--the one with the ice on the wings, the one that
everybody Ilf is going to read about in the morning newspaper. W$ That
was the voice Will

51 had learned not to ignore. It would warn him X., about those cases
that started out looking good and ended up going real bad. And now that
voice was telling Will Chambers that this case would not only turn out
to be a dog--but it would be a dog with really big teeth. have "And
third," MacCameron continued. His voice was getting quieter and i& even
more intense. Now he was bending over toward Chambers. Mi "Third, and
you have to get this one if you're going to be any good to me will at
all--third, while Reichstad pretends that this so-called discovery is
the will ultimate proof of who Jesus really was, I say--and much more
importantly, I, Cod says in his holy, and immutable, and living
Word--that this papyrus fragment is not about Christ at all. It is about
that which is not Christ. Therefore, it is anti-Christ. Jesus said
anyone who is not with him is against wk him. This papyrus discovery by
Reichstad is a fraud against the truth of Christ" I Will found himself
reeling from MacCameron's theological rantings. He strained to pick out
the one, cogent string of information from his client's ftangled ball of
medieval religious thinking.

58 Craig Parshall

"You've got to tell me something," Will asked. "Why do you insist on
calling this archaeological find by Reichstad a "so-called discovery"?"
"You will begin to understand after I tell you about my last meeting
with Richard Hunter. Then what is hidden from you now, will start being
revealed." There was a labored sadness to his voice as he said that. And
then, as if beginning the narration of some obscure epic, MacCameron
intoned the beginning of his story. "It all began in Jerusalem."

WlLITTLE LEANED BACK IN HIS OFFICE

CHAIR as he listened intently to Angus MacCameron. As MacCameron began
telling the story of his last, fateful meeting with Dr. Hunter, Will
knew he was getting close to pay dirt, whatever it might be. If there
was to be any hope for a valid defense to the lawsuit, this would be it.
As MacCameron recounted it, he and Dr. Hunter happened to be in
Jerusalem at the same time last year. But MacCameron hadn't seen him for
some time. His calls to Hunter's field office went unanswered. Then
Hunter called MacCameron out of the blue. He said he had to meet him
immediately. All Hunter would say was that it was incredibly important.
He was breathless and

52 excited, and he even sounded a bit frightened. But he wouldn't give
any details over the phone. MacCameron remembered that phone call from
Hunter very clearly. "We've got to meet, and it's got to be quite soon,"
Hunter had insisted in a hoarse whisper. MacCameron suggested a few
restaurants, but Hunter rejected them immediately. "Angus, it has to be
somewhere in the old section, close to my office. I can't afford to
leave this part of town, it's just too dangerous. I can't tell you why.
You just have to trust me, my friend. It's got to be somewhere close to
the western wall, and somewhere nicely hidden from view." MacCameron
thought for a minute and then made a suggestion. "How about the old
Between the Arches Cafe? The streets there are always crowded with
tourists heading to the wall and you can make your way to the restaurant
without being noticed. Besides," MacCameron added, "the space used to be
an old Roman cistern, remember? So the tables are at least two stories
down."

60 Craig Parshall

Hunter agreed. The next day they met in the early afternoon in the cafe.
MacCameron was already seated when Hunter showed up a few minutes late,
wearing his usual wide-brimmed straw hat, the one with the dirty red
bandanna for a hatband. His threadbare golf shirt was soaked through
with sweat and his ruddy English complexion was almost purple with the
heat. He was perspiring profusely. "You look like a mess," Angus
exclaimed in astonishment. But his friend was busy turning around and
looking behind him as he sat down at the little glass-topped cafe table.
"I had to double back several times on my way here." Hunter spoke in a
hushed tone. "I am sure I was being followed, but I think I lost them."
"What in the world are you talking about, Richard?" Angus asked.
"Followed by whom?" As the waiter approached the table with their menus,
Hunter fell silent, swabbing the sweat off his forehead. MacCameron
tried to make some small talk.

"I read about the archaeology conference that Albert Reichstad is
sponsoring. I assume that you were invited to speak there. What's the
name of it?" "'The Final Quest for the Historical Jesus--a New

Way of Looking at the Archaeo-Biblical

Data,"" Hunter responded distractedly. "I was invited to speak, but I
have come across something much more important than anything they could
address at that conference. So I told them I would be unable to

53 attend. Angus, I am sure that the

British Museum will be outraged when they find out that I canceled. But
when you see with your own eyes what I've got, you'll understand. You'll
see why it is much bigger than anything Reichstad and his traveling band
of scholars could ever come up with." "What is it?" MacCameron asked
expectantly. "I can't go into specifics," Hunter responded, bending his
head down and leaning forward over the tabletop. "Let me just say
this--I have come across a discovery that is about to erase two thousand
years of religious history right off the map." MacCameron was
flabbergasted and searched for a response. But before he could speak,
Hunter added, "That's why I want a second opinion. You and I have never
been on the same page theologically, Angus. Which is exactly why I want
you to see what I have discovered. One thing I know about you--you are a
man of integrity." "Can't you give me some idea--" "It's a papyrus
fragment," Hunter blurted out. "Almost certainly first century in
origin, and absolutely from the Jerusalem area. I came across it through
Harim Azid. You remember him?"

The Resurrection File 61

MacCameron nodded. "Yes. Everyone calls him "Tony." But--" "Exactly,"

Hunter affirmed. "He was the antiquities dealer in Bethlehem. Before his
death, Tony handled a lot of ancient artifacts, a number of them quite
valuable. One day, he called me to come in and take a look at something.
When he unwrapped it and showed it to me, I immediately knew this was
going to be an earth-shaking find. Tony told me that this papyrus
fragment he was showing me had been brought in by a Bedouin. Apparently,
the man had found it in a cave at Qumran when he lived by the Dead Sea
as a boy and had kept it under wraps for some fifty years. Then he
finally decided to take it to Tony, who was some kind of shirttail
relative, to find out what he could get for it. And then, well, poor
Tony..." With that, Hunter's voice began to tremble. "Yes, I heard he
had committed suicide," MacCameron said quietly. "I was very sorry to
hear that." "That was certainly the story that was given out. Both the
Israeli and the Palestinian police came to the scene, but the
Palestinians had jurisdiction. They ruled it a suicide--apparently they
found a revolver near the body, and they said that he had put the
revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger. .the report indicated

54 that he had been despondent over his marriage. The strange thing is
that he had been separated from his wife for a long time, and the last
contact I had with him, he was in a very chipper mood. Certainly he kept
a revolver. But then, most antiquities dealers do. I am telling you,
Angus--this was no suicide." "What are you telling me?" MacCameron
asked. "I am telling you that the same people who killed him are trying
to get to me. They are trying to get the fragments I've got. "I want you
to meet me, Angus, in four days at my apartment here in Jerusalem. I've
got to fly out of Tel Aviv tomorrow morning back to England. I am hoping
to meet with the staff at the British Museum--if everything goes well,

I know I can get their support on this project. I am telling you, Angus,
this fragment is so powerful that men will kill over it." As the waiter
came to take their orders, Hunter whispered, "Come to my apartment in
four days and I will show you." Then he shakily rose to his feet and
walked rapidly up the stone stairwell that led out of the restaurant.
Will was trying to digest the story he had just heard. After a moment he
asked, "Did the meeting ever take place?"' "No,"

MacCameron said with a sigh, then he shook his head and explained how
three days later he had received a phone call from the Jerusalem police.
They had found Hunter's body in his office. He had been shot to death,
and the office had been ransacked. Considering Hunter's

62 Craig Parshall occupation, the police concluded that the motive was
probably robbery. Antiquities, after all, were always a lucrative
business for thieves. "Why did the police call you?"' Will asked.
"Richard had scribbled my name and telephone number in his
calendar--apparently to remind himself of our meeting," MacCameron
added. "Poor Richard must have been under incredible stress, knowing
that his life was in danger." By this time Will was feeling confused and
uncertain about Mac- Cameron's case. He stood up to stretch his legs and
walked over to the window that faced St. Andrew so Episcopal Church. The
church across the street dated back to the time of the Revolutionary
War. In its graveyard, officers who had fought in that war were buried
under stone grave markers rubbed smooth and illegible with the years.
Its tall steeple housed a bell that had rung two-and-a-half centuries ago to

55 celebrate the news of General

Washington's victory at Trenton, New

Jersey, after he had led his troops across the frigid Delaware River.
The bell had continued to toll every day since then, its ropes pulled by
hand. The great bell started slowly gonging to mark the hour as Will
looked out the window, his back to his client. "Look," Will said to
break the silence. "We are going to have to schedule several more
meetings so I can get a good feel for all the facts of this case." Will
found himself going on automatic pilot--giving his "I am your lawyer and
you are my client" speech, against all of his better judgment. "But let
me give you the two ground rules for this game," Will continued, still
ignoring the little voice in the back of his head. The voice was saying,
Why not just blow this strange guy off1--let it go-- cash out what's
left of your investments and go on a long holiday? Decide what you want
to do with your life. Maybe travel. Or take up mountain-climbing.

Or wildlife photography. "So here are the rules," Will heard himself
explaining. "They are very simple. First rule--I will try very, very
hard to win your case. "The second rule is also very simple. You pay my
legal fees in order for me to try very, very hard to win your case. I
focus on the first rule--and you have to focus on the second rule. Those
are the rules of the game. And now I need to talk some specifics about
my fee structure." "I must tell you something," MacCameron said,
sounding a little agitated. "I know you are the lawyer. And I am the
client. And I do get the point of your little recitation about the two
rules of the game. But I must tell you this is not a game. No, not at
all. This is deadly serious business. I consider this to be a struggle
of titanic proportions. I believe that the very

The Resurrection File 63 angels in heaven are bending down with
listening ears, waiting to find out what happens in this case." Chambers
took a second to respond. "Look," the lawyer said, "when I use the word
"game," let me explain what I mean. There are always two sides to every
game. When the gladiators went into the ring with animals during the
time of the Roman Empire--to the gladiator it was the ultimate game of
life and death. But to die animal, well, it was just another opportunity
for dinner. With me it's a game. That's how I win--I keep myself focused
on the fact that even though I am fighting for

56 justice, I have to win it like any other game. Preparation,
perspiration, perseverance--as my high school football coach used to
say. So for you it's not a game--but for me, well, it's the game I've
been playing most of my adult Life." "Tell me, Mr. Chambers," MacCameron
asked.

"When they put the Christians in the Coliseum with the lions--do you
think that was a game, too?" Will studied his client. He really had no
desire to debate with the Reverend. Now he simply wanted to finish the
arrangements for the retainer fee and get home. "No, that was not a
game," Will replied. "Wrong!" MacCameron exclaimed. "It was a game."
Will looked at him with a blank stare. "You see, it was a game--for
someone. It was a game for the pagans up in the stands. To see the
Christians thrown to the lions. They came to watch because they thought
it was wonderful sport." Will raised an eyebrow. "And do you want to
know something else, Mr. Chambers?" MacCameron went on. Will Chambers
had the feeling that this persistent Scot was going to make his point
whether he wanted to hear it or not. "Tell me," Will responded with a
little resignation in his voice. "That game is still going on today--the
Christians and the lions. Metaphorically, of course. I would be the
Christian,"

MacCameron noted with some measure of self-satisfaction. "And I
suppose," Will noted, "that Reichstad and his lawyers, they are the
lions." "You're catching on, my boy!" MacCameron shouted out. "And the
courtroom--that is our coliseum." "And what would that make me?" Will
asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

64 Craig Parshall

"Oh--well, I will tell you," MacCameron said. "Yes, I will tell you. You
are the gladiator. You're paid to defend me against the lions. Only,
eventually you will have to ask yourself that all-important question."
"And what would that be?" "When the time comes to choose--and believe
me, Mr. Chambers, that time always comes and you'll have to answer this
question--will you be standing with the Christians, down in the blood
and sand, when the lions come charging--or will you be up in the stands,
cheering with the pagans?" Will was still doubting whether he ever
wanted to climb into the arena to find out.

The HUGE STADIUM WAS FILLED TO

CAPACITY. Tens of thousands of teens, college kids, and
"twenty-somethings" had flooded into the rock

57 concert from the greater Los Angeles area that evening. The crowd,
illuminated under the stadium lights, was on its feet, screaming in one
massive wall of sound. Curt Razzor, lead singer of the rock band
Zylon-But, was on the stage trying to quiet them down. But he was
enjoying it, and was grinning and nodding his head violently up and
down, absorbing the tidal wave of adulation. Hundreds of musclemen with
headsets, dressed in black T-shirts with white lettering that read
"BEHOLD THE NEW CENTURY," paced up and down through the aisles. ' Razzor
stepped back from the microphone. His head was shaved in a 'bald circle
on top, like a monk's, but he had long tangled dreadlocks cascading down
from the sides and back of his head, and as he walked away from the
microphone, bouncing his head to some unheard beat, the long ropes of
hair swung wildly over the shoulders of his black spandex jumpsuit
covered with yellow lightning bolts. The crowd screamed louder. Razzor
said something to the members of his group, who were all hanging back by
the drum set that was poised on the raised platform at the rear of the
stage. And then he laughed and walked back to the microphone. After a
few more minutes he quieted down the ocean of people. "I know why you
are here. I know you have come so you can really trip on the music."
Screams began to rise up from the illuminated heads and arms and waving
hands of the army of forty thousand.

66 Craig Parshall

"Now you have to shut up and listen. Okay? There is something really
powerful coming down here. I'm like this historian of music. Okay? And I
read about how the Beatles went over to India because they wanted to
trip out on some spirituality from the Maharishi Yogi. That was the
"60s." The screams were getting louder again. "Shut up, shut up," Razzor
yelled mechanically, his voice reverbing over several acres of humanity.
The screams started dying down. "That was the "60s. Now, we're not there
anymore, are we? I mean, this is called evolution. We are out of the
'60s, so listen up. Because there is someone who's going to talk to you.
This dude's name is Warren Mullburn. He is like one of the most wired
guys in the universe. And don't trash him with a lot of noise--cuz if
you do I'm not coming back to end this show. Got it? So, you got to
listen to him. But I'm telling you--I think he's got a shock-trip for
you--he can blow your

58 minds in ways that you can't believe. I personally have been
consuming the power trip from this guy's ideas myself. So listen up."
Razzor walked to the rear of the stage, where he quickly disappeared
down the back catwalk with his group. The rock promoter, a man in a
Hawaiian shirt and jeans, ran up to the mike. "For just a few seconds I
want to tell you something about Warren Mullburn, who is going to talk
to you for just a few minutes, that's all it will take, I promise. Now,
how many of you went to see the movie The Planet Eaters last year?"
There was a mild yell from the crowd. "Great sci-fi horror flick. It's
up for two special-effects Oscars this year. Well, the guy who wrote the
book and then it was turned into the screenplay--the guy who wrote the
story was none other than Warren Mullburn. "Now, Mr.

Mullburn is a true genius. He has been rated as the third- richest man
in the world. He holds degrees from MIT and Stanford University. He has
written a dozen different books. He speaks four different languages.

The International Financial Times calls him "the closest thing to an
economic spirit master we've got." The Greenwich Village Echo says
'despite his incredible wealth--one might even say obscene wealth--he
may actually be a kind of contemporary prophet of what he calls the
"new-century generation."" "He is going to talk for only ten minutes.
That's all. And in ten minutes, I guarantee you that, if you listen
carefully, you will be able to see the way to change your life as you
now know it.

The Resurrection File 67

"So now. I present to you Mr. Warren Mullburn." Suddenly the lights went
out, plunging the entire coliseum into darkness. A few shrieks were
heard. Then a few seconds later, blazing lights flooded the stadium from
the back of the stage--blinding, dazzling lights shining out into the
crowd. There was a symphonic crescendo of timpani drums. Music was
rising and getting louder as a figure approached the front of the stage,
framed within the molten lights that backlit him like a sun. Then
suddenly, the stadium lights went back on. The man was alone on the
stage. Warren Mullburn did not go to the microphone but began strolling
slowly across the front of the stage, taking in the audience, smiling
and waving. Mullburn was slightly balding. His hair was blondish-grey

59 on the sides and was trimmed neatly. He was wearing blue jeans and
had a trim waist. His forest-green shirt was stretched over a muscular
body that looked like it belonged to a twenty-five-year-old rather than
a man of sixty years. His face and arms were tan. He walked with the
energetic gait of an athlete. Mullburn discreetly touched his shirt
collar, where he had his wireless microphone, and heard the muffled tap
reverberate from countless speakers in the stadium. Now that he knew his
mike was hot, he was ready to roll. Just then, four mammoth jumbo-trons
that had been sitting darkened and dead in the stadium blinked on. Their
huge screens lit up with the image of Warren Mullburn walking to the
center of the stage. "BEHOLD THE NEW CENTURY," he said, his voice
ringing like a shot. "I am here to bring a gift to you, and it is worth
more than any amount of money you could ever win in the world's biggest
lotto. It is an idea that will change your life. "You came to hear some
music. And it's great music. And this is a great night. But after the
music is over you'll all get in your cars and drive home and nothing
will have changed. Nothing will be different for you. "I know that down
deep you are better and smarter than your teachers think you are. You
guys are stronger and much more hip, much more unique than your
girlfriends give you credit for. You young women are smart and tough,
and talented, and beautiful--and you wonder why the guys don't realize
it. "You've got jobs, some of you, and college degrees and you're making
good money--but let's be honest--you're not being paid what you're
really worth, are you? You're working for bosses who don't know half of
what you know--who can't do half of what you can do.

68 Craig Parshall

"So you are stuck. You feel like something is keeping you down. As if
some invisible force is preventing you from being the superstar you know
is down there--deep inside. You guy musicians know you could be a Curt
Razzor. And you young women know you could be a Missy J.j. So why aren't
you? "Here is why. There is an invisible force keeping you down. But
it's not fate. And it's not God. And it's not the laws of nature. You
can forget all of that. "In the medieval ages sailors were being kept
back from sailing across the ocean. You know why? It wasn't fate, or
God, or the laws of nature. It was the fact that they hadn't learned a
secret. What was the secret? The secret was that the earth was not

60 flat--and big sea serpents were not going to eat up their ships. When
they had the courage to learn the secret, then they had the power to
become gods of the sea and sail around the world. "For thousands of
years men and women believed in this idea of a big God up in the sky,
and as a result they were kept from learning the secrets of science,
kept from flying in the air, kept from learning how the human body
worked. They were kept in darkness." Just then a picture of medieval
monks flashed onto the screens, followed by an ancient painting of
someone being burned at the stake. "But then about a hundred years ago,
suddenly the secret was out. We learned that we are all part of an
evolution, an evolving power. Through science we learned that all human
life started with little molecules, and turned into one-celled animals,
and then into reptiles and fish and birds and mammals. And eventually
into humans." A picture of Charles Darwin came on the huge screens. "But
did you ever wonder why that evolution took so long? Why it took
billions of years?

It took so long because those little molecules, and the single-celled
things swimming around in the sea, even those higher forms of
animals--they hadn't learned the secret. They hadn't learned the secret
that they were evolving. They were caught up in the middle of their own
evolution--but they hadn't learned to master their own evolution.
"Almost all of the important discoveries of science, medicine, computer
technology, astronomy--almost all of the great discoveries have happened
since the discovery of evolution. And that is because we started to
learn the secret--the secret that we are evolving upward into something
better. We have started--whether we realize it or not--to speed up our
own evolution." The jumbo-trons showed a picture of the first moon landing.

The Resurrection File 69

"And now we come to this moment. Right here. Just you and me. Some @ou
time ago I learned the secret. I learned that every one of us can be the
master "I of our own evolution. That's right. You can do it. I did it,
and so can you. @ou It's not that I am smarter or better. It's just that
I happened to stumble His across the secret. And you can learn that
secret too. 4, "But to do it you only have to do three things. First you
have to look in from the mirror and admit that you are evolving into
something better. $Like "Second, you need to throw the crutches away
that are holding you back. it Drugs are a crutch. Sure, it's fan to trip

61 out and feel good for a little while." little- Some cheers rose up
from the crowd. "But where does that get you when it's over? It slows
you down. It keeps you from evolving. "Now other things can hold you
down too. You know, I went to Sunday school like some of you did. I know
all of the Bible stories, and they were nice little stories. But while
we were listening to those stories we were missing the real secret. * 9E
"Here's the secret, and here is the third step. Jesus was not some
superKnowledge God who died and then got resurrected so he can send you
all to hell when It you don't behave. There is a really powerful
discovery that was just made by a great scientist by the name of Albert
Reichstad that proves, beyond any question at all, that the old Sunday
school, Bible make-believe story about Every Jesus just isn't true. And
the whole scientific world is now agreeing with M'hm." It Up in the
cheap seats a man with a T-shirt that simply said "Jesus" on comjBut
tile front yelled out, "You're a false prophet! Tell the truth. Tell
them that Its Jesus is the Messiah!" : Then two of the musclemen in the
black T-shirts quickly approached JH and whisked him out of his seat and
down one of the corridors that led out fl8ofthe stadium. Hi Smiling,
Mullburn continued in his powerful and emphatic voice. I'll "But here is
what is true. Jesus was just like you and me. He was just like I-one of
us. So that means that he had learned the secret of his own
evoluKnowledge tion. He was able to do miracles and wonders and rock the
world with love because he had mastered his own evolution. "BEHOLD, THIS
IS THE NEW CENTURY. It is time to put the old ideas away. I want you to
join me in being the master of your own powKnowledge erful evolution.
Being smarter--being better--being richer--being more successful--being
on top and not on the bottom. And all it takes is for you I to reach out
and have the guts to grab it. Grab it now. It's there for the

taking.

I" If

70 Craig Parshall

"Face it. Realize it. You always wanted to be part of a real revolution.
Now it is here. When they sang about the Age of Aquarius back in the.
"60's they knew something was coming. The real revolution now is
spiritual. Be prepared for a real mind-melding experience--a real
coming-together of the old religions of the world. Can you imagine it?
The mystical secrets of Eastern Islam magically

62 melding together with the Christian ideas of justice and love--coming
together and creating something entirely new, and awesome, and powerful,
in this new century. "You have got to be open. Be open in order to catch
the wave of this evolution that's going on. "I love you people, every
one of you. I love you all! Rock on!" The lights dimmed except for a
single spotlight on Warren Mullburn. He then wheeled around and strode
off the stage, his back to the audience, as a symphony of percussion
filled the cavernous arena. Then for the next two hours, under the
bluish white iridescence of the stadium lights, forty thousand young
people screamed and cheered and leaped and danced to the rock music that
had brought them together, that had made them one under the warm
California night sky. A chauffeur drove Mullburn and his bodyguards to
the private jet that was waiting for them. The billionaire was quickly
airborne, making phone calls around the world--to his contacts in the
Asian markets, to the geologists in his several oil companies, to the
executives in his multinational computer networking company. Soon he
would be circling his modern-day castle in the Nevada desert preparing
for landing. Mullburn clicked off the telephone and eased back in his
chair. He turned to the men in the seat across from him and said, "I
think those kids loved me tonight. I felt really good out there. I do
think that we are just about at critical mass. And I don't think there's
anything--or anyone--who is going to be able to stop this now. Not now."
And then he smiled confidently and looked at the biggest of the men.
"Don't you agree, Bruda?"' Bruda Weilder, his big, blond bodyguard,
smiled a big smile in return, nodded his head, and then said, "You are
so right, Mr. Mullburn."

WlLITTLE CHAMBERS HAD A LOT ON

HIS MIND while driving back from the main office of his former law firm
in Richmond. His meeting with Hadley Bates and the other partners had
gone about as badly as he had expected. There were accusations,
name-calling, and threats. But worst of all was the white envelope that
Hadley had pushed across the conference table to Will at the end of the
meeting. "By our calculations, using the formula we just described to
you, this is what we have determined that you are entitled to," Hadley
Bates said calmly in his monotone. When Will opened the envelope and
looked at the check, he thought at first this was some kind of

63 sick joke. But then, after reminding himself that Bates was incapable
of humor, he decided that this was for real. The check was for
$9,756.22. Will had expected at least twenty times : that as his portion
upon the partition of his partnership share. But Hadley had talked the
other partners into debiting Will for all of his uncollected billings.
Even further, Bates and the partners were charging Will for office
expenses the firm had paid to him over several years without protest but
which now, in retrospect, they were vaguely claiming to have been
"exorbitant, unreasonable, or otherwise unjustified." They tried to calm
Will's angry response by telling him that they would pay him a portion
of his client receivables as they collected them in the future, but only
after, of course, the firm had deducted a "fair" sum for their costs of
recovery. But Will was not sure whether it was the paltry check that
offended him the most, or whether it was the envelope that contained it.
In the upper-left- hand corner of the envelope was the new name of the
firm. It read, "Bates, Burke 6c Meadows."

Hadley had not wasted any time. He had already taken

72 Craig Parshall his deceased father's name off the letterhead, and now
he had removed Will Chambers' name and put his own name first. When Will
rose from the table at the end of the meeting, the other partners
extended their hands and tried, a little awkwardly, to wish him well.
But Will Chambers did not shake their hands. He just looked at them, and
then looked at Hadley Bates, who was still sitting, his head cocked just
slightly to the side, smiling a razor-thin smile. "Is there anything
further, Will?"' Hadley asked. "Yes there is," Will said through
clenched teeth. "May I express my fond hope, Hadley, that you die--after
a prolonged and painful illness--and then rot in hell."

Going eighty miles an hour on the interstate about thirty minutes out of
Richmond, Will started feeling some regret about his comment to Hadley
Bates. He felt certain that his rage had not come from hate, or any
emotion even similar to that. Instead, it had exploded out of the depths
of some other very dark and very lonely place. And now he was feeling as
if that abyss-- whatever its origin, and whatever it was--was beginning
to swallow him up whole.

Prior to his meeting with the firm Will had made some financial
calculations, and the results had been dismal. His investments and
retirement account were

64 substantially less than he had recalled.

When Audra and he were together they had poured huge amounts of money
into restoring Generals' Hill. It was going to be their dream house. But
now, the remodeling was still unfinished, and it had tapped much of
Will's financial reserves. Further, during his separation from Audra,
Will had let the premiums on their life insurance slide. When she died
there was no insurance on her life. He had always tried to push that
thought out of his mind. The guilt over her death was so enormous that
he had tried to just dismiss the whole insurance issue. As his financial
worries swirled around his head Will kept thinking back to his meeting
with Angus MacCameron. It had been three days since their first
conference, and his only potential client had not been in touch with him
about whether he could pay Will's fees. Will had quoted him a
substantial figure that he would need as his retainer fee. Estimating
the huge numbers of hours the case would take, and taking into
consideration the extra gymnastics that J-Fox Sherman would put him
through, Will had thought the figure was reasonable. But Mac- Cameron
had looked at him with a troubled expression and simply told him

The Resurrection File 73 that such a figure would tap out the remaining
budget for the magazine for the year. MacCameron had also made it clear
in their meeting, after Fiona had stepped outside, that he would not
permit his daughter to contribute a single penny to his legal defense.
Through his experience with the ACLU and the Law Project for the South,
Will knew the realities and opportunities of public fund-raising. But
when he asked whether there might be other religious groups--those that
shared his beliefs--that would contribute toward his defense, MacCameron
just shook his head and laughed. As Will spotted the exit sign for
Monroeville he was beginning to think that the case had left his office
for good. He tried to reassure himself that this would have been a crazy
case, a strange client, and Sherman, of course, a vicious legal
opponent. He had every reason to be happy that the case had not worked
out. 1 But Will's mind also kept drifting to Fiona. After the meeting
Will had .; gotten on the Internet and done some research on her. Last
year she had 1 won a recording industry award called the "Dove Award."
She had cut several successful albums, all of them in the gospel,
contemporary Christian "I music vein. She was thirty-five years old,
single, and

65 had never been mar.,: tied. This was intriguing to W. Here was this
beautiful woman, talented, and charming. Why wouldn't she be married? He
speculated that perhaps her music career had preoccupied her. Or maybe
there was a secret she was keeping, some great hurt that kept romantic
relationships off-limits for her. Yet somehow, none of that seemed to
fit. His, Will had to remind himself that he had only met her once, and
then only .,. very briefly. He really knew almost nothing about her. You
can know someone Ifor years, he thought, and really not know them at
all. Why should he think he knew anything about Fiona based only on a
short meeting in a law office and a quick Web-site search on his
computer? @ou Besides, why was he still thinking about Fiona at all? She
could not be further from his world--and he from hers. By all
appearances she was one of these "I'm in love with Jesus" types. Perhaps
there was an explanation there, Will thought. Maybe she was the
Protestant equivalent of a nun. As Will saw it, perhaps her heart was
already pledged to the cold, airy regions of spiritual fulfillment,
where romance, love, and earthly intimacy would have no place. In fact,
the more he thought about it, the only thing that he and Fiona had in
common was her father's lawsuit. Now it looked as if Will was not going
to represent MacCameron in the case.

I

74 Craig Parshall

As Will pulled his car up in front of his office he felt angry at
himself. His life seemed to be quickly unraveling. It was ridiculous for
him to burn so much energy thinking about a woman that he would never
see again, and I who lived in such a different world. Will turned off
the ignition but didn't get out of the car. As he sat there he felt the
flood tide of betrayal wash over him. Betrayal, certainly, but of who?
Audra? After two years of grief he was still not ready to let go. Yet he
wasn't sure what he was really trying to hang onto. It wasn't her memory
that he was clinging to anymore, not exactly. One of the infuriating
things was the fact that with every passing day it was becoming more
difficult for him to recall the details of her pretty face, and her
expressive, welcoming smile. So he would keep glancing at pictures of
her to try to sweep away the I cobwebs and dust and breathe life into
his indistinct recollections of her-- memories that were becoming like
the vanished lines of some poem about III love by a forgotten author,
something that you had read

66 once in school but jli could no longer remember. I The memories were
blurred and faded. Now, only the pain and the III absence remained.
Somehow those things had survived intact, and were clear and distinct.
"Just remember," he would tell himself. "Try to remember her." As he sat
in his parked car he fiercely told himself to get a grip. He had to try
to rescue himself. Not just economically, but professionally. And
emotionally. He really had to change the direction of his life. Will
felt as if he had to climb out of a hearse that had been carrying him
away--driving him silently out of the light and toward the great gaping
and shadowy nothingness, to a place where there are no memories, no
laughter, no embracing, no connection. Will was not sure how long he had
been sitting just staring ahead. He slowly got out of his car and went
up to his office. When he walked in, Betty was on the telephone. She
motioned to the top of her desk. There were two envelopes, a small white
one and a large brown one. The white envelope was thin, and the brown
one was stuffed to bursting. Will took them both into his office. He
opened the white one first, wondering momentarily whether it was Betty's
resignation. He had no reason to think she would quit so quickly. Yet he
also knew that she had stayed on with a lot of reservations. But he was
surprised when he sliced the envelope open and a check fell out. The
check was drawn on the checking account of Digging for Truth magazine
and was signed by Angus MacCameron.

It was made out for the sum that Will had demanded as his retainer fee. ir

The Resurrection File 75

If In the big brown envelope Will found a collection of materials that

' MacCameron had sent for his review. fe Betty poked her head in. "Did
you see what your client dropped off?" which Will nodded. out
"Tomorrow's payday" I "Thanks, Betty. I won't forget." Then Will added,
"By the way, you andj I need to talk about a raise sometime." I Betty's
eyes brightened. "Do you want to talk now? I've got some time." "How
about in a couple of weeks?" "How about in two weeks--by my next paycheck?"

Will nodded in agreement. But Betty could see that she had lost him to I
the case. He was half-turned, already looking through MacCameron's I
papers. I As he reviewed the materials he saw that his client had
rubber-banded I them into three groups. * I; The first group was a stack of

67 magazines--issues from a publication ft called the Journal of the
Center for Biblical Archaeo-Anthropology. Albert I Reichstad was the
editor-in-chief of the journal and had authored a number

of the cover articles. There were half-a-dozen other scholars, each with
I PhDs, who had written the other pieces. Several of the lead articles
written

by Reichstad dealt with what he referred to as the "7QA papyrus
fragment." I This apparently was the ancient fragment containing writing
purportedly I about the burial of Jesus, the document that lay at the
core of Reichstad's I lawsuit against Angus MacCameron. I Then there was
a pile of articles from other recent archaeology journals I and
scholarly magazines. As Will glanced at their titles it became clear
that out these were articles by other experts, who were critical of the
manner in

which Reichstad and his team had been handling the 7QA fragment disou
covery. These critics felt that Reichstad and his small band of
associates had out been too secretive. In fact, the Reichstad group had
refused to release any out copies or photographs of the fragment to
other scholars, and had declined be to permit other experts to examine
it firsthand. . Yet Will was disappointed to see that the only
criticisms in these articles out were of the secretive nature of
Reichstad's methodology. The articles critical his of Reichstad were
also careful to recognize his impeccable credentials.

Furthermore, these critics appeared to admit that, based on all of the
evi I dence thus far, Reichstad's findings, which interpreted the
fragment as : first-century Jerusalem in origin and as a contemporaneous
description of I, the burial of Jesus of Nazareth, were probably accurate.

76 Craig Marshall

What these other scholars wanted, they argued, was simply the chance to
verify and corroborate Reichstad's findings for themselves. This was
essential^ they pointed out, due to the electrifying and catastrophic
implications that this small fragment of ancient paper would hold for
the entire Christian world. There were seven archaeologists who had
authored articles critical of the secretive nature of Reichstad's work.
Will wrote down all of their names and the identity of their academic
institutions on his legal pad. He thought these critics might be a good
starting point in locating expert witnesses who

68 would testify in favor of MacCameron and against Reichstad. The third
and last bundle of papers was a mix of newspaper articles and Internet
research. It also included a narrative report from the East Coast
Investigative Services, which was the official name of Tiny Heftland's
private detective business. Will guessed that this bundle was all from
Tiny so investigation. One newspaper article described the
groundbreaking for a fifteenmillion-dollar building in Maryland to house
Reichstad's Center for Biblical Archaeo-Anthropology. Another article
from the business section, six months later, showed the completed
building for the Center. The Internet research contained a listing of
several small scientific conferences that had been hosted by Reichstad's
research center. The names of Reichstad's six full-time scholars and
researchers were listed in the various programs and their names were
circled. There were also snapshots of each of the scientists, along with
one of Dr. Reichstad, and pictures of the license plates of their cars,
and printouts of their driver's license information from the Department
of Motor Vehicles. What Will found most intriguing of all was Tiny's
narrative report. The first few pages recounted his surveillance of Dr.
Reichstad and each of his six experts. There was a record of Reichstad's
comings and goings during a one- week period of time, including a
description of his rambling two-hundred- acre Maryland horse farm and
mansion. A surveillance summary about his associates was also included.
Each of them had expensive dwellings, several with exclusive brownstones
in Old Town Alexandria,

Virginia, and some on the other side of the Potomac in the high-rent
district. A few of them had yachts that they sailed on the weekends in
Chesapeake Bay. All of them had very nice vacation homes, and they drove
new cars--BMWS,

Mercedes-Benzes, Lincoln Navigators, and Ferraris. All of their children
attended expensive private schools. There was also a curriculum vitae
and professional backgrounder for each of the six scientists. They all
had teaching experience at Ivy League

I The Resurrection File 77 colleges. Collectively, before being employed
as researchers at the Center, they had done substantial work on-site in
Israel--on the

69 Dead Sea scrolls, and in important archaeological digs at Megi.o,
Jericho, Capernaum, and Beersheba--and at Petra in Jordan, and in Egypt,
Iraq, and Iran as well. Tiny's report ended with some notes about the
Center itself. There was no public record of its having filed as a
charitable foundation, as most scientific centers do, or as a nonprofit
scientific enterprise. It was Tiny's conclusion that this was a private,
for-profit research facility. Will placed the papers in a large
expandable folder and stared at his yellow pad for a few minutes. Then
he began to make a few notes. First he wrote down, "Nonprofit foundation
vs. for-profit private research center." Then after a few seconds Will
jotted down, "Question--why didn't they incorporate the research center
as a nonprofit, tax-exempt foundation?"' Lastly he listed some further
thoughts: "Answers--reasons for the research center not to go
non-profit, tax- exempt:

1) No requirement of public listing (i.e., salaries--expenses--
donors--sources of income); 2) Must not need tax-deductible
contributions (how is that possible? huge private funding?) 3) Are they
hiding something?"

After a few more moments of reflection Will took his pen and underlined
point number three several times. Then he grabbed the telephone and
called Tiny. He caught Heftland on his cell phone. "Hey hey, my man, how
are you doing?"' Tiny bellowed. "Listen," Will said, "I've got a
proposition for you." Tomorrow all ears." "You know the money you owe
me?" "Oh yeah--and listen, Will, I haven't forgotten. I'm working on a
real big stakeout right now--important surveillance--I'll be sending you
some dough right away." Just then the Burger Hut order box next to
Tiny's car squawked out, "Would you like to try our special new
Double-Delight Cheeseburger

Combo for only $3.99?" "I guess you're not kidding," Will noted. "That
would be a big stakeout-- spelled
S-That-Every-A-Knowledge-O-Us-That--right?"

78 Craig Parshall

"Hey, no kidding. I really am on a job.

I'm just stopping here for some drive-through cuisine," Tiny shot back,
and then he leaned over to the box and shouted out, "Give me the
special, and make it a diet Coke with that. And use the low-cal dressing
on the burger, will you?" "Look Tiny, here's my proposal. I'm offering
you a chance to work off the

70 money you owe me." 1 "Doing what?" "Do you remember that libel and
defamation lawsuit you sent over to me?" "You mean that nutty Scotsman
with the magazine?" "Well, yeah, that would be the case." "Did he come
across with some money?" "Yes. He retained me," Will replied. "Wow. I'll
be. Yeah, he paid my bill, so I figured he might be a decent client. But
you never know about a guy like that." "I read your report. Nice work."

Tiny was all smiles as he pulled up to the window at the Burger Hut. I
"Thanks. I really don't know what he was after. He was a little vague.
He I just wanted me to dig up whatever I could on this scientist,
whatever his name was..." "Reichstad." "Yeah. Reichstad. And the rest of
his scientists. The Frankenstein doc! 1 tors over there at that research
center." His "What makes you say that?" Will asked. "Remember the
original Frankenstein movie? You know, with Boris I Karloff. The
scientist, this high-society English dude, starts out being I straight
as an arrow--not Karloff, because he was the monster--but that other
guy, English actor, refined type. But he gets sucked into the chance to
become the master over life and death--and creating life out of the
corpses I of dead people, and so he starts going a little wacky..." I "I
know the movie, Tiny," Will broke in. "What's your point?" out "Well,
it's just this. Remember in the movies, whenever your local law-
enforcement gentry show up at the Frankenstein castle asking questions--
I and the Herr Doktor, the mad scientist who figured he was still smart

enough to con the local yokels, would show them around, as if to say, "See--

Ithere is nothing strange going on here..." but you, the audience, you
knew that he wasn't showing them everything. And he would always be in a
real hurry to shuffle them out of there so he could get back to his
ghoulish deeds in the basement." "So?"

The Resurrection File 79

"Well, as part of my investigation I went over to that research center
of Reichstad's. I posed as an amateur archaeology buff, a tourist, and
asked if they gave guided tours." "And?" "The receptionist was real cold
to me. Real ice-maiden. She said at first that they don't ever give
tours. But then she gets up from her desk and asks if I would like to
see some things. I said, sure. So she walks me around to a couple of the

71 awards and pictures on the walls of the little lobby there, and tells
me a few things about them, and thanks me for my interest in the Center,
and then asks me to leave." "Well?" "It was the Frankenstein thing all
over again. Why give me a pretend tour of the lobby? This gal was pretty
nervous. She was acting like she didn't want to admit that they wouldn't
give me a tour of that place. She couldn't wait to shuffle me out of
there fast enough. So that just got me to thinking--what kind of stuff
are they doing in the basement of the castle, you know? Are they
covering something up? Just food for thought, I guess." "Interesting,"
Will commented. "So, will you work off the money you owe me by working
on this Reichstad vs. MacCameron case?" "Sure, why not? But you got to
cover my out-of-pocket expenses. I'll keep track of my time, at my
standard rates. I'll send you a monthly statement. When do you want me
to start?" Will ended the call by telling Tiny he would give him a call
in a few days. After hanging up with his private investigator, Will
dictated a Notice of Retainer that would alert the court and opposing
counsel that he would be representing MacCameron. He would fax it, and
then overnight the hard copy, that afternoon. He looked at his watch and
figured he had enough time to start roughing out a formal Answer to the
lawsuit Complaint, and then it would be time to go catch some dinner.
Then the lawyer took his pen and added another note to his yellow pad.
It simply said: "Frankenstein?"

The Red Rooster tavern was quickly filling up. There was a bizarre
excitement in the air. Pitchers of beer were already circulating. There
were the usual after-work frequenters--mostly office staff, some younger
professional types, secretaries, teachers, and salesmen. But tonight the
crowd was bigger and louder than usual. Friendly arguments and lively
speculations were already breaking out--the kind you would normally see
only before the start of an important ball game. But tonight there was
no ball game scheduled--or at least no game that this crowd had come to
see. The overhead television sets were normally set to the sports
channels. Tonight they were all tuned in to the World Cable Network On
the television screen there were some newsmen talking, and the word
"live" appeared in the corner of the screen. Four blocks away from the
Red Rooster, Will Chambers looked out his window and noticed the sun
going down. He set the MacCameron file aside, along with the Bible that

72 he had in front of him and decided to stroll down to the Red Rooster
for a meal. It was still warm outside, early evening, as Will left the
building. He walked down the cobblestone sidewalks that had grown uneven
with age, and along the narrow, tree-lined streets. He kept thinking
back to something he had been reading back at the office. He had read
the article that MacCameron had written in Digging for Truth magazine as
a rebuttal to Reichstad's claims about the 7QA fragment. MacCameron's
article kept referring to passages in the New Testament. So Will had
sent Betty scurrying down to the bookstore to get a Bible. When Betty
returned she knocked on the door of his office. He called her in, and
she handed him the plastic bag from the bookstore without

The Resurrection File 81

. saying a word. But she gave Will a quizzical look, like she had wanted
to make a sarcastic remark but had then thought better of it. The
MacCameron article made a reference to the Gospel of John, 1' chapter
eleven, so Will fumbled unsuccessfully through the Bible to look it up.
He finally checked the table of contents and located it. It was the
story of Jesus going to the funeral of a guy named Lazarus, who had
already been dead and buried for several days. Jesus told the people .
to remove the stone. They were all concerned because the body was
already out beginning to rot and stink. But they removed the stone, and
then Lazarus I walked out of the tomb, with his grave wrappings still
wound around his I'" entire body. which Lazarus, so dead that his corpse
had already begun to decay, had been I: brought back to life in front of
a number of witnesses. which Will read about the conversation Jesus had
had, just before the "resurt: rection" of Lazarus, with one of the
sisters of the dead man. will In verse twenty-five Will read this:

Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life; he who I
believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives

and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?" ' I, When Will
read this, itwas as if he had been hit full in the face, like a out
swimmer in the ocean slammed by a huge unexpected wave. 1

For just an instant, Will felt as if that question--by do you believe
this?"-- had been directed to him. As if there were someone in the
room--sitting I across from him--who had just asked him, "Will Chambers,
do you

73 believe i'what you are reading?" For some reason that question, in
the silence of his ft office, had taken on the roaring power of a tidal
wave. 1 Will rarely trusted his emotions. So he had chalked up his
strange reac1, tion to either stress or fatigue or both. As he neared
the Red Rooster, Will out realized he hadn't had a drink for a while.
Maybe it was time to start & catching up. I When Will walked in he
couldn't see a spare table available, so he I grabbed the last open
stool at the bar. if "It's crowded," Will noted to the bartender. And
then he ordered his I usual--a steak sandwich and onion rings. I
"What're you drinking tonight?" I' For a split second Will struggled
with his decision on how he was going I: to respond. So he ignored the
bartender and glanced over at the television out set. On the screen two
news anchors were talking at a desk. Behind them

82 Craig Parshall

1 there was a country outlined on a map, with the words "Saudi Arabia"
in large letters. "What'11 you have, Will?" the bartender asked again.
Just then a foreign reporter came on the screen. The crowd in the Red
Rooster suddenly quieted down. "Hey, what's the deal here?" Will asked.
The bartender looked at him a little incredulously. "Are you kidding?
Where you been lately, on the space shuttle?" "No, seriously. What is
this?" Will questioned, nodding his head toward the television. "The
Wall Street bombers--or at least some of the guys who planned it--they
are going to be executed today. It's been all over the news the last
twenty-four hours." "They finally caught them? Was there a trial I
missed?" The bartender laughed. "This is Saudi Arabia,. W. I don't think
it works the same over there. They probably beat a confession out of
these guys. Hey, who cares. The point is they're getting what they
deserve. The death penalty. No appeals. No drawn-out legal case. Just
quick justice. That's fine by me." Somebody yelled out to turn up the
television. The bartender bent over to a knob and turned the volume up.
The reporter was warning the audience that what they were about to see
would be both shocking and graphic. He calmly explained how, after the
New York truck incident, the U.s.. State Department had put additional
pressure on the Saudis for cooperation. As a result, new information had
come to light about last year's Wall Street bombing, and the Saudis,
based on that information, had immediately arrested two

74 suspected terrorists. They obtained quick confessions, conducted a
cursory magistrate inquiry, and imposed a sentence of death on both of
them. The method of execution would be by public beheading. Then two men
with black hoods over their heads were led by armed guards onto a
platform. Their arms were tied behind them. Their legs were shackled, so
they had to make little shuffling steps forward until they were in front
of two large wooden blocks that came up to their waists. They were
pushed down to a kneeling position. Each guard held a long pole with a
wire neck loop at the end. With the poles, the heads of the two men were
forced and held Face down onto the wooden blocks from behind. Two
executioners in long robes and with huge silver-bladed axes appeared
beside the prisoners.

The Resurrection File 83

Before Will could process what he was seeing, the two executioners swung
their axes over their heads with blinding speed and brought them down
onto the necks of the criminals. Two kneeling bodies fell over to the
side, blood flowing from the headless necks. The crowd in the Red
Rooster jumped to their feet, cheering and yelling. The noise continued
as people raised their fists and continued to cheer at the television
sets, giving each other high-fives. One couple left immediately, the
woman shaking her head. The man with her was grimacing slightly. Will
stared at the television set hut did not speak. After a while the
bartender came back and asked him again what he was going to drink. "You
know, I just remembered that I've got to be somewhere," Will said, and
threw some money on the bar. "Aren't you going to stick around for your
steak?" "Lost my appetite," Will replied. "Oh, I forgot, Will, you're
one of those bleeding-heart liberals," the bartender shot back with a
little laugh. "Exactly when did the world start getting so strange?"
Will asked, but directed his question to no one in particular and did
not wait for an answer. He was quickly out on the street, walking back
toward his office. Now all he wanted to do was get to his car and go
home. Suddenly, the company of his loyal golden retriever seemed
preferable to that of the human race.

In Washington the next day, news reporters were crowding into the room
at the Press Club. In the front of the room, the moderator of the press
conference glanced at his watch, and then looked out over the room
filled with television cameras and reporters. Behind

75 the moderator there was a row of six men and three women, standing
and smiling stiffly. One of the women had a clerical collar, as did
three of the men. Another was arrayed in bishop's robes. Then the
moderator stepped up to the tangle of microphones at the podium. He
smiled and thanked everyone for coming. "Let me say first," the
moderator explained, "that we are not going to be commenting today about
the fact that two men were executed on live international television
last night." There were a few snickers from the reporters. "That is the
subject for another press conference, perhaps, at another time. We are
here today to comment on the 7QA fragment and its implications for
twenty-first century Christianity." Then the moderator looked down at
his prepared notes and began. "This coalition represents a broad
cross-section of the Christian denominations in America. As such, we
have representatives from the National Council of Churches, from the
American Conference of Bishops, and from most major segments of the
mainline Christian community. "Each of our representatives will be
giving a short statement. But byway of introduction, I want you to know
that a Joint Statement has been prepared by our coalition. And there
should be enough copies of the Statement for all of you on the table in
the back of the room, so you can pick one up as you leave."

The Resurrection File 85

The moderator introduced the representatives, who each, in turn, made
three-minute statements. Then the floor was opened for questions. The
first question came from a newswoman in the front. "Doesn't this

7QA fragment mean that Christians everywhere will have : to start
questioning everything they used to believe in the Gospel stories--
questioning who Jesus really was?"' In response, several speakers from
the panel emphasized that faith and science were partners in truth, not
combatants. Yes, there would perhaps be a new understanding of Jesus,
but that is the essence of faith--that it is a : living and evolving
concept, not a static, rigid, absolutist experience. What if this
archaeological discovery disproves the resurrection? one be. reporter
asked. Wouldn't that be the end of Christianity? Not at all, the
panelists replied. One speaker emphasized that "the jury was still out"
on 7QA, while on the other hand, the verdict on the traditional idea of
Christ had been settled for two thousand years.

76 Another panelist pointed out that the resurrection was a spiritual
idea, with spiritual aspects to it. If Jesus was not physically
resurrected, that did not mean that (there was not, in some sense, a
spiritual resurrection. In order to successfully survive in the
twenty-first century, the panelist pointed out, Christianity be needed
to, in effect, reinvent itself. That included being willing to
rediscover who Jesus really was. ., Then a question came from a reporter
in the back of the room. Jack be Hornby, a veteran from the Washington
Herald stood up and said he was ^addressing his question to anyone on
the panel who would like to respond. His "This 'spiritual resurrection"
that you are talking about sounds pretty I safe--pretty bland. And if
you will pardon my observation, pretty mean@ou ingless. In light of this
7QA fragment discovery, why not fight for the idea @ou that either Jesus
really walked out of the grave, or else he didn't? If he didn't, I then
maybe it's time for Christianity to take him down from the throne, in
@ou a manner of speaking." out After a few of the panelists tried,
somewhat unsuccessfully, to respond, 'the moderator stepped up to the
microphone. This was a difficult and coml plicated issue, and couldn't
be answered, he said, in a simple way.

Indeed, the ' moderator pointed out, it could not be answered in the
kind of abbreviated and simplified format that many reporters would
prefer. "Then why did you bother to call a press conference and invite
the @ou press?" Hornby shot back. But before the irritated moderator
could close,, Hornby launched a final question:

86 Craig Parshall

"I would be interested in your reaction to the lawsuit that was recently
filed by Dr. Reichstad, the scientist who discovered this fragment. He
has sued a Reverend Angus MacCameron, who criticized his interpretations
of the fragment. Are you aware of that lawsuit, and if so, what is your
response?" The moderator responded firmly.

"We are aware of that lawsuit. As we understand it, this lawsuit is some
kind of blood feud, if I can call it that, between Dr. Reichstad and
this fundamentalist preacher MacCameron. Further, we do not believe that
a right-wing religious extremist Eke MacCameron has anything intelligent
to add to the debate over the 7QA Jesus fragment." As the reporters
quickly pushed their way out of the room, one of them came over to

77 Hornby. "Did you make it over to the press conference of the Union of
Conservative Baptists and the American Evangelical

Alliance this morning?" "Yeah," Hornby said,

"I caught most of it." "I missed it," the other reporter noted. "I
didn't think I could make that one and still get here for this one and
then make my deadline by noon. So, anything interesting?" Hornby smiled.
He knew he was being pumped for news by a competitor. Some reporters
really took a hard line on that sort of thing, and many of them would
ignore that kind of ploy and walk away, others, even more direct, would
tell another reporter to "buzz off." But Jack Hornby had worked out his
own approach over the years. Being a veteran reporter and having won a
Pulitzer Prize had given him a certain leeway that others didn't have.
He didn't mind tossing a few bones to the competition. He believed in
freedom of the press--and maybe that meant letting the other guys know
what was going on. In the end, though, Hornby had his own line in the
sand, where his cooperation with other reporters ended and his own
personal drive for the story took over. "Those guys are the right-wing
conservatives," Hornby explained. "These guys at the Press Club, on the
other hand, are the moderate-to- liberal mainliners," Hornby noted.
"Same lineup as usual this morning. The conservatives were suggesting a
couple of possible explanations for the 7QA fragment. How it really
doesn't conflict with a bodily resurrection of Christ. Some of them
still had doubts about its validity. I also heard that a couple of TV
preachers are planning a big rally down in Atlanta over this." Then the
other reporter opened the door for Hornby, and as they stepped out onto
the sidewalk, he followed up this thought, squinting a little in the
noonday sun.

I The Resurrection File 87 I I'

"Jack, I think a lot more people are going to end up trusting this 7QA I
thing than the Bible. I think as time goes on, even a lot of churchgoing
I' people are going to start thinking that, hey, you don't bow down and
worI ship Jesus if you know that he's really still dead and his body is
out there in I a grave somewhere. The more I'm thinking about this, the
more I believe I we may have a real religious revolution in the making."
I. - Hornby was silent, but he was eyeing the other reporter intently. I
"Right?" the reporter asked. I But Hornby just kept looking at him,
tight-lipped. The other reporter I smiled. He

78 knew he was getting close to Hornby's line in the sand. I "Maybe,"
Hornby finally replied. "Maybe not. One thing I've learned in I this
business--things are not always as they seem." out "So what's your take
on this lawsuit by Reichstad?" the reporter asked as

he flagged down a cab. I "You take this cab, I'll catch the next one,"
Hornby shouted out as he I walked in the opposite direction. The other
reporter had just trossed the

I As Hornby walked away he paged through his small notebook, looking I
for the telephone number of attorney Will Chambers. Earlier that day he
I had checked the court file in Reichstad vs. MacCameron and Digging for
1; Truth Magazine. Chamber's Notice of Retainer had just been filed. 1;
The reporter hadn't talked to Will Chambers for a couple of years. The I
last contact was over a story that Hornby had written about one of
Will's I cases. Will had sued a federal agency for retaliating against
his client, a lowI level federal employee who had become a whistleblower
over some illegal I practices in the agency. Since that story had
broken, the attorney had fallen out off the reporter's radar screen. I
Hornby pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started dialing Will's

'. office. He was getting close to his deadline for getting the
Reichstad law. suit story in the next morning's paper, but so far he had
been running into I a brick wall. J-Fox

Sherman, who was usually more than happy to talk to the I press, had not
returned any of his phone calls. I The veteran reporter figured he could
coax some lively quotes out I of W. With that, and with his background
investigation on the lawsuit, I his editor would certainly run the
story. It had all of the elements of a great I feature: a controversial
religious issue, defamation of the professional repu@ou tation of a
renowned scientist, and an interesting match-up of lawyers. I But
earlier, when he had stopped at the U.s.. District Courthouse just off
this Constitution Avenue and reviewed the file in the clerk's office, he
had found I the defining reason why the lawsuit ought to make great
copy. The case had

88 Craig Parshall been assigned to be tried before the brilliant and
controversial jurist Judge Jeremiah Kaye. Kaye was the judge who had
banned prayer at the

79 meetings of the D.c. school board. Yet he was also the judge who had
ruled in favor of the right of a Christian rescue mission to violate
zoning laws by running a soup kitchen and "salvation chapel."
Unpredictable and always interesting, Judge Kaye never backed down from
tough decisions. In one case he had ordered the President of the United
States to obey a subpoena from Congress. In his order, Judge Kaye had
given the President forty-eight hours to comply, and had indicated that
he was prepared to send U.s.. Marshals to the White House to enforce the
order if necessary. Hornby walked down the sidewalk with his cell phone
to his ear. As he I waited for someone to pick up the phone at Chambers'
office, he felt certain that this case was as newsworthy as any story he
had ever covered. Betty answered the phone and transferred the call to
W. In his typical blunt style Hornby zeroed in on the issues of the
case. He said he wanted

to do a feature--possibly the first part of an ongoing series on the
lawsuit as out it progressed. So, what did Will think of the allegations
against Reverend were' MacCameron? out Will gave him a few well-scripted
comments.

As Hornby walked past the statue of Blackstone, the famed English
jurist, that stood guard over the front of the federal courthouse, he
furiously scribbled down Will's comments on his notepad. I "Thanks,
Will," Jack said at the end of the conversation. "Look for it in

Itomorrow's Herald." Then Hornby circled the quote from Will that he
planned on using at the conclusion of the piece:

I Our Constitution protects the right of free speech because that is 1
how we can ensure that our nation will remain free. But in this ,1 case
the stakes are even higher. If my client was correct in what 1 he wrote,
and it is our contention that he was--then truth itself

is on trial.

Hornby hailed a cab and started back to the paper. He decided to call
his editor, and told him that he would be able to put the final touches
on this story within the hour. Hornby kept his word, turning the piece
in with five minutes to spare. But by late afternoon the reporter had
heard nothing. He sauntered over to the city editor's office. The door
was closed, so he grabbed a cup of coffee and waited

80 outside in the hallway. After a few minutes the door swung open.

The Resurrection File 89

The managing editor stepped out of the office, giving Hornby a less than
polite nod as he walked past him and disappeared up the stairs. When
Hornby walked into the room the city editor did not look surprised.
"Jack, sorry, we've decided not to run your piece," he said matter-of-
factly. "Why?" the reporter asked, bewildered. "Space. Several
late-breaking things came in and bumped your story out." "Like what? You
mean like someone gets bit by the presidential poodle? I noticed that
the story about the White House dog is going to be on page one. Is that
the kind of really important late-breaking news you're talking about?
What's going on here?" "Settle down, Jack. You always take this stuff so
personally. Look, all you've got is a lawsuit--sure, some interesting
stuff may eventually come out. But lawsuits get filed every day in this
city. Let's give it timft See if it grows some legs." "Lawsuits get
filed," Jack bulleted back, "but not like this one. You know that. Come
on, tell me what the bottom line is here." "Bottom line? Here it is,"
the city editor shot back, "Your story got dumped by the managing
editor. Go talk to him." "I will," Hornby snapped as he strode out of
the office. And as he walked away he shouted, "I'll be back." "I'm
always open to a good story," the city editor yelled. "Sure,"

Hornby muttered to himself as he charged up the stairs to the managing
editor's office, "as long as it's got the President's poodle in it." The
city editor immediately punched the extension number for the managing
editor, and in a few seconds was warning him that Jack Hornby was on his
way up. "He's coming to pressure you about that Reichstad libel lawsuit
story." "What did you tell him?" the managing editor asked. "That we got
crunched for space--late-breaking news--he didn't buy it. But then, what
else could I tell him?" "Keep Hornby out of this," the managing editor
said. "I'm getting some real clear signals from the publisher himself on
this one. This story is considered not newsworthy" "And since when does
the publisher tell the journalists what is, or is not, newsworthy?" the
city editor asked, slightly irritated. "You sound like a rookie when you
talk like that," the managing editor growled. "Get with the

81 program. There will be no story on this lawsuit until

90 CraigParshall

I say so--and only if I say so. Meanwhile, if Hornby gives you any more
problems, try this--tell him this is a religion story--and we've got
religion reporters that will cover the story, if it needs covering. His
beat is not reli "Sure," the city editor sighed, "I'm sure a
Pulitzer-winning reporter like Jack Hornby is going to swallow that."
"Then let me make it crystal-clear," the voice on the other end of the
telephone said. "This story on the Reichstad lawsuit is dead. And
buried. Now, you just make sure it doesn't miraculously rise up and walk
out of the tomb on the third day, all right?"' Before the city editor
could respond, his superior had hung up on him. The city editor cleaned
up a few things on his desk. As he grabbed his coat to leave early for
the day he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He knew it was
Hornby--the footsteps were heavy and they were coming fast. As he braced
for Hornby to blow into his office again, he said to himself out loud,
"This is not going to be pretty."

15

It HAD ONLY BEEN TWO WEEKS since Will had filed his response to the
Reichstad lawsuit and served it on the opposing side--the offices of
J-Fox Sherman. The case was still in its infancy. So the item in Will's
morning mail took him by surprise. As he sat in the lobby of his office,
Will opened up the envelope from Kennelworth, Sherman, Abrams &

Cantwell. In it Will found a Notice of Deposition from Sherman. Will's
opponent had announced his intention to take the testimony of his
client, Reverend Angus MacCameron, by deposition. It was scheduled to
take place at Sherman's offices in D.c. the following week. It was not
the fact of a deposition that startled W. Such procedures were the
lifeblood of any lawsuit. Depositions--the giving of pretrial
testimony--were usually taken in the offices of one of the attorneys and
were more informal than a court proceeding, with only the opposing
attorneys, a court reporter, and the witness present. With no presiding
judge in attendance, they often created a free-wheeling kind of
psychological drama as one attorney questioned, probed, and cajoled the
opposing

82 party under oath. At the same time the other attorney would object,
obfuscate, distract, and defend, all the while hoping that his client
would not make that one thoughtless, careless, case-destroying admission
that the court reporter would dutifully transcribe for the court, for
the jury later to read. The thing that intrigued Will Chambers most was
the fact that it was coming so early in the lawsuit. Conventional
litigation wisdom was that you go to written discovery first--questions
that would have to be answered under oath, or written demands for the
other side to produce notes or documents that might relate to the issues
of the case.

92 Craig Parshall

After getting the responses to written discovery a lawyer would then
have a factual road map and could set up a deposition of the other party
in order to gain live testimony on the precise issues--aiming for the
center of the target with questions like heat-seeking missiles. The
lawyer could hammer at the weak points as well as ask questions designed
to fill in the blind spots of the case. So why, Will asked himself, was
Sherman racing to take the testimony of MacCameron so quickly out of the
gate? Was it merely bravado from one of Washington's finest trial
lawyers? Perhaps, although Sherman was too arrogant to feel he needed to
impress anyone else. He was the kind of lawyer that just assumed you
were already in awe of him. Will was mulling over that question when he
walked into the coffee room. Betty was pouring herself a cup. "You know
something, Will," she commented, "I've read the Washington Herald every
day since you had the telephone interview with that reporter. I don't
think they ever ran that story." Will merely grunted in response,
discovering a little sourly that Betty had taken the last full cup of
coffee, leaving only a sinister black film at the bottom of the pot.
"Betty, how about making some more coffee?"' "How about you and I
talking about my raise? Then we can talk about my making some more
coffee." "End of the day, today. We'll talk." "I'll be there," Betty
said, half-smiling and walking back to her desk. The promise to give
Betty a raise had slipped his mind. He had been preoccupied over the
last two weeks. He had received inquiries from about a half-dozen
prospective clients--however, only two had panned out. This was not good
news. He was starting to shift into some heavy-duty anxiety about his

83 professional future. Will had met with his mortgage lender in an
effort to borrow some cash against his house. But he was told, flatly,
that he was already mortgaged to the hilt. In fact, the state of the
house--with its uncompleted renovation-- made it bad collateral for
another loan. Will had also been busy trying to negotiate a higher
buy-out figure from his former partners. Despite his confrontational
final meeting, he somehow believed that they would cut him some slack.
But now that they were no longer returning his calls, Will was feeling
desperate. The only complex litigation he had was the MacCameron
lawsuit, and he wondered how long it would be before the money from the
fundamentalist preacher's tiny magazine would start drying up.

The Resurrection File 93

Will buzzed Betty on the intercom and asked her to get J-Fox Sherman on
the line. He knew that he had to buy some extra time before exposing his
client to deposition questioning from someone as cunning as Sherman.
Besides, Will was still unsure about the facts of such an unusual,
complicated case. He was not expecting a report back from Tiny for at
least another two weeks. Will had asked the big private eye to contact
each of the archaeological experts who had written articles critical of
Reichstad's handling of the 7QA. fragment. In Tiny's interviews,
hopefully some damaging information about Reichstad or his discovery of
the fragment would surface. He was looking for any information they had
in their back pockets--the kind of stuff that would be too controversial
or scandalous, perhaps, to have made it into their polite scholarly
writings. Betty's voice came over the intercom, telling Will that
Sherman's office was on the line. Will picked up the phone. It was the
receptionist from Sherman's law firm. Chambers asked for Sherman, and he
was transferred to the receptionist in the litigation department, and
after that, to the personal secretary for J-Fox Sherman. Then

Will was put on hold for several minutes. Finally, Will was able to
explain to Sherman's secretary that he needed to speak to Sherman
personally about a case they had pending together. In a few minutes Will
was transferred again. Then he heard a man's voice at the other end.
"Mr. Sherman, Will Chambers here. I am calling on the Reichstad vs.
MacCameron suit." "I am not Mr.

Sherman," the voice at the other end responded. "I am Mr. Sherman's
chief law clerk.

84 Mr. Sherman cannot talk to you right now, he is unavailable. Can I
help you?"' "I need to talk to Mr. Sherman personally about a deposition
he just scheduled on one week's notice, in a new lawsuit that isn't even
out of the cradle yet. I would like to get that deposition moved down
the track a week or two." "Oh yes, I'm familiar with that case. You
would like to get the deposition adjourned for a few weeks?"' "That's
what Mr. Sherman and I need to talk about." "Just a moment," the law
clerk said. And then Will waited on the line for another ten minutes.
When the voice came back on the other end it was the law clerk again.
"I'm sorry, but Mr. Sherman regrets that he will be unable to reschedule
the deposition. He looks forward to taking the testimony of your client
next week at the exact time and date indicated in our Notice of Deposition."

94 Craig Parshall

"Mr. Sherman was capable of speaking to you." "Why, yes," the clerk
replied. "Then he is fully capable of speaking to me about this." "No,
I'm afraid Mr. Sherman is too busy to talk to you." "Mr. Sherman's not
attempting to intimidate me, is he?"' Will bulleted bade "Because if he
is, then Mr. Sherman is going to end up taking my self- improvement
class--I call it "phone etiquette for the self-impressed, self-
aggrandizing D.c. lawyer who likes to hide behind his support staff so
he can try to look lofty and powerful."" After a moment of silence, the
law clerk said, "I will inform Mr. Sherman of your comments, Mr...." and
then the law clerk stifled a little laugh and said primly, "I am sorry.
We've never heard of you before. What is your name again?" "Let me make
it easy for you," Will responded abruptly. "Just remember me as the
lawyer who ended up winning this case," and with that, he slammed down
the phone. After spending twenty years in courtrooms around the nation,
Will Chambers had learned at least this much: Every lawsuit is like a
war. So he had developed the habit of naming his bigger lawsuits after
famous military conflicts. Some were like the War of 1812. Others were
like the Civil War. Still others he labeled the War of the Roses, or the
Hundred Years' War. After his short conversation with Sherman's office
Will was already visualizing the contours of this particular legal
battle. D-Day--Omaha Beach, he thought to himself. The only problem was
that, unlike General

85 Eisenhower, he was not commanding a massive invasion force. Yet the
analogy still seemed to fit After all, it seemed certain that there were
going to be heavy casualties. He called for Betty to contact MacCameron
and tell him that he had to be in Will's office at one o'clock the next
afternoon. Will would finish his initial planning and review in the
morning, and then he and MacCameron would immediately start planning for
the deposition. For a fleeting moment, Will's concentration was
interrupted with a vision of the casualties of war--of old newsreel
footage of soldiers' bodies, floating in the waters off Normandy. Then
he realized how absurd that thought had been. No matter what the
casualties of this case might be, Will mused to himself, at least no one
would be trying to kill him.

WORKING AT HIS DESK AT THE Center for Biblical Archaeo-Anthro- pology, Dr.

Reichstad was told by his secretary that he had a call on line one.
Reichstad picked up the telephone. ' A digital voice at the other end
gave him a number to call. Reichstad sighed, irritated at receiving a
command to make another call when he was busy editing the next issue of
his scientific journal. Those calls always came at the wrong time, and
he didn't like the feeling of being someone else's caged bird. He
unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the telephone in
it. He punched in the numbers on the phone. It was a familiar routine.
He was dialing into a telephone number that had been disconnected by the
phone company, and which was being electronically pirated by the caller
for his temporary use. Thus, if the call was ever traced, it would
simply lead to an obsolete number. The caller was keen on high-tech
methods to ensure both his secrecy, and his complete control. A man's
voice answered on the other end of the telephone line. "Are you alone?"
"Why bother asking me that?" Reichstad said, bristling slightly. "You
can see for yourself." He looked up at the corner of the ceiling, where
there was a small circular dot, the size of the end of a pen, with a
little red light inside, and then said, "How do I look?" "Smug," the
voice at the other end replied, "and smug men make mistakes." "I'm very
busy, what do you want?" "An update on your lawsuit." "I have sent you a
memo already," Reichstad responded impatiently.

86 96 Craig Panhall

"I wanted to ask you directly," the voice said. "What is it?" "Please
look up, and speak clearly and distinctly when you answer," the voice
commanded. "Sure," Reichstad said, getting visibly irritated. "I will
look right at you, and I'll speak clearly so your voice-stress analyzer
and your physiopsychologist who are undoubtedly watching and listening
can get a good read on whether I'm lying--okay?" "Please answer this
question: Have you told your attorney, Mr. Sherman, any facts of this
case that you should not have told him?" "I have only told him as much
as he needs to know," Reichstad answered. "Please answer the question.
Yes or no. Did you tell him things about the case that you should not
have told him? Specifically, details about Azid and Hunter; and exactly
how you came into possession of 7QA?" the voice asked. "No," Reichstad
answered. "I've had some reservations about your lawsuit. Like you, I
did see some potential benefits, and I felt that the benefits outweighed
the risks. But, if I change my mind, you are going to pull the plug on
this case immediately." 'iAnything else?" Reichstad asked. "Yes," the
voice said. "MacCameron's lawyer, Will Chambers. We've looked into Mr.
Chambers." "And?" Reichstad questioned. "I'm not sure yet. Mr. Chambers
may be a problem for us." "How much of a problem?" "I don't know yet.
But we may have to take him out of the equation. I think he fancies
himself a kind of champion of lost causes. That's very unfortunate. I'll
be in touch." And then Reichstad heard the familiar recorded message
that always followed those phone calls: "The number you have dialed is
no longer in service. Please check the number, and dial again."
Reichstad hung up the telephone, closed up the drawer, and locked it.
After his clandestine telephone contacts it always took him a few
minutes to get his mind back on track. He despised these
cloak-and-dagger exercises. And he despised interruptions to his work:
the work for which he was so brilliantly qualified, and for which he had
already become a world-class celebrity. He pulled himself up to the desk
and began sorting through the papers he was editing for the cover story
of the journal. Then he found the rough draft of the article he was
authoring. It bore the title--by Why the Old Mythic Jesus Must Go:
Further Implications of the 7QA Fragment."

87

The briefing room in the small military installation twenty miles
outside of New York City was jammed with investigators, law enforcement
agents, and government lawyers. The U.s.. Army command post had been
converted into a makeshift jail in order to house one single prisoner.
Gathered there was a larger consortium of federal agencies than had been
involved in either the Oklahoma City bombing or the World Trade Center
attack. The group had assembled to participate in the interrogation of
Rahji Ajadi, the truck driver who had been arrested entering New York
City a few weeks before. An army major general stepped up to the front
of the sparsely furnished room, and everyone quieted down. "Gentlemen
and ladies," he began, "I think we are all here, so I will begin. "We
have present with us today representatives from the U.s.. Attorney's
Office, the Justice Department, the Pentagon, the FBI, the Bureau of
Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, the National Security Agency, the Central
Intelligence Agency, the Defense Department, Immigration and
Naturalization, the National Emergency Response Team, the Federal
Emergency Management Agency, and the Department of State. "As you all
know," the major general continued, "it took us some time to work out
the kinks in the overlapping and sometimes conflicting jurisdiction
between the agencies here. And of course you know all about the
dogfights going on over who was to head up the national terrorist
response team in the event that something like this ever happened. We
can thank the media for spreading that all over your morning papers. But
let's be clear about one thing. The Pentagon is now running this show.
That was the final decision of the White House.

98 Craig Parshall

"You will all be given a crack at interviewing Mr. Ajadi. You should
have already received the backgrounder on his case. The government
lawyers will talk to you tomorrow about some of the specific problems
they see in prosecuting Mr. Ajadi under existing federal laws. But let
me just summarize them. "First, there's the fact that a New Jersey state
trooper arrested Ajadi just after he had crossed over into the state of
New York. At page twenty-three of the backgrounder you'll see where the
lawyers explain the problem of'territorial jurisdiction" for the arrest.
Bottom line, a

88 state law enforcement officer from New

Jersey can't make an arrest across the state line unless he's in 'hot
pursuit." But the rotten fact is that there was no chase going on here,
so the arrest was probably illegal. Therefore, the search of the truck
was probably illegal too. Teameans we've been gut-shot in this case.
Guys, this is not rocket science here. Most of you probably learned
about how not to make an illegal arrest in the first class at the police
academy. Our MPS learn that in their first training session. But that's
what happened here, like it or not. "Second, at pages thirty to forty
you have a rundown about the weapon that was found in the back of Mr.
Ajadi so rental truck. Again, just to summarize, what we've got here is
an American-made W87 MIRV thermonuclear warhead. The identifying serial
numbers had been removed--but we know it was one of ours. "Now here is
the real kicker." The major general walked over to a large engineering
diagram of a warhead that was on a display stand at the front of the
room. "Now this little puppy is standard nuclear technology." With that
he started indicating areas of the diagram with a little laser pointer.
"The trigger mechanism is a chemical explosion that combines beryllium
and plutonium-239. That starts the fission explosion. That's boosted by
DT gas. Then X-rays compress the second component right here. That, in
turn, causes the massive fissionstfusion reaction. And when that
happens, well, that's when you and everyone else within about
two-and-a-half miles of you buys the farm. "People, the MIRV they found
on that truck had no plutonium-239. It had no beryllium. It had no DT
gas. Nor did it have uranium-238, or 235, or any lithium deuteride."
Then the major general clicked off his laser pointer and looked over the
audience. "In other words," he said, "the MIRV in that truck was a
blank." He waited a few minutes for the unruly conversation to die down
in the room.

I The Resurrection File 99

I "The agenda in your report tells you when each agency is given the I
chance to interview this guy. Your time allotments are listed. None of
you I will be allowed to be present during the interviews of the other
agencies, I primarily because you have different security clearances, as
well as for jurisI dictional and secrecy reasons that should be pretty
clear. Only the lawyers I from the

89 Justice Department will be present during all of the interviews, and
I of course, Mr. Ajadi so lawyer. I "Now because the Department of State
has the fewest questions and I they need the least amount of time
talking to this guy we've put them at the I, end of the interrogation
list. They are batting cleanup." I Someone shot his hand up. I:

"Are we supposed to assume that this case is being plea-bargained with I
Ajadi? That seems to be the only logical explanation as to why his lawyer is

allowing us to talk to him, rather than having him take the Fifth."

Til let the Justice lawyers elaborate on that in tomorrow's session. But
I the bottom line is this--it's pretty clear we don't have any shot'at a
nuke- 1 related criminal prosecution against Ajadi. He will enter a plea
to a minor be immigration violation and will be deported, of course. But
hopefully we can If all get some useful information and be able to trace
this incident back to the people source--who put that empty nuke in that
truck, and why. And in the

.,. process we can improve our national security status. I am sure you
are just

as disappointed as we are that there will be no major criminal prosecution

against Ajadi. Now each of you can stand down until your interview time
be comes up."

The major general dismissed the assembly. The federal agents began

filing out of the room, talking angrily and shaking their heads in
disbelief. I' Meanwhile, in another part of the building, Rahji Ajadi
was sitting in a 1 small room, across a plastic table from the public
defender who had been

appointed to represent him. Ajadi was outfitted in a prison-issue
sweatsuit . that was too big for him. He pulled the sleeves up over his
elbows as he 1 waited for his lawyer to speak.

"First of all," the lawyer began, "let me start with the good news. It
looks I like the government is going to charge you only with the immigration

offense we talked about. No other criminal charges. That assumes that
you I" will fully cooperate over the next few days with each of these
federal agents I who will be interviewing you. You will have to be
truthful. You can't hold I anything back. If they discover you are
lying, the deal is off." I "And how soon can I see my family?" Ajadi
asked. out "I don't know yet. There will be a court

90 hearing called a "presentment." I The charges will be filed. We will
be pleading "no contest," which is the same

100 Craig Parshall as guilty--we talked about that at the last meeting.
The government is going to be asking the judge to sentence you to the
exact time you have spent in jail. And then you will be deported. We
have agreed, as you will recall, not to fight the deportation. The
government will return you to Jordan." Ajadi shook his head. "This has
been such a nightmare. I am no terrorist. I know that I was wrong in
staying here in this country after my visa expired. But I had no idea
what was in that truck They told me not to look, so I didn't." "Look,
Rahji, just answer all of their questions. I will be there with you the
whole time. It will be fine. And remember the big question everybody
wants to know." Ajadi nodded his head in affirmation. "It's the question
we've been over and over. Why you?" the lawyer asked. "Why would some
complete stranger have started up a conversation with you at a bus
station and then end up offering to pay you fifty thousand dollars to
drive a truck from Vermont down to

New York City, but insist that you do it via a swing through New Jersey?
To the feds that doesn't make any sense. They are going to be
interrogating you with that question in mind. In the back of their minds
they are thinking that you are a terrorist. They think you work for
Abdul el Alibahd." "This is crazy" Ajadi exclaimed, "I have never met
that man. I don't even know any person who knows him. He is a
terrorist--a murderer. As I am driving the truck, I start thinking about
the bombing last year on Wall Street. I tell you for that reason I was
very afraid, as an Arab, of driving a truck into New York City. But the
idea of getting fifty thousand dollars, it made me blind. I had those
gambling debts I had to pay off. I was very frightened. I thought that
the men who ran the casino would come and hurt me. And I was concerned
that my family would find out and I would shame them. I thought I could
just drive the track and collect the money. I got the twenty thousand in
advance to drive the truck, like I was promised, so I thought everything
would be so easy." The lawyer nodded. He had heard all of it before
during his earlier sessions with his client. But his eyes narrowed now
and he looked at him intensely. "So the question remains," the lawyer
stated. "Why you?" Ajadi shrugged his shoulders, and then as he pulled
his baggy sweatshirt sleeves

91 over his elbows he said, "Maybe because I am an Arab." The lawyer
leaned back in his chair. He had heard that before too. Then the public
defender asked the follow-up question that he had asked himself,

The Resurrection File 101 and his client, several times earlier--the
question he'd never received a good answer to. "And why would someone
want to randomly set up an Arab by putting him behind the wheel of a
rented truck with an unarmed, nonoperable . nuclear weapon in it, and
then head him toward the heart of.new York City? And then, why would a
mysterious dispatch from the New Jersey State Police order a rookie Arab
state trooper to illegally stop that truck after it was already across
the border into New York?" Ajadi just stared back at his lawyer blankly.
Outside the door they could hear the sounds of the guards approaching,
bringing a meal to the prisoner on a cardboard tray. "I'd really love to
get the answer to that," the lawyer said, rising from his chair to
stretch as the jailers opened the heavy metal door and entered the room
with the food.

Angus MacCameron walked into Will's office at one o'clock sharp. He was
carrying a worn brown-leather Bible under his arm. Before Will could
focus the discussion on the upcoming deposition, MacCameron smiled and
raised his index finger dramatically in the air, andwiththe other hand
began fishing in the pocket of his suit coat. After a few seconds he
found what he was looking for, broadened his smile, and placed the
contents on the table in front of W. Will looked down on the conference
table and saw two concert stage passes. "Do you have any plans this
weekend, Mr. Chambers?" There was an awkward silence as Will wondered
what his client had up his sleeve. "Perhaps we can discuss my plans
later," Will replied. The lawyer folded back the first sheet of his
yellow legal pad to reveal a clean sheet of paper. This was a subtle
reminder that he was ready to start to take notes about the case. "Come
now, Mr. Chambers. Surely you can take some time off from your strenuous
pursuit of justice to enjoy some spectacular musical entertainment,"
MacCameron urged. Chambers tried to resist But as he looked at his
client, who was peering through his thick glasses with that twinkle in
his eye, the lawyer found the corners of his mouth slowly breaking into
a smile. MacCameron was pressing in. "You need to get away from the
office and have some real fun and

92 fellowship. Now here are two tickets to my daughter Fiona's gospel
concert this corning Friday night. One for each of us. It's at the
Concert Pavilion in Baltimore, down by the harbor. The concert starts at
8:00 P.m. Just meet me a little ahead of time outside the stage door,
and Fiona will greet us backstage."

The Resurrection File 103

MacCameron took one of the tickets off the table and put it in his
pocket. Then he pushed the remaining one toward W. "What do you say?" "I
will try to make it," Will answered with a tinge of hesitation in his
voice. "Truly?" "Sure. Why not?" Will was secretly intrigued by the idea
of watching Fiona perform in concert. He had, he admitted to himself,
nursed an interest in the beautiful singer. Yet at the same time, the
thought of sitting through a "Jesus" event made him uneasy. As Will
reached for a copy of MacCameron's Digging for Truth magazine from his
file, he figured that he would put the concert on the back burner, and
decide later. Will quickly began to walk his client into the core of the
lawsuit's allegations against him. "I want to focus on the essential
facts: In other words,

I want to go into the article you wrote, why you wrote it, and what
investigation you had undertaken before you wrote what you did about
ReichstaSo's discovery. Then I will go over the deposition itself, what
it will be like, what questions will be asked." Will pointed to a copy
of the lawsuit papers on the table in front of Mac- Cameron. "Now here
is Reichstad's lawsuit in a nutshell. He has the burden of proving four
things. First, that in your article you communicated "defamatory
statements about him. Something is "defamatory" if it injures someone's
reputation, particularly their professional reputation. Frankly, they
will be able to nail that one. Implying that Reichstad was connected
with the wrongful death of Azid the antiquities dealer and the murder of
Dr. Hunter, your archaeologist friend--that is defamatory. And going
after Reichstad's lack of professionalism--in fact suggesting scientific
incompetence in his interpretation of the 7QA fragment--is also
defamatory. "Second," Will continued, "Reichstad has to show how this
article damaged his reputation. That means actual damage to his
professional reputation among his peers and friends. He is also claiming
the right to huge punitive damages against you. "Third, he has

93 to prove that what you wrote was false. And fourth, they have to show
that you wrote it in "actual malice." Reichstad has the burden of
proving 'malice' because he is a 'public figure'--that means that he is
someone who is well-known and has been in the public eye. When it comes
to 'public figures', the First Amendment protects what you write about
them unless they can show that you did it with 'malice.""

104 Craig Parshall

"By "malice" do you mean something like hatred or animosity?" Mac-
Cameron asked. "No, not really. What it really means is that you had a
reckless disregard for whether what you wrote was true or false. That
you exhibited a lack of care for the truth about Reichstad and his
discovery, and his possible connection to the deaths of Azid and
Hunter." "So what is our response?" MacCameron asked, thrusting an index
finger in Will's direction. "Our defense is twofold. First of all, we
are arguing that you did not act in "actual malice."'That you did an
adequate investigation of the facts before you wrote the article. You
weren't reckless about the information you wrote." "I'm not a reckless
man, Mr. Chambers. I am passionate about what I believe, but that
doesn't make me reckless." "That's true. But what is important is what
the judge and the jury hear and see in the evidence. They aren't going
to care about your good intentions if the evidence shows that you were
careless and disregarded the facts." "And what is the other defense?"
"The truth," Chambers replied.

"While they have the burden of proving the falsity of your article, that
only requires Reichstad to testify that what you wrote about him was not
true. That's it. Then the burden of proof shifts to us. We have to then
persuade the jury and the judge that what you said in that article is
the truth." "But it is the truth," MacCameron said with his voice
rising. "As I stand here in the sight of God, I tell you that what I
wrote is the truth." Will lifted up the magazine article. "Okay. Then
let's get into it. You make two statements that Reichstad and his
lawyers say are false and defamatory. Here is the first. This is the one
about Reichstad and the two deaths." With that, Will began reading from
the article from Mac- Cameron's magazine:

Remember, my dear reader, that Harim Azid and Dr. Richard Hunter were
both in possession of the 7QA fragment before they died. The facts show that

94 Dr. Reichstad, who now possesses the

7QA fragment, must be connected to the suspicious death of Mr. Azid and
the tragic murder of Dr. Hunter.

"We will go over that one separately tomorrow," Will explained. "Today I
want to focus on the second quote that they are suing you for. In the
same article you also write this, which they are claiming is also false:

Dr. Reichstad has brazenly concluded that the 7QA. fragment is written
about Jesus of Nazareth, and that it shows us that he was

The Resurrection File 105 buried but did not rise again. By concluding
that, Dr. Reichstad is either deliberately lying, or else he has
committed scientific malpractice.

"Now," Will said, "what proof do you have that what you wrote there is
the truth?"' MacCameron flipped open the pages of his Bible, and a
second later he I said, "Paul's first epistle to the Corinthians, Mr.
Chambers, chapter fifteen, I, verse fourteen: I 1 And if Christ has not
been raised, then our preaching is vain, I your faith also is vain. I I;
"And also in verses seventeen through nineteen, the apostle Paul says I
this:

I And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are
which still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in
Ghrist rather have perished. If we have hoped in Christ in this life
only, we are I of all men most to be pitied."

I Will Chambers shook his head in bewilderment. What he was looking 1
for was not pious pronouncements from the Bible, but cold, hard,
credible, I and convincing facts. Wills disappointment was clear in his
face. I "Is there something wrong?" MacCameron asked. If "Those are not
facts." I "But what I just read you is the truth." 1 "Religious truth.
Your own private, subjective, religious viewpoint. That is different
than factual truth," Will countered. I "The Bible is God's Word. That
makes it true. Therefore the facts in the I Bible are true. And
therefore what I just read to you is a factually true state II ment,"
MacCameron shot back, his voice passionate. "Look, I don't want a
theological argument. And I don't want a debate over semantics. "Your
deposition is being taken next week by a lawyer

95 who JL could have taught the Spanish Inquisition some new tricks. He
does not fe want to just question you. He wants to humiliate and destroy
you. Do you I realize that?"' By now Will's voice was just below a
shout. li "I know better than even you what is at stake here," MacCameron

I replied loudly and firmly. "But you have to give me a chance to
explain before you jump to conclusions." I Will's face was slightly
flushed, and his jaw was clenched. He looked I over the table at this
strange religious zealot who had pulled him into a libel I and
defamation case that was beginning to look impossible to win.

106 Craig Parshall

"Go ahead," Will responded in an exercise of control. "Try to explain.
But do it concisely. And make it clear--and factual." "What you have to
realize is that this case is not just about the law," MacCameron
explained. "Or even about the

7QA fragment. This case is about the resurrection of Jesus Christ from a
tomb in Jerusalem. What people end up believing about--that historical
fact--changes the course of world history. And it changes the eternal
future of every human being who confronts that question. That's why I
began with the Bible, Mr. Chambers. I gave you the wide-angle lens. Now,
I believe that what you want me to do is start with the small picture.
The microscopic view. That's fine. So let's start with the 7QA fragment
itself. "Now," MacCameron said with a somber look, "what I am about to
tell to you is exactly what the 7QA fragment says."

JJEFORE ANGUS MACCAMERON COULD BEGIN his detailed explanation : about
the 7QA fragment, Will wanted to clear something up. It was clear that
he would have to get up to speed on the basics of biblical archaeology.
"One question," Will interjected, feeling a bit more at ease now with
MacCameron. "Explain the reference to "Q^and the identifying number and
letter." "Well, the Qjstands for the source of the fragment--here,
Qumran. It's by the Dead Sea." "The Dead Sea scrolls?"' Will added.
"Yes. I see you have been doing your homework. Qumran was a Jewish
religious community in the desert area near the Dead Sea in Israel. Most
scholars believe that as of A.d. 68 the community either fled, or was
decimated by the advancing Tenth Legion of the

96 Roman army. Now near the Qumran community there was a series of caves
in the jagged, arid hills of the desert. In the late 1940's some members
of a Bedouin tribe of sheepherders--part of the Taamireh
tribe--discovered a collection of ancient scrolls and other writings in
those caves. Those are the "Dead Sea scrolls." The significance was that
they contained the oldest manuscript versions of . the Old Testament
ever found." "So, are the Dead Sea scrolls just parts of the Old
Testament?" "That's an interesting question. A few experts believe that
some fragments from cave number 7 at Qumran may actually be versions of
the New Testament Gospels, but the majority of scholars reject that
view," Mac- Cameron explained, his voice beginning to race. "The widely
accepted view is that the Dead Sea scrolls only contain Old Testament
writings. Versions of the books of Isaiah and so forth."

1 108 Craig Parshall

"So why is Reichstad's fragment called

7QA' if it isn't part of the Old Testament

Dead Sea scrolls?" Will asked. "When archaeologists, and papyrologists,
and others refer to a fragment of the Dead Sea scrolls, they start with
the number of the cave where the fragment was found. That is followed by
the "(^reference, and then it is followed by an indexing number that
refers to how that particular fragment is indexed and inventoried with
all other fragments from that cave. Now Reichstad chooses to call it
7Q.because he claims that when he bought it from Azid he was told it was
from cave 7 in the Qumran area, and that was according to what some
unidentified Bedouin who found the fragment said when Azid purchased it
from him originally." "What do you think?"' Will asked. "From my one
conversation with Richard Hunter in that cafe in Jerusalem, I have no
reason to doubt that." "And what about the A" reference in 7QA?"
"Reichstad simply chose that to identify it as the first fragment of its
kind from cave 7 that he obtained, and to distinguish it from the other
fragments from that cave that were discovered back in the 1940s." "So,"
Will probed, "what is there in Reichstad's interpretation of 7QA. that
supports what you say in that article?" "Let's start with what we know
about 7QA," MacCameron said. "Let's review what Reichstad claims that
the Greek letters say in that fragment." He opened the magazine to a
different page.

97 AND THE BODY OF JESUS OF

NAZARETH WAS LAID IN THE TOMB. THEY

DESIRED TO ANOINT IT BUT COULD NOT

RETURN TO PREPARE THE BODY. THE

BODY REMAINS IN THAT TOMB TO THIS

DAY.

"What is the significance of 7QA being written in Greek?" Will
questioned. "That makes it consistent with the rest of the New
Testament," Mac- Cameron said matter-of-factly. "The whole New Testament
was written in aversion of the Greek language called Koine Greek. That
was the common, street-language form of Greek.

7QA appears to be Koine Greek. So to that extent it is consistent with
the Gospels in the New Testament." "But isn't that the argument that
Reichstad is making? That this 7QA. is actually the original and
authentic ending to the Gospels?" Will asked. "That later on the
Christian church doctored up the ending to say that Jesus actually rose
from the grave?"

The Resurrection File 109

"Exactly," MacCameron responded. "But aren't you supporting Reichstad's
own argument?" "Look, Mr. Chambers, there are a lot of things I do not
dispute about 7QA. I agree that the papyrus is likely from Jerusalem
from the middle of the first century. I agree that it's written in the
same New Testament Greek language as the Gospels. And frankly, I don't
have too much dispute with how Reichstad and his people have interpreted
the Greek text." "Well, then what is left for us to hang our hat on?"
Will asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Three major points."
MacCameron replied. "First, there is what you lawyers call the burden of
proof. Just a few minutes ago you told me that Reichstad has the opening
burden of proof on the four elements of his case." "Right," Will
replied, happy to see that his client had been paying attention. "But he
also has the burden of proof historically." MacCameron explained. "There
are four Gospels in the New Testament. All were either written by
eyewitnesses or based on firsthand information from eyewitnesses. And
they all contain resurrection stories. We have manuscript evidence that
dates those New Testament writings back to a time period within the
generation of the eyewitnesses of the actual events. We have better
evidence of the authenticity of the Gospels as accurate historical
accounts than

98 we have for any other ancient documents from any other ancient
period. "The apostle Paul wrote his first letter to the Corinthians
around A.d. 50, when the witnesses to the life, death, and resurrection
of Christ would still have been around. In that letter Paul cites the
fact that Jesus Christ appeared in bodily form to more than 500
witnesses after his resurrection. Now for the last two thousand years,
not one document claiming to be from an eyewitness source has ever
surfaced to contradict any of that evidence. Until now. So 7QA is the
first and only attempt to seriously question the resurrection based on
claimed eyewitness testimony. "When I read to you from Paul's letter
about the importance of the resurrection, I did so because that single
historical fact is the core of what Jesus Christ is about. Jesus
predicted that he would be crucified, and would die, and would rise
again three days later. The resurrection proves that he was not a liar,
but in fact foreknew, and fore-willed, his own miraculous victory over
death." Will was listening intently. For some reason his memory began to
conjure up, seemingly out of nowhere, the recollection of a card table
down at the ocean cabin of his Uncle "Bull" Chambers. His parents would
take him

110 Craig Parshall there to visit when he was a boy. The table was on
the porch, overlooking the crashing waves off the Cape Hatteras coast.
There was always a huge, complicated picture puzzle spread out on that
table, in varying degrees of completeness every time he visited. His
Aunt Georgia was crazy about doing picture puzzles. As a young boy, Will
would stare at the partially assembled picture and the mess of little
oddly shaped pieces spread around it. But before he could understand
what it was, he would have to grab the cover of the box and see what the
completed picture was supposed to look like. "Are you following me?"
MacCameron asked. "Sorry. I was just thinking about something," Will
responded. "May I continue?" "Sure," the lawyer replied. "Now secondly,
Reichstad has refused to produce the actual

7QA fragment for anyone else to actually view firsthand. All we have are
the indistinct photos in his magazine. Experts need to examine the
texture of the fragment. And the edges--that is critical. No one can
arrive at any conclusions about the edges without either much better
photos, or better yet, by examining it." "How about Reichstad's

99 associates?" "Do you mean those in-house experts he bankrolls at his
supersecret private research facility? Those scientists?" "They have
excellent credentials," Will noted. "Sure they do. But they are all on a
well-padded payroll. You read Mr. Heftland's investigative report."
"Where does Reichstad get his funding?" "I don't know. The man attracts
money like a magnet," MacCameron said, shaking his head. "He is a person
of great public-relations talent, most certainly." "He gets no
tax-deductible donations," Will noted, "no major foundation grants. His
research center deliberately declines to file as a charitable,
tax-exempt organization. That means that they don't have to file any
public reports." "To get back to your point, Mr. Chambers, we really do
not know how much access the other experts in his research center have
been given to the actual fragment, as opposed to photocopies, or X-ray
copies, or scanned telemetries. But even if they did have actual access,
the point is that they are not free to contradict their director, Dr.
Reichstad. To hold 7QA hostage from the scientific world is an outrage."
"But isn't this deja vu?" Will asked.

The Resurrection File 111

"How so?" "I've been reading the archaeology journals you sent to me,"
Will explained. "There was a tremendous hue and cry about the Dead Sea
scrolls at one time too. Small groups of scholars were accused of
hoarding them and not allowing other scientists to evaluate them. As a
result some wild conspiracy stories started circulating. Theories about
what the scrolls might contain. But when the scrolls were finally
released to other experts, the whole thing appeared to be a tempest in a
teapot." "The difference here is that we have something that is being
touted as a contradiction of the whole two thousand years of Christian
faith," Mac- Cameron countered. "The world needs a chance to refute
Reichstad's claim by hands-on evaluation of that fragment." Will
couldn't disagree with that point. In his litigation experience,
forensic testing usually required experts to evaluate the material
itself--not just reproductions. "Let's assume that you--or some other
expert on your behalf--gets a chance to evaluate 7QA," he suggested to
his client. "What would you expect to find?" "That brings me to point
number three. There may be other fragments,

100 or other parts of this fragment." Will was thunderstruck. This was
the first time he had heard Mac- Cameron suggest the possibility that
there might be missing parts to 7QA. "And exactly why do you say that?"
Will asked slowly and deliberately. "Because of the message." "Message!"
Will exclaimed. "What message?" "Why, the message that Dr. Hunter left
me the night before he died. The one he left on my answering machine."
"Where is that answering-machine tape?" Will had bolted up and was
leaning over the table toward MacCameron. "I have it at home." "Is it
safe?" "Why yes, I am sure it is." "What does it say?" "I think you had
better hear it for yourself, Mr. Chambers." Will Chambers looked at his
client. The bells from St. Andrew's Church were tolling five o'clock. "I
need to stretch my legs, if I could," MacCameron said pushing himself
away from the conference table. "Walk around and get a bite to eat
before I head home. Tonight's my night off. I have someone watching my
wife--Helen--for me. So I thought that perhaps I could take in a bit of
history about your charming little town."

112 Craig Parshall

"Sure," Will said. "But why don't you just tell me the gist of what was
on that tape-recording first." "You know, I'd rather not. I really want
you to hear it for yourself. That's essential before I tell you what I
think is on it. Now if you will excuse me," MacCameron said as he rose
from his chair a little stiffly, "I will get some fresh air." With that
he loosened his necktie slightly. "I understand that St. Andrew's Church
across the street has some fascinating history behind it. I may take a
gander over there. Is it open to tourists?" "Almost everything is open
season for tourists in this town," Will replied, still trying to figure
out why his client had become so evasive about the message that Hunter
had left. And then he added, I'm sure you can look around in the church.
The bell in the steeple is the same one they rang to announce George
Washington's first great victory during the Revolutionary War."
MacCameron grabbed his Bible, gave a wave, and then was out the door.
After his client had left, Will remembered something MacCameron had just
said about his wife, Helen. Will realized that he hadn't asked him much
about her. He wondered why he needed to have someone watch her. It was
early evening, and Will knew that Betty had gone for the day. So when he
heard a noise in the lobby he

101 poked his head around the corner, expecting to see MacCameron there,
perhaps returning for something he had left behind. Instead, Will saw it
was Hattie, the elderly black cleaning lady for the building. Hattie was
a tiny woman with glasses and white hair. She walked slightly bent over,
and had one leg that looked like it had a hard time catching up to the
other. Will usually knew that Hattie was coming because the soft sounds
of her humming or singing would waft down the hallway ahead of her. She
was dressed in her usual attire: a gray work uniform with the words
"Hattie's Clean-Up Company" across the back. "Evening, Mr. Chambers,"
she said with her usual glowing smile, tilting her head down so she
could peer through the top half of her bifocals. "Hattie, I thought you
were someone else. How are you?" "As good as good can get, Mr. Chambers.
Say, where is that good- looking young woman lawyer that used to work
here--Miss Johnson? I haven't seen her around for a while," she asked,
picking up the wastepaper baskets. "She doesn't work here anymore," Will
explained, hoping that Hattie would not ask for details, which she
usually did in her unabashed style. "Well, now that's a shame. You lost
yourself a good lawyer. I always liked her. Seemed like a real sharp one."

The Resurrection File 113

"Yes, she was sharp all right." "What happened--didn't pay her enough
money?" And with that Hartie chuckled and gave a little stomp on the
ground. "No. That wasn't it, Hattie." "Oh,

I know. She must have gotten married to that boyfriend of hers-- Howard.
That must be it." Will felt embarrassed that the cleaning lady seemed to
have known more about the details of Jacki so life than he had. He
couldn't help but think back to his last conversation with Jacki, while
she was driving him home in his Corvette the day the law firm had given
him the boot. "Not exactly," Will replied. "Jacki did get engaged to
Howard. But the fact is that I am no longer in the same law firm. Jacki
stayed with them, and they moved her up to their D.c. office. I'm in
this office by myself now." "Well, you say hey to her for me if you see
her, won't you? The Lord bless you now, Mr. Chambers." Hattie shuffled
slowly out of the office. A few seconds later Will could hear her gently
humming a hymn, and it was echoing down the stairwell. Will walked back
to his office and looked out the window. He gazed out

102 at the old, cream-colored brick of the church across the street, at
its tall, green-tiled spire that rose to the tallest point in
Monroeville. He saw MacCameron down below, opening the front door of the
church and stepping in. As Will glanced over to the church's graveyard
and its black wrought- iron fence, his thoughts returned to the lawsuit.
He reflected on the wording of the 7QA fragment that seemed to so
clearly contradict the resurrection story in the Gospels. Dead men don't
walk out of graves, Will thought to himself. And then he asked himself
the logical and inevitable question: So how do I prove that once, two
thousand years ago, one man did?

As REPORTER JACK HORNBY SUPPED

INTO THE BACK of the pressroom I in the federal building he figured that
this was going to be just one more government press conference. He
struggled to be optimistic, speculating that it might be mildly
interesting because it had to do with oil--and the possibility of oil
shortages always made great press. There had been no official statement
about oil shortages. But the Department of Energy had released a report
that questioned the "availability of oil at the current range of prices
at the wellheads" and the "ability of oil production to keep apace with
the growing demand." Hornby saw this as bureaucratic mumbo- jumbo for
the fact that there might be some real concerns about oil supplystdemand
ratios. Hornby knew that oil, like money, was one of the great
motivators of human events. It moved nations to war, built empires, and
fueled the transportation that reduced the size of the planet down to a
cozy global village. But at least at first blush, the veteran reporter
could see nothing eventful or even mildly exciting in this particular
press conference. Ever since the meltdown he had had with the city
editor and then the managing editor over his story on the Reichstad
lawsuit, Hornby had been given increasingly insignificant assignments.
He wondered if they would soon have him covering the increase in cab
fares, or the traffic problems created by the unpatched potholes in the
Washington, D.c., streets. The Energy Department official at the podium
was droning on. He was explaining how the world thus far had burned
about 850 billion barrels of oil. Daily consumption of oil was running
about 80 million barrels a day. He went on to describe how the

103 rate of oil use around the world had been increasing by a few
percentage points every year. However, oil discovery and production had
not kept up with the same rising curve.

The Resurrection File 115

Every nation of course maintained oil reserves, he noted. But the oil
reserves of almost all of the major oil-consuming nations had been
dropping by several percentage points every year. This was also true of
the United States. For reasons of oil pricing and availability, America
had been dipping into its strategic oil reserves. All of this would be
of little concern, the official pointed out, if the results of oil
exploration had reflected the optimistic predictions from the last
decades of the twentieth century. Unfortunately, the last major oil
field to be discovered--Safaniya in Saudi Arabia--dated all the way back
to 1954. There had been great expectations about a deep-water site off
the Gulf of Mexico, however that field ended up containing only about
one billion barrels--barely enough to supply the needs of America for a
mere fifty days. Hornby was hoping against hope that this fellow at the
podium would get to the point. Meanwhile, the speaker pointed out,
OPEC'S oil policies 'and its production reserves were not audited, so
the West could only guess about how well OPEC was supplying the oil
needs of the rest of the world. But now, the official was happy to
announce, the United States was exploring a new oil initiative with
Saudi Arabia. Because of the recent trend of cultural and international
cooperation between the Arab nations--specifically Saudi Arabia--and the
United States, talks were underway, he explained, that could be
tremendously beneficial to the future industrial needs of our country.
The United States--through the Department of State--and the OPEC nations
were now engaged in high-level talks that could open up the OPEC oil
monopoly to some Western influence and monitoring. When the speaker was
finished, the hands shot up instantly. The reporters wanted to know the
specifics. How would the U.s.. benefit? What new arrangement with the
OPEC consortium could we expect? What was the motivating factor behind
the Arabs' opening up their oil monopoly to the United States? The
official avoided answering any specifics, indicating that he did not
have the answers to those questions. Hornby

104 decided not to raise his hand. Instead, he studied the speaker with
that combination of intuition and exacting observation that a seasoned
reporter develops. Hornby was trying to determine if this fellow, a
relatively low-level Energy

Department representative, really didn't know anything more than he was
letting on. Finally, when the questions slowed down, Hornby raised his hand.

116 Craig Parshall

"Yes, one last question," the speaker said, recognizing Hornby in the
back of the room. Hornby's voice boomed through the room. "I have reason
to believe that you may be hiding information from us. The only question
is, why" Are the American people on the verge of being denied gasoline
at the pump for their cars? Are we heading for a catastrophic oil
crisis? Is that what's going on here?" The speaker's eyes widened. A
flustered look spread over his face. "I really don't know how to answer
such a question. Really--that of course-- is an outrageous question.
There is nothing being hidden here at all. There is enough oil to go
around. I--really don't understand what you're coming from--or I should
say, where you are coming from." Hornby didn't try for a follow-up
question. He wheeled around and left the room. The awkward nonanswer he
had received from the government official had answered it all. If this
man had known anything of substance, his department would have prepared
him with several slick avoidance-and- deflection responses. He would
have been able to cover the weakest and most vulnerable parts of his
position with a fifty-dollar smile and some well- crafted, but empty,
hundred-dollar ambiguities. Instead, this fellow had tripped over
himself. No one with real inside information would have reacted with
such public-relations clumsiness. Clearly, the Energy Department had
chosen as its spokesman someone who really didn't know anything. That
told Hornby that the government had dangled a pawn in front of the press
on an issue that was apparently very sensitive--so sensitive that they
had to build a firewall between it and the poor department underling who
had the job of facing the press. Hornby didn't care whether this story
was going to get published or not. He had another reason. He wanted to
get to the secrets of this oil story just to prove that it could be done.

1 WO POLICE CARS WITH LIGHTS

FLASHING were parked directly in front of Will's

105 law office building when he arrived at work the next morning. When
Will entered the front door he heard the crackling sound of police
walkie-talkies reverberating in the halls. Employees from the
first-floor accounting and investment firms were mingling and talking
with each other. In the background he saw one blue-uniformed officer.
Broken glass was scattered over the carpeted floor of the hallway. Will
scurried up the curving stairway to his office. Before he had reached
the last step he saw two more patrolmen. They stopped him and asked
whether this was his office, pointing to the open door at the end of the
hall. As he responded that yes, this was his law office, Will looked
down to the open door and noticed that the frosted glass bearing his
name was smashed out of the door frame. Glass shards lay in the hallway.
"What's going on?" Will asked urgently, looking around for signs of
Betty. "Break-in," the older of the two officers replied. "We have
secured the crime scene, but because it's a law office and you've got
confidential files and things we had to wait for you." With broken glass
crunching under foot Will stepped gingerly into the office with the
officers following behind him. There in the lobby, Betty was surveying
the office with bewilderment. "This is crazy," she blurted out "If you
could size up the office for us, tell us if you see anything missing,
we'll make a note of it," the officer said. Will and Betty walked around
the office. The equipment and computers were intact. The lamps and
furnishings all seemed to be there. That was when he noticed that the
storage doors and file cabinets had been pulled open and not closed up.
The plastic box for their backup tapes

118 Craig Panhatt was open. The yellow light on the computer screen was
still on, and the computer was humming. "The computer was on when I got
here," Betty noted, "when I walked in the door with the police." "Check
all the backups," Will told Betty as he sat down in front of the
computer. The screen blinked on and he checked the computer directory
for the last computer file that had been accessed. It was the file on
the Reichstadvs. Mac- Cameron lawsuit.

"Computer backups are all still here," Betty replied. "What was the last
file you worked on yesterday?" Will asked. "That one," she said,
pointing to the computer screen. "I was working on the MacCameron case."
"Is it possible that you just

106 forgot to shut off the computer yesterday?" "Absolutely not," Betty
shot back, "that is something I don't do. I don't leave for the day
without turning the computer off." "I don't mean to interrupt this
Sherlock Holmes mystery," the older police officer quipped, "but we need
to know if anything was stolen." Will and Betty both shook their heads.
"Appears to be petty vandalism," the officer remarked, closing up his
notepad. "It looks like they entered down at the end of the hall on the
first floor, smashed some windows in those offices--but they didn't gain
access to any of them. They ran up here, smashed the glass in the door
of your office, got inside, looked around, and left. Might be kids.
Sometimes it's somebody looking for quick cash that might be lying
around the office--you know--cash for drugs or whatever." Will reached
over to the side drawer of Betty's desk and pulled it open. There in the
top tray was their petty-cash fund, still perfectly intact--two
twenty-dollar bills and some singles. "They must have been in a hurry,
or just sloppy," the officer said as he prepared to leave. "Aren't you
going to dust for fingerprints?" Will asked. "How many people do you
think have touched the doorknob to your office in the last two weeks?"
the officer asked. "I'm not putting you down, counselor, but the glass
in the window of your office puts this at about one hundred bucks worth
of property damage. Do you want to know how many minor-crime reports we
get in a week?" The telephone rang, and as Will was nodding to the
departing officer, he answered it. It was Tiny Hefdand. Tiny was calling
from Maryland and wanted to meet Will on Friday night, just outside of
Baltimore, to go over the results of his investigation in the MacCameron
case.

The Resurrection File 119

"Why don't you come down here to my office?" Will suggested. "Or better
yet, let's just talk by phone." "Well, I really think you need to see
Reichstad's research center for yourself. Besides, on Friday I'm on my
way north to Pennsylvania for a new case I've got. Your office is in the
wrong direction, good buddy. I'm going to be tailing the husband of some
really rich society lady in Philadelphia. If you get up here by seven,
we can spend some time together and then I can head straight up to
Philly." Tiny gave Will directions to a small grocery store a few miles
from the research institute. They would meet there on Friday evening.

107 As Will hung up the phone, he noticed that Angus MacCameron was in
the doorway, looking down at Betty as she was kneeling to clean up the
broken glass. "Good heavens, what happened?" MacCameron asked. "Vandals,
I guess," Will responded, motioning MacCameron into the conference room
in the back "Vandals?" "That's what the police think." "Was anything
stolen?" "No." "Were there signs of a search--of somebody going through
your office?" "Reverend MacCameron, we've got it under control. So let's
pick up where we left off on your case." But MacCameron wouldn't let the
matter rest. "Reichstad and his cronies are ruthless," he declared.
"This is exactly the kind of thing we should have expected." "Are you
saying that they are behind this--my office being broken into?" "I'm
saying," MacCameron noted with a slightly raised eyebrow, "that you can
expect a leopard to act like a ruthless man-hunter, even if he has
changed the spots on his coat." Once again, Will was enduring another of
his clients wandering witticisms that always seemed to be off the
mark--and forever irrelevant to the lawsuit. Will shrugged it off and
got to the issue that he had been pondering since their last meeting.
"Did you bring the tape?" Will asked. MacCameron pulled out a small
brown-paper bag and emptied it onto the table, revealing a single
microcassette and a small handheld tape recorder. The two looked at the
little cassette. "You have listened to it recently?" Will asked.

120 Craig Parshall

MacCameron nodded his head and said, "Now it's your turn." But then he
quickly added, "Before you turn it on, tell me--are you coming with me
this Friday to Fiona's concert?" "I'm afraid not," Will responded. "I
just found out I have to be somewhere this Friday night." MacCameron
shook his head and gave Will a strange smile. Will snapped the cassette
into the player and turned it on. There was a moment of fuzzy background
noise. Then he heard the obnoxious, warbling beep at the end of
MacCameron's answering-machine greeting. "The next voice you hear will
be Richard Hunters," MacCameron said solemnly. And then they listened,
mesmerized, as they heard Richard Hunter leave this message:

Sorry to change plans on you chap, but strange things.. disdangerous
things...I was followed again from our lunch meeting. I had to take two
different cabs.

108 I think I've lost them. Can't meet you as we planned. I'm taking an
earlier flight to London, back to the British Museum.

Hunter's voice was hushed and out of breath. He continued:

I'm sending the fragmentseparately.. disin case something happens to me...

Will grabbed the tape player and hit the pause button. Then he said, "I
need to hear that again." "Yes!" MacCameron shouted, his arms
outstretched. "By God's everlasting grace you caught it. You did hear
that, didn't you?" "I don't know what I heard." "Yes, you do. You heard
it. Tell me, what did you hear?" Will's finger was on the pause button.
He looked the Scot in the eye and said, "I don't know what I heard."
"Well then, play it again by all means. Play it twice. Play it three
times," MacCameron said, as he bounced in his chair with glee. The
lawyer rewound the tape and played it again. But this time he moved the
little side switch to slow play. This is what he heard, as he listened
to Hunter's voice in slow motion, basso profundo:

I-more.. diss-every-not-do-i-not-go.. dist-have-every..
disf-rather-a-go-more-every-not-that-so..
diss-every-people-a-rather-a-that-every-1-y... i-not.. x-a-so-every..
diss-o-more-every-that-have-i-not-go..
dish-a-people-people-every-not-so.. dist-o.. dism-every...

"There it is," MacCameron cried out. "Now look at me and tell me, Mr.
Chambers, what did you just hear?"

The Resurrection File 121

Chambers had a little smile in the corner of his mouth. "What I heard.
What I think I heard was Hunter saying that he would be sending the
fragments separately." "Fragmentsst" MacCameron exclaimed. "Yes.
Fragments. As in plural." "More than one!" MacCameron cried out. "Yes.
Which is what plural means, I guess," Will noted with a touch of
sarcasm. "More than one fragment. So obviously," MacCameron said, his
enthusiasm growing, "7QA is only one part of a whole. Thus there are
other missing pieces to the puzzle. Which is exactly what I had in mind
when I wrote that article in my magazine accusing Reichstad of
fraudulent scholarship. He had to have known that 7QA is just one piece,
and that there are adjacent pieces to that papyrus writing that could
completely change the meaning of 7QA once we

109 see them all put together." "On the other hand," Will continued,
trying to bring his client back to reality, "we don't even know for sure
whether Hunter's fragment--whatever it was--was the same fragment as
Reichstad's 7QA." "Here is what we know," MacCameron dissd, taking a
handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe the heavy perspiration from his
brow. "We know that Hunter said he got his fragment from Azid. Reichstad
claims that he bought 7QA from Azid for fifty thousand dollars. That's
point number one. Point number two. Hunter said that his fragment came
from cave 7 in the Qumran area. Reichstad has admitted

7QA came from cave 7. Point number three. Hunter said his fragment would
erase two thousand years of Christian history. Reichstad's
interpretation of 7QA, if it's true, would do exactly that." With that
MacCameron leaned back in his chair, as if he were an English barrister
who had just presented a smashing closing argument for the Queen's
Bench. "All of that is circumstantial evidence," Will responded. "It may
make your case. It may not. But I don't trust my ears--or yours for that
matter. I know a guy who is a freelance voice analyzer. He used to work
for the FBI. I want to send this tape over to him to see if he can
substantiate what the two of us think we are hearing." "Be my guest,"
MacCameron replied. "This also concerns you, because you are going to be
paying for this analysis. And this guy doesn't come cheap." MacCameron
nodded knowingly. Will continued. "I also plan on making a demand for
access to the original 7QA fragment. I am preparing a Demand for
Documents right now.

122 Craig Parshall

That fragment is on the top of the list of the physical objects
Reichstad is going to have to produce to us." "Did he know he would have
to give us access to the original 7QA fragment?" "I'm sure his lawyer
warned him about that." "Strange," MacCameron commented, shaking his
head in disbelief. "He has fought off the rest of the world from getting
their hands on that piece of papyrus. And now he is going to hand it
over to us." "Not that strange," Will responded. "They will probably get
a protective order from the judge requiring us not to divulge anything,
to anyone else in the world, what we learn about that fragment in our
evaluation of it." "Can't we divulge what we learn about 7QA. during the
trial?" Mac- Cameron asked.

110 "Yes. Assuming this case goes to trial," Will said. The lawyer gazed
off in the distance for a second or two. Then he added, "And when I get
access to 7QAI know what I'm going to do." "You mean, when we get access
to it," MacCameron clarified. "Yes. We are going to hire a materials
engineer to examine the edges of 7QA under a microscope." "Exactly!"

MacCameron shot back. "To see if it has been cut. You know, Azid would
do this monkey business with written antiquities. If he thought that an
ancient writing was really valuable, he was known to slice it into a few
pieces and then sell off the pieces one at a time--just to bump up the
price." "Do you have proof of that?" "It was common knowledge. So who
would you get to do this examination?" "I've got somebody in mind," Will
said. "I used him in another case involving a piece of paper that had
been torn out of a calendar. We had to match that piece of paper with
the calendar it came from--the calendar belonged to a guy who ran a
trucking company we were suing. A guy who had a real problem with Jewish
folks." "You do have a heart for justice, Mr. Chambers," MacCameron said
to his lawyer. "I know that. The same God who saved me from my sins
blesses those who seek justice for the downtrodden. It's my prayer that
you will come to know him--the Lord who is the source of all justice."
MacCameron was smiling at Will as he said that. Will felt a little
embarrassed and glanced back at the tape player on the conference room
table. "Is there more on the tape?" Will asked.

The Resurrection File 123

"Oh, yes," MacCameron assured him. Will took the tape off pause and
moved the switch to normal speed. Hunter's message finished:

If they get to me, I just want you to know that I have always felt you
were a true friend. Give my love to your dear Helen.

There was a sadness to Hunter's voice. And then he concluded,

So if you ever have to put the picture together, just remember this the
next time you come to the halls of the British Museum. Remember your
Bible. That won't be hard for you, old friend. And most important of
all, remember the resurrection order.

And then there was the sound of the telephone hanging up. "What is the
"resurrection order"?" Will quickly asked. "I'm not sure what he meant.
I can only guess that he meant the order that Jesus

111 gave for Lazarus to "come forth."'*

"Was Hunter giving some kind of clue to you?"' "No doubt it was a clue.
But what he meant by it, I simply do not know," MacCameron admitted
reluctantly. Will rubbed his eyes. He felt a migraine starting to
squeeze his head in a vise. They had been coming on ever since he had
gotten off the booze. Now the MacCameron case was another reason for a
headache. He was tired of the mysteries in a case that seemed to lead
nowhere. He wanted answers. Time was running out. His client's
deposition was just a few days away. Will knew that as they were
speaking, J-Fox Sherman and his fadre of lawyers and paralegals up in
the sleek glass-and-mahogany world of Street in Washington were plotting
his ultimate legal humiliation. Chambers the trial lawyer felt helpless,
like a boxer who was going to enter the ring--but with all the lights
out--where he would be punched by an opponent who could see in the dark.
An opponent who would be wearing brass knuckles instead of gloves.

INSIDE THE STATELY VILLA THAT WAS

TUCKED within the thick woods outside of Vienna, Austria, a messenger
was walking quickly through the great hall. His footsteps made echoing
click-clack sounds on the marble floor. Two armed guards in flowing
robes and turbans followed behind him. The messenger and the guards
walked up to Warren Mullburn, who had been sitting impatiently on the
velvet couch situated under the mammoth oil portrait of Empress
Elizabeth for nearly an hour. Sitting near him were his two interpreters
and his three personal bodyguards. Mullburn was dressed in a black suit
with a white, tieless, buttoned-up shirt that gave him the look of a
modern Islamic cleric. "The

Council of Islam extends its apologies,

Mr. Mullburn, for the delay. Please follow me." Mullburn and his
entourage were led down the great hall and through an arched entrance
that led into a smaller room with a receptionist in a gray suit and
horn-rimmed glasses. She was sitting at an antique desk in the middle of
the room. She picked up the phone, whispered something, and hung it up.
She nodded to the messenger, who led Warren Mullburn and his group into
an inner room while the two armed guards posted themselves on either
side of the door. The adjacent room was a spacious library of dark oak
paneling with floor-to-ceiling

112 leather-bound books. In the middle there was a huge, dark walnut
table that filled the room. A ring of robed, bearded Muslim leaders were
seated around the table. Across the table from Mullburn, one official in
a gray-and-white robe and white turban, with a long salt-and-pepper
beard, lifted his hand in greeting. "In the name of Allah, the Merciful,
the Compassionate, we greet you, Mr. Mullburn."

The Resurrection File 125

Mullburn smiled broadly, and clasped his hands together and bowed his
head slightly to the assembly. The leader continued. "Let me say first
of all that we all speak very fluent English. So there is no need for
your interpreters. Secondly, we have very good security here, so there
is no need for your personal security forces." With a little wave of his
index finger Mullburn directed Bruda Weilder, his chief bodyguard, to
lead the rest of his group out into the waiting room. When the door was
closed behind them, the moderator proceeded to the heart of the matter.
"Time is precious, so allow me to address some concerns we have, Mr.
Mullburn. First of all, you have confessed a belief in Allah. Is that
correct?"' "Most certainly. I believe that Allah is God, he is the one

God, and Muhammad, blessed be his name, is his prophet," Mullburn
affirmed with a smile.

"And yet," one of the clerics blurted out, "we have read your writings.
You have been influenced by the ideas of the German philosoph'er Hegel.
Such ideas are the ramblings of an infidel. Do you renounce them?"'
Several of the other clerics were nodding athletically. "It is true that
I find some of the ideas of Hegel to be intriguing," Mullburn calmly
responded. "And I know that you are learned men. You too are probably
familiar with Hegel's dialectic. He concluded that all of history, and
all of man's ideas, shows how one great idea, the "thesis," is soon
opposed by another, contrary idea, the 'antithesis." And that this leads
to conflict between the two. But in the end, regardless of which idea
prevails, there is ultimately a 'synthesis' between the two. So the two
formerly opposing ideas are eventually synthesized, melded, and
coalesced into a new combination. And that process continues over and
over, throughout history." Another cleric jumped in. "But Allah is
forever. And he is unchanging! This

113 Hegel of yours speculates on an endless process of changing and
ever- evolving ideas about truth and God. This is totally opposed to the
Qur'an." "Does not the Qur'an itself say," Mullburn countered, "in Sura
30:30 that God has created man with a religious nature? This means that
man searches from a religious soul. In the process of seeking, and
rethinking, and searching for Allah, man sometimes synthesizes different
philosophies-- differing ideas--and I would propose to you that the end
product of that synthesis could be the vindication of Islam itself."
Mullburn surveyed the skeptical and unsmiling faces around the table.
"Let us speak plainly," he said. "I have concluded that the ultimate
synthesis--the great melding together of religious ideas--is now at
hand. After

126 Craig Panhall this last great synthesis there is no further
process--no further need for evolution to take place in man's religious
ideas." "Yes," the moderator noted. "We understand that you helieve that
Islam and Christianity can be--in your words--synthesized?" There was
laughter around the table. Then the moderator continued. "We all know
that for many years there have been dozens of meetings between many
organizations that seek to reconcile Islam and Christianity. But so far,
they have only produced cordial handshaking and meaningless platitudes.
And still, the West continues in the ways of the infidel." "Let me be
very clear on this," Mullburn stated. He raised his hands confidently,
beginning to paint a picture with his words and gestures. "Imagine, for
a moment, that a man is riding on a camel across the burning sands of
the desert. The two of them, man and camel, have been synthesized into
one thing--combined into one image as they travel along under the deadly
heat of the sun. Yet in truth, which of the two is more important? Is it
the camel that needs the rider on its back to survive? No! It is the man
who needs to ride on the camel's back to survive in his trek across the
hot desert. The camel is the important thing. The rider is simply
something that is carried along." Then Mullburn smiled and folded his
hands in respectful summation. "As a follower of Allah, it is my belief
that in the grand synthesis, Islam is the camel--Christianity shall
merely be the baggage that goes along for the ride." The chuckling
around the table had stopped. Now several of the Muslim teachers were
looking intently at

114 Mullburn, with thoughtful, wrinkled brows. The moderator spoke. "Is
it the wisdom of Allah that we are hearing? Or simply an American
billionaire's clever use of Arab symbolism? We don't ride camels
anymore, Mr. Mullburn. Personally, I prefer a Mercedes-Benz." Another
Muslim cleric followed up. "How is this synthesis going to happen in a
way that does not compromise Islam?" "What is the greatest dividing
point between Islam and Christianity?" Mullburn asked. "Certainly it is
the misguided belief that Christians have in the "Trinity." We Muslims
believe that God is one. Christians apparently believe he is three
persons, and have persisted in that mistaken notion for two thousand
years. Now, let us ask ourselves this: What is it that lies at the heart
of this false idea of the Trinity?" "As we all know, it is the Christian
idea that Jesus was truly God incarnate," one of the teachers responded.

The Resurrection File 127

"Exactly," Mullburn agreed. "If you take Jesus out of the Trinity, it
collapses like a house of cards at a Las Vegas table." "Interesting
concept, Mr. Mullburn," the moderator noted, "but true Muslims do not
play games of chance. And they do not gamble. By the way--you own
several casinos in Las Vegas, do you not?" "In light of my conversion to
Islam, I am in the process of transferring all of my interests in those
casinos." "Of course you are," the moderator replied quietly. "We know
how you have spoken out about your ideas to large, public audiences,"
another of the Islamic teachers commented. "At a rock-and-roll concert
in a coliseum near Los Angeles you said, and I quote: "You have got to
be open. Be open in order to catch the wave of this evolution that's
going on." End of quote. Now Mr. Mullburn, is it evolution or is it
Islam that you are promoting?" "Evolution is the train. Islam is the
freight. Allah is the destination," Mullburn replied. "With the
discovery of the 7QA fragment, we are witnessing the inevitable
disintegration of the theological concept of the resurrection. Jesus is
quickly becoming an admired prophet rather than a Christian savior. And,
of course, a Christianity that considers Jesus to he a prophet--rather
than a savior--comes very close to the teachings of Islam." "Your idea
that more people are now abandoning the

115 belief that Jesus was God--what do you base that on?" the moderator
asked. "I own my own public opinion survey center," Mullburn replied.
"Since the first public announcements of the 7QA discovery, attendance
in mainline Protestant churches has dropped by almost 30 percent. Even
more significant, 52 percent of Americans now believe that there is no
substantial difference between the God of Islam and the God of
Christianity. "And you have probably read about the revolution that is
taking place within the Vatican. As a result of the Pope's refusal to
allow Catholic scholars to take a public position, either way, on the
7QA fragment, dozens of prominent Jesuit scholars have left the Church
in protest. There has been a drastic dropoff in the number of Catholic
seminarians. When you couple this with the continued rise of Islam
around the world, there is no question that this is a historic
opportunity for the triumph of Islam." The moderator nodded and thanked
Warren Mullburn for coming. Then he added, "There is also a lingering
question--how can I put this delicately--about your motives, Mr.
Mullburn. What is it that causes you to expend such energy--and such
investment--to pursue this idea of leading Christians into the arms of
Allah?"'

128 Craig Marshall

"My concern for humanity--and my reverence for Islam," Mullburn said
warmly. "Yes, of course. Those would be fine ideals. Admirable motives,"
the moderator responded.

Mullburn stood up and shook the hands of each of the leaders. The
moderator escorted him to the door. "There are, of course, some of our
more fervent leaders who would not agree with your approach," the
moderator added as the two stopped outside the door of the library, and
he gazed at Mullburn with an ironic look. "For instance, Abdul el

Alibahd probably would not accept your position of trying to compromise
with the Christian culture of the West." "He is a terrorist. Surely you
do not share his penchant for blowing up American cities?"' Mullburn
asked. "Most assuredly not," the moderator responded. "But Allah has
many who profess to serve him. Allah moves through his followers like a
whirlwind. That wind, like a sandstorm, cannot be controlled. And
sometimes people are destroyed by it." With that, the moderator gestured
in parting, and as he returned to the

116 conference, the thick library door closed with a heavy thud.
Mullburn collected his several assistants who were waiting in the lobby
of the villa, and quickly motored out to the landing strip where his
private jet was waiting. On the way he was briefed on how he was doing
on the NASDAQJ, on his holdings in the foreign markets, and on a new oil
field that was being surveyed by his geologists. "Did the monthly income
reports arrive from our casinos yet?"' Mullburn asked. "Yes, Mr.

MuEburn, and I think you will be pleased," his aide said, passing him an
e-mail report.

"Just make sure that I've got a few straw men listed as the new owners
of those casinos," Mullburn ordered. "We don't want to offend our new
friends on the Council of Islam--at least not yet."

Will Chambers was sitting in his Corvette with the top down, wondering
where Tiny Heftland was. There was no sound that evening except for the
chorus of crickets out in the dark. An occasional *passing car would
momentarily flood the parking area outside the little country grocery
store with light from its headlamps that would then sweep by quickly
like a searchlight. The general store, a small, square clapboard
building with a turn-of-the- century false front and an ancient-looking
gas pump out front, was closed. Will had been careful to follow Tiny's
directions to their rendezvous point. He had even arrived fifteen
minutes ahead of schedule. Then his cell phone rang. It was the
detective. "Hey Will, did you find the spot?"' "Yeah, where are you?"'
"Okay, so listen, good buddy, I'm really sorry to do this to you.
Something came up on this other case I'm working on. I've got to get up
to Philly earlier than I expected. So I'm really sorry I can't meet you.
I feel bad about this." Will bristled, and snapped back, "Tiny, I can't
believe this. You're the one who insisted on me driving all the way up
here to Maryland to meet you. This was your idea." "Hey, I know your
time is money, counselor," Tiny said, trying to smooth things over. "But
look at it this way. The point was for you to get a firsthand look-see
at Reichstad's research center. So you can still do that. I faxed you
directions to the place. It's only about a mile-and-a-half away from
where you are right now." Will quickly finished up the phone call with
Tiny. Still

117 annoyed, he started up his car and wheeled it onto the country
highway. He took two

130 Craig Parshall more turns onto smaller and smaller roads until, out
of the darkness, he saw the small, unassuming sign announcing the Center
for Biblical ArchaeoAnthropology. The building off in the distance
looked unremarkable. It was a two-story, beige-brick office building in
the middle of a clearing. There was a large satellite dish on the roof
and several imposing antennas, but no other buildings or houses within
sight. The only unusual thing, however, was that, with the exception of
a plate-glass window at the entrance, there were no other windows in the
structure. Yet in all, Will could not understand Tiny's insistence that
he drive several hours just to look at it. As Will started to drive
away, he looked back at the building in his rear-view mirror. One more
thing caught his attention. There was no fence around the property. If
this building was as secret as Tiny had suspected, and as forbidding as
MacCameron had painted it, why was there no visible security around it?
Within an hour Will was cruising on the interstate just outside of
Baltimore. He started noticing signs for the city's inner harbor. He
glanced at his watch. It was 9:05.

He remembered that Fiona's concert had started at 8:00. If he took the
exit for the harbor he could be down there in ten minutes. Well, it
really didn't matter, he mused, because he had forgotten where he had
put the stage pass that MacCameron had given him. Of course, he could
always go in through the front gate and try to buy a ticket like
everybody else. But why bother? Then something jogged his memory, and he
punched the button on the glove compartment of the car. The door flopped
open, and the stage pass for the concert was lying there on top of his
collection of maps. Off in the distance, as the signs on the freeway
indicated, the exit ramp for the harbor area was approaching. Without
any reason that he could articulate, Will took the exit and made his way
downtown. He knew where the Pavilion was.

In a matter of minutes he was parking half-a-block away, and walking
quickly toward the concert hall. He banged on the stage-door entrance,
still wondering why he was there. A man with a headset and a T-shirt
that read "Fiona In Concert!" opened the door. Will showed him the pass,
and the man gave him a wide smile and welcomed him

118 in. "You must be a friend of Fiona's," he said in a semi-whisper.
"Her dad was supposed to meet you here but he was not feeling well, so
he couldn't make it." The stagehand showed Will to a seat offstage left,
next to a black curtain that draped down from the catwalk above. He
could see Fiona inviting

The Resurrection File 131 a group of children onto the stage. In one
corner there were musicians at a grand piano, an electric keyboard, and
a synthesizer, and in the other corner there was a drummer, a guitarist,
and a woman with a violin. In the center of the stage Fiona was
laughing, and kissing and hugging each-of the little children as they
squirmed and scampered up to join her. "Oh my,

I love children," she said radiantly. "Aren't these little ones the most
precious blessings from the Lord?"' And with that her voice cracked a
little, and she covered her mouth with her hand. She apologized for
getting teary and laughed at herself, and soon the audience was laughing
with her. Off-stage, mesmerized by Fiona, Will began to grin in spite of
himself. Even amid the staged unreality of a huge concert hall and in
the glare of the spotlights, Fiona seemed uncommonly authentic. Fiona
arranged the children into a small semicircle on the floor around her.
As she did, her musicians moved quietly into a simple, soothing lullaby.

Fiona sat in the midst of the children and began to explain her next
song. "One day Jesus was approached by a group of boys and girls. I bet
they looked just like you!" And with that she touched the noses of a few
of the children, who giggled with delight. "Well," she continued, "the
disciples of Jesus didn't want these boys and girls to bother Jesus. I
suppose they thought that he had very important business to take care
of--and they thought that being with little children was not important.
But Jesus corrected them. He told them to let the children come to Him.
Jesus is the kind of Savior who loves to hug children, and surround them
with love, and bless them with his big strong carpenter's hands." The
music swelled and Fiona started to sing in a voice that was sweet and
light--

Let the children come to Me-- My kingdom shall forever be Reflected in
their joyful faith With beauty and simplicity.

Fiona finished the little ballad and helped the children to the waiting
arms of their parents as the concert hall thundered with applause. Then the

119 house lights dimmed and a single spot shone on Fiona. Though quiet
at first, the music started slowly to build.

When the two Marys came to the tomb, To anoint their dear Savior who lay
there, They met, quite instead, an angel who said That a thing most
amazing had happened.

The small orchestra then cranked up to a charging beat, led by the
synthesizer, as she sang,

HE HAS RISEN! HE HAS RISEN!

He is not in the tomb He is meeting you soon, He has risen in power,
Conquered death in that hour, HE HAS RISEN! HE HAS RISEN!

HE HAS RISEN!

Some laser lights flashed across the stage at the finale and the crowd
roared. But to Will, there was no sound, no audience--only Fiona. This
dark-haired beauty who exuded joy and grace--she sang like an angel, yet
had a down-to-earth sense of humor that seemed to spring not just from
wit, but from generosity of soul. Fiona ran off stage and gave a hug to
the stage manager. He whispered something in her ear, and she stepped
over to W. "Mr. Chambers, how wonderful of you to come." She took both
of his hands in her hands. "I heard that my dad is not feeling well. I
think my friends have him on the phone. Will you excuse me just for a
moment?"' Fiona stepped away and picked up the telephone on the
soundboard desk and talked for a few minutes. She ended by saying, "Love
you, Da. Get better. Tell Mum I love her." Then she turned to

W. "I had planned on going out with you and my father. Do you still want
to go out? Have you eaten? I want to have you meet some friends of mine."

The Resurrection File 133

Before Will could really respond, she was whisking him out the side door
and into a waiting limo. They chatted politely while the car cruised
down toward the Little Italy section of Baltimore and stopped in front
of a place called "Luigi's." The sign said "Closed." The door of the
restaurant swung open. A stocky man with dark hair combed in a high
flattop, wearing a white apron, spread out his arms to greet them. He
set them at a table by the window decked with a checkered tablecloth.
The rest of the restaurant was empty. Will and Fiona were waited on
personally by Luigi and his wife, Maria, a quiet, good-natured woman
with gentle eyes and a gracious manner. They lit a candle on the table,
and after they brought the food out Luigi and

120 Maria joined them for dinner. Luigi folded his hands and said a
short prayer, and then they all began a frenzy of dish-passing, eating,
and conversation. The four of them talked nonstop amidst the pasta, the
meatballs, the thick aromatic sauces, the garlic bread, and the
Neapolitan lasagna. Luigi and Maria talked about coming over from Sicily
to Brooklyn as children, within a year of each other--about how their
families had known each other back in Italy. They talked about their
courtship--and their marriage--and their two little children. The little
boy and girl were supposed to be asleep in the apartment above the
restaurant, but they kept sneaking down the stairs and peeking around
the corner at the foursome, and giggling until Luigi would chase them
back up the stairs. Will had the strangest sensation that he had known
these people forever. Fiona would roar at Luigi's stories with a belly
laugh that was a peculiar and potent contrast to her classic beauty. But
when she was not laughing, and her face was bathed in the golden glow of
the candlelight, Will found himself struggling not to simply stare
unabashedly at her. In the warm laughter of these wonderful people, and
in the presence of this woman, Will was starting to feel--resurrected
within--the powerful joy of being alive. It was a feeling he hadn't
experienced any time in recent memory. And it was a feeling he did not
want to lose. When the conversation slowed down it was late, and Luigi
and Maria started collecting the dishes from the table. Luigi said he
would call the limo driver to come pick them up. The two restaurateurs
insisted on doing the dishes, and as they disappeared through the
swinging doors that led to the kitchen Fiona and Will remained back at
the table. "So tell me frankly, how do you feel about my father's
case?"' Fiona asked. "It's too early to tell," Will responded.

Fiona laughed and said, "That's a lawyer's response."

134 Craig Parshall

"I'm bebg as honest as I can. I'll be in a much better position to say
after the opposing attorney takes his deposition next week."

"You know, my father speaks very highly of you." "Well, I'm flattered.
But frankly, he hasn't seen me in action on this case yet.

Maybe he ought to reserve judgment," Will noted. "He is a very good
judge of people. I believe that the Lord has given him a real gift of
discernment. I have to confess that I originally had some doubts about
you." Will was taken aback. He struggled a bit,

121 and after a few seconds he said, "What kind of doubts?"' "My
business manager had investigated you and recommended to Dad that he not
hire you." "Oh?"' "He had some concerns about your personal life.
Personal problems that might affect your ability to represent my
father." "Like what?"' "Well, Mr. Chambers..."

"Please. Call me W." "All right--W.

I was told that your wife had died and that you took it very hard. That
you were a heavy drinker, but you were getting the problem under
control. You know, my heart breaks for you. To lose your wife has got to
be so hard." "Yeah, it's been hard." "If I may ask, how did she die?"'
Fiona had just moved into an area that Will was rarely willing to
discuss. But tonight he was feeling different about life. So he answered
her. He took a breath before he spoke quietly.

"She was murdered." Fiona didn't speak at first. She brought her hand up
to her face and closed her eyes. When she opened them Will could see
tears. "Dear Father," she said, fighting back the tears. "How awful for
her-- and for you." Suddenly Will was conscious of a wall of emotion
rising up, Eke a freak tidal wave that had appeared out of nowhere. It
was threatening to engulf him. He struggled for control and said nothing
for a while, but stared at the candle that was burning low. Finally he
managed a question. "You said that you had your own doubts about me.
What were they?"' "Oh, I don't think that's important anymore. If my
father's happy with you then I'm happy with you."

The Resurrection File 135

"No, that's not fair. I disclosed something personal to you," Will said.
"Now it's your turn. What doubts?"' "Well," Fiona said, "in addition to
the problems with alcohol, I just could not understand how an attorney
who used to work for the ACLU could possibly represent someone like my
father." "You mean, how could a liberal like me represent a Christian
fundamentalist?"' "I'm suspicious of that word when non-Christians use
it," Fiona said firmly. "The media loves to use that term
"fundamentalist" to paint people-- particularly Bible-believing
Christians--as lunatics or fanatics." "I don't think your father is a
lunatic. He's unique, that's for sure. But he's no lunatic," Will said
with a reassuring smile. "Besides, what makes you assume that I am a
"non-Christian"?" "Well," Fiona replied gingerly, "you have a point
there, Mr.

122 Attorney. So, are you a Christian?"

"I have nothing against Jesus. I think he had a lot of greaf ideas. But
when it comes to the big question about God, I'm probably more of an
agnostic." Fiona wrinkled her brow slightly and leaned toward him with
her arms folded in front of her. "Everything I've heard about you is
that you are a man who is not afraid of taking an unpopular stand--even
against all of the odds-- as long as it is something you can believe in.
But here is the most important issue of all--the question of whether God
exists and whether he loves you and wants to save you--and on that
issue, here you are, sitting on the fence." "Some questions just don't
have easy answers," Will retorted. "And sometimes the answers are right
there in front of you. All you have to do is open your heart." "I don't
know what that means--by open your heart,"" Will countered. "Religious
lingo like that really turns me off." For an instant Will regretted
coming back at Fiona so aggressively. "It turns you off?" Fiona shot
back "I thought you were in the business of pursuing the truth." "I
never said I wasn't." "So if it's truth you want--then who cares whether
it turns you on, turns you off, or turns you upside down," Fiona said,
pursuing the issue. "Truth is truth." "Okay," Will replied, but before
he could make his point, Fiona pushed on. "And just for the record, Mr.
Trial Lawyer, if you dare to confront the real truth about God, he will
turn you upside down. Which is a good thing,

136 Craig Parshall not a bad thing. So, the question is--are you willing
to face the truth? Are you willing to have God turn your life around?"
Will smiled as he saw Fiona pressing in. She seemed to have a unique
power of combining tenderness with a will as tough as an oak board. He
paused for a minute and stared thoughtfully at the candle. "Now that
I've endured your cross-examination, it's my turn," Will started again.
"Tell me, do you spend a lot of time on the road?" "Yes, I do," Fiona
said, "at least lately." "For the record, I think you are a beautiful
performer," Will said, and then realized that it had not come out the
way he wanted it to. "I mean, you sing beautifully." Fiona laughed and
blushed a little, and then nodded in thanks. "So, you must have a lot of
dates with lots of men around the country," Will said somewhat
indelicately. Fiona hesitated for a moment. "No, I find my life very
busy doing what the Lord has called me to do. I have a lot of

123 friends who I love very much. And to answer your real question, I am
single--as in not married. I am single by choice. I believe that God may
have called me to singleness. And if that is the way I can best serve
him, then I am happy with that" The front door to the restaurant swung
open and the limo driver appeared. Fiona and Will gave their goodbyes to
their hosts. As they walked outside they could feel the wind picking up.
While the limo took them back to the Pavilion the two of them made small
talk They could now hear the sounds of distant thunder. When the car
arrived at the spot where Will had parked his Corvette, he climbed out.
Fiona lowered her window and stretched her arm out to shake Will's hand.
"Will, I will continue to pray for you as you handle my father's
lawsuit. I believe that this is an incredibly important case," she said.

"God bless you." Will searched Fiona's smile for some glimpse, however
fleeting, of something more than just cordial appreciation. But as he
stepped back from the car he decided that there was none. He watched the
limo as it drove away down the boulevard. Then he climbed in his car and
headed home. Rain was starting to fall, and the wet pools on the street
were reflecting the red and green streetlights. He turned his windshield
wipers on high speed. As he listened to their mechanical thumping while
driving through the shimmering sheets of rain, Will was beginning to
feel that familiar sense of stark and utter loneliness.

On THE TOP FLOOR OF THE OFFICES of Kennelworth, Sherman, Abrams 6c

Cantwell, Angus MacCameron and Will

Chambers were ushered into the spacious conference room. The court
reporter was already set up with her steno machine off to the side of
the massive conference table. Another court reporter, a videographer,
stood next to his tripod, adjusting the camera lens as he readied his
equipment for the deposition that was about to begin. They were offered
coffee, but both declined. As they waited, they were able to look out
over Washington, D.c., through the wall of solid glass. They could see
the Capitol dome and a corner of the White House in the distance.
Several more minutes went by, and then the door swung open. Two
associate lawyers with legal pads and thick files under their arms
walked in and introduced themselves, quickly taking their seats. A
moment later a law clerk scurried into the room with a file under one
arm and a laptop

124 computer under the other arm. He quickly plugged in the laptop and
booted it up. Then he dutifully folded his hands on the table and
waited. "I wasn't aware that this was going to be recorded on video
camera," MacCameron whispered somewhat nervously to Will, who was seated
next to him. "Don't let it throw you," Will whispered back "Pretend the
camera isn't there. Just focus on what we talked about. Listen to each
question before answering. Make him rephrase any question you don't
understand. Don't answer a question that isn't being asked. And just
tell your story your way and not Ms way. That's it." Another minute of
silence passed. Then the door opened and J-Fox Sherman walked in. He was
dressed down to his shirtsleeves, in an imported blue silk shirt, red
suspenders, and a tie with a Picasso design. Sherman strode over to
MacCameron and extended his hand. MacCameron shook it, but Sherman said
nothing. Then Sherman reached over

. 137

138 Craig Marshall to Will and shook his hand. But Sherman held it in a
vise grip, and for a second the two men locked eyes. Then Sherman moved
away from Will, and as he went round the table to seat himself directly
across the table he said ofFrom-handedly, "Sorry, counselor, I've
forgotten your name." Sherman's law clerk announced, "Will Chambers.
Attorney from Monroeville, Virginia, sir." "Ah, yes. Monroeville. Cute
little town. The life of a country lawyer. What brings you all the way
up here to big, bad Washington, D.c., Mr. Chambers?" "Justice, Mr.
Shaman," Will responded. "That's Sherman," one of the associate
attorneys snapped. "Oh, I imagine that Mr. Chambers is just having some
fun with us, isn't that right, attorney Chambers?" . Will did not
respond. Sherman stretched out his hands over the conference table and
brushed it lightly. Will noticed that. It was no idle gesture--Sherman
was making a point. He had no notes at his disposal. No legal pad. No
file. Not even a pen. Just a naked tabletop in front of him. J-Fox

Sherman was letting his opponent know that he was about to conduct a
four-hour deposition completely by memory. As if to say, "I am already
in complete and total command of this case. All of the facts, and the
principals of law, and the points of persuasion are already ordered and
neatly organized in my mind. Now

125 stand back and behold how I destroy you." MacCameron raised his hand
and was sworn in. Then Sherman began, his hands folded confidently on
the table and his face expressionless. Sherman had the court reporter
mark, with exhibit stickers, the December issue of Digging for Truth
magazine that lay at the core of the case. He also marked as exhibits
several other issues of the publication. After MacCameron had identified
all of the magazine articles on the record, Sherman began questioning
him on his educational background. He did so, not by the use of the kind
of harmless, non-leading questions most lawyers use in depositions,
like, "please describe when and where you received each of your
educational degrees," and then letting the witness give a rambling
answer. Rather, Sherman recited, by memory, each stage of MacCameron's
educational history, putting forth each fact as a separate question to
which MacCameron could only agree by answering "yes." It was a
psychological tactic to begin exerting control over the deposition
process. Even more importantly, it was intended to intimidate the
witness and his lawyer,

The Resurrection File 139 illustrating how J-Fox Sherman had already
mastered all of the central facts of this case by heart. Sherman
finished MacCameron's educational background by asking a series of
questions that Will found troubling. "When you left the University of
Edinburgh, a world-renowned institution, you went to America to attend
the College of the Piedmont in West Virginia ?" "Yes." "Was the

College of the Piedmont a world-renowned institution?" "No, not really."
"In fact that college did not even offer a PhDo program or its
equivalent?" "I think that is true." "When you left this world-renowned
institution, the University of Edinburgh, to attend a much lesser known
and less-qualified school, did you leave on good terms?" "Yes, I believe
I did." "You had been a good student at Edinburgh--good grades?" "Yes,
quite." "You had no problems, such as misconduct of any kind, as a
reason for your leaving?" MacCameron took a while to answer. When he
finally replied he simply said, "No, sir." Then Sherman moved on to

MacCameron's employment history. When MacCameron affirmed that, yes, he
did leave the Family of Christ Community Church in central Pennsylvania
after only two years as the

126 assistant pastor, Sherman paused. "And you left that church under a
cloud of suspicion, did you not?" "I'm not sure what you mean,"
MacCameron answered. "Were you asked to resign as assistant pastor?" "It
was a mutual decision." "Did the board of elders and the head pastor
tell you that they wanted you to leave, effective immediately?"
MacCameron took a few seconds to answer. Then he replied. "Yes.

They did tell me that. But may I explain?" Sherman ignored his request
to expand on his answer and launched into a volley of blows to
MacCameron's credibility. "Is it correct that the church wanted to kick
you out because you had exhibited, and I quote, "a lack of

Christlike love and a total absence of tolerance toward our Christian
brothers and sisters in other religious denominations"?"

140 Craig Panhall

"Well," MacCameron stammered slightly,

"I really don't remember if that was the exact wording." Will jumped in.
"Mr. Sherman, your question implies that a statement or document of some
kind exists from which you are quoting. If that's true, then in fairness
I want you to show it to my client so he can look at it and possibly
have his memory refreshed." Sherman smiled, and waved his hand to his
law clerk. The clerk retrieved a document and set it on the table in
front of his boss. "Reverend MacCameron, do I need to show you these
minutes from the board of elders meeting of that church to jog your
memory about that unfortunate series of events?" "I have a standing
objection to any further questions about Reverend MacCameron's
employment history that occurred prior to his becoming the
editor-in-chief of Digging for Truth" Will responded, "unless you can
show me how it has any relevance to this case." "Oh, that will be my
pleasure," Sherman intoned. "We have alleged-- and you have denied--that
your client exhibited actual malice against Dr.

Reichstad. I would contend, Mr. Chambers, that your client had not only
actual malice under the law when he wrote his shameless and defaming
article--he had, in fact, actual hatred of everything Dr. Reichstad
stood for. Reverend MacCameron, in fact, held in contempt every
religious, cultural, and intellectual group on the planet that did not
agree with him." At that point Sherman swung in his chair back toward
MacCameron and bulleted out a series of questions designed to bring the

127 point home. "Is it correct that the church wanted to fire you
because of your public statements condemning the Catholic Church and the
Pope in particular-- your statements that they were the "most logical
candidates to fulfill the role of "religious Babylon" in the end times
predicted in the New Testament book of Revelation his Is that correct?"
"Yes, I made those statements, and yes, the church did not agree with my
preaching on that but--" "And is it correct that you likewise condemned,
in your preaching, many different denominations and religious groups?"
"Well, I did speak the truth about how certain denominations were not in
line with biblical teachings..." MacCameron replied. Sherman continued
to batter the witness. "You condemned certain sects of the Methodist
church?" "Yes, I suppose I did preach against some of their official
positions on certain issues--"

The Resurrection File 141

"You condemned much of the Episcopal denomination?" "I only attacked
some of their official positions on matters which were clearly against
Holy Scripture--" "You criticized

Presbyterians..." "Yes, on occasion..."

"And certain of the so-called liberal branches of the Baptist
denominations..." "I imagine I did--" "You criticized some of the
so-called liberal factions of the Lutheran churches--is that correct?"
"In my preaching I tried to be biblical--but, yes, you are correct..."
"Can you think of a single Christian denomination, now as you sit there,
that at one time or another you did not condemn in your preaching during
your rather short-lived experience as an assistant pastor at that church
in Pennsylvania?" Will looked at his client. MacCameron looked pale and
tired, and the deposition had several more hours left to go. Of course
Will knew the tricks of the trade. He could have peppered the air with a
number of objections. He could have demanded a time-out for his client,
and then whisked him out into the hallway to regroup. But Will had
decided that it was sink or swim for MacCameron. If he could not hold up
to a deposition with Sherman, surely he would not be able to handle
himself in the emotional crucible of a full-blown jury trial. "Do you
want the question re-read?" Sherman asked. "No, I don't need it re-read.
The fact is that I cannot now remember which Christian groups I did, or
did not, criticize."

128 Sherman's next area of interrogation went right to the heart of the
case. He tossed some copied papers in front of MacCameron and asked him
to read out loud what Sherman had highlighted with a yellow marker. It
was a portion of the article that MacCameron had written in the December
issue. In it MacCameron had contended that Reichstad "must be connected
to the suspicious death of Mr. Azid and the tragic murder of Dr.

Hunter." In the same article he also had written that Reichstad's
conclusions about the 7QA fragment were the result of his "either
deliberately lying, or he has committed scientific malpractice." As
MacCameron read out loud his seemingly outrageous condemnation of
Reichstad from his own magazine article, Sherman studied his opposing
counsel. But Will was stone-faced and unperturbed. When MacCameron was
finished reading, Sherman launched the next assault.

142 Craig Parshall

Prior to writing the article, had MacCameron ever conducted an
investigation into whether Reichstad's conclusions about 7QA were
correct? "I read every scholarly and professional article about 7QA.

I could get my hands on," MacCameron replied. But when he was pressed on
that point, he had to admit that not one of those articles suggested
that Reichstad's conclusions were wrong--they only criticized the fact
that he would not share the original 7QA fragment with other researchers
so they could verify his findings. And he also admitted that not one
scholar in the known world had ever written that Reichstad was
deliberately lying about what the 7QA. fragment was, and what it said.
Had MacCameron conducted any investigation, himself, into the suicide of
Azid and the murder of Hunter, prior to writing that article? No,
MacCameron agreed that he had not. Did he have anyone read the article
before he published it, to ensure the factual accuracy of his
statements? No, he had not Was MacCameron in possession of any written
document or any data from any law-enforcement agency that even slightly
suggested that Reichstad might in some way be connected to the deaths of
Azid and Hunter? MacCameron had to admit he had no such information. As
Sherman wound up that line of questioning, he had convincingly painted a
picture of MaCameron as a fundamentalist preacher with a tattered
employment history and a penchant for intolerance--certainly no
professional match for the

129 world-class Reichstad in either credentials or educational
qualification. The portrait of MacCameron was of a man who published an
outlandish libel against a beloved scholar, having made little or no
prior verification of the accuracy of his conclusions. Will's defense of
"lack of actual malice" hung now by only one slender thread. The one
area that Sherman had not yet entered was the only area left that could
form a reasonable basis for MacCameron's published attacks on

Reichstad: that MacCameron had had personal knowledge of the matters
that he had written about. Sherman quickly breached that last
stronghold. "Did you have any personal knowledge or information that
supported your attacks on Dr. Reichstad?" "Yes," MacCameron replied,
with a smile. Sherman then commenced to unravel, in an interrogation
that went on for another hour-and-a-half, every detail of Dr. Hunter's
single conversation with MacCameron at the Between the Arches Cafe in
the old section of Jerusalem.

And he probed the message left by Hunter on MacCameron's answering
machine. Will studied Sherman for some glimmer of response to this
thunderbolt of information: a twitch or a blink, or something in his
posture that let on

The Resurrection File 143 that Sherman was having some reaction to
MacCameron's testimony--to his describing Hunter's fear of being pursued
and Hunter's belief that Azid's death was not a suicide--or to Hunter's
mysterious fragment that seemed to so closely resemble the 7QA fragment. But

Sherman revealed no emotion at the tale that MacCameron was telling. He
calmly pursued his questions until the last bit of information was
extracted. Then Sherman turned to Will and said, "We are hereby
demanding that you produce to our office, forthwith, that tape recording
from your client's answering machine--the one with Dr. Hunter's message
on it." Will agreed, having no objection to lodge, but said that it
would be a matter of a few days before the original tape could be
produced. Will did not--nor was he required to--disclose that his own
audio expert was analyzing the tape recording at that very moment in
hopes of proving that Hunter's fragment was actually a comment about
several "fragments." Near the end of the deposition, Sherman leaned back
and asked Mac- Cameron the million-dollar question. "Tell me, sir--was
there anything in what Hunter told you in person-- or on that taped
message--that directly

130 proved'the truth of anything that you would later write against Dr.
Reichstad in your little magazine?" MacCameron, who was now slouched
over and looking tired, glanced over at his lawyer. Will noticed that
his client had a burdened expression, and there was perspiration
collecting on his forehead and on his upper lip. There were a few
seconds of silence. The court reporter took her fingers off the keys of
her steno machine and stretched them, but her eyes were glued on
MacCameron, waiting for him to respond. MacCameron gave a little sigh,
and then answered. "No, sir. Nothing that Richard Hunter said directly
proved the things I later decided to write against Dr. Reichstad."
Sherman leaned back in his chair. Will could smell death in the air.
There was a carcass on the floor of the conference room of Kennelworth,
Sherman, Abrams Sc

Cantweli. What Will Chambers knew through his years of trying cases, but
MacCameron naively did not know, was that the carcass on the floor was
what was left of Angus MacCameron's legal defense. But even Will
Chambers did not expect what would come next. Sherman was about to
personally bring in the vultures to pick at the carrion. "You testified
under oath today, Reverend MacCameron--right here in this very
room--that you did not leave the University of Edinburgh because of any
misconduct. Do you stand by that?"

144 Craig Parshall

"Yes. It is the truth." "Oh, is it? Is it the truth? Mr. MacCameron, I
would suggest that in fact you have committed perjury in this very
deposition." "No, sir, I have not,"

MacCameron retorted loudly. "My answer was truthful to the question, the
way you put it." "Is it a fact, sir," Sherman said, raising his voice,
"that just before you left Edinburgh University, formal disciplinary
charges against you were about to be prepared by the
University--charging you with plagiarism in one of your research
papers?" Will couldn't believe it. In all that MacCameron had disclosed
to him, this allegation had never surfaced. Sherman's question about why
MacCameron had left the University of

Edinburgh was one of the first questions Will had asked his client. "Is
that a fact?" Sherman pressed with a booming voice. "Not like that,"
MacCameron answered, his face flushed. "Is it a fact that you were told
the University was going to prepare such formal charges?" "That is not
why I left,"

MacCameron tried to explain. "Is that a

131 fact--yes or no--you must answer, sir.

Yes or no. were such charges going to be brought against you?"
MacCameron took a deep breath. Then he replied very simply. "Yes, they
were." Sherman stood up commandingly. He pointed his finger at Will
Chambers. "On the record, Mr. Will Chambers, as legal counsel for
Reverend Angus

MacCameron, defendant in this lawsuit, I am now giving you notice. Take
heed, sir, that no later than tomorrow by the close of business, my
office will deliver to your office a petition for attorney's fees to be
assessed against you under Rule 11 of the Federal Rules of Civil
Procedure. You will have fourteen days to formally withdraw your
frivolous defense of lack of actual malice' in this case. If you do not,
we will proceed to move the trial court to dismiss that defense for
total lack of evidence of your part. It should be painfully clear to all
of us that your client made no effort to verify the slanderous lies he
printed against Dr. Reichstad. He therefore exhibited reckless disregard
for the factual accuracy of the allegations printed in his article, and
is guilty of actual malice.

"After getting the trial court to dismiss your defense of lack of actual
malice, we will then proceed to ask the court to issue sanctions against
you for asserting that totally unfounded and unsupported defense. The
sanction we will demand is one-half of the attorney's fees generated by
our firm on

The Resurrection File 145 this case thus far. I have calculated that sum
as of yesterday--not including my legal performance for nearly five
hours today. And we will be asking that the court assess our legal
fees--not against your rather sad client. No, sir. Instead, we will be
asking the court to assess these fees against you personally, as his
lawyer." With that Sherman pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of
his silk shirt and tossed it over to Chambers. Will opened it. It simply
said, Total fees of law firm for work on Reichstad case: $490,000.00
One-half of fees, to be assessed against Chambers: $245,000.00

Now there were two carcasses on the floor. And Will Chambers felt as if
the vultures were already picking at his eyes. Sherman's legal team
gathered around him and shook his hand, murmering their hushed adulation
at his tour-de-force handling of the deposition. ., MacCameron was
mopping the sweat off his face and managed a struggling smile toward his
lawyer, who

132 was standing at his side. As Will glanced at J-Fox Sherman's
gloating smile, he knew one thing for sure. He knew that he couldn't
give up the last word to this pack of wolves that had encircled his aged
and isolated client. Will looked at the piece of paper he still held in
his hand, and he waved it toward Sherman. "Gee, I really am surprised
that your legal fees aren't higher than this," Will said mockingly. Then
he tossed the paper onto the conference table. "Now what's really going
to be interesting, Mr. Sherman, is when Reverend MacCameron and I win
this case," and with that Will put his hand on Mac- Cameron's shoulder, "and

I send your law firm a demand for my attorney's fees." J-Fox Sherman
mumbled something, turned, and left the room, sweeping with him his two
legal associates and the law clerk, who followed dutifully behind. The
court reporters quickly packed up their equipment and slipped out. In
the silence of the conference room, there was only Angus MacCameron,
attorney Will Chambers, and the small piece of paper that still lay
where Will had thrown it on the middle of the conference table.

So FAR, EVERY LEAD THAT JACK HORNBY had followed had turned into a dead
end. He had still failed to uncover the nitty-gritty reality of what was
going on between the United States government and the OPEC cartel. He
had struck out with his contacts within the Energy Department. As Hornby
stood in front of the reporter's assignment board at the Washington
Herald, he noticed that one of the religion reporters had been assigned
to cover a seminar at the Smithsonian Institution entitled "The History
of Islam and Prospects for Cultural Reconciliation with the West."
Hornby also noted that, at the event, State Department undersecretary
Kenneth Sharptin was scheduled to receive an award for "Cultural
Achievements in Peacemaking." Hornby knew the reporter assigned to cover
that story. Clearly, he concluded, the newspaper wanted this to be a
"puffpiece" on the seminar and the feting of Undersecretary Sharptin.
Across from Hornby's name on the chart was an assignment for him to
cover a budget meeting of the D.c. control board. Here was yet another
lackluster assignment that would end up being buried on page eight of
the Metro section. But the thought of financial issues triggered
something. Not exactly something about the OPEC-UNITED States

133 oil story. But it triggered a thought of Hornby's long-standing
"pickpocket rule." Greed and financial gain were the common denominators
of many a great news story. The question became, who is picking whose
pocket? So he started thinking back to the Reichstad lawsuit story being
killed. Then he remembered how he had first talked to his city editor
and then had marched up to the managing editor. And finally Hornby had
gone back and nailed the city editor again as he was trying to leave for
the day. He had said something very significant, and Hornby was
surprised he hadn't clicked on

The Resurrection File 147 it before now. It was not the kind of thing an
editor would usually admit to a reporter. As the city editor had tried
to dash past him he had blurted out, "Give it up, Hornby--when the owner
and pubEsher want to kill a story, it stays dead." Why would the
ownership of the Washington Herald caxt about a story on a lawsuit over
an archaeological discovery of a Harvard professor? For the owners and
publishers of the newspaper the top and bottom line was always
financial. So, who was picking whose pocket? And what did it have to do
with the Reichstad lawsuit? And why did

Hornby suddenly have the hunch that it had something to do with the OPEC
oil story? According to the Energy Department's statement at the press
conference, the State Department was the catalyst in breaking new ground
with the OPEC nations of the Middle East. And Hornby was cognizant of
how State Department Undersecretary Sharptin had been actively marketing
himself as a kind of cultural peace-broker between the Islamic East and
the Christian West. In fact, Sharptin had been portraying himself as a
kind of diplomatic chief for religious reconciliation. The veteran
newsman took out his notepad. First, at the top of the page he wrote:
REICHSTAD LAWSUIT. At the bottom of the page, in the lower right-hand
corner, he wrote: STATE DEPT/SHARPTIN. Then Hornby wrote a third entry
in the lower left-hand corner of the pad: OILST^WH POCKET? Hornby
glanced at his notepad. Then he drew a line connecting the three points
and forming a triangle:

148 Craig Parshall

Hornby picked up the phone on a nearby desk in the newsroom and called
up one of his college buddies, who worked as an accountant down

134 in mergers and acquisitions. He glanced at his watch. It was perfect
timing for lunch. His friend answered. Hornby invited him to catch up on
old times over lunch at the Federal Grill. "Who's buying?"' the
accountant asked wryly. "I owe you one from the last time we went out,"
Hornby said. "What decade was that?"' the accountant asked. "You know,
we work for the same newspaper. But you're too busy getting Pulitzer
Prizes and ticking off the editors to take me out to lunch. It's about
time." They grabbed a cab together and arrived at the Grill just before
the rush. The two slid into a quiet booth and ordered their meals, then
started catching up on personal things. His accountant friend sounded
disgruntled about his position in mergers and acquisitions. For Hornby,
the trail was getting warm. Halfway through the luncheon special of
crabcake sandwiches and soup the accountant started getting the drift.
There was more to this meeting than just old college comradeship. Hornby
was asking about any big mergers that the Washington Herald had been
recently involved in. "It's constant," the accountant said, hedging a
little. "You know, mergers, acquisitions. Diversification. That's what
my department is all about." Hornby could sense something lurking just
under the surface. "Tell it to me straight. If you become a source I
won't divulge it to anyone." "What is this? Are you doing a story on me
or what?"' "No,"

Hornby assured him, "I'm just trying to get some answers on why one of
my stories got killed by the ownership of the paper. You would feel the
same way--after all the years you've put into the newspaper--if they
knifed you in the back--you know, because of some big financial merger,
as an example. Right?"' The accountant got a grim look on his face.
"Yeah," he replied, "which is exactly what I think they are going to do
to me--give me the axe." "You're kidding,"

Hornby said. "Why?"' "A major shakeup in ownership. We're into a big
merger all right. And I can see handwriting on the wall. We'll put this
merger together. New ownership comes in. And I'm out. I join the ranks
of the unemployed." "Wow," Hornby said with sympathy, "this must be a
big merger. What company is taking over?"' There was silence at the
table as the waitress refilled their water glasses.

The Resurrection File 149

"Look--I'm real concerned about telling you

135 anything," the accountant whispered. "Hey, you know my reputation,"
Hornby assured him. "I have never disclosed a confidential source.
Remember when I spent thirty days in jail for contempt because I refused
to divulge the source to the court?"' The accountant looked uneasy as he
eyed his water glass. Then he said, "After all the years I put in with
this newspaper. Boy, what a raw deal." "Yeah. Really raw deal,"

Hornby added. "So come on, what's the name of the company buying out the
Herald?"' There was a moment of silence while the accountant looked
around at the surrounding tables. Then he lowered his head, and in a low
voice he replied, "Global."

"Global what?"' "Global

Geo-Technology, Inc." Hornby thought about it for a few seconds, and
then he responded, "Never heard of them." "Sure. Not exactly a household
word," the accountant added. "You'd probably know the parent company
that controls them." "Oh," Hornby asked, "who is the parent company?"'
"Global Petroleum." "So the Washington Herald is about to be purchased
by a wholly owned subsidiary of Global Petroleum?"' "That's the deal,"
the accountant said, looking over the check that the waitress had left.
"Hey, don't worry about that. I'm picking up the tab for lunch," Hornby
said. And then he asked his follow-up question. "Isn't Global Petroleum
owned by Warren Mullburn, the world's third- richest man? The reigning
guru of religious synthesis? The master of evolutionary self-help?"'
"Yeah, that's the guy. I've read some of his books. His science-fiction
stuff is great. But his other stuff is kind of wacko. But you're right.
If you can believe the business trade papers, he's number three in the
whole world in accumulated wealth per net assets." Jack Hornby tossed
the money for the lunch and a healthy tip on the table. But before the
accountant could ask him about sharing a cab back to the newspaper
building, the reporter, with his notepad in his hand, had already left
the restaurant and was running down the street.

As PROMISED, THE DAY FOLLOWING THE DEPOSITION of Reverend Angus
MacCameron, the courier from J-Fox Sherman's law firm hand-delivered to
Will Chambers a written motion under Federal Rule 11, seeking a court-
ordered award of attorney's fees against Will Chambers in

136 the amount of $245,000. The motion was conditional, however. In it,
Sherman indicated that the request for attorney's-fee sanction would be
withdrawn if, in return, within fourteen days Chambers formally
withdrew, in writing, the defense in the lawsuit that MacCameron lacked
"actual malice" at the time he wrote the article against Reichstad. In
other words, Sherman was demanding, in return for dropping a demand for
attorney's fees against Will Chambers, that Chambers admit that his
client had been reckless in his writing of the defamatory magazine
piece. Sherman knew that the attorney's-fee motion would place Chambers
and his client on the horns of an intractable dilemma. If Will Chambers
agreed to withdraw his defense of "lack of actual malice," he would be
conceding one of the major issues of the case. On the other hand, if
Chambers refused to withdraw that defense in two weeks, he faced a great
risk. He might be ordered to pay a quarter of a million dollars in legal
fees to Sherman's firm, provided that trial judge Jeremiah Kaye agreed
with Sherman that the issue of MacCameron's recklessness was clear
beyond any question. Sherman had also coyly attached to the motion, for
Chamber's reading enjoyment, a copy of a recent decision by Judge Kaye
under Rule 11 in another case.

Just three months before, Judge Kaye had hit a losing attorney with an
attorney's-fee sanction in the amount of $150,000 for making unsupported
allegations in a lawsuit. J-Fox Sherman had been the winning attorney in
that lawsuit.

The Resurrection File 151

When Sherman met with Reichstad a few days later to report on how the
deposition of MacCameron had gone, he was aglow with cautious optimism.
He detailed each of the blows that he had inflicted on the
fundamentalist preacher and magazine publisher in his questioning. But
Dr. Reichstad seemed unusually distracted in the conference. He had only
one matter that he wanted to discuss with Sherman. Reichstad repeatedly
demanded that Sherman discover everything he could about whether
MacCameron might be in possession of certain "papers" dealing with the
7QA fragment. "What do you mean by'papers"?" Sherman asked his client.
"I'm sure you know what "papers" are," Reichstad countered. "I simply
want you to demand that MacCameron produce to me any

137 piece of paper that he might have in connection with the 7QA.
fragment." "Other than the actual article that MacCameron wrote--and
copies of the research articles he accumulated on the 7QA fragment, what
kind of "papers" would you expect him to have?" Sherman asked, with a
growing impatience at his client's ambiguity. "I don't know. Perhaps
some kind of paper that might be--well--connected directly with the
actual 7QA fragment itself," Reichstad answered somewhat evasively. "And
what type of paper' would that be? What type of'paper' would be, as you
say, "connected directly with the actual 7QA fragment"?" Shermari asked,
now clearly irritated. "That is for you to find out, isn't it, Mr.
Sherman? That is, after all, what you are being paid huge amounts of
money to do as my lawyer, is it not?" "I'm being paid to be your
lawyer," Sherman barked back, "not your mind reader. Lay it out for me,
Doctor. What kind of "paper" are you talking about? Spell it out."
Reichstad straightened up slightly in the leather chair in Sherman's
inner office. Then he asked, "Of course, everything that is said here is
confidential, right? Everything you and I discuss is protected by
attorney-client privilege?" Sherman nodded, but he narrowed his eyes as
he surveyed his client. He suspected that with a modicum of
encouragement Reichstad could be led to disgorge some information that
was at least disagreeable, and perhaps even nasty. J-Fox Sherman had the
stomach, of course, for things disagreeable and nasty. But he had no
stomach for losing--no desire to hear something that might undermine the
stellar case that he had painstakingly prepared.

152 Craig Marshall

"Of course," Sherman responded. "Everything here is secret. Although,
there are some ethical conditions placed on me by the bar association.
If, for instance, a client were to describe an ongoing conspiracy to
commit a crime, plans to perpetrate a crime in the future, or cover up a
crime committed in the past--or if the client fabricates a case that is
built on lies and commits a fraud on the court--then sometimes," Sherman
continued, speaking very slowly for the benefit of his client,
"sometimes an attorney has to turn a client into the authorities. That
is why a client should be very careful what he tells even his own
attorney." There was a moment of silence as Reichstad managed a smile.
Then he said,

138 "Yes. I think I understand." "Do you?"

Sherman asked. "Yes." "Now," Sherman continued, "about that "paper" that
you want me to demand from MacCameron. Exactly what are you looking
for?" "Hmm. Yes. Well, let's just say that if you were to demand from
Mac- Cameron that he produce any piece of paper that he believes was at
one time connected to 7QA..." Reichstad's voice trailed off. "Let's just
say," Sherman added, picking up the cue from his client, "that
MacCameron believes that there are other fragment pieces that were once
part of 7QA. Let's just assume that.

Then perhaps I should make a demand for such fragments to be produced to
us." "That sounds like an excellent idea," Reichstad responded, smiling.
"And if he does not have possession of such fragments himself, perhaps
he could be forced to describe who does have possession of them." "Yes.
I can make that kind of discovery demand in this lawsuit," Sherman
noted. "But of course, I don't recall your ever telling me that 7QA was
originally part of a bigger fragment. And I have an excellent memory.
Now such a revelation, if it were true, could be very damaging to your
case." "Perhaps. Perhaps not," Reichstad said as he rose from his chair.
"But then what is more important, ensuring that my 7QA. discovery
remains in the history books--or winning one little lawsuit?" After a
career as one of America's most celebrated trial lawyers,

J-Fox Sherman already knew the answer to that question--even if his
client didn't.

The SUN WAS OUT AND THE AIR WAS

WARM as Will Chambers motored along the North Carolina coastline. The
top was down on his Corvette convertible, and the sunlight felt good on
his face after some days of cloudy weather. His golden retriever,
Clarence, was in the passenger seat, his head in the wind, his ears
flapping, and his eyes closed in dog delight. Off to his left Will saw
the white band of beaches and the azure blue of the ocean. No whitecaps
today. The Atlantic was calm. As he drove up and over the bridge that
led out to Cape Hatteras he wondered how long it had been. Ten, fifteen
years perhaps since he had last visited the ocean home of his Uncle Bull
and Aunt

Georgia. He had talked with them a few times by telephone. Some letters
and Christmas cards had passed back and forth. The last time he had met
with them face-to-face was at Audra's funeral.

139 When Will had started on his four-hour drive from Virginia down to
the sand dunes and fishing boats of the Outer Banks he had told himserf
that he was really going there to meet his uncle for professional
reasons. Bull Chambers had been a well-respected North Carolina county
judge.

Now that he was retired and lived year-round on the coast, from what
Will gathered he spent most of his time ocean fishing and beach walking
with his wife of fifty years. Bull was one of the wisest men Will had
known in the law--full of the common-sense side of legal
issues--studied, calm, and deliberate. And while Bull was smart, he
always knew that the underside of the cold, objective standards of
justice included a healthy dose of mercy. Beyond even that, Will had a
bond with Uncle Bull. When Will and his father had become estranged many
years back he always felt he could turn to Bull, his father's brother,
to talk things out. Will had told his client Angus MacCameron only that
he needed to consult a trusted "legal advisor" regarding the thorny
dilemma with which

154 Craig Parshall they were presented at the end of the deposition.
MacCameron consented and told Will that whatever he decided to do about
the Rule 11 motion-- or anything else in the case for that matter--had
his complete support. Yet as Will drove down the sandy dirt road to Bull
and Georgia's weathered ocean house he felt that perhaps there had been
other reasons for this trip. Personal reasons. Subjects that had been
put away like you put away a closed file on the shelf or hang clothes in
the back closet because they're out of season. Put away, but not
forgotten. He came into view of the little home with wooden siding worn
and bleached gray by the sun and wind and salt air. The two-story beach
house with the screened-in front porch was perched up on a bluff
overlooking the white dunes, which were spotted with occasional clumps
of tall saw grass blowing in the breeze. As Will pulled his car down
into the driveway, Georgia Chambers, a woman of sixty-nine with
salt-and-pepper hair, scooted out of the back door and into full view.
Will had always remembered her as a creature of eternal optimism and
energy. Georgia was wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt, and her head
was cocked slightly to the side, with an enormous grin, and both hands
were on her hips in her characteristic pose of

140 spunk and love. "Willie Chambers, you come over here right now and
plant a big kiss on your Auntie Georgia's wrinkled face!"

Georgia held her arms out wide, and Will hugged her slight frame,
smelling the lilac water she always wore. She put her arm through his
and led him into the kitchen, where she had a glass of lemonade waiting
for him. Clarence bounded in after them. She scolded him gently for not
coming down to visit over the years. She ran her fingers through the
tangle of his long hair and said, "You are getting to look so like your
daddy." Georgia explained that Bull was waiting for Will at the harbor,
where he was working on his big fishing boat. She walked Will out onto
the screened- in porch. There on the porch, just as Will could have
expected, was a table with the pieces of a picture puzzle, some
connected, some in disarray. Will looked at the semi-completed jigsaw
puzzle and reached for the box cover that lay on the floor. Georgia
quickly grabbed his hand away. "No fair. You have to guess first,
Willie. Now what does it look like? Guess." Will studied the collection
of pieces that were already fitted together in the middle of the table.

The Resurrection File 155

"Looks like a cave," Will remarked.

"Close," Georgia chimed brightly.

"It's called the Garden Tomb. That's the tomb that a British general by
the name of Gordon discovered in the 1880s. A lot of folks think that
was the place where the Lord Jesus was buried and rose again." "How long
have you been working on this?" Will asked. "Oh, a couple weeks. Only
when I get the urge. Bull and I have been so busy doing absolutely
nothing that I don't get to it very often!" She laughed loudly and then
added, "You know I'm trying to talk your Uncle Bull into taking me over
to the Holy Land next year. You know, I've never been. What a thrill
that's going to be!" As they left and walked over to Will's car, he
looked back toward the porch. "I remember you reading to me on that
porch when I was a kid." "Oh yes," Georgia replied. "Remember the little
Bible lessons and stories I used to teach you and the other children on
the porch? Your daddy would throw a fit! Oh my, he didn't care for that.
Well, you know your daddy!" And then she laughed some more. Will kissed
her and hopped in his car with his dog. He promised he wouldn't be such
a stranger anymore, and would visit again. Then he started driving along
the beach road toward the marina where he expected to find

141 Bull Chambers.

.down at the docks Bull Chambers was working on the deck of his big
fishing rig, named Sweet Georgia Mine. A tall, lanky man, Bull had a
face that was weathered and deeply lined and showed all of his seventy
years. But his arms were tan and muscular. Bull was a man who was lean
and sinewy and tough but always met folks with a smile and a gentle
voice. From his physical appearance, his gait, and his folksy manner,
one might think that Bull had spent his life as a woodsman or a
fisherman, rather than presiding over a court of law. The retired judge
gave a big wave from the boat's bow when he saw Will, and the two shook
hands warmly as Will climbed on board. Clarence scampered behind him and
then quickly plopped on top of one of the boat cushions. "Thought we'd
do some fishing while we talked," Bull said. "Push us off from the pier,
will you, while I back her up." Bull navigated the big fishing boat out
of the channel, moving slowly until they started heading toward the open
ocean. On the telephone Will had only told Bull that he had a case to
discuss with him. Now, while Will stood next to Bull in the little
wheelhouse of the boat as they ventured out into deeper waters, Will
launched into the details oiRekhstad vs. MacCameron and Digging for
Truth Magazine. By the time Bull had arrived at his favorite spot for
the big ocean tuna and marlin and was gearing the engine down, Will was
just finishing his overview of the case, including J-Fox Sherman's
ruthless Rule 11 attorney sfees motion against W. Along with his review
of that case, however, Will had also talked about a great deal more--his
being forced out of his law firm, his money problems, his frustration
with his legal career, his irritation at his former managing

I: The Resurrection File 157 partner Hadley Bates, his night with Fiona
at the little Italian restaurant, arid his general impressions of Angus
MacCameron's religious views. Bull addressed Wills legal concerns first.
"I know a little about how J-Fox Sherman operates," Bull said in his
slow tarheel drawl, as he baited the thick rod that was locked in next
to the fishing chair at the stern. "I had him in my courtroom a number
of years

1 ago. It was a complicated product-liability case. He marched down from
^Washington with his army of

142 legal assistants, you know. Sherman's a lawyer who does to his
opponents what I do to those sea bass I like to catch--first file guts
them, then he pulls out the spine." jl Bull slowed the boat to trolling
speed and set Will up in the chair with jhe wide leather belt around his
waist. Will slowly started reeling the line in. "Hey," Will said, "it's
been a lot of years. I hope I remember how to do Khis." Bull yelled out,
"How do you like the name of my boat?" ft' "Yeah, I noticed it," Will
replied. "Aunt Georgia must have been honied.* "Well," Bull said, "it
was kind of a bribe. She hates fishing--and I love ft So when I retired
I figured that I had to give the woman her due, Itafomehow, for all the
time I spent out on this thing." w$ After Bull killed the engine he
reached into the Styrofoam cooler and BwUed out a can of diet soda. B"
"Georgia thinks I'm a backslider. She's really been working on me. So
far Hte's gotten me to give up my cigar-smoking, give up my drinking,
and she Is me back at Wednesday-night, midweek services at the Baptist
church, ftold her I draw the line at my Thursday poker-playing, though."
Hou Bull passed a can of soda over to W. Hou The boat was creaking
rhythmically as it was buoyed gently on the Hping waves. Hfc "You're not
helping me with my legal problem," Will said after a few Hfements of
silence. "What are you after?" Hi *I need to know what you think, Bull."
' "About what?" Hf "What have I been talking about here? My case. I've
got a decision to Hpke.

If I cave in to Sherman and we admit the issue of recklessness in my
HPNFS publication of that article, we only have one single thin defense
left H&trial to try to win this case on--we would have to prove that
Mac^fiwieron's allegations about Reichstad were substantially true. That's a

158 Craig Parshall pretty tall order. On the other hand--if I gamble on
the fact that they can't prove recklessness and we take our chances, and
Judge Kaye rules against us on that, I may be facing a quarter of a
million dollars in legal fees assessed against me." "Maybe," Bull
replied. "But I've seen you pull more legal rabbits out of more legal
hats, I swear, boy. You've been in tough spots before." "This time it's
different." "How?" "I'm not sure. Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe

I'm getting tired of trying cases. Maybe I

143 want to chuck it all and come down here and open up a fishing guide
business with you--make a lot of money off the tourists. And maybe it's
something else. It just seems like nothing makes any sense. And frankly,
I don't think I care anymore," Will said in a distant kind of voice.
"Well, I've been listening to you talk about your case," Bull said.
"I've been listening. But I don't really think this is about your case.
Not really." Will glanced at his uncle, then stared out over the slowly
rolling blue ocean. "The last time I saw you was at Audra's funeral.
I'll never forget the look on your face. You know, when I was in Korea I
remember whenever a soldier would get hit in a serious way--you know,
like if he just got gut-shot and his insides were all tore up. And the
man would look up at you with that look. The look that said he knew that
the life was pouring out of him, and he knew that all hope was gone.
"Well," Bull said, tossing his empty soda can in a bucket, "that was
you. My heart just about busted for you when I walked into the funeral
parlor and saw you. You looked just like you'd been gut-shot. You
honestly did." Will wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He
stretched out his legs so his feet rested on the stern rail, and folded
his hands on his fishing rod. "I'm no great expert on the human
heart--no psychologist--"' Bull continued, "but I will say this. I think
you've probably been carrying the weight of the world around since
Audra's death. What happened to that poor, beautiful wife of yours was
terrible. She must just have been at the wrong place at the wrong time.
"And you probably figured that if you had done things differently--if
you'd have wooed her back to you during the separation--if you'd have
put down your pride and gotten her back to you there in Monroeville,
things would have been different. Then she wouldn't have been alone in
that apartment in Georgetown that night when the break-in happened. And
then she wouldn't have been murdered. Now I'll tell you something about
regrets,

I will The Resurrection File 159

Will-boy. Regrets are a big load to carry on your back for the rest of
your life." Will choked as he tried to fight back his tears. Bull came
up from behind him and placed his hands on Will's shoulders but said
nothing. There was quiet for a while, except for the lapping waves and
the sound of the boat rolling gently. "I still miss her," Will said.
"Down to my bones."

144 The two men were still again for a few minutes. Then Bull broke the
silence. "I come out here on the big water, especially when everything
is calm and blue--the sky and the ocean, like it is today-- and I bring
up a lot of memories about folks we lost.

I think about you losing Audra. And I think about my brother--your
dad--and how I wished I could have said goodbye to him. And I think
about the two of us, as boys, fishing together. Hiking along the edge of
the swampy flats that were a few miles from where we grew up." ' "Did
Dad ever tell you why he divorced Mom?" "Never did," Bull replied.

"I tried to talk to him about it. I could see that it was driving the
two of you apart. But you know your Dad. Proud. A little pompous.
Stubborn as the day is long. No, he wouldn't talk much to me about that.
He and I were different. I stayed a good of' boy down here in North
Carolina. He moved up to Boston to go to school; he liked playing the
part of a Northeastern intellectual. "I loved your dad. He was a
brilliant man. But he could be arrogant. Always wanted to figure things
out his way. Never wanted to rely on other folks. That can be a lonely
way to live. When he died all of a sudden, that must have been a real
shock to you." "I always figured Dad and I would patch things up.

But it never happened," Will mused. "Then one day I got that call from
Mom in California. She said she'd been contacted by some of the folks at
the newspaper. They'd found him on the floor of his office." Bull was
going to say something;--but he was interrupted by a noise. Will's rod
bent down violently, banging on the rail. Will straightened up and
pulled back on the rod. He muscled the line as he fought the pull at the
end of his pole so he could begin reeling in; suddenly a large blue and
yellow and green tinted mariin broke the water and leaped in the air,
its head jerking frantically side to side as it fought the hook in its
mouth. Bull jumped over to the wheel and straightened out the boat so
the line wouldn't get tangled in the motor, and sang out to Will not to
lose him.

160 Craig Parshall

The marlin dove deep and Will pulled the rod again. He could feel the
big fish struggling, pulling, and swimming first in one direction and
then another. Will's arms started tiring as he tenaciously reeled in the
fish closer and closer. After twenty minutes of struggle, as Will
brought the huge catch up to the side of the boat, they could finally
see the glimmering ocean

145 colors of the marlin through the water, just below the surface. Bull
reached over with his long gaff hook and hooked it in the gills. Will
unstrapped himself from the chair, and the two pulled the fish up and
over, into the bay of the boat. As the heavy weight of the fish slammed
down on the deck, Clarence woke up and began barking wildly. Bull and
Will both laughed and congratulated each other, and took a minute to
admire this elegant brute of a fish with its huge spiny fan spread out,
its gills opening and closing as it lay in the boat. "How about a catch
and release on this one?"' Will asked. "No matter to me. I don't eat
"em," Bull said. "And

I'm too cheap to mount "em." Then Bull fished around in his bag for a
moment and pulled out a little camera. "Here," he said, "let's at least
prove to my wife that we were fishing, rather than loafingand drinking
down at the Harbor Lights Tavern."

Will needed both hands to pull the marlin up and hold it by the stringer
line in front of him as Bull clicked off a couple pictures on his
camera. Then they took the pliers, worked the hook out, and slowly
lifted and then pushed the big fish back over the side of the boat. The
marlin slipped into the water, then made one last, quick break at the
surface before it disappeared into the deep. The two men motored back to
shore on the calmly rolling deck of the Sweet Georgia Mine. When
Clarence started scenting land, and the harbor was coming up close, he
began running around excitedly in circles, barking and wagging his
shaggy tail. "You never did give me your advice on my case," Will
commented as he leaned into the ocean breeze that was hitting his face
and blowing his long hair straight behind him. "Hmm. Okay. Here it is,"
Bull said. "This is what

I've got to say to you, Will-boy. I think that this case you've got here
is more than some fine legal points. And I think that the Good Lord has
got the right lawyer on his side in this case. And I think that he is
going to make sure that you do the right thing, whatever that is.
"Besides," Bull said as he turned the wheel and powered the boat down,
"I'll get your Aunt Georgia to start praying about your case. And after that

The Resurrection File 161 happens, I wouldn't want to be in J-Fox
Sherman's shoes for all the tea in China." Up ahead where the ocean met
the harbor, it was peaceful and clear except for one lone sailboat that
was skimming along, parallel to them. Bull Chambers waved to the

146 sailors and began guiding his boat slowly toward his designated
slip. He cut the motors, and with his weathered hand on the wheel, he
guided it perfectly and effortlessly dockside.

Will was cruising back to Virginia on the interstate. He knew he had to
make some decisions while he drove. Clarence lay, exhausted and
sleeping, on the car seat while the lawyer began to rev up his mental
engines. He thought back over each of the details of MacCameron's
deposition. And about the issues in the case, and the evidence they had
to support their defenses. But mostly, Will was riveted on Sherman's
motion to sanction him with attorney's fees. In order to prevail,

Sherman would have to show that Mac- Cameron was reckless in his
publishing of the article; but even further he would have to show that
Will was contesting that issue with absolutely no evidence to support
his conclusion--the conclusion that MacCameron had at least some facts
to back up his article when he wrote it. So, hadn't MacCameron had some
facts when he wrote the article to indicate that Reichstad might have
erred in his conclusions about 7QA? First, there was the possibility
that 7QA might have been part of a larger fragment--this was implied by
what Richard Hunter had said. And if that were so, then how could
Reichstad be so sure that his interpretation of 7QA was correct without
also looking at and interpreting the other fragments that might
originally have been part of the same piece of writing? But Will was
aware that unless--and until--they could prove the existence of those
other fragments, and then actually produce them, this argument was based
entirely on inference rather than direct proof. As to the other
accusation that MacCameron made against Reichstad-- that he might have
been implicated in the deaths of Azid, the antiquities dealer, and
Hunter, Will could only see three facts in his favor: 1) Reichstad was
in Jerusalem at a conference during the times of their deaths in
Bethlehem and Jerusalem, respectively; 2) Hunter believed he was being

The Resurrection File 163 followed and possibly stalked by someone who
wanted his "discovery"

(whatever that was); and 3) Reichstad had admitted in his own journal

out articles that he had obtained the 7QA. fragment from Azid--though he
people - said he had

147 purchased it shortly before Azid's "suicide" and of course veheJi
mently denied that Richard Hunter had anything to do with 7QA. $1 Will
thought through the variations in how Judge Kaye might rule on

the recklessness issue, and then on whether Will ought to be punished with

a huge attorney's-fee sanction for contesting an issue that could not
be, defended. And, of course, Judge Kaye was always unpredictable. out :
But there was something else here in the picture that did not make If
sense. Why did J-Fox Sherman need to slam Will with a motion for

attorney's fees so early in the case? if: Was there something that
Sherman was afraid of? Beyond that, was W@ou there some piece of
information that they were trying to get from MacMore Cameron and his
attorney? Is that why they were using the blackmailing i' power of an
attorneys-fee motion to start squeezing them to settle the Si case--at
almost any cost?

So what did Reichstad really want? wondered W. He had to know that .
MacCameron would not have the money to pay any substantial damage 11
judgment, even if one were awarded against him. Will asked himself again:

What is it that Reichstad really wants?

- Of course, Sherman had made a routine demand for the tape from MacMore
Cameron's answering machine, the one with Hunter's message, during the
ouou deposition. Was that it? Bringing a lawsuit just to get that
message tape Jll hardly seemed worth the bother. It Then Will remembered
that he had received a large envelope from '. Sherman just before he
took off for North Carolina. In a hurry, he had people: tossed it
unopened into the trunk of his car with the other parts of the Mac- out.
Cameron file. m[ Will pulled the car off the interstate at a rest stop
where there were some . picnic tables. He got out of the car, opened the
trunk, and retrieved the : envelope from Sherman. In the envelope was a
document headed "Plaintiff Dr. Albert Riechstad's ft First Demand for
Documents to Defendants MacCameron and Digging for . Truth Magazine."
Will scanned the Demand that Sherman had sent him. He was asking - for
MacCameron to produce to them

Any and all documents, or papers, in any way connected with, or ft which
are purported to have ever been, at any time, part of, or

164 Craig Parshall adjacent to, or appurtenant comwith, that document

148 of antiquity- known as the 7QA fragment.

Will read it again. It was the typical language^tortured, overcomplex
information request that trial lawyers love to make dviring discovery.
But the meaning behind it was crystal-clear. Sherman and R^ichstad were
obviously concerned that MacCameron might have, or know Something about,
other fragments that were originally part of 7QA. Will grabbed his cell
phone and punched in a number. When the voice on the other end answered,
Will said, "This is Will Chambers calling on the Rekhstad vs. MacCameron
lawsuit. I want to talk to Mr. Sherman immediately." After a few moments
Sherman's secretary answered, and Will identified himself. She asked
Will to please hold. Then, in less than twenty seconds, Will heard
Sherman's voice at the other end. "Yes Mr. Chambers," Sherman said
warmly and confidently. "What can I do for you?" "We've got some
unfinished business," Will added. "That we do. In fact, I was just
reminded that tomorrow is our little deadline on your response to my
motion for attorney's fees." "That was why I called," Will replied, but
then said nothing else. After a pregnant pause Sherman spoke up. "You
know, Will, you and I are both professionals. We do what we have to do
to serve the interests of our clients. I can't say that I enjoyed
bringing that motion against you. Nothing personal. Just had. to be
done. And here in this law firm we always do our homework. We've checked
up on you and on your legal career. Some nice little cases you've won
around the country over the years. So you are a lawyer who can read the
law and appreciate the facts'of this case just like I can." "rlmm," Will
replied. "And so," Sherman continued, "I'm sure you know that we've got
your client nailed down real tight on the issue of recklessness in
publishing that crazy article about my client. You're dead in the water.
You're going nowhere with that defense." "Food for thought," Will
responded. "And that only leaves your defense of'truth." And as to
that--" Sherman gave a little chuckle, "well, what are you going to do
here, turn this lawsuit into some kind of trial of the century? Are you
going to solve the mystery of two millennia of Middle Eastern religious
history using a guy like Angus

The Resurrection File 165

MacCameron as your only expert witness? Of course not. We both know
that. I know you are starting

149 your own orifice now--you are no longer with that Richmond firm any
more. Need to pay the bills. Keep the lights on. Build a practice. Of
course, this case could destroy you. That would be a pity." "Yes,
wouldn't it," Will commented. Sherman finally began to unveil the molten
core--the golden center. "Look," Sherman continued, "if you concede in
writing that Mac- Cameron was reckless in publishing that article, I
will withdraw that motion for attorney's fees against you. And then,
perhaps I bring you up here for a real nice lunch. We get special
catering from Pierre's. His lobster thermador is out of this world. And
you and I talk about the rest of this case--where it is going--perhaps
there is something you and your client want that we can give you, and
perhaps something you can give us. Negotiation rather than nuclear
warfare. What do you say?" It was now clear to W. There was something
that Reichstad wanted from MacCameron. And he wanted it desperately.

He wanted it badly enough to wage a legal war to get it. And it had
something to do with other . fragments that may once have been part of
7QA. But whatever it was, Will . was ready to do hand-to-hand combat
before they would get it. There was another long pause. Then Will said,
"I have one question for you." "What would you like to know?" Sherman
asked. "Tell me something," Will began, bending over his car and
scratching the top of his big dog's head. And then Will Chambers smiled
and put his last question to J-Fox Sherman: "Are you ready to rumble?"

The White House rose garden was surrounded by a horseshoe of reporters
and photographers. The President was smiling as he shook the hand of New
Jersey State Trooper Ezer Nabib. The officer and the President were both
smiling, frozen in a pose for the cameras, as they held between them a
bronzed plaque that read,

Officer Ezer Nabib For valor and bravery in the line of duty and for
protecting America

After die photo op ended the President waved and was hurried back into
the White House. The President's press secretary walked to the podium.
He said, "I apologize for the short notice in announcing this press
conference. I know that this was originally just scheduled to be the
presentation of the commendation to Officer Nabib. However, we do have
some information we would like to give you." The reporters scurried
closer to the podium, elbowing each other for position. "First, the
U.s.. Joint Forces Command

150 has finished its initial investigation of the incident involving the
rental truck entering New York--the incident for which Officer Nabib was
decorated today. It is their conclusion that the truck was in fact
carrying a MIRV-TYPE missile outer shell. However, it was only a missile
shell and was carrying no nuclear load; it was incapable of detonating.
Our national security was never imperiled. The U.s.. Joint Forces
Command had an opportunity for a real-life, real-time test, and it
performed admirably. "Second, the driver of that truck, Mr. Ajadi, was
apparently an unwitting pawn in this incident. He has no known ties to
any terrorist organization.

The Resurrection File 167

He was paid handsomely to drive that truck, but we have every indication
that he never looked in the truck, and never knew its contents." And
with that the press secretary smiled, and turned the page of his notes.
"And that leads to our third point. The State Department and the'Justice
Department have informed us that the new Islamic Democratic Republic of
Iran has taken into custody three individuals who they believe were
involved in the MIRV missile incident. While this investigation is still
in its tentative stages, this much we know: The MIRV missile was
American-made. "We can only surmise that it must have been stolen from
an American ', base during the time of the prior administration and
under the watch of the prior President. Apparently, a Russian crime
syndicate was given this (weapon, and it in turn arranged for its
transportation into the United States for reasons that are not now
clear. But there is every indication that the Russian operatives were
smuggling the missile into the U.s.. at the behest of someone with great
power and influence--the international terrorist Abdul el Alibahd, we
suspect. "The President believes that we are witnessing a triumph of
cooperation . between America and its Arab partners in peace in stamping
out the threat of terrorism. After all, it was Ezer Nabib, an Islamic
Arab, who courageously apprehended and secured a truck carrying a device
that may well lead us to the worlds number-one terrorist. "We have Saudi
Arabia apprehending, and bringing to swift justice, the two perpetrators
of the Wall Street bombing--both of those criminals, of course, were
operatives of Abdul el Aubahd. "And today we have the

151 announcement of Iran's cooperation in the capture of three suspects
in the MIRV missile incident. All of the bridge- building that our
President has accomplished with the Islamic and Middle East appears to
be bearing fruit. And of course, a special thanks goes to the State
Department, and particularly Undersecretary Kenneth Sharptin for his
visionary diplomacy in aiding that bridge-building process." A flurry of
hands shot up but the press secretary ignored them and indicated that no
questions would be taken at this time. Someone shouted out, "The
Convention is still six months away, but already there is a lot of talk
about Kenneth Sharptin as the President's choice for replacing the vice
president in light of his advanced colon cancer. Can you comment on
that?" The press secretary smiled but did not answer, and waved as he
walked toward the French doors of the White House.

168 Craig Parshall

Jack Hornby was in the back of the news pack. He had his notepad flipped
open to the triangle he had previously drawn. He pulled out his pen and
wrote down, off to the side of his triangle, the words "nuclear scare."

Hornby looked at "nuclear scare" and wondered how it might fit into the
picture he was trying to put together. Perhaps it didn't fit in at all.
The reporter looked down at the list of people he was calling. Each name
was a candidate who Hornby thought might be able to make some sense out
of the three points of his triangle. Attorney Will Chambers was next. He
hadn't spoken to Will since the ill-fated Reichstad story, but it looked
like this was the time to reconnect.

When Will returned from North Carolina he drove straight to Generals'
Hill. After dinner he wandered through a couple of the rooms in the
first floor. They lay in various stages of incomplete renovation. Each
room had its own fireplace, but the tuck-pointing in the* brick and
stonework was not finished. The walls were still demolished down to the
studs. Bringing back the Virginia mansion to its original charm and
elegance had been a dream of Will and Audra's. That evening, for the
first time in a long while, Will started thinking about completing this
job. Maybe he could start spending his weekends doing some of the
carpentry work himself. It would be a welcome relief from the pressures
of his law practice, and a way of starting to get his life back
together. When

152 Will went to sleep that night, Clarence was already curled up at the
foot of the bed. Will's sleep, since Audra's death, had been fitful and
restless. But that night he would sleep deeply and peacefully. And when
he woke up, somehow things would feel better.

When he arrived at the office the next morning, Betty was not at her
desk. On the desk there was a telephone message that Jack Hornby,
reporter from the Washington Herald, had called. There was also an
envelope addressed to W. He opened it up. It read,

Dear Will: In light of your repeated failure to follow through with my
raise I am hereby tendering my resignation, effective this very moment.
Yours very truly, Betty

170 Craig Parshall

"Great," Will muttered to himself. With the Reichstad lawsuit starling
to build up steam and the trial only a few months away, this was no time
to train a new secretary. The telephone rang and Will picked it up. It
was a lawyer from the public defender's office in New York. The man
explained that he had met Will once, many years ago when Will was trying
cases for the Law Project of the South.

He had been a law student at the time and had sat in on one of Will's
trials. Will had sued a rundown mental health institution that had
covered up the deaths of handicapped children who were being abused
while in its care. The public defender explained how, after the winning
verdict was announced, he had come up and congratulated Will on his
victory. Will thanked him for remembering the case he had handled but
no, he did not remember him. "How can I help you?" Will asked. "It so
only because I remembered your name. That's why I'm calling." Will
wondered why this lawyer was not getting to the point. "So, what's up?"
"Well,'' the public defender said, "I don't know how much I want to
discuss over the telephone." "Can you give me a hint what this is
about?"' "I am the lawyer for Rahji

Ajadi." Will paused for a moment. The other lawyer spoke as if that name
were supposed to mean something. "You must have read about my client.
He's the guy who was driving the rental truck in the MIRV missile
incident." Now Will clicked. "Yeah,

I know exactly who you are talking about. So, what can I do for you?"'
"I just wanted to know whether you were working for the government in
any capacity." "No,"

153 Will said, "I've been in private law practice." "Did you have any
connection at all with the case that the government was trying to build
against my client?"' "None whatsoever," Will answered, a little
mystified. The other lawyer took a second and then he said, "Okay then.
If you're sure about that, then I'm sorry I bothered you." "Wait a
minute," Will interjected. "Why do you want to know?"' "I am calling
from my office phone. I don't feel comfortable going into details. Since
the point that I was appointed to represent Ajadi, I have been

people The Resurrection File 171 his tinder a microscope because of the
national-security aspect of the case. For all I know my telephone is
tapped." "Can you tell me what this has to do with me?", "Possibly. Your
name came up.", "How?" "My client, over the course of two days, was
questioned by almost every agency in the federal government. But at one
point, just one question was asked--it was a little bizarre actually.
They obviously didn't realize that I might know who you were. Someone
asked my client about you." "Are you sure they got the name right?"

"Are you certain they were talking about me--maybe there is someone else
out there with the same name." very "Not unless you've got a twin
brother with your name who is also a lawyer in Virginia." "So who..
dishow did this come up?" : "I'm really not hot on saying a lot over the
phone." Will thought a minute. "If I come up and visit with you there in
New York, would you be willing to explain this to me?" "I've already got
a waiver from my client to discuss his case. He wants to get to the
bottom of this, like I do. Frankly, I got him an unbelievably sweet deal
considering how things could have come down. But he still insists that
someone set him up and he wants me to get him some answers if I can."
"Will you talk to me?" "Yeah. I will. But you have to come up here. Give
me your fax number aid I will fax the location where I want to meet you.
How about tomorrow?" "Fine," Will replied, "I'll probably take die train
up." Will gave him his fax number and they hung up. Will racked his
brain for some explanation as to why his name would have surfaced during
the interrogation of Rahji Ajadi, but could come up with nothing. But
there had to be a reason why his name had been mentioned in that
investigation up in New York Facts have causes, he had always believed.
Sometimes to find the causes it just took the right kind of

154 digging. The phone rang again and it was Tiny Heftland. Tiny
explained that he had finished his investigation of every scholar and
researcher who ever wrote an article critical of Albert Reichstad.

None of them had any hard information disproving Reichstad's conclusions
about 7QA. And none of them, except one, wanted anything to do with
being an expert witness for Angus MacCameron and against Albert Reichstad.

172 Craig Parshall

"Who's the one who might be an expert witness for us?" Will asked. "Her
name is Mary Margaret Giovanni," Heftland said. "American- born, but
raised abroad. Former nun. Was a consultant in ancient Semitic languages
and biblical antiquities at the Vatican. Has written and lectured on the
subject of..." With that, Tiny had to look at his notes to remind
himself of the word. "...written and lectured on the subject of first
century papyrology" "That's the study of papyrus writings," Will noted.
"Bingo." "Is she going to help us?" "Don't know. She said she wants to
think about it. When I mentioned MacCameron's name she said she wanted
to check out our guy first before she was willing to sign on as an
expert witness on his side." "When will she let us know?" "Couple of
weeks." "That's too long," Will said. "Our trial date is only about four
months away. Our deadline for naming experts is in three weeks." Til
have her call you," Tiny responded. "Hey, did you see

Riechstad's research center up in Maryland?" "Yeah. Nothing particular.
No fences. No security. Just a plain office building." "That's my
point," Tiny explained. "That's why I wanted you to see it yourself.
Remember, I did security work for the State Department in my bygone days
when I worked with their security forces in the Middle East. So, I
crawled around on that property with Walter Ugett--the electronics whiz
kid I work with sometimes. What we discovered is that this research
center has very sophisticated remote sensors set up on the grounds. I
mean, like the kind you find on the White House lawn to prevent crazy
guys and terrorists from getting onto the property. That kind of
sophisticated security. It beats me why a bunch of ivory-tower experts
in ancient history would need that kind of world-class security." "Have
Giovanni call me," Will said, trying to cut short his conversation,
since he heard the

155 fax machine ringing in the other room. But then he thought of one
more question. "By the way," Will asked, "do you have any kind of dope
on the MIRV missile incident--anything turned up for you?" "Only what I
read in the papers or get from the TV," Tiny responded. "Do you have any
thoughts on it?" "In my professional opinionea"Tiny said with a measured
sense of importance, "that whole deal stinks more than my garage when I
forget to put out

The Resurrection File 173 my garbage bags for pick-up. You know, when
it's summer, and it's really hot, and things really get cooking up?" "I
think I get the picture," Will added. "That operation was just not
right. Something's really weird about that deal." After hanging up with
Tiny, Will walked to the copy room. On the fax machine was a note from
the public defender in New York. It read simply,

Meet me tomorrow at noon on the steps of the New York Public Library.
Please come alone.

Will picked up the fax. He was starting to get the feeling that there
just might be a healthy side to paranoia. As much as he did not want to
admit it, he was starting to wonder whether there was more to Bxichstad
vs. Mac- Cameron than just one more lawsuit--even an unusual lawsuit at
that. Rather than leave the fax in his office he folded it and stuck it
in his pocket. After trying to return Jack Hornby's call and only
getting his voice mail, .w left a message for him. Then he called Jacki
Johnson at the D.c. office of Bates, Burke Sc Meadows.

Jacki was on her way to court so she couldn't talk long, but she was
warm and asked how Will was doing. "Betty quit today," Will explained.
"Sorry to hear that," Jacki said. "What are you going to do about office
help?" "I thought you might know someone." "Let me think about it,"
Jacki said. "Say, what did you ever do about that lawsuit that came
in--you know, the one with the old professor or whatever he was. J-Fox
Sherman was on the other side."

"I took the case," Will replied. "So, it's Will Chambers versus the
great and powerful OZ?" Jacki said with a laugh. "Well, you always liked
those kinds of odds. Listen, I've got to run. I really have been
thinking a lot about you. Howard says hello. We have to get together for
lunch sometime. Please keep in touch." Will hung up the phone. It felt
good to touch base with Jacki. He could have used her help on the
MacCameron case. But that

156 was not going to happen now. Will was facing the fact that this case
would have to be a solo flight.

WlLITTLE RESERVED A TICKET FOR THE

FOLLOWING morning on the early train to New York City, and then sat down
to review the transcript of the MacCameron deposition that the court
reporter had dropped off. He knew that analyzing the precise wording of
Sherman's questions and Mac- Cameron's answers would be essential.

One of Will's first conclusions was that MacCameron had not committed
"perjury" at the deposition, as Sherman had suggested--not even close.
Sherman's question had been whether the "reason" for MacCameron's
leaving the University of Edinburgh was that the University was
entertaining charges of misconduct against him. MacCameron had denied
that the "reason" he had left that University was that they had been
thinking about bringing plagiarism charges against him. After the
deposition, Will had asked MacCameron about the incident at the
University of Edinburgh. MacCameron admitted that at first the
University officials had thought he had plagiarized the rough draft of a
paper of another graduate student. MacCameron had denied it when they
interviewed him about the incident. While the matter was pending, he had
decided to follow his heart and go to America to join his future wife,
Helen. It was only after he had arrived in the United States and
enrolled in the college in West Virginia that the University of
Edinburgh officials learned the truth: It had actually been the other
graduate student who had tried to use the ideas he found in one of
MacCameron's papers as his own. MacCameron invited Will to contact the
University administration in Edinburgh to verify that fact. But Will had
been genuinely concerned about MacCameron's physical demeanor during the
deposition. When Will mentioned that, his client then confessed that he
had a history of heart problems and was prone to fatigue. He apologized
for not being "on the mark" during the deposition.

The Resurrection File 175

In further review of the transcript, Will saw very clearly that Sherman
and Reichstad wanted to put MacCameron on trial. They would try to match
the Scot's modest educational qualifications against the world- renowned
Reichstad's credentials. But this case, Will concluded, could not be
about Reverend Angus

157 MacCameron. It was bigger than the personal problems, or
professional accomplishments, of either of the parties. Will thought
back to one of the sound bites that he had given to Jack Hornby. Will
had commented,

If my client was correct in what he wrote, and it is our contention that
he was--then truth itself is on trial.

What Will now realized was that his description of the case to Hornby
was more accurate than he could have imagined. Sherman and Reichstad
would want to make it a trial of the smallest and most precise details.
Sherman would try to force the case into a'small and tortured box of
carefully controlled facts. Yet Will knew that, while he would have to
answer all of the minute factual details raised by Sherman in order to
prevail, he would have to go one step farther. Will Chambers would have
to paint the big picture on the big canvas. "Truth itself is on trial."
But the truth about what? Or who? Will was beginning to understand. This
case was really about the very question raised by Reichstad's
sensational revelation of the 7QA fragment. It was the question that
Will had not wanted to face, perhaps for reasons more personal and more
profound than he had ever thought. But it was the question that he now
had to answer for himself and ultimately prove to a jury and a federal
judge: Did the remains of the body of Jesus of Nazareth still lie in a
tomb somewhere in Jerusalem as the 7QA fragment seemed to indicate? Or
did Jesus walk out of his own grave--thereby making Reichstad's
interpretation of 7QA false, or at the very least, grossly inaccurate?
What if, Will now reasoned with himself, a world-class historian
informed the whole world that he had discovered a single small fragment
of a historical document from the late 1700's that proved that George
Washington was not the leader of the Continental Army during the
Revolutionary War? How would such a report be treated? Clearly, he
concluded, it might cause experts to call such a person either a
liar--or at least an incompetent historian. But would that situation be
any different from the 7QA dispute? The difference probably rested, Will
thought to himself, in the degree of certainty we have about the facts
surrounding George Washington's life. We

176 Craig Parshall axe all pretty certain about George Washington. We
are less certain about what happened in ancient Israel two thousand years

158 ago. But what if, after objectively viewing the evidence, there was
only one reasonable conclusion about Jesus? What if the credible facts
all pointed to his actual resurrection? Could that ever be proven in a
court of law? Was this the ultimate defense of truth that Will would
have to produce in trial? Will wondered how he could ever hope to be
able to prove something of such monumental significance--something that
had been debated by historians, theologians, and philosophers for two
thousand years. As Will was packing up for the day, the phone rang. When
he picked it up there came over the line a voice that he had not heard
in years--a deep, booming southern drawl. "Will Chambers--how are you,
my friend?" "Is this brother Billy Joe Highlighter?" "Yes, my friend, it
certainly is. Will, how are you?" "Fine, Billy Joe. How about yourself?"
"Oh, I will tell you, my friend, I am Spirit-filled and blessed by the
Lord!" Highlighter was an old client of Will's. After Will had left the
ACLU in New York out of disgust over its new policy of using federal
racketeering laws against pro-lifers, he had joined the Law Project of
the South as one of its civil rights trial lawyers. He had won a number
of brilliant victories, but after only two years had found himself on
the street again. The cause was simple: He had publicly insulted his
legal director in an argument over a case. The case had involved
Reverend Highlighter. Against the direct orders of his boss, Will had
agreed to represent the controversial and flamboyant evangelist. Brother
Billy Joe ran a large church called The Church of the Golden Road in
Nashville, Tennessee. He had been preaching a series of sermons against
immorality that were televised on a local cable channel. And in each of
the sermons he railed against the local district attorney, who had
refused to prosecute prostitution, gambling, homosexual bathhouses, and
other "vice" crimes in the greater Nashville area. Highlighter finished
his series of sermons against public immorality by marching his
congregation down to city hall. There he preached, in his typical
athletic style, on the sidewalk right outside the prosecutor's office.
The district attorney happened to be running for re-election at the
time, and he didn't care for the "hair-shirt exhortations," as Billy Joe
would call them. The prosecutor also didn't like being called the "Herod of

159 Nashville."

BJ---: The Resurrection File 177 con*" Unfortunately for Brother Billy

Joe, that was about the time that a fire Loke out one night in the
sanctuary of the church and the whole property hurried to the ground.
But the building had been recently insured for a milSlion dollars. When
it was learned that the church had been considerably in Hiebt at the
time of the fire, the local prosecutor, who had managed to win
IE-ELECTION by only a dozen votes, saw his chance for revenge. jfv He
wasted no time convening a grand jury and charging Highlighter IgLith
criminal arson. Brother Billy Joe, feeling that he was being unjustly
persecuted in retaliation for the exercise of his First
Amendment-protected ijjjght to verbally tar and feather the prosecutor
from his pulpit, contacted ipill Chambers. This was the kind of thing
Will Chambers relished. By then, the affair Epad attracted national
attention, and Will's boss ordered him to withdraw KJJCOM the case and
accused him of being a glory hound and a grandstander. BpfVUL stayed
with the case anyway. And when one newspaper reporter asked jpim if the
rumors were true that his boss had disagreed with his decision to
represent Highlighter, Chambers gave one of his classic self-destructive
Reomebacks. According to newspaper reports he said, E$

Anyone who cannot see the clear First Amendment implications re of this
tragic and unjust case has one of two problems. Either he

cannot read the clear language of the Constitution, or else he has

suffered a serious head injury--the kind that makes you think out you
are a visitor to planet earth and your real home is somewhere people
outside our solar system.

I" Chambers' boss was not amused and Will was summarily fired. He conou
feiued representing Highlighter on his own, out of a local motel-roomie
turned-law-office. Will won an acquittal for Brother Billy Joe, and his
gfyictory made headlines around the country. But he paid a price. His
liberal Ilcolleagues considered him a traitor of colossal proportions.
Not only had he lialienated himself from the ACLU, but now he was
representing Bi99.thumping fundamentalists like Highlighter. out Will
hadn't spoken with Billy Joe in years. But the television evangelist
iwasted no time explaining why he called. I "Will, I was just at an

160 evangelists' conference in Biloxi,

Mississippi. And I while I was there I heard via the grapevine about a
case that I believe you I have going on, involving a Harvard professor
by the name of Albert Reich- I stad. And I was further informed that
your case concerns that snake-oil .. piece of parlor-trick chicanery
known as the 7QA fragment. Is this true?" I Will smiled. Brother Billy
Joe had apparently not mellowed over the years.

178 Craig Parshall

"Yes.the case involves 7QA."

"Well," the preacher continued, "back when you vindicated me against the
false charges of criminal arson I covenanted with the Lord. I told the
Lord that if ever I could do something for you--consistent with the
commands of Scripture--I would do it. Now the first and most important
thing I could do for you is to introduce you to the person of the Lord
Jesus Christ. In the years since we last talked, have you considered
getting to know Jesus Christ in a personal way, Will, by accepting his
finished work on the cross and inviting him into your heart?" "Let's
just say that I am looking into the person of Jesus as we speak." "Good.
Very good. I will pray to that end," Highlighter responded. "Now,
secondly. I am, as you know, schooled in Bible exposition. If there is
any way I can assist you in this highly important case, please let me
know. I would be honored to be an expert witness for you. You know, I am
also schooled in New Testament Greek. It is quite important,
particularly if you are going to be disproving this preposterous 7QA
hoax, to understand New Testament Greek--the language of the Gospels."
Will thanked Brother Billy Joe for calling and indicated that if he
needed him to assist he would certainly give him a call. Will knew that
there was no way that he could use Brother Billy Joe as an expert
witness. The reasons exceeded the number of fingers on both hands. Yet
one of Highlighter's comments did seem important. Will closed up the
office. In the hallway he greeted Hattie as she was humming some vaguely
familiar tune and pulling her rolling cart, mop, and bucket. After
leaving the office Will decided to take a detour over to the big
bookstore that stayed open late. He wandered over to the religion
section. After a few moments he located a Greek New Testament. He
flipped through it and discovered that it contained an English
translation of the New Testament

161 side-by-side with the Greek. He also picked up an introductory text
on New

Testament Greek. From the bookstore Will headed home to Generals' Hill.
As he got out of his car and locked it up for the night, he stopped for
a moment outside and smelled the powerful fragrance of boxwoods, and
listened to the rustling trees of the surrounding woods. He did love
this place. As he walked up to the towering columns on the front porch,
he could hear Clarence barking joyously in the front room, waiting for
him on the other side of the big front door.

IT WAS EARLY IN THE MORNING, and there was a warm mist in the air from
the rain that had fallen the night before. From the back window in his
kitchen Will looked out over the orchards and the acreage beyond. In an
hour or so the fog would begin dissipating, but now it lay like a carpet
of white vapor in the green rolling terrain past the orchards and all
the way to the little creek that served as the boundary of his property.
By the time the mist would lift, Will would already be on the train
bound for New York City. Will hugged the neck of his big golden
retriever, grabbed his briefcase and raincoat, and strolled the eighth
of a mile or so down the long tree-lined driveway to the county road. He
had decided to leave his Corvette locked up at the house and take a cab
down to the train station. By the time he reached the end of the
driveway the cab was still nowhere in sight. Will glanced at the
overcast morning sky, and then pulled out his cell phone and called his
answering service. Only one call had come in, one from Angus MacCameron.
In the final part of his message, MacCameron explained,

So, I have received your bill, W. I do know the costs are going to mount
in this case. Unfortunately, subscriptions to Digging for Truth have
dropped drastically. We have serious budget problems. But I am sure the
Lord will provide. I'm not quite sure how we are going to pay you from
this point on...b don't worry. We'll figure something out. Thanks.

Will had learned early on in his legal career that, while justice may be
equal, that doesn't mean it comes cheap. Tiny Heftland, through his work
thus far in the case, had all but paid back the debt he owed to Will for
past services. From this point on the meter would be running. They had hired

162 180 Craig Parshall

the voice expert to analyze the tape-recorded message from Richard
Hunter. Will had sent a written demand for Sherman to get his client to
turn over the original 7QA fragment so that Will's experts could
evaluate it. Those experts would have to be paid. And then there was Dr.
Giovanni. If she agreed to testify for them, she would have to be paid.
And there were depositions to pay for. And Will's time commitment on
this case, which had already been considerable, was about to become
enormous. Now there was a doubt as to whether his client was able to
continue paying him. As if that were not enough, the question of
Sherman's quarter-of-a- million-dollar motion against Will still hung in
the balance. After Will had thrown down the gauntlet to him in their
last conversation, J-Fox was going to come after Will like a buzz saw on
wheels. As the cab pulled up, Will felt the burden of the stakes against
him. A one-man office versus one of the nation's largest and most
prestigious law firms. MacCameron's dwindling financial resources versus
a funding source for Dr. Reichstad that seemed to be limitless.
Reichstad as a plaintiff, the man who had become the darling of
America's cultural and religious intelligentsia, and who taught at
Harvard, published books, and ran an internationally recognized research
center. On the other side there was MacCameron as a defendant, a man who
had graduated from a little Bible college in West Virginia that no one
had heard of and ran a hysterical little magazine that fewer and fewer
people were buying. The ride to the train station was quiet. The cabbie
tried to engage him in conversation, but Will's mind was somewhere else.
He had been in tough spots before. But not quite like this. Yet he knew
that, while there was nothing that could be done about some of the odds
against him, there was something he could do about his preparation for
the case. He had a five-hour train ride, each way, up to New York City
and back. Will had planned on using that time to school himself on the
rudiments of the New Testament Gospels. He would block out of mind the
mounting pressures and focus all of his mental energy on the case. That
was a knack he had developed in his career. He would have to draw on
that ability now more than ever before. As Will settled into his seat on
the train, he pulled out a Bible, the Greek New Testament, and the
introductory text to the New Testament Greek language. He planned on
reading the Gospels on the way up to New York City, and then delving
into some of the

163 basics about Greek on the way back

MacCameron had suggested that Will start by reading all four of the
Gospel accounts of the resurrection.

The Resurrection File 181

When, after a little fumbling, he found Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John,
he then took out a little pad of colored sticky tabs. He marked the
pages where, in each Gospel, the story of the burial and resurrection
began. That way he could flip from one to the other and compare them.
The train was not crowded, and he had space to spread out his books and
files on the seat next to him. As the train rocked and creaked Will read
through the accounts in all four Gospels. Then he went back and read
them again. But he was having a problem focusing. After the second
reading he discovered his problem. He had never spent any time reading
the Bible before. These New Testament books had immediately confronted
him with tales of angels and a dead Jesus who had arisen from the grave.
He found the entire story too incredible to take seriously. He set the
Bible down for a minute and thought. Then he had an idea--really, more
of a new perspective. A change of focus. ' What would happen, he thought
to himself, if I forget that this is religious literature? Perhaps that
was the key. What if I treat this as if it were an ancient @ou
transcript from a long-since forgotten court proceeding? If Hook at the
accounts as the testimony of witnesses in court? : Will started reading
again. He then went back and reread the accounts be for a fourth time,
but this time he did so with a legal pad on his lap. At the

top he wrote four headings: Matthew still Mark still Luke stJohn. As he
read each account of the resurrection he numbered and charted the
essential facts, descriptions, and events. Will ignored the "religious"
be component of the stories, merely treating them as testimonies of
eyewit' nesses (or accounts that could be traced to
eyewitnesses)--something he . had done for years as a trial lawyer.
After he had charted the basic facts of each account in each column, he
:, went back and started evaluating them. The first thing he noticed in
the Gospel stories was the factor of "con' sistencystindividuality."
Will knew from his trial experience that, when sevferal witnesses to an
event later describe that same event, in order to warrant @ou belief,
their stories had to possess both of these two convincing facets--
'.much like the two sides of a same coin. The first facet was basic

164 consistency. though differences are always present in
multiple-witness accounts of the, same event, the basic facts must be
able to mesh. In Will's review of his notes, he saw that all four of the
Gospel accounts contained the same basic factual pattern, with more than
a dozen factual @ou components in common. his All four of the Gospels
reported that some women--all of whom who I were familiar with Jesus and
had personal knowledge of the site of the tomb

182 Craig Parshall where he was buried--had returned to the tomb several
days after the corpse of Jesus had been buried. They were there to
anoint the body. 7QA, by contrast, specifically indicated that some
unspecified persons "could not return to prepare the body..." Thus, on
that point alone, 7QA was irrefutably at odds with the four Gospel
accounts, and in particular the Gospel of Mark. Will saw that all four
of the stories also said that the visit to the tomb occurred very early
in the morning--just at the break of dawn, on the "first day of the
week." All four accounts prominently mentioned a disciple by the name of
Mary being among those visiting. All of the stories mentioned that the
women had witnessed the fact that the large stone that had been rolled
in front of the tomb to seal it had been moved before they got there,
and that the tomb was open, and that the tomb no longer contained the
corpse of Jesus. And all four accounts included a reference to a
subsequent face-to- face meeting between a resurrected Jesus and his
disciples. There were some other significant consistencies that Will
noted. Three out of the four Gospels mentioned an encounter at the tomb
between Mary and at least one being described as an "angel," who
announced that Jesus had risen. And those three were all consistent in
describing the emotional response of Mary to that encounter. The
flip-side facet of "individuality" was also present in these accounts.
Will knew that the hallmark of accurate multiple-witness testimony was
not only that all must agree as to the central facts, but that each
observation should differ slightly in the details--details that one
witness may have observed but another may not have noticed. When four
witnesses recite exactly the same facts in the same way, that
immediately points to the possibility that the witnesses consorted
together to fashion a unified story, or even worse, to manufacture a lie.

Will observed that each story bore the hallmark of

165 setting forth individual and unique facts--but not in a way that
would logically contradict the other Gospels. In particular, Matthew and
Mark mentioned one angelic meeting with Mary and the other women. Luke
mentioned two. Dr.

Reichstad, in some of the writings Will had reviewed, had ridiculed the
Gospel accounts for such "discrepancies." But to Will it was much like
the situation at an armed robbery. One witness on the street corner
sees, and later testifies that he saw, "one" police officer draw his gun
on a robber he was chasing. Another witness, closer and at a better
angle, might see that same officer and also a second officer, obscured
from the first witness's view by a parked car, also pursuing the bank
robber with his gun drawn. Are the two witnesses to be disbelieved because

The Resurrection File 183 they both accurately observed the same
incident from two different positions? To Will, the point seemed so
elementary, it surprised him that someone with Reichstad's
qualifications would have missed it. Will looked out of the window as
the train reduced its speed and the cadence of click-clacks of the rails
beneath him slowed down. The train eased into the station at
Philadelphia for a short stop. An influx of passengers was arriving, and
Will moved his books and papers off the seat next to him so an elderly
man with a cane and a gray fedora could sit down in the neighboring
seat. Will had already moved onto the second characteristic he had noted
in the Gospels--the "credibility" of the witnesses. Will was impressed
at the believable way in which the main characters were portrayed. Three
out of the four accounts specifically described the kind of awe-struck
emotion one would expect in a person who confronts a supernatural event.
Matthew described the "fear" and "joy" of the women; Mark mentioned
their "trembling" and "astonishment" as they ran, pellmell, from the
scene. Luke detailed how the women were "terrified" and fell with their
faces to the ground during the angelic encounter at the tomb. Will
remembered hearing ghost stories as a child when he was at camp, and how
the hair would rise on the back of his neck. There was something
authentic about the way these stories recounted the very human reaction
of these followers of Jesus. Yet something struck Will even more
strongly: the credible way that the disciples of Jesus were portrayed.
Genuine doubt and initial disbelief was a constant theme in the Gospels. If

166 these accounts were fabrications and lies, why hadn't these
disciples portrayed themselves in a positive light? Why hadn't they
written themselves into the stories as paragons of unswerving faith and
fidelity to Jesus, their hero? In one of his journal articles, Riechstad
had written that the writers of the Gospels, and the disciples, and the
believers in the early Christian church were infected by the naivete of
nonscientific first-century ignorance and superstition--thus, they were
able to talk themselves into believing the miracle stories that they
themselves were actually inventing. But Will found something quite
different in his study of the accounts. When Mary first encountered die
empty tomb--when it was "still dark," and presumably before she met any
"angel"--she ran and told Peter and the, other disciples. Her first
reaction was not to believe that Jesus had miraculously risen. Rather,
she had the kind of common sense, empirical skepticism' that Will
appreciated. According to the Gospel of John, she had

184 Craig Parshall initially concluded simply that "they have taken away
the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid Him."
According to Luke so account, when Mary reported the empty tomb and her
encounter with an angel to the disciples, their initial reaction was
exactly what Will would have expected from the most skeptical
twenty-first century witness: "These words appeared to them as nonsense,
and they would not believe them." And in Matthew, even when the risen
Jesus bodily presented himself to the disciples, not all of them
instantly believed: "But some were doubtful." Will found that, in John's
Gospel, one follower by the name of Thomas had refused to believe until
he had had the chance to personally inspect the nail holes in Jesus'
hands, and the scar in his side where the Roman soldier had thrust in a
spear. To Will, these New Testament witnesses and followers were simply
not gullible or naive in the way that Reichstad and his compatriots had
assumed. As the train slowed down and entered Newark, New Jersey, for a
short stop, Will had begun examining his third conclusion. This one he
had labeled "factual irrelevancies." He knew that one of the marks of
factual accuracy is the presence of the seemingly irrelevant detail that
a witness initially gives. When Will would meet with a new client for
the first time--someone who had experienced some great trauma or
injustice, or had some important story to

167 tell--often the client would just spill out needless and seemingly
irrelevant factual information. The reason for this is that the client
knows only that he or she has a story to tell, A person with a story
wants to tell it all, and let the lawyer figure out what the facts mean
in the eyes of the law. As Will viewed the accounts of the resurrection,
this was the one aspect of the story that impacted him more than any
other. In the Gospel of John, there was an abundance of factual detail
about the inspection of the empty tomt)--much of it secondary and
seemingly irrelevant to the main point that Jesus had been resurrected
and was no longer there. Yet all of it bore the marks of eyewitness
observation and therefore corroborated the story. One of the disciples
ran faster than Peter and got to the tomb first. Then in order to look
into the empty tomb Peter ended up "stooping and looking in," implying a
small opening with a low doorway. And when they looked into the empty
tomb they didn't just see that Jesus' body was absent. Peter also saw
something else--something having powerful testimonial value to Will as a
trial lawyer.

He "saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the face-cloth which had
been on His head, not lying with the linen wrappings, but rolled up in a
place by itself."

The Resurrection File 185

If the body had been stolen, or simply moved from the tomb, there would
have been no reason, Will concluded, to have taken the time to
painstakingly remove the linen wrappings from the body--and certainly no
reason to take the time to carefully "roll up" the face covering But
secondly, the reference to "the face-cloth which had been on His head,
not lying with the linen wrappings, but rolled up in a place by itself"
told Will that there had been deliberate and intentional action--by
someone or something. That action had taken place within the tomb
between the time Jesus had been buried and the time, Sunday morning,
that the witnesses had arrived and found the tomb was empty. The linen
wrappings had been intentionally removed and discarded. The face-cloth
had been carefully rolled up and placed down in the tomb at a slightly
different spot. All this could not have been the result of grave-robbing
followers who grabbed the body and dragged it out so as to bury it
elsewhere--in the hopes of perpetrating a fraud on the world. And the
enemies of Jesus would certainly not have had any reason to disturb the
body. In fact, they had every reason to

168 try to ensure that it remained exactly where it lay. The more that
Will thought on it, the more he felt that what he was reading in the
Gospel accounts was an authentic description of a corpse that was simply
not acting like a corpse. There were evidences of an event that was
convincingly factual and observable--yet unexplainable by human reason
or scientific theory. Dare he admit it to himself? Here were the
powerful, tangible traces of what should happen when the mundane,
physical world is intersected by the supernatural. When the ordinary
facts of life encounter the divine.

Will had lost track of the time. Raising his head, suddenly he was aware
that the train was pulling into Penn Station in New York City. The
elderly man next to him glanced over at the Bible in Will's lap. : "You
a preacher?" be No," Will replied, "I'm a lawyer." The old man gave him
a strange look. As if the idea of a lawyer reading a Bible didn't make
much sense to him. After a moment the train came to ') a slow, rocking
stop. were. After getting to his feet stiffly and with difficulty, the
old man turned to be Will and said, "Don't care much for that stuff,"
nodding his head toward the Bible that Will was holding. Then he added,
"I've got more important . things to worry about." The old man
cautiously inched his way to the steps, leaning heavily on his cane as
he walked, with Will impatiently walking behind him.

vVILL MADE HIS WAY OUT OF THE

DINGY, cavernous confines of Penn Station and into sunlight, where he
was greeted with the roar of New York City street noise. He hailed a cab
over to the New York Public Library. As he climbed out of the cab on the
west side of Fifth Avenue, Will realized that he had not asked for a
physical description of the lawyer he was supposed to meet. So as he
walked across the wide plaza in front of the library he quickly scanned
the crowds of pedestrians, some walking, others mingling in front of the
huge stone columns and high arched entrances of the library. Then he
noticed a short man in his thirties with horn-rimmed glasses, wearing a
corduroy jacket and a tie loosened at the neck, with a newspaper tucked
under his arm. The man was walking toward him. When he was right in
front of Will he extended his hand but kept it close to him and looked
around as he did. His expression was worried-looking and his face was
locked in a kind of a

169 grimace. "You haven't changed much," the man said. "I'm the guy from
the public defender's office. Let's start walking."The public defender
then gave a little nod of his head. With that the two lawyers started
strolling down toward Fortieth Street, wading through the tide of
pedestrians that was cramming the sidewalks during the noon hour. Will
didn't waste any time. "How did my name come up in this MIRV missile
incident?" he asked as they walked along. "There was this long line of
federal agencies that were interrogating my client, one after another.
The last agency in line brought it up," the public defender answered,
still glancing around him.

The Resurrection File 187

"Which one?" "The State Department--their lawyers." "Why?" "You got me,"
the man answered. "We had two days of interviews. I had worked out a
really sweet deal for my client, but it required him to spill his guts
about everything he knew about the truck, the guys who hired him to do
this, and so on. Most of the people interrogating my client were either
prosecutor types or experienced investigators. Except at the end. These
two . pencil-pusher types from the State Department came in at the end,
basically with a shopping list of names, and wanted to know if my client
ever talked to--or had any contact with--this long catalogue of people."
"What kind of people?" Will asked. "I didn't recognize any of the names
except for the last name they asked about--yours. They mentioned it and
I couldn't believe what I had just heard. They wanted to know if Mr.
Ajadi, the driver of that rented truck, had ever talked to you after his
arrest. Now, I don't think they'realized that I knew you." "What did
Ajadi say?" "Of course he had no idea who you were." The other lawyer
stopped in front of a hot dog wagon. "You want one?" he asked W.

"Are you kidding?" Will responded. "I don't eat anything that's served
on the streets of New York City." "I was the same way when I moved
here," the other man said, squeezing mustard on his hot dog. "But I
figure after living here for the last five years without getting
dysentery I must have developed the NYC superimmunity to all of the bugs
that swim around here." "So what is your theory as to why they brought
up my name?" "It beats the heck out of me what they were after." "Tell
me about the State Department's involvement in all this." "Well," the
other lawyer continued, wiping mustard

170 off his chin with his napkin, "these lawyers worked in the
department headed up by Undersecretary Kenneth Sharptin." "Isn't he the
one that all the TV talking heads think has the inside track for the
vice-presidential slot at the convention?"

"Same one." "So why was Sharptin involved in your case?" "Because
Sharptin is head of something called the Arms Control and International
Security Affairs branch within State. I think it was created

188 CraigParshall back in 2000. It has input into nuclear threats
against the U.s.. from an arms-control standpoint. At first, just after
the truck was stopped, the State Department took the position that they
were going to have joint control of the investigation, with Sharptin at
the head. But after a power struggle, the Pentagon won out." Something
triggered Will's thinking. "Maybe you can help me understand something,"
he said. "I heard on the news that the warhead on that truck was
empty--a blank. It was never an actual threat. So why all the talk about
national security?" The other lawyer frowned, and stopped walking.
"Look. Forget what you hear and see out there in the news. There is
something very weird--maybe even very scary--going on here." Will could
see that the other lawyer was weighing how much he wanted to say. "Let
me just spill it here," the other man said, stopping in his tracks and
looking Will in the eye. "I learned in this case that the guys in the
Pentagon think that there is no way that this MIRV missile is at all
connected to Abdul el Alibahd. Now I know that someone was leaking stuff
to the press that Alibahd was behind all of this--even the White House
had suggested that. But it's not true." "So who was behind the truck
incident?" "I'm going to give you my best guess," the lawyer explained,
for emphasis jabbing into the air the rolled-up newspaper he was
carrying. "And it's partly based on what I got from some of the feds I
met with," he continued. "That Russian crime syndicate didn't get the
missile housing from someone in Iran who's connected with Alibahd. They
got it from someone within the U.s.. who has either a lot of inside
pull--or a lot of money to pay people off at one of the nuclear test
labs--or both. The MIRV was loaded on the rental truck. My guy was hired
to drive the truck because--as an Arab--he looked the part of a
terrorist. The whole thing looks like a bizarre setup. The arrest was
deliberately ordered to be made on the wrong side of the river--on the New

171 York side--by a New Jersey state trooper so the thing could not be
prosecuted. This Arab Muslim state trooper--by the way, what are the
odds there, right?--the Arab cop gets a call from dispatch to stop this
truck Only one problem--the dispatch tapes don't show that the call to
him ever came from the State Patrol headquarters. Anyway, he gets this
mystery call and "saves the day." The President of the United States
ends up giving an Arab follower of Allah a medal for bravery for
protecting us all from the "radical Arab terrorists." Only there was no
Arab terrorist plot involving that truck That was a fantasy. The whole
thing looks like a Disney World put-on."

I The Resurrection File 189 out "Why?" Will asked. "What's the point?"
"That's what I can't figure out," the lawyer said. "There's a
closed-door I,- select Senate subcommittee investigating this whole
thing. But because it out involves national security--or so they
claim--we couldn't get any leads there. Besides, you know as well as I
do that the politicians in Washington I are never going to figure this
one out." out By that time they had made their way back to the plaza in
front of the I massive library. Will still was mystified. I "Why would
the State Department care whether I was involved in your I? client's
case?" Will asked. And then he answered his own question. "Unless
Sharptin's department was concerned that I would somehow get insider I
information that the so-called nuclear threat by Arab terrorists was
really a put-up job. But how could they think--" The public defender's
face suddenly lit up with something he had I remembered, and he broke
in. "Oh, and one more thing I found out. Don't I know how important it
is. But the two assistant U.s.. attorneys who were if assigned to my
client's case were the same ones who were investigating the I Wall
Street bombing. They told me privately that--even though Alibahd I was
definitely the mastermind behind the bombing--the two guys who got I
executed in Saudi Arabia may not actually have been part of it. But
suddenly I the Saudis are the international buddies of America for
getting the guys be who blew up Wall Street. Only one problem--there is
no actual proof that I the guys who got their heads cut off were
anything but small-time pickou pockets who happened to get arrested at
the wrong time." II Will was trying to process what he

172 was hearing. I "Look," the other lawyer said slowly and
painstakingly. "The executions were showpieces to make it look like the
Arab nations are now policing their I own borders for terrorists and
offering full cooperation to the U.s.. Saudi 1.k Arabia was merely
looking for someone to execute." 1 The lawyer continued, "The point was
to make the American public I think we need the help of the Arab states
to keep the terrorists from I blowing up our country. Alibahd had
already bombed Wall Street, so some- I body figured that he would be a
credible bad guy to take the blame for this I "nuclear threat." I know
I'm sounding like a conspiracy nut, but I'm giving it His to you
straight." out The public defender glanced at his watch and said, "Got
to get back to I the office. Just so you know, you and I didn't talk.
This didn't happen." And I he started to turn to leave, but then spun
back. "Hey Chambers, what did I the

State Department want with you, anyway? What have you gotten your- I
selfinto?"'

190 Craig Parshall

Will thought for a moment and replied, "The resurrection." The man gave
him a baffled look, and then turned and quickly disappeared into the
crowds of New Yorkers rushing to get back to their desks by the end of
lunch break. As Will looked for a cab he did not notice the two Middle
Eastern- looking men strolling about fifty feet behind him. They had
been following him and the public defender during their walk down
Fortieth Street and back to the Public Library. And as Will ducked
inside a taxi, the two men quickly hailed their own cat)--and started in
the same direction, directly behind Will's cab.

Jack Hornby was still trying to contact Will Chambers, but they were now
playing phone-tag by voice mail. Hornby had gone home for the day and
was standing at the front door of his condo unit in Bethesda, fishing
for his keys. A nondescript car with government plates pulled up to the
curb behind him. Colonel Brad Buchingham was at the wheel. He lowered
his window and yelled, "You interested in a story?"' Hornby turned and
eyed the car, walking closer until he recognized the driver.
"Buchingham, is that you?"' "Get in," the Colonel snapped back. "Oh, I
don't know. Is this safe? The last time I tried to talk to you I think
you called me a Communist

173 sympathizer." "That's not what I said."

"Oh?"' the bemused Hornby replied. "What

I really called you was a scum-sucking, gutless Communist sympathizer."
"Good memory."

"Are you getting in or not?"' Hornby laughed a little then stepped back
and looked at the car and at Buchingham. Then he slowly worked his way
to the front passenger side. He gingerly opened the door and, with a
dramatic flourish, peeked over into the backseat as if to make sure he
was not going to be jumped from behind. "Hornby, you're a real clown,"
the Colonel said through a tight grin, and when the reporter was finally
seated Buchingham started away from the curb.

192 Craig Parshall

"Got your little notepad?"' "Never leave home without it," Hornby said.
"Let's start with the DIA." Hornby had covered the Pentagon long enough
to know that the colonel was talking about the Defense Intelligence
Agency. Its duties included-- among other things--assessing the military
and national-security risk to America from its dealings with other
nations. Dealings such as sales of technology and military hardware.
Buchingham explained that he had never before gone to the press-- never.
And he reiterated his distaste for Hornby and what he perceived as his
anti-American, antimilitary perspective.

Yet this time, the Colonel continued, someone had to blow the whistle.
He had seen an internal Pentagon memo that discussed upcoming sales of
sophisticated arms and military technology to Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and
Egypt, with a timeline of similar sales six months later to the newly
formed regime in Iraq and to Iran, and possible sales to Syria nine
months after that. All of the sales were planned to take place after the
upcoming presidential elections. This was unprecedented, of course, and
Hornby was quick to understand that. Buchingham had to confess that the
sales were not final, and were subject to "contravention." Yet such
military hardware transfers to Arab nations would be a major shift in
the balance of power in the Middle East, and a major change in American
foreign policy. But there was another red flag he had noticed in that
internal memo. "The memo goes on to say," Buchingham said, "that the DIA
is not--I repeat, not--to exercise its usual oversight in assessing the
risk to American national

174 security if these military sales go through." "Who's the prime mover
in this?"' Hornby asked. "Well, the memo says that the decision to take
the DIA out of the loop on this came from "upstairs."" "How far
upstairs?" "Way far upstairs," Buchingham explained. "Names. I need
names." "Well," Buchingham said, pausing a little, "let's just say I was
going to a horse race. And let's say that Undersecretary Kenneth
Sharptin over at the State Department was a horse. I bet he would be
named something like, oh, "Crazy for Power."" Hornby smiled as he jotted
it down in his notepad. "So," Hornby continued, "what happens to this
horse--by Crazy for Power'? Does he win, place, or show?" "That all
depends."

The Resurrection File 193

"Depends on what?" ," "On whether somebody takes him out of the race
first." Buchingham pulled back in front of Hornby's condo. Hornby got
out of ., car and walked over to the driver's side. "Say, what do you
know about oil?" Buchingham had to think for a second before he
responded. It was clear his him that Hornby had been doing his homework.
It's black." "Yeah. And what else?" "The largest single share of it is
controlled by OPEC." "Yeah?" "They're headquartered in Vienna, Austria."
"Okay. So far what you've given me I could have gotten off the
Internet." Buchingham eyed Hornby, and then growled, "You tie this to me
and ix're finished." "No problem. "Reliable sources at the
Pentagon."'That's as faf as I will go my story," Hornby assured him. "So
I did hear, through a friend down at the Defense Threat Reduction by,
that the United States is about to get dealt a seat at the OPEC the
Colonel said. "That would be the first time a major nonnic nation from
the West would be sitting in on those meetings. A seat . OPEC would give
us a major advantage in protecting our oil supplies." "So what is the United

States giving to OPEC in return?"'" "I bet that's a question that has an
interesting answer," Buchingham said, 1 then put his car into gear. "You
said "non-Islamic nation..."" Hornby shouted out to the departing Icar,
as he stepped back to the curb. And then he repeated himself, speaking
pnto the air as Buchingham's car drove away. "You said, the United
States as a "non-Islamic nation.""

175

WlLITTLE CHAMBERS DECIDED TO SPEND the rest of the afternoon visiting
some old haunts in New York, since he had not been there for several
years. The last time was when he and Audra had attended a small art show
featuring some of her work in acrylics. Later, they had caught a
Broadway play, stayed at the Plaza, and then taken the train back to
Monroeville. In those days they were up in New York City several times a
year--either for Will's cases or because of Audra's connections with the
art community there. That weekend had begun with her success at the art
show. At first, it had seemed as if the old feelings of romance and
friendship had been rekindled between them. But then, for reasons he
couldn't even remember now, it had all ended in bitter, explosive
arguments as it had so many times before. Will never could understand
how they could have been so deeply in love, yet have acted so cruelly
toward each other. Shortly after that, Audra had moved out. Now, when
Will revisited the art gallery, it was still there, but the proprietor
was out for the day. The college-age girl at the desk did not remember
the work of Audra Chambers or the art show Will asked about. That was
before her time, she said. After going past the Plaza he decided to
catch a cab down toward Greenwich Village. He had dinner at a cafe the
two of them had often frequented. Yet, as he paid the waiter and walked
out after his solitary meal at their favorite table, he was surprised
how none of these places now held any emotional connection for him
anymore. They had merely become recognizable places. Now he was simply a
tourist, following memories as an outof-towner might flip through a
guidebook. On a lark he headed down to the harbor area and nosed around
the shops. He had an idea in the back of his mind that he wanted to pick
up a gift. He would send it to Fiona Cameron as a way of thanking her
for the dinner at Luigi so.

The Resurrection File ^

Will picked out a crystal replica of the Statue of Liberty. He asked the
shop owner to ship it to the office of Fiona's business manager, which
was the only address he had for her. Then he wrote a little note for
them to include in the package. It read,

Fiona--

I don't know why this small gift made me

176 think of you and our dinner together. But please accept it as my
thanks for the meal, for the conversation, and for being the delightful
person you are.

Will

Will left the gut shop. As he was walking down the sidewalk, one of the
two men following him quickly ducked into the same shop. Then Will
decided he would make his way back to the train station, and he hailed
another cab. As he did, the second man waved down a cab that was going
in the same direction as Will's. Once he was on the train, Will settled
down for some more homework on the Reichstad lawsuit. He wanted to read
some of the fundamentals of New Testament Greek, But as he tried to
buckle down to his reading, a rush of thoughts bombarded him--static
jamming his concentration. Thoughts of both Audra and Fiona kept
interrupting his focus. This trip to New York had not been what he had
expected. He wondered how Fiona would respond to his gift. But a voice
jolted him back to the case--the voice of the public defender asking,
"What have you gotten yourself into?" Someone had an obvious concern
about Will's activities. But why? At the Newark train stop, Will got up
and stretched. He was feeling tired, so he made his way down to the
dining car to grab a cup of coffee-- only to find it was closed. He
returned to his seat and decided it was time to buckle down and learn
something about Greek. Will saw that MacCameron had started him off in
the right direction. The New Testament was written in "Koine" Greek, the
common, everyday form of the Greek language at the time of Christ. Koine
Greek was the closest thing to the universal language of the known world
then. Will quickly discovered that the Greek alphabet resembled the
English alphabet with some exceptions. He glanced at the spelling of the
names of the four Gospels in his interlinear Greek-English New Testament
that he had bought. The Gospel of "MARK," for instance, appeared as:

MAPKON

196 Craig Panhall

As he read further, he noted that words were arranged in sentence
structure much like English, except that in Greek, word order was not
critical-- words could be moved around in a sentence without necessarily
changing the meaning of the sentence, unlike in English. Will began to
realize how hard it was going to be to understand even the rudiments of New

177 Testament Greek by the time of trial. After an hour and a half of
reading, Will's eyes started getting heavy. He didn't remember falling
asleep, or his head sliding to the side against the train window. He
would not wake up until the train shuddered to a halt at the little
station in Monroeville.

It WAS WELL AFTER MIDNIGHT WHEN WILL walked off the train. He trudged
half-a-block down to the all-night cabstand. Still exhausted, he :
climbed into the back of a cab and gave the driver directions. Then he
leaned his head back for a moment to collect his thoughts. In just a few
minutes he was asleep again, his briefcase and coat still on his lap.
Him In a deep sleep, and dreaming, Will heard a voice. It was yelling.
There his was danger, but Will could not make out where the voice was
coming from. It was saying, Hey Mister. Hey Mister. Wake up.

"Hey mister, wake up! Is that your house? It's burning! Man, that house
is on fire!" 1 The cabbie was yelling to him in a panic and pointing out
the front windshield of the car. Tour house is on fire! Its burning
down!" Will stumbled out of the cab with his things, still groggy, and
looked up I the driveway of Generals' Hill. The whole sky was red and
orange and filled with black smoke. He saw his Corvette, still there
where he had parked it. Then he saw his house. be There were flames
shooting from every window in the huge Civil War '., mansion. Will
started sprinting up the driveway. He could see that the roof Was also
on fire. He heard himself scream, "No, no, no, no!" In the background he
heard the cabbie shout that he would call 9-1-1. P'Then he yelled, "Is
there anybody in there?" ' Clarence! Clarence was still in the house.
Will ran to the front door. It ir be Was black with soot, and smoke was
billowing out from around the corners, I' from under the bottom. He
snatched up his raincoat from the ground where he'd let it fall, wrapped
it around his hand, and grabbed the large iron doorknob. When he jj
opened the door, a blast of smoke and fire blew through the opening,
hitt ting Will and throwing him straight back as if he had been hit by a
bomb.

I 197

198 Craig Parshall

As he was scrambling to his feet, the flames retreated back into the
house, and he could see something lying on the floor just inside the
door. It was

178 Clarence. Shielding his head with the raincoat he raced up to the
entrance and reached around ahead of him into the black smoke and
furnacelike heat. Then his hand felt the fur and body of his golden
retriever. He moved his hand up to the collar and began dragging the dog
out of the smoke and the fire. He pulled Clarence down onto the front
lawn. Will looked down-- Clarence's eyes were open, but staring straight
ahead. His large pink tongue was caught, hanging out slightly, between
his clenched front teeth. He was not moving. Will stroked his head and
felt something wet. In the flickering light of the fire he could see
that it was blood. Looking closer he saw the blood was centered around a
black bullet hole in Clarence's skull. Will patted the head of his dead
dog, and smoothed his ears down. After a minute, he rose to his feet.
Will stood before the house, which was now starting to collapse into the
inferno. The walls, the wood shutters, the draperies and furniture, the
floors and all else that had been there was being consumed. The great
house, with its towering white pillars, and broad front porch,
fan-shaped windows, and the charm of a century long past, was forever
gone, incinerated in the raging ball of fire rising higher and higher
into the night sky. Out of nowhere Will began to feel it all fall away.
The furniture he and Audra had picked out. Her artwork, which still
decorated several of the walk. The photo album of their life together.
The books.the clothes.the small things of a lifetime, each collected at
a place, and carefully preserved for a reason. The photographs he had of
his father when he had served in the Navy during World War II. His
boyhood things: the old baseball glove, the trophies, the high school
and college yearbooks. Love letters from Audra. It was all gone. And
Clarence... As Will stood in front of the wall of flames that roared
upward he could hear the sirens of the fire engines in the distance,
coming down the country road toward Generals' Hill. Tears welled up in
his eyes. He shook his head, engulfed with rage and sorrow. Will's head
hung down as if some invisible sinew had just snapped. Like a bull whose
snorting and charging was now over. Worn and bloodied and receiving the
final thrust of the sword from the matador. From the blade that pierces
the tough hide and plunges down into the back of the neck, where it
brings the bull, slumping and stumbling, down to his knees, and down to
bloody defeat. Down into the dirt of the roaring arena.

179

Up in his glass-and-mahogany office suite, J-Fox Sherman haiy assigned
his multiple associates in the Reichstad case to two different tradEjira
His strategy would be like a combination of land invasion and air
strik%""j exquisitely coordinated. ' IS On one team, several of the
lawyers in the firm, under his supervisk.ea$69 1 had researched,
drafted, and now completed a lengthy Motion for Surnrntfrei 1-Judgt.
Such a motion can be brought when the facts are not in-sulrejl I:
stantial dispute^-and the law can be applied to the facts by the judge,
thrall I; bringing the case to an end without ever going to trial. *m
Sherman was asking the court to review the facts that had already
beC$taou I established--relying primarily on Angus MacCameron's own
sworn depoi out sition testimony. He would argue that the facts dealing
with two issues wassra out certain, clear, and undisputed. The first
issue Sherman wanted the judge tarn I, decide was whether MacCameron had
been reckless at the time of thftfij I printing of his article against
Reichstad. Sherman felt that through Mag$ou I; Cameron's own deposition
testimony, recklessness had been established. l% Sherman would also ask
the judge to decide the second issue, the defeqouou I of truth--whether
there was a substantial amount of truth in what Mac^l I Cameron had said
about Reichstad. Sherman would contend that there wai I no hard evidence
that MacCameron could produce to support what he W@oujou I; written. If
I The Motion for Summary Judgment was the "air strike." If Sherman kf] I
won both of these arguments, the case was over--except for his right to
I have a jury calculate the enormous damages that he also hoped t0PTT' ^
out out addition, he would argue his motion for attorney so fees against
Will Cham- out hers: that the defenses Will had presented at the
beginning of the case were ') so lacking in evidence that he should be
punished by having to pay the $

200 Craig Parshall quarter-of-a-million dollars in attorney's fees to
Shermans firm. That would be the coup de grace--the final, decimating
blow--Sherman's response to Will Chambers' obstinate and aggressive
defense. The second team of Shermans lawyers were working on the "land
invasion." They were preparing for a full-blown jury trial in the

180 event that Judge Jeremiah Kaye did not rule in their favor on all of
the issues. The attorneys had lined up several scholars in archaeology,
papyrology, and cultural anthropology who would testify as expert
witnesses in support of Reichstad so interpretation of 7QA. They had
done a thorough review of

Mac- Cameron's background and were preparing a crippling
cross-examination for him at trial. As the commanding general, Sherman
was ready for war. The Summary Judgment motion was five hundred pages
long. Will Chambers would only have fourteen days to respond. Judge Kaye
would hear arguments in open court the next week after that, and
probably give his ruling from the bench. A copy of the motion had been
sent by Sherman to his client. At his research center, Reichstad scanned
the thick packet of papers, but his mind was elsewhere. Dr. Reichstad
had only five days left before he had to produce the original 7QA
fragment to MacCameron and Chambers' expert witness. Until now,

Reichstad had been successful in jealously protecting the fragment from
the outside world. Reichstad had insisted that Sherman find a way to
block the production of the fragment. The lawyer had told his client it
was impossible--all he could do would be to delay it by filing motion
after motion with Judge Kaye, asking him to issue orders that placed
multiple layers of restrictions on

Mac- Cameron and Chambers--preventing them from doing any testing that
affected the paper or the writing, or that had any effect on the
humidity and barometric pressure inside the glass case which housed the
7QA fragment. In addition, for reasons unknown even to J-Fox Sherman,
Reichstad refused to have the opposing experts do their evaluation of
7QA on the grounds of his own research center. He insisted that it be
transported by armored car to some neutral site in the D.c. area. He
also demanded that his own staff be present during the defense's
evaluation of the fragment. Reichstad rose and examined himself in the
full-length mirror in his office. He was preparing to drive to the
studio to begin filming a TV documentary on his discovery of 7QA and its
revolutionary effect on Christianity. The film would be titled, The Dead
Jesus. Because the project would not air until after the trial date in
his lawsuit, he had not bothered to tell his

181 be lawyer about it. After all, Sherman seemed forever preoccupied
with %. holding Dr. Reichstad back in his meteoric climb to greatness. '
Reichstad was certain that he could retrieve information from MacJust
Cameron that would destroy, and bury, two thousand years of religious
his; tory concerning Jesus. Only then could he move onward to the final
were project--one so daring and so dangerous that Reichstad could
scarcely believe it was now within his reach. A project that would
change not just two thousand years of Christianity, but more than five
thousand years of . Judaism--and which had the potential to shift the
balance of world power out to the Middle East. I "Yes, Reichstad thought
to himself, he was right not to tell his lawyer I about the documentary
film. No lawyer was going to rob him of his place in 1 world history.

Will Chambers had not returned his phone calls for the three days since
the fire. He was now renting a room at a cheap motel, and putting in
very little time at the office. He did check his voice mail--but there
were no calls from MacCameron about paying Will's overdue legal fees.
From the beginning, Rekhstad vs. MacCameron and Digging for Truth
Magazine had been a bad omen in his life, Will concluded as he sat down
on a bar stool at the

Red Rooster. Now that MacCameron could not pay his bills, this was the
time for Will to file a petition with the court to permit him to
withdraw from the case altogether. From the first day that the case had
come into his life, he mused bitterly, it had been one catastrophe after
another: kicked out of his law firm; all but one of his cases taken from
him by his former firm; losing his staff as well as his friend and
associate Jacki Johnson; his secretary quitting; his office broken into;
and now his home burned to the ground and his dog cruelly killed. After
the fire the fire marshal and the fire inspector met with him and told
him it was almost certainly arson. The fire appeared to have been set in
several places on the first floor. The multiple sites of the fire's
origin plus the gunshot to the dog's head made it clear this was no
accident Clarence's body had been analyzed for traces of evidence, and
the bullet from his head was now at the crime lab. But Will knew
something about arson, and he knew that in this case they were not going
to find the perpetrator. Whoever had done this was too clever and too
determined. Will was convinced that because he'd left his Corvette
outside it had given someone the

182 impression that he was in for the night. After dark that person had
gained entrance through the front door-- it had been unlocked when he
had tried to get in during the fire. Poor

The Resurrection File 203

Clarence was shot in the head to make sure he didn't give off a warning
bark. Will had already heard from the crime lab that markings on the
bullet indicated, at least preliminarily, that it might have come from a
gun with a silencer. Will believed that the fire had been set by someone
who thought he-- Will--was upstairs, asleep in bed. Someone wanted him
dead. Will was looking at the glass of whiskey and water in front of
him. He hadn't touched liquor for weeks. Now it really didn't seem to
matter. Will was still staring at the glass when Jack Hornby walked in
the door and sat down next to him. "Hey, how are you? Too busy to call a
newspaperman back?"' "Yeah. Real busy,"

Will replied sarcastically. "You have a minute?"' "I've got a whole lot
of minutes. But I'm not sure I want to spend them with a reporter." "Oh,
I think you do." "You think so?"'

"Yes I do," Hornby said. "How'd you find me here?"' "Well--a little
birdie told me." "Don't be cute. I'm really in no mood for cute," Will
said, staring straight ahead. "Look, reporters--good ones--gravitate to
people who have two things: a story to tell, and a reason to tell it."
Will thought about it for a second. "You talked to one of my former
partners?"' "Nope. But getting close." "Betty Sorenson, my former
secretary." "Yes, sir. I located her.

I said to her, "Where can I contact this guy. He's not in the office and
he's not at home."" The reporter continued. "She said, "If you don't
find him at either of those two places"--and this is a quote--by then
check out the bar stools at the Red Rooster."" And with that Hornby
chuckled. Will pushed the glass away from him and turned to Hornby. "Why
shouldn't I tell you to get lost? You know, you never ran the story on
our lawsuit even after I gave you a beautiful quote." "Look--Betty told
me she'd read in the paper that your house had burned down to the
ground. A pre-Civil War mansion. I feel for you, buddy. That's a rotten
break. I'm sure you're in no mood to talk to a reporter. But I'm not
just a reporter. I can be a help to you here, W. Really, I can. I'm

183

not supposed to say this--we all worship at this altar of "objective
journalism"--but I really am on your side. Whatever that means to you.
I'm. asking you to trust me a little bit. You give me some information,
and I think I might be able to help you in return." "Prove it." With
that, Hornby pulled out his notepad with the triangle diagram on it.

Then Hornby pushed the notepad over to Will and asked him, "Do you see
the answer to this puzzle? Because I sure don't. But I will tell you
this: You give me something that helps answer this puzzle, and I will
tell you what I know. And after I do, I swear you are going to be able
to make some big waves in your defense of the Reichstad case. I'm
talking tidal-wave proportion. I'm talking about tsunami-type monster
waves." Will looked at the notepad and said nothing. Hornby was leaning
from his bar stool, looking at Will expectantly. Will realized that the
pieces were now right there in front of him. He just did not want to see
them. He wanted to grunt that he was tired, and disgusted, and then just
walk away from all of it. But he couldn't. Not now. Down in the dark
tunnel he was starting to see a small shaft of brightness. He had to
start digging toward the light. Toward the truth.

I The Resurrection File 205 people . Will took out his marker pen and
drew a line connecting STATE DEPT/SHARPTIN to REICHSTAD LAWSUIT and
pushed the ' notepad back to Hornby. out "What is the connection between
Sharptin and your case?" Hornby ^ asked. out "I recently found out from
a real insider source that the State Depart- I ment has been watching
me. It's my conclusion that the State Department . has some interest in
my handling of the Reichstad case." I 'Alright Fair enough. Let me tell
you," Hornby said in return, "that I I found out from a very reliable
source that the U.s.. government is trying to I' establish unprecedented
ties with the Arab nations. Militarily and economlioury" It Will took
the notepad and drew a line connecting STATE IDEPT/SHARPTIN to OILST
WHOSE POCKET? and slid it back to iHornby 1 "Well,"

Hornby responded, "that's no flash of brilliance. I figured that out one
myself. Sharptin has an interest in cutting Americans into the oil
monopoly of the OPEC nations. That much I know already. Now, what I I
need to know is how

184 NUCLEAR SCARE fits into this picture--or if whether it's just a red
herring." people Hornby pushed the notepad back over to W. Will then
took his pen 1 and crossed out NUCLEAR SCARE and rewrote it--but right
in the very center of the triangle. Then he drew lines connecting it to
all three points of appindex A the triangle--to the Reichstad lawsuit,
to Sharptin and the State Departi, ment, and to the issue of oil.
Hornby's eyes widened, and he said, "I'm listening." Then Will explained
everything he had been told on his trip to New the York City about the
missile incident--how it was a phony deal--how it was 1 not really
connected to Abdul el Alibahd--how the executions in Saudi I;.; Arabia
had probably been showpieces to appease Americans over the Wall gl
Street bombings. How the arrests in Iran connected with the 'nuclear
threat' were also a put-on. And how all of this was done for the
purpose, apparpently, of convincing the American people that the Arab
nations were America's best and last hope against terrorism and for
global economic security in the oil markets. Terri' After Will was
finished, Hornby was silent for a moment. Then he slowly began to
explain that he was going to trust Will with some highly I; sensitive
information. Hornby told Will how the story he had written about the
Reichstad lawsuit had been squelched because of an upcoming merger
between the Washington Herald and a subsidiary of an oil company owned

206 Craig Parshall 11 by billionaire Warren Mullburn. His investigation
had shown that Mull- burn, for some reason, did not want publicity about
the lawsuit to surface-- at least not now. I Hornby concluded by telling
Will that he had traced millions of dollars I of funding from one of
Mullbum's many business enterprises to Dr. Reichstad's research center.
Will took the notepad once again and drew a line, this time connecting
OILST WHOSE POCKET? to REICHSTAD LAWSUIT. I Then Hornby wrote
down--underneath the word OIL--THE name "WARREN MULLBURN." I Will looked
at the finished diagram. ill "There is only one problem in this little
picture," Will commented. "The I fact that we have a three-way benefit
to the people in the three corners of I this triangle doesn't mean we've
got some kind of conspiracy. "Mullburn supports Reichstad financially,"
Will continued thinking out loud. "The State Department--for whatever

185 reason--wants Reichstad's lawsuit to be successful; Sharptin at
State wants a new economic and politI ical alliance with the Arab
nations, as does Mullburn because of his oil interests. That's not
enough." I "There is one more thing," Hornby said. "What?"' I

"Mullburn has never directly intervened in any political campaign. I
Until now. I have found out that he has spent millions of dollars on a
public-relations campaign to ensure that Sharptin wins the nod for the 1
vice-presidential slot at the upcoming convention. Something is driving
all I of this," Hornby said, tapping his finger on the notepad. I Will
glanced over at the bartender and said, pointing to his glassful of 1
whiskey, "Dump this and give me a ginger ale, will you?"' I Then Will
looked at Hornby, managed a smile, and asked him, "It's I interesting
that you should have come here when you did. Do you believe in fate?"' I
"No. I believe that things happen for a lot of different reasons. People
just call it fate." I "Do you believe in God?"' Will asked. I

Hornby paused. "Don't know. Never had the chance to get a story from
him." I "You may end up doing exactly that," Will replied, "before the
dust settles in all of this."

.. IN A SMALL, UNASSUMING OFFICE

IN Newport News, Virginia, several out

Naval Intelligence officers were meeting with the Deputy Director of
Operou ations for the CIA and two of his field agents. out Abdul el
Alibahd had been tracked by the CIA as he departed Uzbek- I' istan.
American intelligence agents then later received reports that he was out
in Khost, a location in Afghanistan with a history involving old
terrorist I training camps. That is when he disappeared. I Alibahd had
always been able to finance his worldwide travel, along with I his
terrorist cell groups, through complex channels of investments and .i
guised funds. To the American intelligence community, he had come to I
embody terrorism at its most effective and most dangerous: As one of the
I richest men in the world, he possessed unlimited but well-hidden
sources of I cash; he had access to terrorist camps around the world
that provided him I "safe houses"; he had control of strike groups that
could pick up and move I locations on less than ten minutes notice; and
he possessed a fanatical devo I tion

186 to a violent purpose. I The supervising Naval agent was explaining
information his unit had I received on possible routes of travel for
Alibahd. I "The thread in all of our intelligence is that Alibahd may be
planning an I unusual excursion by sea," he said. I The deputy director
was intrigued by that He put his finger on several I points on the world
globe that stood on the desk and commented, "This I guy is almost always
landlocked in his paths of escape; he scurries between I the countries
that give him refuge--from Northern Africa through most I of the Middle
East, to Afghanistan and Pakistan in the east and Uzbek- I istan to the
north, and as far west as Turkey. Taking an ocean route doesn't I. make
any sense."

1 207

208 Craig Parshall

"Gee," one of the agents commented ironically, "why don't we simply call
up Iraq or

Saudi Arabia and ask them to explain this to us? Aren't they part of our
new "partnership for peace"? I thought the Arabs were going to catch
Alibahd for us, right?" After the chuckles quieted down, the deputy
director put his hand on the globe and spun it slightly. "Gentlemen,
there's a lot of blue on this globe. If we don't catch him boarding a
specific vessel, or at least locate the right harbor, the ocean is going
to hide him pretty well. We do know one thing for sure--our bad guy is
on the move. But where is he going, and why?"

* As A RESULT OF HIS CONVERSATION WITH Jack Hornby, Will was committed
to continue his representation comof Angus MacCameron up to the I bitter
end. Will called Tiny Heftland and told him about the arson and the out
shooting of his dog. Tiny offered to secure a full-time bodyguard but
Will only scoffed at the idea. He gave Tiny his temporary address at the
Robert . Lee

Motel, where I he was staying until the insurance company began paying
off on his fire loss. I The claims adjuster indicated that the fact that
arson was involved would I slow down the process, but that as soon as
Will was cleared as a suspect (a "mere technicality," they said) they
would get some money to him to cover I his temporary lodgings. In the
meantime, Will was going through his savI ings and his money-market
account fast. Soon he was going to be

187 seriously I strapped for cash. The motel where Will was staying was
populated by truck drivers, tranI sients, and traveling construction
workers. The first night he was there the temperature dropped, and he
tried to adjust the old-fashioned stand-up radiator. But the fitting for
the pressure knob came off and steam and boiling water spewed over the
room. He drifted off to sleep to the sounds of country music in the next
room, an arguing couple upstairs, and a loud I' drunk out in the parking
lot. The second night a caravan of carnival workers checked in. The man
at the front desk was round and short, with a gravelly voice. Each night
Will would ask if he had gotten any messages during the day. I The man
would give him a look that seemed to say, "You expect me to take I
messages too? That's gonna cost you extra." After a few days, however,
Will began to adjust to his downscale lodgings. He struck up a few
interesting conversations with some of the truckers.

210 Craig Parshall

One fellow and his wife were long-haulers from Texas who traveled with a
little white poodle. Another guy had a huge lighted cross on the grille
of his truck and wore a black

T-shirt that said "Truckin' for Jesus." And there were some other
lighter moments. One night the telephone rang. Will picked it up. At the
other end was the soothing voice of a woman. "Hello. I don't know if you
remember me," the prerecorded message began, "but I'm your psychic
advisor. We talked not too long ago. Remember? You had a concern about
money. Well, I've got some great news for you. All you have to do is
call me back at the private number I'm going to give you, and I will
give you a free three-minute psychic reading. I think that you are
really going to be surprised with what I'm going to tell you!
Remember--this is my private number, so don't give it out to anyone
else! Here it is: 1-900..." Will's belly laughs could be heard all the
way out into the parking lot, where a few drunks and prostitutes were
congregating. When Will had made it into his office the day after his
meeting with Hornby he had had a short telephone message from Dr. Mary
Margaret Giovanni. She hadn't left a message but simply stated that she
wanted Will to call her. She gave her telephone number where she was
teaching at Catholic University. Will, hoping that she would be

188 willing to testify for them, called her back immediately. Then he
got the bad news. "I am not interested in being an expert witness on
your case," Dr. Giovanni said firmly. "I admit that the issues are
fascinating--I've always disagreed with Albert Reichstad's conclusions
about the 7QA fragment. But I will not, cannot, be an expert for your
client--for this Reverend Angus MacCameron." "Why not?" "I've looked
into his background. This man is a fundamentalist preacher type. He's
said some very nasty things about the Catholic Church." "Dr. Giovanni, I
have personally reviewed everything my client has ever published. I know
that he has levied some criticisms against the Vatican-- but then again
he has also attacked almost every other denomination and sect in the
civilized world as well." "Attorney Chambers, your client practically
called the Vatican the whore of Babylon. I myself have had some
disagreements with the Holy Father and the leadership in the Vatican.
But I am still a loyal and devout Catholic." Just then a delivery
courier stepped into Will's office with a slender overnight envelope.
Will signed for it and glanced at the sender's address as

The Resurrection File 211

Dr. Giovanni continued to express her concerns about MacCameron. The
letter had been sent by J-Fox Sherman, Will ripped open the envelope and
scanned the letter inside as he was listening on the phone. Will
interrupted Dr. Giovanni.

"Doctor, I can understand, I really can. But I've got two things to say.
Just hear me out if you would. First, MacCameron's bark is worse than
his bite. Actually he is a rather charming--though somewhat eccentric--
fellow. I've read his writings. What he wrote is that, in his opinion,
and taking literally the reference in the book of Revelation to the
creation of a Jdnd of religious Babylon in the "end times," he believes
the Vatican may play an important role. He also believes that nearly all
denominations within Christianity will be duped into this new religious
Babylon as well. I don't know if that clarification helps." "It
doesn't," she replied. "Well then, let me give you the second reason for
you to reeathink your position." Will raised the letter from J-Fox
Sherman closer to his eyes, making sure he was reading it correctly.
"Doctor, how would you like to be the first human being in the world,
outside of Reichstad's own research team, to inspect and analyze the 7QA

189 fragment?" There was silence on the other end. Then Dr. Giovanni
asked, "You are talking about the actual fragment-- not a replica or a
copy?" "I am talking about the very thing itself, yes." There was
another silence. "Mr. Chambers, have you ever been to Israel?" "No, I
haven't." "Well,

I have spent much of my life there, and in various parts of the Middle
East. Down near Jericho there is a place where, according to popular
belief, the Mount of Temptation is located. Where Jesus was tempted by
the devil. Are you familiar with that story?" "I didn't used to be. But
I've been brushing up on my New Testament lately. Forty days and nights
in the wilderness. The devil appears and offers some tempting business
options to Jesus." "Yes," she continued, "the devil takes Jesus and
shows him all the kingdoms of the world and promises to give them all to
him; all Jesus has to do, in return, is bow down and worship the devil.
Why do I feel like I am at the . Mount of Temptation right now? You are
offering me the most prized

212 Craig Parshal! out PI opportunity any antiquities scholar could
have. But I simply will not deny 11'I my faith." 'ou 1 "Angus MacCameron
is not the devil," Will shot back, "And I am not

11ou 11 one of his demons, I'm just his lawyer. I know sometimes people
get those two roles confused." Giovanni laughed as Will continued.
"Doctor, you don't have to agree with his position on theological mateal
ters. You only have to be willing to tell the truth about 7QA after you
study I it--and tell the truth about Albert Reichstad. That's it. If you
want to say, from the witness stand that you detest what MacCameron has
said about I the Vatican--or anything else--be my guest. Just be willing
to present your 11 informed expert opinion about Reichstad's
interpretation of 7QA." Will could tell that Giovanni was softening. 1
"Let me think about it a little bit more. I have a lecture I'm giving
this 1 afternoon. I will call you back after that. It was good talking
to you, Mr. I Chambers." @ou ' Will looked back at Shermans letter
again. In it, Sherman had conceded I out that Reichstad would have to
produce the original 7QA for inspection, I

But the letter was attached to a motion that Sherman was filing, asking
' out Judge Kaye to place numerous restrictions on the time, place, and
manner 1,! of the inspection. If Will opposed the motion it would simply
eat up the clock that was ticking

190 rapidly toward the trial date. That was exactly what

I Sherman wanted. By the time the motion had been argued and decided by
were I the judge, it would give precious little time to Will's
expert--if he had

one--to inspect the two-thousand-year-old fragment before trial. were
like On the other hand, would Dr. Giovanni be willing to tolerate the
comou plicated restrictions that Sherman wanted to place on their
scientific I analysis of 7QA, even if she agreed to be Will's expert? I
I Will decided he would present the issue to Dr. Giovanni when he talked
with her later that day. 1 As he pondered that, a Federal Express
courier walked into the office f1 to be with two large packages. They
were both from Sherman's office. Will had a 1' good idea what they were.
1 Inside was Sherman's massive, five-hundred-page Motion for Summary
Judgment, which he had just filed with the court, asking Judge Kaye, in
effect, to give Sherman and his client a slam-dunk victory in the case
before I I even getting to trial. Will had less than two weeks to mount
his written reply- @ou"@ou But Will was scheduled to take Reichstad's
deposition in a few days. I' iou Perhaps he could blow the case wide
open with Reichstad's own testimony,

The Resurrection File 213 if so, he could attach the deposition
transcript to his written reply to the court. Yet he also knew that
Sherman and his troops would prepare Reichstad as if he were about to be
examined by the French Academy of Science. Cracking Reichstad open in
the deposition would be nearly impossible. Will was deep into his review
of Sherman's motion papers when he received a telephone call from his
expert in voice and recording analysis. He had finished his study of the
cassette tape containing the message from Dr. Richard Hunter, and had
arrived at his conclusion regarding the part of the tape where Hunter
mentioned either "the fragment," or "the fragments." : "It's really very
clear to me," he told W. "I am very certain." I "Well, which is it?
Fragment--or fragmentr?" be. "Whatever it means to you and your
case--and I really have no idea what your case is about--but in my
opinion..." That was when Will heard someone call out his name in the
lobby. ' Will interrupted his caller, and poked his head around the
corner. It was I attorney Jacki Johnson, standing in the

191 lobby. Will smiled and asked her to grab a seat. be "I've only got a
few minutes..." Jacki said. : Will assured her that he would be off the
phone in a second. Then Will returned to his caller. "All right. Give it
to me. Which is it? Fragment or fragments? Singular : or plural?" "Will,
you've got more than one "fragment." When I slowed it down

under my voice analyzer it showed a definite at the end of the word.
That his guy on the phone said fragmentx'"

After the call Will stepped quickly into the lobby where Jacki was his
pacing. He hugged her, and she smiled and stepped back and took a long
look at him. I "I didn't expect to see you in such good spirits! I heard
about your house. I That was terrible. I was so sorry for you. I thought
of the parties with you and Audra. The good times we had out there. I
just can't believe it." I "They killed Clarence. That was the icing on
the cake." " "Oh no--who?" I "I don't know." out "What are you saying?
Was this arson or something?" I "The fire marshal is convinced it was.
And whoever did it put a bullet @ou into my dog too. It seems pretty
obvious to me." .;

"Who would have done this?" "Jacki, I think they were after me. They
wanted me out of the way."

214 Craig Parshall

"But who?" "I'm not sure. I think it has something to do with the case
I'm handling for MacCameron." "Well, I want you to know,"

Jacki said, "that I was up in U.s.. District Court in D.c. the other day
when one of Sherman's legal associates filed a motion with the clerk
that looked like it was the size of the New York City phone directory. I
took a peek at it and recognized the caption. It's that MacCameron case,
right?" "Yeah, Sherman's motion just came into my office today." "You
have no secretary?" "Nope." "No paralegals--no clerks?" "Not a one."
"Are you trying to work yourself up to a heart attack, or would you
prefer a stroke? Or do you plan on maybe hanging yourself from the light
fixtures when you finally realize you can't handle this case alone?"
Will chuckled. He missed having Jacki around. "So, I was talking to
Howard--by the way, he says hello and expects to see you at the wedding.
Anyway, I told him about the motion. You know what my loving fiance says
to me? Can you believe it? He asks me if I still have any "personal
leave" coming my way from the Hadley

192 Bates law firm. So I tell him, sure, I have almost two weeks. Then,
get this--he says--well, then, why don't you take some of your personal
leave time, and go down to Monroeville and help that poor guy Will
Chambers? He needs you on this case. Can you believe the nerve?" "Sounds
like Howard. I can't imagine that you would let him boss you around like
that," Will replied with a smile. "Well, if we were married I wouldn't.
But hey, the wedding is still more than a month away. So, I think I'm
going to let him enjoy the illusion that he can call the shots. So, what
do you say? When can I come down here and start helping you with this
case? I mean, if you can guarantee my safety. I don't want somebody to
start shooting at me because I'm helping you!" "There is only one way to
make sure," Will replied, in a serious and steady voice. "You need to
stay entirely in the background on this. That's the only way I will
accept your help. No one can know you are helping me. In fact, I want
you to do everything on this case out of your home. Don't come to my
office again. I don't want to take any chances." Will broke into a grin.
"You know, you really are a peach, Jacki. And I think you're way too
good for Howard. You tell him that, for me."

The Resurrection File 215

"Oh yeah, keep it coming, keep it coming! Flattery always works on a
woman." "No, I mean it," Will said. "You are a wonderful friend. I don't
think I ever told you how much I appreciated working with you all those
years. And I think you put up with a lot with me. I was a tough guy to
work with." Jacki looked at Will more closely. "Something is going on
with you, Will, I can see it," she declared. "Despite all of this stuff
coming down on your head. I think I see some humanity peeking through
again. The old Will is coming back" "I'm not sure it's the old Will," he
replied. "I feel like I'm on some kind of strange journey to somewhere.
I'm not really sure where I'm going. But one thing I will do. I'll let
you know when I get there."

ill 1

I

After JACKI JOHNSON LEFT, WILL

FELT a renewed sense of optimism. Before she had volunteered her help,
Will had been wondering how he could possibly defend against Sherman's
Summary-Judgment motion, continue the rest of the work

193 on the case, and still deal with the huge amount of work necessary
to finish his property damage claim for the fire. And then there were
the rather sinister undertones to the fire investigation. Will had begun
to see the focus of the arson investigation shift toward him. The
investigators wanted to know why he had been in New York, and whether he
had any proof that he had been there on the day of the fire. Will had
indicated that he had had a "confidential meeting," and that he was not
at liberty to divulge it. He had no intention of breaching his promise
to the public defender. The investigators had then explained that they
knew he had been terminated from his law partnership. Perhaps, because
of financial stress, he might have had a motive to set the fire himself.
Will was outraged by their suggestion. Did that also mean, he argued to
them, that he shot his own dog with a gun equipped with a silencer? Did
any of that make sense? The arson investigators had demanded that Will
provide them with some proof of having been up in New York that day.
That part of his story, according to the arson squad, was not checking
out. Unfortunately, Will had paid cash at all the restaurants--and for
his train ticket. All the receipts had been in his raincoat. And that
had been incinerated on the front porch of his house, where he'd dropped
it when trying to rescue

Clarence. Yet Will was determined not to let the lurking threats of an
arson charge slow down his preparation in the case. Will's immediate
task was to sketch an outline of each point that Sherman had made in his
Summary-Judgment motion. He was working on that when Angus MacCameron
called him on the telephone.

which The Resurrection File 217 out MacCameron said that he had heard
about the fire destroying Will's

house, and how terrible it was, and how sorry he felt about it. He asked
if so; Will had managed to find a place to stay. Will told him that he
was staying . at a motel. . He initially questioned whether to tell his
client that he was a suspect in I the arson of his own house. But he
decided to divulge it. Will explained that I; the investigators were
demanding proof that he had been in New York ear. lier that day. I "I
know you must think I'm chasing hobgoblins when I talk like this, but I
Will, I have to tell you something straight," MacCameron responded out
somberly. "This is spiritual warfare. You are being opposed by evil
forces I from the

194 province of hell. Forces you may not understand. The prince of I:
darkness wants you out of my case because he knows that God himself, in
I: his inscrutable wisdom, has hand-picked you to defend me. But don't
give iddup. Finish the course!

Run with zeal that race that is set before, you, as the I Bible says!",
Will didn't know whether it was just his increasing familiarity with
iMacCameron's bibliocentric style of conversation, or maybe something
tfelse--but regardless, Will was beginning to see the logic behind Mac1
Cameron's encouragement. it Then his client became very upbeat and said
that he had some "great I; news" but wanted to tell Will in person. He
invited Will up to Washington be to have dinner in his apartment with
him and his wife, Helen. He would tell I Will the good news then. Will
suggested they go out to eat at a restaurant to save the trouble, but
MacCameron insisted he would prepare dinner for pthem in his apartment.
That way, he sdeaWill could meet his wife. if Will recalled that Fiona
had mentioned her mother briefly during their pdinner at Luigi's--that
she had health problems--but hadn't elaborated. iFiona had also said
that she planned her tours so she could fly back to be I'with her
parents almost every weekend. Will also remembered that Fiona II was
cutting her current tour short altogether to spend more time at home
with her mother. Touched by his client's offer, Will accepted.
MacCameron suggested dist they dine together that very night. Will said
that would be fine. Just as he was getting ready to leave for his dinner
with the MacRCAMERONS, Will received a call back from Dr. Giovanni.

She said she had ^ccsidered her involvement in the case. While she still
had misgivings about f'Will's client, she would agree to evaluate the
7QA fragment and would tesKtify about her findings.

8 I 218 Craig Parshall

Then Will hit her with the restrictions Sherman wanted to place on the
analysis of the fragment. Giovanni did not like them. Will then
explained how a long, drawn-out court battle over Shermans conditions
would delay their access to the ancient piece of papyrus, which would
mean that they would be playing right into their opponents' hands.
Reluctantly, Giovanni agreed to the conditions listed in Sherman's
motion. She had to admit that none of them would likely affect the
validity or accuracy of her conclusions. "When do I get a chance to look
at it?" she asked. "As soon as I tell the judge

195 that I have no objection to the request, he should issue an order
for them to produce it. Then we will be in business." What Will did not
explain was that Sherman might have other tricks up his sleeve to
further frustrate and delay the production of the ancient fragment. With
the trial date quickly approaching, Will knew that every day, and every
hour, would be critical.

I . 43

The apartment of Angus MacCameron was a modest little place up in D.c.
amid middle-income brownstones, and halfway between the lower- rent area
and the upscale condos in Georgetown. MacCameron greeted Will at the
door with a hearty hello and a big smile. Will suddenly felt foolish
that he hadn't brought a gift--or something to add to the dinner. That's
the kind of thing Audra had always reminded him to do. Inside, Will
could see the evidence of a very simple existence. The furniture was
old; much of it was worn. He noticed that in the living room a throw rug
was placed over an area in the carpeting that was torn and frayed. In
the corner was a small desk with a computer, with books piled on the
floor around it. There were bookshelves in each room, all crammed with
books, and with more books stacked in piles on top of each of them. Will
could smell dinner cooking. MacCameron urged Will to come in and meet
his wife. As he approached the doorway of one room he turned to Will and
lowered his voice. "My dear Helen has a very rare form of cancer. The
cancer cells take over the air sacs of the lungs. She never smoked a
cigarette in her life, yet she still came down with it. They gave her a
lung transplant a year ago. But the cancer turned up again in the new
set of lungs. She has trouble breathing so she has to use an oxygen
mask. "I hope this doesn't bother you. But she is such a blessing to me,
such a priceless woman. I wanted you to meet her before things get any
worse for her. And, of course, she knows all about you and is eager to
see you. Come in to her room, won't you?"' They stepped into a bedroom.
Helen MacCameron was propped up in bed with a pink flowered bathrobe on.
There was an oxygen mask over her

220 Craig Parshall mouth, connected to a tank next to her bed. Her right
arm had an IV tube running to a metal stand from which were hanging a
clear-looking solution and a darker

196 solution, both in plastic bags. Her brownish-gray hair had been
neatly combed. Someone had put makeup on her face, rather inexpertly
applied. Her arms were laid on top of the covers. They were thin, and
the skin seemed to hang a little from her bones. Helen lifted one arm
with great effort and vaguely directed it toward W. He took her soft,
fragile hand. It was cold to the touch. As Will studied her face he saw
the features of a woman who would have been a striking beauty in her
day. But he noticed something else. The skin around her eyes was
crinkling ever so slightly, and the muscles of her face were tightening.
Helen MacCameron was smiling at him from behind her oxygen mask. "Mrs.
MacCameron, meeting you is a great honor,"

Will said. "I know you've been a wonderful wife to Reverend MacCameron.
And a great mother to Fiona." Angus MacCameron bent over and kissed
Helen's forehead gently, and then stroked it with his hand. "Are you
hungry, love? Would you like to eat now?"' With an effort Helen shook
her head "no." Then she looked as if she wanted to say something. So
MacCameron lifted her mask and she whispered something into his ear.
Then he smiled and put his wife's mask back on, carefully adjusting it,
and left the room with W. As soon as the two were in the kitchen
together MacCameron told Will, "Helen told me you are very charming.
That you are a good man." "Your wife seems like a very courageous
woman." "I've been telling her all about you," MacCameron said as he
opened the stove to check the pot roast. "I've learned to be a
moderately decent chef since she's taken a turn for the worse." "I am
sorry she is not doing well." "The prognosis for my dear wife--the soul
of my soul--well, it's not good. I take comfort in knowing that things
really do work together for good for those who love the Lord and are
called by him, and who have embraced Christ by faith. My wife loves the
Lord. She may be doing cartwheels on the golden streets of glory much
sooner than I would want." Then Angus MacCameron's chin trembled a bit,
and his voice cracked as he said, "She is my very best friend as well as
my soul mate. I fear that I may have a rough road trying to go on
without her. I look to God alone for the strength to sustain me when
that day comes." And with that he opened

I The Resurrection File 221 his tip his hands in front of him, as if to
release

197 his grip on some treasured but I invisible possession. is "I lost my
wife," Will said as he helped set the plates on the dining-room be"
table, "and my life fell apart." I

MacCameron was carrying in the pot roast on a large serving plate. "The
Bible says there is a kind of grieving everyone goes through, out
including those who belong to God. Even Jesus wept. There is the loss
that I God knows we must all experience. But then there is a kind of
grieving for I those who have no hope beyond the grave. That is the
tragic, empty, lonely 1 kind of grief. So, have you read that part yet,
in the Gospels, where Jesus - wept? You've been reading the Gospels like
I suggested?" I "Straight through. All four of them. I even remembered
their names. 1 And your little rhyme helped." I "So, you do listen when
I talk!" MacCameron exclaimed. "Yes, my out Sunday school teacher in
Glasgow taught me that as a boy: "Matthew, I Mark, Luke and John; saddle
the horse and I'll get on," he used to say. So, do you remember where it
was that Jesus wept?" I; "Yes. At the tomb of..." Will had to think for
a moment. "Lazarus." I "Well done. Well done." They both sat down to the
meal, and Angus MacCameron prayed a which blessing over the food. "Oh, I
nearly forgot!" MacCameron said. "The good news I had for you. I'll
received a letter from a church I had never even heard of before. The
letter If was a note of encouragement for me to continue the fight
against Reich- I" stad's 7QA heresy. Andwiththe letter was a check made
out to my magam-bezine. A very large check from the outreach ministry
committee of that church. Enough to pay what I owe you and plenty more
left over. I'm transit ferring that whole check to you. You can take it
with you when you leave tonight." . The thought of leaving the Robert .
Lee Motel hit Will like an exploit sion of Independence Day fireworks.

He couldn't help from beaming ear to I ear. "I told you my boy, the Lord
provides; he really does," MacCameron psd. 1 "Where's that church
located?" Will asked. 1 "Tennessee." "What was the name of the church?"
1'. "Church of the Golden Road. I believe that was the name."

222 Craig Panhall

Now it was clear. And Will could only smile and shake his head. Brother
Billy Joe Highlighter and his congregation were now supporting the work
of Will Chambers. "So, you have a church behind you now. That would

198 make you a missionary of a rather strange sort, wouldn't it?"
MacCameron noted with a gleam in his eye. "But if you are a missionary,
then you had better know what your message is, right? So, barrister Will
Chambers, what is your message? Exactly what do you believe?" As Will
thoughtfully chewed his pot roast at the humble table of his client, he
knew that he did not have an answer to that question--not yet. But he
also felt, just as certainly, that he was destined to discover it. Not
just an answer to the mysteries of the legal case he was handling--but
something even larger. He felt the powerful pull to some kind of unknown
doorway. And he somehow knew that when he dared to open that door, it
would lead him to something bigger than all of the battles he had ever
fought. Bigger than his pursuit of justice. Bigger even than the dreams
that were dashed, and the love he had lost, and the home that lay in
ashes. Bigger even, perhaps, than life itself.

WlLITTLE WAS ON THE LINE WITH

J-Fox Sherman's office when Fiona called and left a voice-mail message
for Will to call her back He was in the process of telling Sherman's
associate that he was agreeing to every single one of their conditions
for the production of the 7QA fragment to his experts, and that he was
overnighting to Judge Kaye his formal consent to the terms set out in
Sherman's motion. He was faxing his consent as they were speaking.
Despite all that, Shermans legal associate was hesitant to commit to an
exact time when the fragment would actually be produced. "The written
order of Judge Kaye to produce 7QA to our experts should be signed by
day after tomorrow," Will countered. "I do not want any delays. If there
are, I will be filing a motion for contempt of court against your
office." The associate lawyer assured him that he would be in touch with
J-Fox Sherman, who was presently in trial in a complicated antitrust
case in New York, and that he would relay Will's concerns to his boss.
Will called Fiona back. "I'm looking at the area code on your voice
mail; that's North Carolina, isn't it?" Will asked.

"Yes," Fiona replied, "I'm getting ready for a concert in the coliseum
down here in Greensboro. Thanks for calling me back."

"Sure. How are you?" "Well, I got your present. That was very kind. You
didn't have to do that." "I know. But I did want to thank you for the
dinner.

199 And it just seemed to have your name written all over it." "I heard
about your house burning down. When I heard I just cried. How awful. Da
says that he finds the whole thing very--I think "sinister" is the word
he used."

224 Craig Parshall

IJJ That reminded Will of the problems he was having over the claim, and
jII the cloud of suspicion hanging over his head. out "Fiona, this may
come as a strange request. But I just wanted to ask you I something. Was
I thoughtless enough to include the sales receipt in the box I I sent to
you?" I;

"Gee, I don't remember I don't think so,"

Fiona replied hesitantly. I "How about the box? Did it have the logo or
name of the shop where I bought it?" In II' Fiona thought for a few
seconds. "I don't think it did. Just a plain white box with tissue paper
and Styrofoam in it," she said. And then she asked, "Will, does this
have something 111 to do with your house fire? Da told me that they're
trying to blame you. I'll They are questioning your word on where you
were that day." II "Well," Will replied, "I really don't want to burden
you with anything 1 else. Please just let me know if you recall anything
about where I bought I 11 that statue. I'm sure this fire investigation
will come out all right. No reason to worry." I "I sure will try to
remember anything I can," Fiona responded. "By the I way, I heard that
you had dinner with my father and that you met my mother." "Yes, I did."
I "This is the last leg of my tour. I'm going home to be with her
full-time. I I really need to be with my mum now." I Will could tell
that Fiona's voice was trembling slightly. "It meant a lot, meeting
her," Will said. III After a moment's silence, Fiona spoke again. "Will,
I did have one other I reason to call you." Her voice had changed a
little. "What is it?" "Well--I guess when I received that package from
you with that very thoughtful gift, I thought we ought to talk."
Somehow, Will knew what she was going to tell him. "Remember our dinner
together? You asked whether I was going out on III dates. I told you I
was single by choice. Like I said, I feel that it is probably I God's
choice for me. But even if

I felt that God had prepared someone for I me, it would have to be
someone who knows Jesus personally and loves him III with all his heart.
I think that probably puts us light-years apart." jli Will

200 could hear her draw in a shaky breath. "You are a wonderful guy. So

much love underneath that thick skin of yours. And a brilliant lawyer.
My His father was right--I think you are God's choice for his case. But
I can't see out how you could be God's choice for me. I hope you don't
think I am being

The Resurrection File 225

I too harsh in saying this--this is not easy for me. You have such a
precious place in my heart. But I just don't want you to have any
expectations." "No," Will said quietly. "I could see this coming some
time ago. Just a be feeling I had." He could hear Fiona crying softly.
"Please forgive me," she said composing herself. "With my mum getting 5
worse and everything else, this has been hard. But God has really been
so good to us in the midst of all this." I "I wish I could make it easier,"

Will said. "I would do anything not to see out you hurt. Listen, you've
got to get ready to sing. I ought to let you go. I want I you to sing
like an angel tonight. How should I say this--how about, "give that 'em
heaven tonight!"" I" Fiona laughed, and promised she would. I After
hanging up the phone Will knew he had heard a door close. He which had
no choice but to move on. The problem was, he had no idea what that I
meant, or how he was going to do it. Somehow he had to keep moving I
straight ahead, and not look back He sat and stared out the window for I
several minutes, thinking about the hurt and the sadness he felt because
of Fiona's call. He had to face the truth--he had allowed Fiona to
become a from major force in his heart, like the moon pulling the tide.
out Will tried to pull himself together, while he trudged over to the
confer- I ence room to where the papers for the MacCameron case had now
I expanded. He had to prepare for Dr. Reichstad's deposition. But he
knew : now that it would be impossible to get his experts in to evaluate
the 7QA I fragment before he would be asking Reichstad questions under
oath. Thus, I: he would not have that arsenal of ammunition to use in
his questioning. That fact would be a major hindrance. which As a result
of questioning hundreds of witnesses over the years, he had I learned
the sad truth. When something really important was at stake, you 1: had
to corner the witness with the facts--comforce the truth out through
well ,. placed and expertly timed questions. Truth-telling was not, with
a biased I and self-interested party like Reichstad, a matter that could
simply be taken I

201 for granted. Rather, the truth was something that would have to be I
squeezed out like the last bit of toothpaste from a toothpaste tube. 1
And in just a few days, Will would have his opportunity to start I
squeezing.

JACK HORNBY WAS FOLLOWING UP A

LEAD. He knew there had been a meeting recently, near the OPEC
headquarters in Vienna. In attendance at the meeting had been the top
Muslim clerics from each of the OPEC nations. Hornby knew there was no
official tie-in between Islam and the OPEC oil cartel. Yet there had
always been a lurking suspicion that the original driving force behind
OPEC was the desire to protect and preserve the most potent economic
weapon that Islam had--the thick, black liquid that lay like a treasure
trove, beneath the sands of the nations of the Middle East. OPEC had
been created in 1960 by a conference of Islamic nations that had met in
Baghdad. Among the original five members, the only nation not overtly
controlled by Islam was Venezuela. But even it had strong Islamic
sympathies and had regularly appointed Muslim delegates to the OPEC
conferences. With the council of Islamic clerics meeting in Vienna at
the same time as the annual meeting of OPEC,

Hornby had begun to see a pattern fi emerging. if I Then he had received
a call from someone in the U.s.. who had a relaIllllllllilllllll

^ve V*enna., According to Hornby's source, American billionaire Warren
ill Mullburn had met with the Islamic clerics at a lavish villa just
outside I Vienna--at the same time the OPEC conference was going on.
Having already been alerted to Mullburns suspicious connections, Hornby
was now hot on the trail. He pulled every public speech, article, and I
book authored by Warren Mullburn. to out After keyword-searching for
"Islam, Christianity, Mullburn" on the

Net, jou Hornby noticed the numerous times that Mullburn had made
favorable [I mention of Islam and had advocated a merger of some type
between the two I religions. Was Mullburn's motivation just part of his
eccentric philosophical ill 226

The Resurrection File 227 meanderings? Or was his entree into the
Islam-Opec connection a matter of brute economics? Or was it perhaps
some combination of the two? I Hornby called Will Chambers to exchange

202 information and get an Jj update on the Reichstad lawsuit. 9- '
"Guess what I just finished doing," Will said after he had been greeted

thy the reporter. "I'm bad at guessing games," Hornby replied. "I
thought you were the guy who was always running with "hunches."" "I
believe in hunches. That's different. What'd you come up with?"
"Well--but first I need to give you some background details. And these
need to stay under wraps, unless and until the case goes to trial." "You
know my reputation. I only blow the lid at the right time--and on the
right people." "Okay," Will replied. He went on to recount MacCameron's
meeting with Dr. Hunter in Jerusalem. And how and why MacCameron had
become suspicious of the deaths of Hunter and Azid. Lastly, Will
explained his client's theories about Reichstad's connection with the
two dead men and the fragment that seemed so similar to 7QA. "So what
you're saying," concluded Hornby, "is that Reichstad must have come into
possession of Hunter's fragment by some skullduggery--is that the case?"
"You're right on track." ^ "So--you're going to have your client testify
at trial that Hunter gave him a description of the fragment that was
identical to what's now known as the 7QA fragment--and if the jury
believes your guy, you just might have ballpark triple on that issue.
Okay, I see a story coming." "Wait a minute--how are you going to get
this in print?" Will questioned. "Your newspaper's in MuUburn's pocket
now." "Watch me,"

Hornby responded. "Well, and Mr.

Billionaire brings me to the punch-line. I did a computer check on the
Israeli newspapers during the week of Reichstad's New Testament
antiquities conference in Jerusalem," Will explained. "I pulled up a
little blurb in the Jerusalem Post. Guess who was in town that week? Our
Mr. Mullburn--on "business."

The same week as Reichstad was there--the same week that Azid and Hunter
show up dead. And shortly thereafter, Reichstad trumpets to the world
that he has the 7QA--RECEIVED from Azid shortly before his "suicide.""
"Then lo and behold--7QA spells doom to the story of the resurrection of
Jesus Christ. And that is just swell to the Muslims--because calling
Jesus the Son of God is blasphemy to them," Hornby added.

228 Craig Parshall

"So, what is it that you have for me?" Will asked. ij

203 "Well, speaking of Islam," Hornby went on, "I just learned that
Mull- burn was in on some supersecret meeting of the head Muslim clerics
of the OPEC nations, in Vienna. That meeting was just before the formal
OPEC meeting--also in Vienna. My hunch is that Mullburn is trying to
convince the Muslims that the U.s.. is Allah-friendly. In return for
some "cultural reconciliation," to borrow one of Kenneth Sharptin's
favorite phrases, Mullburn is trying to get himself appointed to this
new American chair at the OPEC meetings." "Well, in light of his
campaign contributions for Sharptin, that certainly smells illegal." "Of
course," Hornby noted, "so Mullburn will get someone who is beholden to
him--the guy owns everybody--to hold that seat at OPEC and to be his
stoolie. Mullburn would have insider information on oil production and
prices way before the rest of the world. It would be a goldmine for
him." "The Arabs will give all of that power to Mullburn for the price
of a little religious compromise by the U.s..?" Will said skeptically.
"Well," Hornby laughed, "that, plus some advanced military secrets and
real heavy duty weaponry--compliments of the United States government!"
"What does

Undersecretary Sharptin get out of all this--assuming there is some kind
of---I hesitate to use the word..." . "Use it. It won't hurt,"

Hornby broke in sarcastically. "Okay. Conspiracy!" "What does Sharptin
get out of all this? Why he gets a little card that says, "Go straight
to White House as vice president--don't stop at go." Sharptin will have
bought for the U.s.. the perception of oil security and lower gas
prices. He's already got the Arab nations looking like they are driving
the terrorists into the sea. Helping America feel safe and secure in a
new partnership for peace. No more Wall Street bombings. No more trucks
with nuclear warheads. That makes Sharptin a valuable commodity to the
President--because the current White House popularity ratings stink like
a dead skunk."

"Does this all make sense?" Will asked, a little mind-boggled by the
size of what he was hearing. "I love baseball," Hornby said. "Yes, I do
love baseball. And the real thing of beauty, in my book at least, is a
gracefully executed triple play. Where those big
two-hundred-twenty-pound athletes are gliding in

204 the air, leaping, catching, bulleting that ball to the next guy all
in one movement-- like a ballet in the dust. How I do love to see a good
triple play." Ill Hull Will Chambers was waiting for the point.

his The Resurrection File 229

"So here we have the chance to make a triple play. Reichstad is at first
base: He gets money, fame, and fortune through the discovery of 7QA.
Only he needs Mullburn, Mullburn is behind this somehowwith his funding
and his influence--and maybe even something more than that.
"Undersecretary Sharptin is at second base. He uses the 7QA discovery to
plow the old-time Christian religion into the ground and create some
"feel-good" reconciliation with Islam; in return, the Arab nations
appear to help the old U.s.. of A. keep everybody safe from
terrorism--and also keep be everybody driving with cheaper gas. A huge
arms deal to the Arabs through :. Sharptin's arm-twisting is the
deal-sweetener. And Sharptin gets into the : White House for his good
sportsmanship and fancy footwork." be 'And Mullburn is at third base?"
Will asked. "Right. He gets the inside OPEC track to more oil--and at
the same time can lay claim to having fulfilled his own megalomania by
creating a new religious merger--Islam and Christianity--mixed with some
of Mulli: burn's own brand of evolutionary theology." I "Hornby, you are
a conspiratorialist! I never would have guessed it." out "No, to the
contrary," Hornby replied. "I just know a good story when I l@ou see it.
But there is one little problem with all this." out "What's that?" Will
inquired. I "We don't have a speck of clear proof that this science
fiction story is I really true. Without a smoking gun we've got no ball
game. Now, aren't you I'-going to be taking Reichstad's deposition
soon?" I "In two days," Will said. I; "Why not start testing our
conspiracy theory by asking some pointed I questions at the deposition?"
I "No, I can't afford to let him know what we are thinking," Will
responded. "If I can prove it--I will spring it on them at trial. If
not, I can't I let our theory see the light of day." I "Let me know how
the deposition goes," Hornby said, and then hung up. Will went back to
his preparation for Reichstad's deposition. He knew I that when he
questioned Reichstad he would be walking the razor's

205 edge-- I trying to gain the maximum amount of information, but
trying not to tip I off his opponents to the fact that he might have
discovered a conspiracy so I outrageous that it looked almost capable of
consuming the truth itself--- % almost--but not quite.

Angus MacCameron had said he could meet with Will as soon as Fiona was
off tour. She could relieve him in caring for his cancer-stricken wife.
When MacCameron arrived at Will's office a day before Dr. Riechstad's
deposition, he was carrying a thin book in his hand. "I thought I had
given you everything that Reichstad ever wrote," MacCameron explained,
"but I forgot to give you this one." "What is it?" Will inquired as he
grabbed his notepad and sat down at the table in his office, across from
his client. "A book that Reichstad authored about ten years ago. I think
it's out of print now." Will looked at the title: A New Quest for

Jesus. "Anything helpful in it?" MacCameron shook his head and said, "I
honestly don't know. I have been a little tired lately, and with Helen
not doing well, I just have not had a chance to look at it." MacCameron
was pale and looked weary, so Will decided to cut the meeting short. The
two of them reviewed the areas of questioning Will had planned for
Reichstad's deposition. Next, they discussed the Summary Judgment motion
that Sherman had filed. Will had prepared an affidavit for MacCameron to
sign, explaining his version of the facts, and why his accusations
against Reichstad in his magazine were well-founded. Will gave a copy of
the rough draft of the affidavit to MacCameron so he could take it with
him and read it over.

The Resurrection File 231

"Check closely for any inaccuracies," Will advised him. "If you sign
this thing, and then you say something different at trial, you are in
real trouble. Also, see if I have left anything out that you think is
important." "When can we look at the 7QA fragment?" MacCameron asked. "I
called the court clerk yesterday, and Judge Kaye signed the order
requiring them to produce it to us according to the terms that Sherman
had demanded. I called Sherman's office, but he is still in trial in New
York. But don't worry. I will put a formal demand on record at the
deposition. Today is Thursday. I see no reason we can't have it by next
Monday." "Good," MacCameron said, his face lighting up.

206 "Now that we know that Hunter said "fragment?"' in his message, I am
even more convinced that when we get a look at 7QA we are going to see
evidence that it was originally part of a bigger piece. Azid probably
cut it into pieces. He was going to sell the fragments piecemeal and
drive up the price." "Have you got any further ideas on where the other
pieces nught be? Or how many there are?" Will asked. "Hunter so message
said he was sending the "fragments" separately. I think at first, Azid
gave only one piece to Hunter. Probably the 7QA fragment first, to see
how much Hunter thought the British Museum might be willing to pay. I
don't think Azid had any idea how valuable it was going to be. But I
know Azid knew a little about Koine Greek--and I think he probably
recognized the name Jesus' in the Greek. That's why he cut up the
document and gave 7QA to Hunter first." "What do you think Hunter's
conclusions were?" "I'm sure Hunter probably reached the same conclusion
that Reichstad later did. Except for one thing." "What's that?" "When
Hunter met with me at the Between the Arches Cafe in Jerusalem, at first
he was talking as if there was one fragment that he had obtained from
Azid. But later in the conversation, it started sounding like he was
talking about several fragments. You have to remember, Hunter was very
cryptic about all of this--he looked like he was under intense
pressure." "What do you think happened?" 1 believe that Azid cut the
larger fragment into two, perhaps three pieces. He first showed the
fragment that had the word 'Jesus' to Hunter because he knew that would
create great excitement." "So Hunter evaluates that piece--the one you
think is 7QA, the piece that Reichstad later obtained?" "Precisely,"
MacCameron replied.

232 Craig Parshall

"And Hunter looks at the 7QA piece,"

Will continued, "says to himself, this is first-century writing, and
rushes back to Azid and demands to know the whole story behind it. And
so Azid says, "I've got these other fragments that belong to the same
piece."" "Yes, that's what I think happened," MacCameron replied. "Azid
shows Hunter that he has the other pieces. Hunter informs Azid that when
he puts the whole puzzle together he will be able to secure a huge
amount of money from the British Museum. I can only presume that Richard

207 collected all of the pieces from Azid--because he mentioned "the
fragments" in his message." "That means that the only people who knew of
the existence of the other fragment pieces were Azid, of course, and
Hunter." "And someone else: Those responsible for killing them both,"
Mac- Cameron added. "Did Hunter mention other reasons why he felt that
Azid's death was not a suicide? AH we know is that there was no
motive--no depression or despondency--and no suicide note." "No, nothing
else really. Hunter did say that the Israeli police had been at the
scene also, but he said nothing about their observations." "So if Hunter
had all the pieces...Okay, the killers go to Azid first He doesn't have
anything.then they kill him. But why?" The two were silent. Then Will
answered his own question. "Whoever did the killing didn't do it just to
sell the fragments on the black market. It wasn't just for profit--they
wanted to be able to lay claim to them in front of the entire world.
Therefore they couldn't afford to have any witnesses. Azid's death had
to look like suicide--because Reichstad knew that he would have to
eventually explain where he got the 7QA fragment--and that meant having
to tie the fragment back to Azid. An allegation that he was murdered
would cast suspicion on Reichstad." "Why didn't

Azid simply refuse to tell them anything?" MacCameron asked. Will smiled
at his client's naivete. "He probably did--at first. But I have a
feeling that someone used very strong persuasion to get him to talk
before they killed him." Then Will had a thought--and wrote down
"Israeli Police" to remind himself to call Tiny. "You mean they tortured
him before they killed him?" MacCameron asked. "Yes, I would say that is
likely." "Why wouldn't the police be able to detect that when they
looked over Azid's body?" MacCameron wondered.

The Resurrection File 233

"There are ways to torture someone, I think, where it's not so obvious."
"Poor Azid. And

Richard. Such a waste of life. Such a terrible thing," MacCameron
commented sadly. Will got up and stretched. Then he said, "You have no
idea where those other fragments are. And Reichstad either doesn't
know--or he does, but he won't admit it. So how in the world are we
going to find out where they are? That is the ultimate proof we need in
this case." "I called London and spoke to Richard's sister,

208 with whom he had been ," living. She didn't know where the other
fragments might be. I called the ' British Museum and asked about his
papers and effects. They said they had, gone through everything in his
office--a matter of routine inventory of his projects--but they didn't
find anything either." be "So," Will said, "that only leaves us with
Hunter's riddle." With that, I Will glanced at his notes. He recited the
message:

jj So if you ever have to put the picture together, just remember this

the next time you come to the halls of the British Museum. 1 Remember
your Bible.. .remember the resurrection order.

I "I know those fragments are somewhere at the British Museum," Mac- Is
Cameron mused. "They have to be. I just don't know where to start." '$
"And if you were to find them--what if they substantiate Reichstad's I;
claims that

7QA is proof that Jesus never rose from the grave. Then what?" I Will
asked his client. out "They won't." I "How do you know?" I "Because,"
MacCameron said with a smile, "I know that my Redeemer lliveth!" I "How
can you be so sure?" Will probed. "I've looked at the evidence I while
I've been preparing this case.

While I can't understand it scientifically, I can see the evidence
historically and logically. As a trial lawyer, I concede I- there's a
persuasive case for the credibility of the Gospel accounts of the resm
urrection. But that doesn't push me over the line into faith." "That's
because," MacCameron noted with a smile, "reason can never "push" you
over the line into faith. It can bring you up to the bar, but it can't
., propel you over. That is the job of something else--something much
difI ferent indeed." I "And what would that be?" "The human will. Faith
is like a muscle, exercised by an act--not just of % reason, but of the
will. God draws people to himself by his inscrutable and Kdivine
election--but at the same time you must be willing to exercise that

if

234 Craig Parshall muscle of faith yourself. You must take the first
step of faith not because your sense of logic compels you, but because
you have willed. God wants you to meet him, through his Son, Jesus
Christ. He calls you. He woos you. He even chases and pursues you
through a million steps and a million different paths. But he waits now
for you to turn in his direction, and

209 merely take that first step." Will was quiet. After a moment
MacCameron rose, getting ready to leave. "Will, take the church bell
tower across the street there as an example. Last time I was here I went
over and looked around," MacCameron continued. "They say that its bells
have been ringing, pulled by hand, every day since 1776." "Yes, that's
true. Everybody knows that." "How do you know it?" MacCameron asked.
"Well, you just told me,"

Will replied. "Do you trust me enough to bank your life on it?" "Of
course not," Will retorted. "How else do you know the history of that
church bell tower?" "Oh, common knowledge of the folks here in
Monroeville. And I'm sure that there are historical documents in the
local museum that spell it out." "The historical documents would be the
best evidence?" "Probably," Will answered. "How do you know that you're
not being lied to? That the chimes you hear from that tower are not
chimes being sounded by some kind of recording? How do you know that the
tourists aren't just being told a pack oflies?" "I don't know that--not
for sure." "Is there a way to find out for sure that someone is still
pulling those ropes by hand?" "Obviously," Will said. "Just walk over
and meet the bell-puller personally." MacCameron smiled the kind of
smile that told Will that his point had been made. Will was beginning to
sense where MacCameron was headed, but he wasn't ready to acknowledge
it. "So what does that prove? What's your point?" Will asked as
MacCameron started for the door. Then MacCameron stopped and turned
around. His eyes were soft and he had a big smile. "The point," the old
Scotsman said, "is this: It's time to take the step. It's time to walk
up to the power that is pulling the ropes--to personally

The Resurrection File 235 encounter the Great Master of the bell tower,
the First and the Last, the Alpha and the Omega. The One who tolls the
bells of heaven and earth. The One who spins the planets as if they were
mere child's toys. Are you ready to take that step?" There was only a
shrug from Will Chambers. "Ah, that's a pity. I will pray for you, W.
That you will take that step of faith. That you will invite his Son,
Jesus Christ, into that place in your heart where the will resides, and
where true love begins." MacCameron said goodbye and left the office.
Will sat at the table tapping his pen for a few minutes, feeling
oppressed. Outside, the bells of St. Andrew's Church began to toll.

210 It WAS EARLY EVENING, AND THE

SUN WAS LOW on the horizon, sending blazes of orange and red off the
surface of the water, and casting long shadows along the decks of the
U.s.. Navy destroyers that were anchored in Hi; lipiiil Just ff th^
harbor in Newport News, Virginia, things were crowded 111 the harbor
there. I. ill I Hill within the small office that was serving as an
intelligence command center. Ill The expanding team of federal agents
who had been tracking the move1 : ments of Abdul el Alibahd now included
the participation of the FBI and 1 Army intelligence as well as the CIA
and Naval intelligence. As the team divided up their paper-wrapped
dinners from a local hamburger joint, the Deputy Director of CIA

Operations addressed the group. "Our last information on the black gull
had him heading into Khost near 1 the Pakistan border. Then we had no
further intelligence until late last 1 night. That's when our sources
told us that there was a report--unconI His firmed as of yet--of a
possible sighting of the black gull entering Libya. out Then this
morning we received a report of another possible sighting of sev] His
eral of his personal bodyguards in Lisbon. If he is with those
bodyguards, I I and we believe he is, that means that he probably flew
out of Libyan airI1"" space and directly over to Lisbon by private jet.
He's obviously moving fast. were' We contacted our CIA operations people
in Lisbon, as well as the Por1 @ou@ou tuguese authorities. And of
course, we have red-tagged him through

Interpol. We are trying to draw the net tight before he leaves Lisbon."
. ' "What are the scenarios for his destination?" one of the agents
asked., be 1 "One bet is that he is heading down to some of the small
islands along - an the western edge of Africa, possibly just off of the
coast of the western Sahara. Maybe to establish some new training camps
there." "Any other scenarios?" another agent asked.

The Resurrection File 237

"Sure. It doesn't seem to make much sense that he would go north. So
that leaves only one more direction." "West. To the United States," a
naval officer interjected. "Yes," the CIA director affirmed. "But that
could also mean

211 Mexico. Or Canada--even the

Newfoundland area, which is the closest. But how could that make any
sense?" One agent raised his hand and volunteered a thought. "Maybe he's
decided to take up commercial fishing," he quipped sarcastically. "In
which case, I've got a boat with a big hole in the hull I could sell to
him." After the sardonic laughter died down, the director returned to
the same question. This time there were no volunteers. There were only
puzzled faces as they wondered why the black gull might choose to move
across the Atlantic Ocean.

Driving on his way to Dr. Albert Reichstad's deposition, Will Chambers
called Tiny Heftland on his cell phone. He asked Tiny if he would get in
touch with some of his old contacts in the Israeli police. He wanted to
find out everything he could about the death of Tony Azid. Will told
Tiny what he had discovered thus far. Because Azid was an Arab, and was
killed in his shop in Bethlehem, a city under the newly negotiated joint
jurisdiction of the Palestinian police and the Israeli police, the
Palestinian police had primary responsibility to investigate the
antiquities dealer's death. As a result of their review, the Palestinian
police had ruled it a suicide. The Israeli police had also showed up at
the scene, but did not file an official report. That was apparently
standard procedure in cases of overlapping police jurisdiction. Tiny
agreed to try to re-establish some of his Middle East contacts and see
if he could interview the Israeli police who had been at the scene of
Azid's death. But he said he couldn't promise anything. When Will
finally arrived at the conference room of Sherman's law firm to take Dr.
Reichstad's deposition, he was surprised to find that J-Fox Sherman was
still in New York. Sherman had one of his associates sitting in for him.
Reichstad looked rested, well-tailored, and confident. Will immediately
inquired of Reichstad's lawyer when they would be producing the 7QA
fragment in accordance with Judge Kaye's order. "Immediately after our
hearing with Judge Kaye on Monday," the associate lawyer replied. "If
your defense has not already gone down in flames as a result of Judge
Kaye's ruling on our Summary-Judgment motion, then we will produce it
that same afternoon. However, we

212 expect that Judge Kaye will be finding in our favor on both
issues--reckless conduct

The Resurrection File 239 by MacCameron, and the lack of truth in his
published article. And when that happens, then your request to inspect
the 7QA fragment will obviously be moot, and we will be under no
compulsion to produce it at all." Will knew that if Riechstad's lawyers
achieved a total victory on Monday, the original fragment would not have
to see the light of day. In fact, Reichstad might conceivably never
permit anyone outside his own, tightly controlled staff of experts to
ever scientifically examine the 7QA fragment. After Dr. Reichstad had
been sworn in by the court reporter, Will questioned him about the
various written allegations he had made in his lawsuit against
MacCameron. Reichstad handled himself with ease. Next Will asked him
about the alleged damage to his professional reputation he claimed had
been caused by MacCameron's article.

Reichstad's response showed that he had been immaculately prepared by
his lawyers, and that he was well aware of the presence of the court
video camera. "My reputation among my peers and colleagues was, for a
period of time, devastated," Reichstad recounted. He described a
gathering held at one of the Harvard faculty's homes shortly after
MacCameron's article was published, a reception to honor his discovery
of the 7QA fragment. Reichstad told how he had been humiliated. "I was
there with my professional colleagues--my academic peers--and when they
raised their glasses to toast me..." Reichstad said, his voice trembling
with drama and emotion, "there was a voice raised from a corner of the
room.. disx sent chills down my spine, and it literally broke my heart."
"What did the voice say?" Will asked. "The voice shouted out, "Murderer!
Murderer!"" "And then another voice yelled out against me also." "What
did that voice say?" "Well," Reichstad continued, his voice quiet and
intense, and putting his hand to his forehead as if to soothe some
blinding psychic pain, "that other voice said "Fraudi'That's exactly
what that other person said. "Fraud!"" "There I was," Reichstad
concluded, "with a glass in my hand, being toasted for the greatest
biblical archaeology discovery of all time--and right then and there, I
am called a

213 murderer and a fraud in front of my family, my friends, and my
colleagues." "Do you contend that my client, Reverend Angus MacCameron,
had anything to do with your being embarrassed at this party?" Will
asked. "I certainly do! The article in that miserable little right-wing
magazine, Digging for Truth, had come out the week before. In that
article your client accused me, in essence, of being a murderer and a
professional fraud. Of

240 Craig Parshall course I blame your client for my humiliation. My
wife burst into tears. We left the party and drove home in silence. I
have never been so embarrassed in all of my long career as a scholar and
a scientist." "Do you deny having any personal knowledge about the death
of Harim Azid--or Dr. Richard Hunter?" Will asked pointedly. "Of course
I have no such knowledge!" Reichstad bellowed. "Don't be absurd!" "Did
you conspire with any person, anywhere, at anytime, to kill Harim Azid
or Richard Hunter?" Will asked, looking straight into Reichstad's face.
"Your question is so degrading and so stupid it doesn't deserve a
response," Reichstad said with a look of utter disgust. "That's where
you are wrong," Will countered. "When you filed a legal document in a
federal court called a Complaint, instituting a lawsuit against my
client, accusing my client of lying about you and being reckless in his
publication of that article, and then demanding that my client pay you
money--a huge amount of money--as a matter of fact, basically asking my
client to pay to you the equivalent of the annual budget of a small
island republic--then you put yourself into a position in which you must
answer my questions, Dr. Reichstad. That's the way the law works. Now
please answer my question." With that, Will had the court reporter read
the full question back again. Reichstad had a smirk on his face when he
finally answered. "The answer to that question is this: I am absolutely,
one-hundred- percent not guilty of what your client is accusing me of."
"And do you deny that your obtaining of the 7QA fragment--and your
evaluation of it--and your published interpretation of it--were, and
are, well below the standards of the average expert in biblical textual
antiquities?" Will asked, and then turned to the lawyer from Sherman's
firm and said he knew it was a multiple and compound question, and he
would be glad to divide it up for Reichstad to more easily answer.

214 The junior attorney smiled and said that wasn't necessary. He knew
Reichstad could handle "even the poorly formed questions that you are
trying to throw at him." Reichstad leaned forward onto the conference
table and looked at Will Chambers. "What kind of man are you, Mr.
Chambers, questioning my work as a scholar? What could you possibly know
about the years of painstaking work I've done in my field?"
"Apparently," Will said, turning to the junior partner, "your client is
incapable of answering my "poorly formed questionsst judging by his last

The Resurrection File 241 response. Would you like to instruct him to
answer the question--or shall I?" "Do give Mr. Chambers an answer, Dr.
Reichstad," the associate said, "so we can all go home and start our
weekend." Reichstad folded his hands on the table, and spoke slowly,
punctuating be" each word: "I deny that any of my work regarding 7QA was
below the stan, dards in my field. Furthermore, I will tell you right
now, Mr. Chambers, that, my work on the 7QA fragment is among the finest
work ever known in the field of biblical textual antiquities." out Will
paused a moment. He was astounded at Albert Reichstad's capacity 'nfor
self-aggrandizement. Then Will led him into the final series of ques@ou
tions. - "Was your interpretation of the 7QA fragment motivated by a
desire to I', deal a devastating blow--to bring an end--to conservative
Christian scholou arship on the issue of the resurrection?" I "Of course
not!" I. "Do you consider such conservative Christian scholarship--and
let's define that term as the school of thought that holds that, in the
original I manuscript text, all of the Gospel stories reliably recounted
a bodily resurRection of Jesus--do you consider such conservative
Christian scholars to ihave been--well, how should I put this...h you
ever considered such it conservative Christian scholars to be on the
level of'cavemen' who haven't KJEARNED the secrets of fire, or the
wheel?" Reichstad laughed. Then there was silence. "Absolutely not. I do
not reach my conclusions because of my dislike of gconservative
Christian scholarship. I reach my conclusions based on the scientific
method." * "So you would deny any kind of'theological agenda' in trying
to disprove iihe resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth?" Will inquired. "I
certainly deny that. I absolutely deny that." "One hundred percent,
absolutely

215 deny it?" Will followed up with a wry

Smile. & "Yes. One hundred percent, absolutely," Reichstad said with
finality and gusto. Hou "Doctor," Will concluded, "tell me every book
and paper you have authored on the subject of Jesus of Nazareth.",
"Counsel,"

Reichstad's attorney interrupted, "you already have, as an Hfxhibit in
this deposition, Dr. Reichstad's professional curriculum vitae.

His fipng-form resume. All of his published works are listed right there
in front pyou."

I

I 242 Craig Parshall

"Is that true?" Will asked Reichstad. "Are they all listed right here?"
"Yes." Reichstad responded with a sigh. "Everything is listed there,"
and he pointed to the papers on the conference table. "Are you sure you
haven't forgotten anything?" "Yes, I am sure. Everything I have written
about Jesus of Nazareth is listed on my curriculum vitae, which you have
right in front of you," Reichstad answered with irritation in his voice.
"And you are as sure of that as you are of, well, the fact that you were
not involved in the deaths of Azid and Hunter? As sure of that as you
are of the fact that you have not committed scientific fraud?" "Yes. As
sure," Reichstad replied, and glanced at his lawyer as if he were
searching for reassurance of some kind. When the deposition was over,
Will extended his hand to Reichstad, who merely sniffed and turned, and
walked away. When Will Chambers got into his Corvette in the parking
structure he opened his briefcase, and pulled out the slender little
book of Reichstad's that MacCameron had brought to their last meeting.
He opened it up and re-read the book's prologue once more. Then he
closed it, put it back in his briefcase, and started back toward
Monroeville.

By THE TIME Will ENTERED MONROEVILLE it was dark, and the streetlights
were on. He planned to stop by the Robert . Lee Motel first and pick up
his belongings, checkout, and bid that place a fond, and final, adieu.
With the money from Billy Joe Highlighter's church paying some of Will's
legal fees, he had been able to rent a small apartment. Will stopped at
the lobby to pay for his stay and encountered the usual stout,
expressionless desk clerk there. After Will had paid his bill the man
reached down under the desk with some effort and pulled something out.
It was a

216 folded piece of paper. "You received a message today," he said in
his extra-coarse sandpaper voice, handing the note to W. When Will
opened it up, he saw a communication that had apparently been printed in
the desk clerk's own writing.

Will- See you in court on Monday. I'll be in the audience section
cheering you on. Jacki

As Will smiled and stuffed the note in his pocket the desk clerk asked
him simply, "Girlfriend?" "No, just a friend," Will replied. "Nice to
have friends like that," the desk clerk commented, thrusting his hands
in the pockets of the gray sweatpants that were stretched over his wide
waist. "Yes. It sure is." "You a lawyer?"

244 Craig Marshall '" out Ill I '"

"Yes. I'm Will Chambers," he said extending his hand out to the other
man. "Vernon Dithers," the clerk said, shaking his hand. I, "Well," Will
said as he lifted his suitcase and swung his suit hanger over out his
shoulder, "it was good to meet you, Vernon. And thanks for giving me the
message." He loaded up his Corvette so he could head over to his office.
He wanted to pick up some other parts of the Reichstadvs. MacCameron @ou
'ou file and take them home with him for the weekend. "Home" was now the
I small apartment he had found a few blocks down from his office. He
would I stay there until he was able to finish his dispute with the
insurance company. I, Down deep Will wondered if there was any way he
was going to be able to remove himself as a suspect in the arson without
divulging the identity of 11His the public defender he had met in New
York that day. And until he resolved 1J that question to the
satisfaction of the insurance company, they would not 11 pay off his
fire loss. I Sitting in his car, Will took a minute to call the Public
Defender's Office I, in New York. He figured he'd just leave a voice
mail for his informant there, 1 asking him to call back the following
week To Will's surprise, one of the @ou lawyers, who was working late,
answered the phone. But when Will asked I I for the voice mail of his
contact, he heard something that made his heart

@ou sink ' "Sorry, he's no longer with the office here. Took a job
overseas, I think.

I'm not sure." the "You have no idea where he went?" I "No. I'm afraid
not." I' "He didn't tell me anything about this," Will said with a tinge

217 of desperation in his voice. I'". "I think it happened kind of
suddenly--all in the last week or so." I, "How do you suggest that I
contact him? It's very important." I I @ou "Well, you can contact our
personnel director on Monday. But

I do, know that, as a matter of policy, they don't give out forwarding
addresses of former employees." ' After hanging up Will thought that the
only thing he could do would be to break his promise of anonymity and
lead the fire investigators to the public defender's office in New York
Surely, the personnel director would I give the forwarding address
information to law-enforcement officers. 5 The problem with that plan,
however, was that if the investigators did

track the lawyer down, Will had no assurance whether he would tell them

the truth. What if he denied having met with Will at all that day? If that

I The Resurrection File 245 If" out happened, Will Chambers would be
notched up from a suspect to "prime out suspect." if Further, what if
his job change had had something to do with the fact [. that he had
divulged classified information to Will? What if the man had * been
"relocated," as with the witness protection program? What if he could

never be found? [be It certainly seemed foolhardy to invite the fire
investigators to try to I track down his New York informant unless Will
could contact him first. But If now that looked impossible. Driving over
to the office, Will tried to forget about die arson issue. He I tried to
refocus on how he would allocate his time over the weekend to pre- I
pare for the Monday-morning court hearing before Judge Kaye. I He
tallied off the parts of the file he would need in his argument against
I. Sherman's Summary-Judgment motion. He also wanted to pick up the I
Bible on his desk and take it to the apartment with him. Will had read
thewh four Gospels through in their entirety, and he had just finished a
first I reading of the book of Acts. MacCameron had suggested that Will
be conversant with Acts because it was the immediate historical
successor to the Gospel accounts. Will had I learned that it recorded
the events after the resurrection of Jesus, starting I with his
departure from Earth and then going on to the founding of the 1
first-century church. Now he wanted to read the book through a second
ft1 time during his evenings alone in his apartment. I As Will
approached the front of his law office building, the thought I." flicked
through his mind that he might

218 telephone Fiona on Saturday when I he took a break in his work. Then
he recalled their last conversation. He 1 considered that to have been a
complete and final "Dear John" sendoff. No,

I he would not call her. Though he had powerful feelings for her, none
of that If could matter anymore. If he truly had respect for

Fiona, then he must honor 1 her resolve that there could be nothing
between them. Will noticed, as he parked his car across from his office,
that there was 1 a man leaning against the front of the old, red-brick
building, just to the left I of the front door. He was
dark-complexioned, possibly Middle

Eastern, and he was reading a newspaper. If Just down the street,
perhaps thirty feet away, there was a white, win- I dowless van. Another
dark-complexioned man was there, at the van's back. 1: He was looking
down at his keys, appearing to be busy. As Will started across the
street he felt uneasy about entering through 1 the front door. There was
something odd about these two men, though he could not put his finger on
it. He decided to cross the street at a diagonal

246 Craig Parshall and head to the alley that ran along the side of the
building. He could loop around the side of the building and enter
through the back door. While walking down the alley between his building
and the next one, Will glanced in the side mirror of a car parked along
the alley. Adrenaline shot through him as he saw the two men walking
rapidly, shoulder to shoulder, after him. Will ducked into the side
doorway at his right. He grabbed the door handle and pulled hard, but it
was locked. He turned and saw that the two men were now at a full run in
his direction. Will ran down the alley and turned the corner. One of the
cleaning staff was coming out of the rear door of the next-door
building, lugging a floor polisher. Will frantically squeezed past him
and ran full speed down the hallway to the front entrance. He planned to
cross the street to his convertible and take off. He knew that the van
would be no match for his Corvette. But the front door was locked. Will
looked for a release but found none. He heard loud voices and yelling at
the back as his two pursuers forced their way past the custodian, and
into the building after him. Will ran up the stairs to the second floor,
two steps at a time. He could hear one of the men yelling in a foreign
language as he came up the steps after him. At the top, Will looked in both

219 directions. He saw a fire escape to the right at the end of the
hallway. He decided to go for it, and sprinted down to the door marked
"Fire Exit" without looking back. The alarm started sounding as he
smashed the lock, swung the door open, and started noisily scampering
down the metal fire escape stairs that zigzagged toward the ground. He
leaped down the last four steps. Running hard and breathless now, he was
heading for the street at the front of the building. The alley was
clear. Only fifty feet or so to cross the street, leap into his car, and
jam it into gear. Nothing to it. In thirty seconds he would be roaring
down the street, with those guys, whoever they were, standing in the
trail of his exhaust. As Will reached the end of the alley he quickly
glanced behind him, but saw no one following. Then he got a very bad
feeling. His brain flashed a warning to stop short before he reached the
corner, but his legs were unable to respond quickly enough. A pair of
arms reached out and clotheslined Will at the neck. Will fell to the
ground with the man going down on top of him. Will smashed his fist into
his face, crunching his nose. The man was shouting something in his
language--and then there was a second pair of arms from the other side,

The Resurrection File 247 wrestling him back down to the ground. Both
men were yelling excitedly in an unrecognizable tongue, then the second
man stuck something sharp into Will's neck. Will felt the needle prick.
As the man depressed the syringe, Will saw a brilliant flash of light
that consumed everything. And then, in the brilliance of that light, he
fell into unconsciousness.

There was a vision. Two rows of men, carrying guns, facing each other as
if in a military ceremony. Off in the distance, beyond the rows of what
might have been soldiers, and through an arched gate, there was an
incandescent, glowing light. The light was getting closer. Out of it
came a man in a robe. His robe was white--whiter even than the brilliant
light around him. The man in the white robe was walking down between die
rows of men, toward W. He spoke. "Will Chambers, why do you struggle
against the truth?" "Who are you?" The man in the white robe reached his
hand toward Will and answered. eIam..." When he spoke those words, the
men with the guns were thrown down to the ground, as if they were toy
soldiers. "I am the One you are searching for." "Am I dreaming?" Will
asked, barely able to speak. "Is this a dream?" Will asked again,
trembling in the presence of something so

220 overpowering that--if it were not for the ocean of calm in the robed
man's voice, a voice that sounded as if it could still the rushing of a
thousand waters--Will feared his heart might stop in his chest.

so, '. (...kS.ea., (*Z& ....5.,

Will regained consciousness, coming to the awareness of a rushing,
roaring noise all around him. He had no idea how long he had been out.
His his head felt as though it were splitting. Then he became aware
that, even though he was awake, he was in dark," ness. Will felt some
rough material wrapped around his head, covering his

248 Craig Parshall eyes. His hands were tied behind his back, and he was
lying on his side, on a hard surface. He seemed to be floating--up, and
then down, then up again. Just below the edges of the blindfold Will
caught a glimpse of the riveted metal floorboards he was lying on. As he
struggled to sit upright he heard a man near him yell, and then he felt
a blow to the side of his head that knocked him down. As he hit the
floor, his blindfold loosened and he saw a man in a seat in front of
him, seated at the controls--of a helicopter. Will lay quiet, still
groggy and confused. He heard the men talking back and forth in a
language he couldn't recognize. While he lay there he tried to connect
the bizarre events he was starting to remember. He had been chased, and
caught. But where was that? And he remembered having a dream. Struggling
to think, Will recalled that he had been pursued near his office. Two
men. A van. He had been caught, and something had been stuck in his
neck. He must have been given a drug. Where was he being taken? He was
sure he was being kidnapped. What did these men want with him? What was
the reason behind it? Then something hard and cold was put underneath
his blindfold, between his eyes. He recognized a gun barrel, and heard
the click as the hammer was pulled back One of the men was laughing. The
gun barrel moved from between his eyes to the middle of his forehead.
Then the laughing stopped. Now there was no more thought about reasons,
no more wondering about answers. There was only the reality of the gun
at his head. Only Will's belief that he was now just seconds from death.
Will was praying silently, feeling the gun barrel pressed against his
forehead, hearing only the roar of the helicopter's engine above him.
"God, please help me. I think this is the end."

221 I IN HIS OFFICE AT THE

STATE BUILDING, Department Undersecretary Ken- I neth Sharptin received
a call. When he picked up the phone he heard the lyfamiliar digital
voice requesting that he dial a specific number.eaHe did so ^immly out
In his research center in Maryland, Dr. Albert Reichstad received the I
same call, heard the same familiar computer voice, dialed the same
number I out, and became part of a three-way teleconference. out The
third party led the conference. I "Dr. Reichstad, enlighten us about the
status of your case. You are going I to court on Monday morning are you
not?" I "Yes. Sherman's firm is arguing our motion for a Summary
Judgment." "And you will prevail?" I "Sherman tells me our chances are
excellent." I "I don't care about "excellent" chances. Chance and
probability, to me, are I meaningless. Before the event, they are empty
guesses. After the event, it is I too late for such things to do any
good. I prefer certainty. I'm sure you know I that by now." "Sherman is
a typical lawyer that way, I'm afraid," Reichstad explained. I "He says
he can't guarantee the results. But he feels very certain that we will
sbbwin both of the issues we are going after. And if we win both issues,
we will I not need to turn over the 7QA fragment at all." I "And if you
don't win both issues on Monday?" "Then we have to turn over 7QA for
their inspection that same after- I noon."

"That is exactly what I was trying to avoid," the third party said. I
"It's not the end of the world if another set of experts has to inspect
out 7QA. Though I've fought off the rest of the academic world up to now, I

I 249

250 Craig Marshall really thought it was going to happen eventually,"
Reichstad continued. "But this way, if we have to, then we produce it to
MacCameron's two experts. I would much rather submit 7QA to those
"experts": Dr. Giovanni--this disgruntled former nun--and the other one,
that materials engineer who has never dealt with antiquities before.
Better those two, who have to comply with all our court-ordered
restrictions, than the whole of the archaeological world. "Then after
the analysis, we can tell the whole world we have permitted 7QA to be
examined by "outside experts." That will shut the mouths of the

222 critics who have been complaining that I've kept it all to myself.
And even if MacCameron's people disagree with my conclusions about the
fragment, we can still bury them in terms of public opinion. I mean,
just look at their lack of credentials, and their lack of world-class
credibility compared to me and my group." "It sounds Eke win-win to me,"
Sharptin commented. "Mr. Sharptin, I'm glad you see eye-to-eye with Dr.
Reichstad on that," the third party said, "but I am still not satisfied
that it gives us the kind of control I want over the big picture. I
really don't want to see your case go to trial. I know you were going to
have Sherman talk settlement with attorney Chambers." "He tried,"
Reichstad said, "but he wasn't successful." "Not surprisingly," the
third party replied. "Which is exactly why I thought that Chambers was
going to be a problem in the first place. Which is why I'm going to have
to take matters into my own hands regarding the quixotic Mr. Chambers."
"Can I just point out that I am very uncomfortable with this
conversation right now?" Sharptin interjected. "Would you like to be
more uncomfortable?" the third party shot back. "How would you like your
name to be taken off the top of the shortlist for the vice-presidential
slot?"

"Yes, I understand. But I need some assurance of my chances," Sharptin
replied. "Then let me reassure you again," the third party said. "If you
can simply adapt to playing the ultimate game of hardball--if we all
play our parts, you, Kenneth, will be the vice-presidential selection on
the ticket." Then the third party focused back on Dr. Reichstad. "Do you
still think you can use this lawsuit to get the remaining information we
need?" "Yes," Reichstad responded eagerly. "As you know, we have already
had our experts analyze the recorded message that Richard

Hunter left for

1" The Resurrection File 251 I

MacCameron. Chambers just produced it to us a few days ago. That was fl
one of the benefits of our lawsuit, you see. I left you an encrypted
e-mail on be that, with the exact wording of the message, together with
my attempts to people decode his reference to the 'resurrection order.""
"I have reviewed that, and we are already taking steps to follow that
up., We are taking a direct operations approach." "May I also join
Kenneth in saying," Reichstad added," that 'direct operijations' in this
have never been my idea--nor my preference. I have never ilbeen a

223 man of violence." "I really get a kick out of you, Reichstad," the
third party said. "Do I need : to tell you your own business? Do I need
to repeat the great history lesson Kpf Middle Eastern archaeology? Now,
you remember the key to understanding the Egyptian hieroglyphics? All of
those magnificent records-- Kright there in front of the world--but the
human race couldn't read them. ftWe didn't have the code. Somehow the
human race needed to build a bridge ouof knowledge between the ancient
Egyptians and the modern world. Then llcomes Napoleon Bonaparte." "Yes,"

Reichstad interrupted, Tomorrow very familiar with the story..." "But
you haven't learned the point of the story," the third party said.
B^ationapoleon wages a silly, useless military campaign, starting in
France and Rfectending all the way into Egypt. It costs the lives of
thousands of his Bproops. Napoleon gains little strategic or military
benefit from all that Rpblood--all that violence. But what did he
discover while in Egypt? The WROSETTA Stone. The archaeological find
that would open up for us the pneaning of all the other ancient
hieroglyphics. How many treasures beneath lithe sand have owed their
discovery to blood shed upon the sand? That even Khas a bit of a
biblical flair to it, don't you think? The shedding of blood that, In
turn, leads to truth." I'll' "When do we get past this 7QA issue--and on
to the second phase?" fSharptin asked. "Hopefully," the third party
explained, "after we get a victory in court on Kpr. Reichstad's case, we
can lift the media blackout. We can hit the press-- Starting with the
Washington Herald, of course. Spread the word around the World that the
7QA discovery has been upheld by a federal court in WashHpbgton,

D.c. Then we move into the second phase."

"And what if Reichstad is not successful in court?" Sharptin asked. "I
have contingency plans for everything," the third party added. "I want
the second phase to be implemented, regardless." "How soon after the
election?" Sharptin asked.

1252 Craig Parshall

I'll "We'll talk, you and I, about that," the third party answered. "You
know, "Jill I have a few more ideas to build some more bridges between
East and West. After the election, there is the traditional Christmas
tree-lighting II ceremony. I thought there ought to be some kind of
joint celebration for III the Christians and the Muslims--maybe
something about the

224 annual pili grimage to Mecca, you know, just like everybody coming
to the Bethlehem II stable to see Jesus. It could all happen at the same
time, right there on the @ou I'll front lawn of the White House. What do
you think?"' II out "Sounds inspirational," Sharptin replied.

I'll "Of course," the third party responded. "I'm an inspired person."

"dis

HE OCEAN WAS CALM AS THE HUGE

Portuguese freighter cut its engines id dropped anchor off the coast of
Newfoundland. From the air, it looked any other shipping vessel. Just
below the water line, however, it was caring a small five-person,
submarine attached to its hull, in the event that a lick escape was
needed for its passengers. The lookout in the tower was peering through
his binoculars when he otted the approaching helicopter, off in the
distance. A radio announceent crackled throughout the vessel. Soon the
helicopter was hovering near lookout. He waved to the pilot and his
passenger. With little crosswind, the helicopter landed with ease. The
two men mped out and greeted the lookout, who now was on the deck
helping em tie down. "Where's the cargo?" the lookout asked the pilot
and his passenger. "Back in the helicopter," one of them answered, and
then they laughed. The lookout slung a short-barreled automatic over his
shoulder, and imbed into the helicopter. .he looked at the figure of
Will Chambers, lying on the floor slumped to so side. "So, what are we
going to do with him? Throw the body over the side?" lookout said loudly
to his compatriots, this time in English, and laughed

"Feed the body to the hungry sharks?" he added again in a loud voice, 11
in English. The lookout unstrapped his machine gun and held it in his
right hand, aen he bent down to take a look. "Get up, American infidel!"
Will stirred, then struggled up to a sitting position.

254 Craig Parshall

The lookout pulled him up by one of his arms, which were still tied
behind him, and pushed him out of the helicopter, across the deck, and
then down the metal stairs that led to the hold. Once they were below
deck Will was shoved into a small cabin. In that room there was another
man, a guard, who was standing and holding a machine gun. Next to him
was another man, sitting in a

225 comfortable chair. The lookout grabbed Will by his hair and forced
him down to a kneeling position. "I am going to take your blindfold off,
American infidel. You may not speak until you are spoken to. Do you
understand?" the lookout shouted into Will's ear. Will nodded. Then his
blindfold was taken off, as he remained kneeling with his hands tied
behind his back. There was a round porthole in the cabin, and the light
streaming into the ship's cramped cabin through that window was
painfully bright to Will, who had been blindfolded for nearly twelve
hours. Will squinted through the glare. To his left, by the window, he
noticed an Arab-appearing man holding a machine gun. He looked to his
right and saw the man who had apparently brought him there--also armed.
Then, as his eyes began to adjust to the light, he looked straight
ahead, and saw a man sitting directly in front of him.

Still squinting a little, Will looked at the man in the chair. This man
was wearing a black turban and a brown robe. His beard was long and
black, reaching down to the middle of his chest. He was wearing tinted
sunglasses. The man removed them, revealing eyes that were dark, that
seemed lifeless. His face was gaunt and furrowed. This man said nothing
at first. But as Will observed him he knew the face was familiar. He had
seen this man before. On the cover of a news magazine--perhaps on the
covers of several magazines. On television news reports. Then

Will Chambers realized that he was in the presence of the most hunted
and feared terrorist in the world. He was kneeling in front of Abdul el
Alibahd. There was more silence. Then Alibahd began coughing violently
and took out a handkerchief--he continued gagging, and then he coughed
something into the handkerchief. After another minute of silence,
Alibahd, having struggled to catch his breath, began to speak "Do you
know why you are here?" "No." "I will tell you. You are here because you
are going to..." Alibahd searched for the words,".. disgoing to run an
errand'for me. You are my errand

The Resurrection File 255 man- Now, do you have questions for me? Abdul
el Alibahd will answer diem." Will thought for a minute. Then he asked a
question. "Did you kill Clarence--my dog? And burn down my house?"
Alibahd gave Will a quizzical look The gunman to his right bent over and
explained something in a low voice. "I did not kill your dog,"

Alibahd said. "I don't trifle with dogs. I bring down the nations. I
strike terror into the hearts

226 of the murderous oppressors. And I kill those who are enemies of
Islam. I kill to show the world that the enemies of Allah are as
nothing." Then Alibahd paused and smiled broadly, revealing stained
teeth. He continued and said, "The only dogs I kill are the kind that
wear shoes, and business suits, and work on Wall Street." With that, his
two armed guards burst into laughter, and raised their guns over their
heads and waved them. Will's stomach churned, knowing that he was
sitting a foot away from the barbarian who had slaughtered innocent
people in front of the New York Stock Exchange. "So you want to know
about your house? You want to know about your dog? Then you should talk
to the Great Satan! He is the one who did that. We don't bother with
setting fires and shooting dogs. That is the coward's work of the Great
Satan." "Who is the "Great

Satan"?" Will asked. "You will meet him. And you will deliver to him a
message from me. Because I, Abdul el Alibahd, will give you, the little
errand man, a message." Then Alibahd leaned forward to stare Will in the
eye. As he did, Will suddenly understood that he was not going to
die--at least not right then. This terrorist had some strange job for
him to do. And until the "errand" was run, he was apparently of some
value to Alibahd. "You must go immediately to the house of the Great
Satan. And then tell him my message." "Why me?" Will asked. "Because he
knows you, Mr. Chambers. He knows who you are. And he knows me. And when
you show up at his house, and you give him my message, then he will know
that this message truly came from me, Abdul el

Alibahd. Now here is the message. "You will tell him that I know he is
the Great Satan. I know of the agreement he is making with OPEC, and
what he wants to do together with Saudi Petrol Company. Tell him I also
know he is no true follower of Allah. I know how he tries to play the
harlot between the Christian infidels and the believers of Islam, to
destroy the purity of Islam. If he does not

256 Craig Parshall withdraw all of his evil plans, my followers will
visit him in the night. First they will kill his bodyguards. And then
they will come to him with their long, sharp knives. And all night they
will cut him apart, piece by piece, while he still lives. And the last
thing they will cut out of him will be his heart. And then they will
bring his heart to me." Will was feeling faint after hours without food.
"Am I supposed to recite

227 this message exactly?"' "Yes,"

Alibahd responded. Then he handed Will a script of the message he had
expounded. "We did this on our laptop computer. We all have laptop
computers. And we are on the Web. We are part of e-commerce. We are
high-tech. Now, Mr. Chambers, memorize what is on this paper." As one of
the guards reached over to pull Will to his feet, Alibahd motioned for
him to wait. "You must deliver this message. Because if you don't, I
know where to find those you love. I know where they live. My followers
will seek them out, and they will die very bad deaths. There is a girl.
A black-haired girl. A singer. You care for her. And her father. And her
sick mother. And you have an uncle and an aunt, in..." One of the gunmen
whispered in his ear. "dis. disin North Carolina. We will find them all,
and it will be most unhappy for them." "One more question," Will asked,
before being led away. "What happens to me after I deliver the message
to this "Great Satan"? Will I be free then?" "You will be free to go,
and if you survive you can tell the press, tell the FBI, tell anyone,
that you met with Abdul el Alibahd--that Abdul el

Alibahd can catch anyone he wants, but they still cannot catch him!" the
terrorist responded.

And then, after a moment's reflection, he added, "but, I think when the
Great Satan hears your message, he will be angry, and he will have his
men kill you then, anyway!" At that, all three of the men started
laughing. Alibahd laughed until he began coughing and choking, and then
he covered his mouth with the handkerchief. As Will Chambers was led out
of the ship's cabin he could hear Alibahd back in the room, still
gagging and gasping for air. "Just keep choking," Will muttered under
his breath as they shoved him up the metal stairs.

nlGHT WOULD SOON FALL ON THE

LAS VEGAS STRIP. The shimmering,

^glittering arcades of neon of casinos and hotels bathed the streets
with ^Otherworldly light. The pale moon was out, even though the sun had
not iully set, and the desert was spectacular with color. * Fifteen
miles outside of Las Vegas, in the Nevada desert, the attendant out
running the dilapidated "Last Chance Gas & Go" mart was watching
teleIvision from the cracked leather seat of his wooden swivel chair.
From somewhere above him, the attendant heard a roaring noise. He
Iturned in his chair, looking through the front door that had been

228 jammed fjCrpen for ventilation, and saw the dust swirling around
outside by the single pas pump. He turned down the television as the
roar got louder. The dust and sand chggutside were now swirling like a
miniature cyclone. As he ran to the door the roaring was growing
distant. He looked out the highway that passed in front of his gas
station. He saw Will nbers, lying Face down on the shoulder of the road.
Will slowly and stiffly rose to his feet. His suit and shirt were
covered ith dust. His tie, which had been loosened at the collar, was
now dangling Dm his neck like a Boy Scout's kerchief. There was a bruise
on his left eekbone. The attendant scampered across the road to Will,
and then looked up at : sky at a helicopter that was disappearing. "You
g-go-got here from that helicopter?" the man asked in a stutter. Will
brushed himself off, and shook the sand out of his hair. "Yeah, at's
right. I thought I'd just drop in," Will said, momentarily feeling a
ense of exuberance at being free from his captors. The attendant was
still staring at Will as he made his way into the little nvenience store.

258 Craig Parshall

"Do you have anything to drink that's cold? Anything to eat? Any
sandwiches? I'm starving," Will said as he looked around the little
store. "Soda and b-but-beer is over there. I used to be able to make
chili dogs on the r-rather-...the rotisserie here, but it ain't working
no more." After riffling through his pockets Will pulled out some dollar
bills and kid them on the table. Then he limped over to the cooler and
pulled out two sodas, and grabbed a handful of candy bars and a few bags
of corn curls. There was a wooden chair with a little desktop by the
door; it looked like it had once belonged in a school building. Will sat
down in the chair with his load of junk food and started eating,
intermittently taking large gulps from the soda can. "Where am I?" Will
asked. The attendant looked at him quizzically for a few seconds.
"Nevada. Just outside

V-Very-Vegas." Will polished off all of the corn curls, the candy bars,
and the two sodas while the attendant watched. Then the attendant
cautiously asked, "You ain't with him, are you?" "Who?" "Him," the
attendant repeated, and then pointed across the road to what looked like
an entrance to someone's property. To the side of the entrance, there
was a white stone pillar that had the words "Private Property--No
Trespassing" printed on it in

229 gold letters highlighted with black. The road beyond the sign seemed
to disappear into the desert hills. "What's that lead to?" "That belongs
to him. Ain't you ever heard of U-that-that-topia? That's where that
road goes." "Utopia?" "Yeah. That's what they c-can-can-call the
c-can-castle of Warren Mullburn. One of the world's richest men. You
ain't with him?" "No," Will replied. "But I think I'm supposed to pay
him a visit." "He's a mean one. His g-go-goons--his bodyguards, they
sometimes come here for gas. Push me around. Make fun of my stutter.
Just "cause I stutter don't mean that I'm d-do-do-dumb." Tomorrow
sorry," Will said. "I don't think he likes having neighbors. There's
something real b-but-bad about him. The county cops don't like him
neither. They've told me. I'd like to see him get what's coming to
him--just-just-just once." Will thought back to Abdul el Alibahd's
parting words to him on the freighter. He knew he had no choice but to
deliver the terrorist's message to Mullburn. It was clear now that the
billionaire was the "Great Satan" of

The Resurrection File 259

Alibahd's rantings. But it was also clear that Mullburn was a dangerous
man. If an international terrorist like Alibahd thought Mullburn had
killer instincts, Will wasn't going to argue the point. Somehow, Will
had to deliver Alibahd so threat to Warren Mullburn and then get out
alive. Will thrust his hand in his jacket pocket. He fingered the black
felt-tipped pen that was still there. "Where's your bathroom?" Will
asked. The attendant motioned to the outside of the building. Will took
the key and disappeared. After Will had cleaned himself up and was
through in the men's room, he came around to the door again. "Hey!
You're going to have to check that bathroom right away!" Will yelled
through the entrance. Then he quickly crossed the highway and started up
the desert road marked by the sign, "Private Property--No Trespassing."

WlLITTLE HAD BEEN WALKING FOR ABOUT

FIVE MINUTES in the dusky half- light of sunset, along the road that
wound through the brush and barren 11 desert hills. Then he heard the
sound of a vehicle approaching. A tan Land I Rover topped a small hill
in the distance, approaching fast with headlights I and spotlights on.
ft When the vehicle was nearly even with Will, it skidded to a stop, 1
sending small stones and sand flying. Two

230 burly men, in matching golf shirts and tan pants, and wearing ultra-
light headsets, got out. One of the men grabbed Will and threw him to
the ground. "You are trespassing, mister!" he yelled, frisking Will
while he was lying I in the dirt. I "I have to see Warren Mullburn."
"Nobody sees Mr. Mullburn." I "I'm going to see him," Will said starting
to get up. "I have a message for him." I 'allyeah, I bet," the other man
said. "So give us the message, and then get I off this property in
thirty seconds or we start shooting." I Will noticed that they both had
Western-style handguns in holsters at ipidlllll their sides. I "I'll
give this message directly to Warren Mullburn. And if he doesn't get it
from me right now, I think he will be very upset. And if that happens, I
have a feeling that you guys are going to end up being a meal--you know,
I for the desert animals that come out at night." I The two looked at
each other, then one of them spoke into his headset. I He reached around
and grabbed Will's wallet out of his pocket, carried it

over to the carlight, and flipped it open to his driver's license.

The Resurrection File 261

"Will Chambers," he said to his remote contact. There was a pause.
'allyes--he's right here in front of me. Yes, I'm sure." *: Another
pause. "No. He's on foot." I: A few more seconds. out "No. He's alone. I
don't know. Maybe he hitchhiked." I The man listened and nodded, and
then he told Will to sit in the front seat of the Land Rover. While he
drove, his partner sat behind W. They which sped up the dirt road for
several miles, bumping and jostling, and occasion- I ally jolting so
hard it made Will's teeth chatter. The unpaved road intersected with a
paved one further into the desert, out and after a few minutes on the
paved drive they approached a large gate fcwith a guardhouse. The driver
stopped. The guard nodded to him and then ft they continued on for a
couple more miles until, over the crest of a hill pop- fe ukted with
only cactus and tumbleweeds, the road dipped down, and Will I could see
it I Under the stars that were beginning to appear, "Utopia" shone
forth, like a small lighted city below in the valley. : As they got
closer, Will could see it was a complex of ornate white stone
ll'buildings that were connected with red brick walkways and lighted
paths. I-The

231 buildings were interconnected, and resembled the steps of some
people. modern pyramid--like a mammoth, ascending temple of white stone
term raced into the desert cliffs. Off in the distance he could hear
music playing people and voices laughing. 1; The Land Rover pulled up
into a circle drive and stopped. He saw a Ferprari andand Rolls Royce
parked to the side. There was a wall of glass in the I front of the
central building, with the word "Utopia" lettered in huge blacki:
and-gold script across it. There were cascading fountains everywhere and
ithanging gardens of desert plants. Several peacocks ambled through the
Kgrounds, screeching now and then.

The two guards escorted Will toward the glass wall, which separated as
IS they approached. Will entered a vast portico, with trees growing
through wholes in the terra cotta floor and up through openings in the
roof. He was jtold to be seated on a couch. The two men stayed standing.
After about ten minutes, a tanned man in a bathrobe, accompanied by mtwo
muscular bodyguards, one of them a big blond, came striding into the
Itportico.

262 Craig Parshall

The man in the bathrobe looked vaguely familiar. Will thought he might
have seen him in a late-night TV infomercial years back. Will noticed
that his hair was damp and his feet were leaving wet prints on the
floor. "I am Warren Mullburn," the man in the bathrobe said. "And you,
sir, interrupted my evening swim. I do twenty laps. Olympic-size pool."

"Shucks, I forgot to bring my swimsuit," Will said, standing up. "What
do you want? Make it quick." "I have a message for you." "Who are you?"
"You know who I am," Will replied. "Oh, yes. My assistant called ahead
and told me. He said your name is Will Chambers." "Mr. Mullburn, the
fact is that you already knew who I was. That is why I was picked to
deliver this message to you." "Message? From who?" "Abdul el Alibahd."
"You're insane," Mullburn laughed contemptuously. "Am I? Perhaps you
ought to hear what he has to say." At that, Mullburn waved away the two
men who had picked up Will on the road. They turned and left, leaving
only Will, Mullburn, and the two bodyguards. "Let's hear it," Mullburn
barked. Will paused. For a moment, he summoned up the mental image of
Audra--making her hair, her features, her presence as real as he could.
Then he recited what

232 he had been told to memorize on the freighter.

I, Abdul el Alibahd, the obedient of

Allah, know that you are the Great Satan. I know of the agreement you
are making with OPEC, and what you wish to do with Saudi Petrol Company.
I also know that you, Warren Mullburn, are no true follower of Allah. I
know how you try to play the harlot between the Christian infidels and
the believers of Islam, and try to destroy the purity of Islam. If you
do not withdraw all of your evil plans, my followers will visit you in
the night. First they will kill your bodyguards. And then they will come
to you with their long, sharp, knives. And all night they will cut you
apart, piece by piece, while you still live. And the last thing they
will cut out of you will be your heart. And then they will bring your
heart to me, Abdul el Alibahd, for I am the avenger of Islam, the leader
of the Great Jihad.

The Resurrection File 263

When Will had finished speaking, he saw that Mullburn's face was scarlet
with rage. Mullburn walked up to Will until he was so close that Will
could feel his breath. "Who told you this?" "I already explained. Abdul
el Alibahd." "Why would he pick you? An alcoholic lawyer with a failed
career who goes around chasing the memory of his dead wife--why would he
pickyou to come here to tell that to me?" "Because you have been
tracking me. Because you must have a realty big, stake in the lawsuit
that Dr. Albert Reichstad brought against my client," Will responded
firmly. "Because you know all about the deaths of Harim be Azid and Dr.
Richard Hunter--you're probably the one that planned them. Because
you're involved in dirty deals with Kenneth Sharptin and OPEC. @ou
Because, even if Alibahd thinks you are the "Great Satan"--you know
what? be I don't agree. You're not the "Great Satan." You and this
Alibahd creep both out work for Satan, but only as middle-level
employees. You're nothing more out than a demonic bureaucrat. @ou, "And
most of all, I'm here because you killed my dog and burned down ji my
house. I wanted to see what kind of sick puppy would really do some@ou
thing like that" I- Mullburn glanced quickly over at the big blond
bodyguard, then looked . back at W. Mullburn managed a crooked smile. I
"Well. You have quite a vivid imagination, Mr. Chambers. It was
interIddesting to meet you. But I'm afraid that you and

233 I will not be seeing each out other again." people Then he turned to
the big blond bodyguard and said, "Bruda, see Mr. I Chambers out, wont you?

I wouldn't want him to disappear in the desert at I night. It can be
dangerous out there." I Bruda Weilder walked up in back of Will and
spoke to him from behind liias Mullburn disappeared. I "Mr. Chambers,
how would you like some new religion?"' I' "Actually, the old-time
religion is beginning to look better every day," IWILL replied softly.
will "Too bad," Weilder said, and then he put something hard against the
iback of Will's head. It felt like a gun barrel. "'Cause, when we get
into the Idesert, I'm going to fill your brains with some really
powerful karma." With that, Weilder and his partner snickered. it
Suddenly there was a noise of engines outside, along with the sound of
Btire screeches echoing off the buildings.

264 Craig Parshall

One of the guards ran in and said something to the other bodyguard in a
low voice. Weilder quickly disappeared, and a moment later four
uniformed police officers strode into the portico area. "Warren
Mullburn?"' asked the one in front, as the other three scanned the
scene. "No," Will replied, "I think he's enjoying his

Olympic-size pool." "Do you know anything about this?"' the officer
demanded, holding up a piece of tan paper towel with writing on it Will
smiled as he recognized his message:

HELP! I'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED! THIS

IS NO JOKE. I'More AT THE

MULLBURN "UTOPIA." SEND THE

POLICE NOW!

Just then Warren Mullburn breezed into the room, still in his bathrobe.
"I wrote that," Will Chambers said, nodding toward the paper-towel note.
"Are you saying that Mr. Mullburn here is kidnapping you?"' "Certainly
not," Will responded. "I'm not being kidnapped, am I, Mr. Mullburn?"'
Mullburn smiled through a tight grin. "Of course not." "Would you like
to explain this note?"' the police officer asked W. "I will be glad to,"
Will replied, "but if you don't mind, why don't we talk in one of your
squad cars?"' Then Will looked at his watch. It was Sunday night,
midnight, East-Coast time. The court hearing before Judge Kaye would
begin in nine hours. "I've got a plane to try to catch," Will added.

234

"f'That jJudge Jeremiah Kaye swept into the courtroom of the US.
District ICOURT in Washington, D.c., his robe flowing, and he perched
himself ?"'bbh the mahogany judge's bench. His reading glasses
were^perched on out the top of his head. His white hair was slightly
unkempt, and a shock of hair lining down over his left eyebrow. His
pale, wrinkled face was set in his characteristic early-morning
smile--an expression whose good nature was subject to change depending
on the level of good faith, cooperation, and [intelligence of the
attorneys who were to come before him on that day's ^docket a With the
Great Seal of the United States behind him on the wall, Judge Kaye
leaned over to his deputy clerk and whispered something. She said
"something back, and after they had both had a chuckle, the judge turned
to rthe courtroom. I "Case number 01 CV 767, Rekhstad vs.

MacCameron and Digging for out Truth Magazine," the court clerk called out.

J-Fox Sherman was at the counsel table with two of his associate
attorneys. Dr. Reichstad sat at the end of their table. :" At the
opposite counsel table, Reverend Angus MacCameron was sit; ting alone.
There was an empty chair next to him where Will Chambers should have
been sitting. Sherman rose to his feet. "Jay Foxley Sherman, counsel for
the plaintiff your honor. We are ready to proceed. I do note the
absence, however, of opposing counsel, Mr. Will iChambers." 5 "Reverend
MacCameron, Where's your attorney?" the judge asked. @ou "I am not
entirely sure, your honor," MacCameron answered. "I am certain he will
be here directly."

@ou 265

266 Craig Parshall

"Uh-oh," the judge said, looking over at his clerk. "This is not a good
way to start out a Monday. Not a good way to start my docket at all.
Here I came into this courtroom, having spent my weekend reading the
voluminous briefs filed by both sides in this case. Prepared to listen
to argument this morning--ready to decide the theological mysteries of
the ages--I guess that's what this case is about, right? Somebody's
going to be asking me to take sides on no less a question than the
resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth--isn't that what's behind all of
this?" With that, the judge smiled. "Not really, your

235 honor. Not even close." Sherman was smiling confidently. "I was just
pulling your leg a little, Mr. Sherman," the judge remarked. "I do
understand the legal issues here. But it does raise the question--" That
was when Will Chambers strode quickly through the swinging doors in the
back of the courtroom, accidentally banging them loudly. Will noticed
Jacki Johnson sitting in the audience section, and he darted over to her
and whispered, "Jacki, give me a legal pad, will you?" She tossed a
yellow legal pad to him. Will grabbed it and walked quickly up to the
counsel's table, carrying nothing but the pad of paper in his hand.
Judge Kaye carefully studied him. "You're a mess, Mr. Chambers!" the
judge exclaimed. "Look at you!" Will's crumpled suit had several obvious
grease spots, and the right knee of his pants leg was torn. Although he
had gallantly tried to comb his hair in the airplane bathroom, his long
tangled mane of hair sported several cowlicks. His white shirt had a few
slightly cleaned-up bloodstains on it, and one of the buttons on his
shirt collar was missing, causing one side of the collar to stick out
slightly. His bruised face bore the stubble of having not been shaved
all weekend. J-Fox Sherman smirked and quipped to the judge,

"Your honor, Mr. Chambers has obviously taken up a new legal
specialty--homeless law!" Sherman's associates burst into laughter.
Judge Kaye was not amused. "Thank you, Mr. Sherman. Your compassion for
the underprivileged in our society is a real comfort to the court." Then
the judge turned back to W. "What happened, counsel? Did you get mugged
on the way over here?" "In a manner of speaking, Your Honor." "Right
here, near the courthouse?" "No, Your Honor. It's rather complicated.
The FBI is looking into it." And with that, Will glanced over at Dr.
Reichstad, who looked away.

I The Resurrection File 267

: Judge Kaye, who had been a Deputy

Director of the CIA twenty years ago, before his appointment to the
federal bench, had heard enough to have his curiosity aroused. out
"Well, I hope the

Bureau gets to the bottom of this for you, whatever I happened," the
judge commented. is Then, collecting his thoughts, the judge resumed his
statement to counsel. I "What I was saying before you stepped in, Mr.
Chambers, was that the I religious overtones' make this an interesting
case--but they are somewhat I beside the

236 point, considering the narrow legal issues I'll be deciding today.
out Nevertheless, for what it's worth, I will point out that my father
was a rabbi. I "I know nothing in my background that would require me to
recuse myself I from hearing this case; I believe I can judge it fairly
and dispassionately. But I if either counsel wants to address my having
been trained in the Torah as a I young man, and my background in
Judaism, I will not hold it against you. Either of you want me to remove
myself from hearing this case? people J-Fox Sherman was beaming. He
shook his head "no." 1: "I have no concerns in that regard, Your Honor,"
Will seconded. With that, Judge Kaye leaned back in his chair as Sherman
walked to

the lectern located directly in front of the bench and then began
launching is into his argument outlining why judgment should be entered
against Angus it MacCameron for having recklessly defamed and libeled
Dr. Albert ReichIstad. II

Sherman's argument was methodical and brilliant. He laid out the facts
fin excruciating detail. He read out loud, with appropriate sarcasm, the
porHave tions of MacCameron's article that were the subject of the
lawsuit. "Your Honor," Sherman argued, "upon what basis could any
reasonable man ever write, as the defendant MacCameron did in fact
write, that my client, a world-famous scholar in biblical antiquities,
was "either lying, or he has committed scientific malpractice" regarding
his writings about

7QA? BEVEN further--and even worse--what reasonable, lucid, or sane
person Iwd ever dare to write that my esteemed client had anything
whatsoever ItDo do with the death of that antiquities dealer, or Dr.
Richard Hunter?

MacRCAMERON'S lawyer has failed, in his response to our motion, to show
this "Court any credible evidence demonstrating why the defendant was
not reckmkss in making those outrageous allegations against Dr.
Reichstad. He points Bto no investigation undertaken by MacCameron to
verify the accuracy of KWHAT he was about to publish to the world.
That's because MacCameron did Wnofactual investigation when he wrote
this inflammatory pack of lies against IDR. Reichstad. His only basis
for what he wrote was apparently a hearsay

if 268 Craig Parshall out I conversation with Dr. Hunter--mysteriously
and conveniently incapable of ft being verified because Dr.

237 Hunter is now dead." I; I Judge

Kaye interrupted him. the "What about the tape-recorded message from
Hunter--isn't that some out I kind of basis for MacCameron to have
reached the conclusions he did in his I article?"' His "Clearly not,
Your Honor," Sherman quickly responded. "The message on the answering
machine was Hunter's obscure reference to his obvious paranoid delusions
that he was being followed; but he doesn't say by whom. Further, there
is no proof that the fragments he refers to in his message had any
identity with the 7QA fragment." "So," Judge Kaye interjected, "you do
agree with Mr. Chambers, who has argued in his brief that when the
message was analyzed the reference was to "fragments"--more than one?"
Sherman glanced over at Reichstad, who was staring ahead blankly. were'
"Yes, Your Honor, our experts listened to the tape--as did Mr. CharnI
bers'--and, for what it's worth, we agree that it was probably a
reference to "fragments." But that point is irrelevant in any event.
There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that connects Hunter's
"fragments"--even assuming they I actually existed--to the 7QA fragment
obtained by Dr. Reichstad." "Do you agree," Judge

Kaye asked, "that I must rule on the recklessness issue separately from
the issue of whether, in hindsight, MacCameron's allegations actually
ended up to be the truth? Aren't those two distinct and separate
questions?" "They are distinct--but related," Sherman answered. "We
believe that MacCameron has produced no evidence thus far in this case
that creates an issue of fact as to whether his outrageous and
defamatory allegations are actually true. This court must rule in our
favor. This court must find, as a 1 matter of law, that Reverend
MacCameron, undoubtedly fueled by his . fanatical religious beliefs,
viciously, recklessly, and falsely defamed and His libeled my client. No
jury trial is required on those issues. The only thing for a jury to
decide, after this court awards judgment for Dr. Reichstad today, is His
out what figure they want to put next to the dollar sign on the verdict
form-- where it says, 'What sum of money do you find will reasonably
compensate Dr. Reichstad for the false and defamatory statements
published by Angus MacCameron?"'" were Sherman concluded by adding, with
a confident smile, "And I would 1 suggest, Your

238 Honor, that the court have some calculators on hand for the jury's
use--the kind that have room for lots of zeroes."

I The Resurrection File 269

Will walked up to the podium with no notes. He smiled and thanked his
the judge for his attentive and astute questions during Sherman's
argument. *," He first argued why the judge should not rule on whether
MacCameron was @ou reckless in making his accusations against Reichstad.
Will recited from @ou,; memory the legal cases Jacki had researched for
him--court cases that Him. stressed that a trial judge ought to refrain,
whenever possible, from trying to I make decisions in place of the jury,
where such decisions hinge on the state out of mind of a party to a
lawsuit. Those kind of issues, Will submitted, "are I usually
appropriate to be made by the jury after hearing all the facts, and all
@ou of the evidence--after a full jury trial--not here, in a hearing
before trial." But Judge Kaye appeared impatient with that argument,
interrupting be Will and asking, "Then why do the Federal Rules of Civil
Procedure specift ically give me the power to grant judgment for Mr.
Sherman's client here? Can you show me one, credible, concrete fact that
indicates a reasonable from basis for MacCameron's obviously defamatory
article? I admit, most state@ou of-mind issues, like the recklessness
issue here, are best left for the jury to out decide at trial. But
sometimes, Mr. Chambers, someone writes something It that is so
outrageous and so damaging, with no basis whatsoever in fact, that out
die court has no alternative but to find at this stage of the case, as a
matter I of law, that the element of recklessness has been proven beyond
any doubt sby the plaintiff."

Will attempted to continue, but was interrupted again by the judge. @ou
"Really, counsel, what was the basis for those allegations against Dr.
out Reichstad that your client published, anyway? Aside from the
conversation I he had with Hunter at the Between the Arches Cafe--and,
as a side note, V'lVe eaten at that restaurant on some of my visits to
Jerusalem. But anyway, out aside from that conversation--and that
strange answering-machine mes; sage--on what did MacCameron base his
published accusations against Reichstad? A dream? A vision? Was he
motivated by an upset stomach @ou caused by an undigested bit of beef,
to bring in something from Dickens' Christmas Carol? Really, Mr.
Chambers, what other evidence of any kind

239 did he have before he let loose with that diatribe against this
world-famous' scholar?" be "The truth, Your Honor. Reverend MacCameron
saw the truth--and I then published what he saw," Will Chambers replied.
I "Does he have special eyes? Can he see things differently than the
rest of us? Does he have X-ray vision? Is your client Superman?" I "No,"
Will responded, smiling. "But he does see things differently. He

[views the world through a glass--as we all do. For most of us that
glass is dark and the light is imperfectly reflected. But Reverend

MacCameron

270 Craig Parshall views the world through a particular glass--through
the prism of the Bible. He believes that Dr. Reichstad's conclusions
about 7QA. are false--but not just false. Diabolically false. "Mr.
Sherman ridicules Reverend

MacCameron's beliefs. But I do not. I do not presume to possess the
knowledge--or the arrogance--that would cause me to ridicule a
magnificent written record that is two thousand years old. A written
record, as it were, printed with the blood of those who all died
horrible deaths for a specific belief--a belief that what they saw
following the death and burial of Jesus of Nazareth defied the laws of
the natural world, and changed their lives forever. "We have not yet had
the chance, as the court knows, to examine 7QA in its original form. But
I believe that if we are permitted to do so, we will find that 7QA is
only one part of a larger fragment. Where are the other parts of that
fragment? And what will they say when the jigsaw puzzle is put together?
What message will they bring to us out of the dust and the desert sands
of two thousand years of oblivion? If Your Honor permits us to go to
trial on the issue of truth as a defense, then those are the very
questions we will address--and that the jury will, in its collective
wisdom--be able to answer." Judge Kaye rocked back and forth in his
black judge's chair. "And exactly what is the truth here, Mr. Chambers?"
Will paused, and in a quiet voice he answered. "Interestingly, that is
the same question that Pontius Pilate put to Jesus in the

Praetorium in Jerusalem, Your Honor. He asked that very same question of
Jesus, within the great arches of that Roman hallway. But then, Pilate
turned and left prematurely--oblivious, perhaps, to the answer. I am
sure that this court will be much more

240 judicious than that. I am confident that Your Honor will permit us
to go to trial--at least on the issue of truth. For all his
indiscretion, Pilate did let the people decide. That's all we ask here--
a trial. And then, let the people in the jury decide." Judge Kaye was
expressionless. His rocking in the chair ceased. "Let's adjourn for
fifteen minutes. I want to review my notes. Then I will come back into
court and give you my decision." "All rise!" the court bailiff shouted.
Everyone in the courtroom rose to their feet as Judge Kaye took the
reading glasses off the top of his head and walked down from the bench,
then disappeared through the door to his private chambers. The strained
silence through the courtroom was palpable as the door behind the judge
slowly closed shut.

The gears in Will's mind were still whirling at high speed as he walked
back to his counsel's table. He felt someone touch his shoulder. It was
his client. "Will, my boy," Angus MacCameron said with a furrowed brow,
"are you disalright? Who accosted you?" "Accosted? You know, Angus, that
word doesn't begin to describe my last, forty-eight hours. But,
miraculously, I am fine. Thanks for asking," Will responded. MacCameron
had a large manila envelope in his hand. His face suddenly broke into a
beaming smile as he waved the envelope in front of W. "You will never
guess what I have here!" MacCameron exclaimed. : "Praise

God, this is the beginning of the end for Reichstad's lies." "What is
it?" MacCameron put the envelope in front of Will, who noticed the
airmail markings on it. Then he noticed the sender's name: Judith
Hunter-- and a London address. "Dr. Hunters sister?"

"Precisely. God so timing is brilliant, don't you think?" be "Yes, but
what is this about? Is it something we don't want Sherman to get wind
of? Perhaps we should step outside the courtroom." MacCameron agreed,
and he and Will made their way out to the lobby and over to a corner
where there was a bench. "Okay, go ahead," said W. "Judith sent a short
note. Saying that she thinks often about my friendship with her late
brother. How hard his murder has been on her, the poor disdear. And
then, at the very end of the note, she hits the jackpot!"

272 Craig Parshall

"Jackpot?" "She writes that, since his death,

241 she had not done much with the flat where she and Richard had lived.
But recently she decided to move into a smaller flat, because she's now
living alone. She hired some men to come in and move her furniture. As
they are moving the living room sofa, they see an envelope on the floor
where Richard must have put it. It was addressed to me in the United
States. He obviously intended to mail it to me, but was murdered first.
"So Judith simply took the envelope, put it in another envelope, and
mailed the whole thing to me. I received it in the mail on Saturday. I
was so ecstatic that I immediately called your office, but you weren't
there. I tried to contact you at your apartment, but you weren't there
either." "I was tied up over the weekend," Will said with a wry smile.
"So, what was in the envelope Hunter had addressed to you?"' "7QB!"
MacCameron cried out, so loudly that several people who had been talking
on the other side of the lobby stopped their conversation and stared
over at Will's client. "Just a minute-- 7QB?"' Will asked. "The very
thing. There it was, tucked inside a little plastic baggie inside a
plastic zip bag, and that inside a padded envelope. No note from
Richard. He must have been in a hurry. He must have known they were
closing in on him." "What does it say? What's on the fragment? Does it
match with the edges of 7QA? Was it part of the same piece?"'

"Well," MacCameron continued, "I couldn't reach you--I hope this was all
right--but I knew where Dr. Giovanni's office was and that she had
agreed to testify as our expert. So I took this 7QB fragment over to
her, to see if she could verify my initial reading of its language."
"And?"' MacCameron pulled out a piece of paper. It had the 7QA wording
on the left side--and then, on the right side, the translation by Dr.
Giovanni, of the Greek words of 7QB. "I took a copy of the actual-size
photograph I have of 7QA from Reichstad's magazine, and cut around the
edge of that fragment," MacCameron continued. "Then Dr. Giovanni and I
simply lined up the edge of 7QB with the edge of 7QA and they seemed to
match perfectly! Of course, you will need to have the materials engineer
examine it to make absolutely certain the edges were, at one time,
joined. But when we joined them together, this is the message we saw
created." He handed the paper to W.

242

JESUS OF NAZARETH "7QB" WAS

LAID IN THE TOMB // AT THE EAST

GATE OF STEPHEN THEY DESIRED TO

ANOINT IT // THAT DAY @ou BUT COULD NOT RETURN TO PREPARE THE BODY THE

BODY REMAINS IN THAT TOMB TO THIS

DAY

I MacCameron was studying Will's reaction to the translation. Will
ghanded the piece of paper back and turned to his client. I "Do you know
what this means?"' can "Of course!" MacCameron answered. "It is proof
that Richard Hunter's ^fragments were part of 7QA. Which means that
Reichstad unquestionably gcame into possession of the fragment--which we
know now is 7QA.-- that jbad belonged to Hunter and Azid before their
deaths. Furthermore, 7QB is ptrong support for the fact that there may
be a third fragment. There is still a 7QC fragment out there that must
match up with the right hand edge of J7QA, and the top edge of 7QB." I
"I can't argue with you,

Angus," Will said. "But there is a huge down side ifo this 7QB fragment
coming into your hands." And with that Will put his linger on the words
of the 7QB translation--by AT THE EAST GATE

OF PTEPHEN." "Do you know where that is?" ft "Certainly," MacCameron
answered. "That is one of the ancient gates of pie old city of
Jerusalem, along the wall that faces the Mount of Olives. It's pko
called "the Lion's

Gate." But it is really known as the spot where they Kink that Stephen,
the first Christian martyour, was stoned to death." iou "The same one as
in the book of Acts?" Will asked. "My boy, you are getting to be a Bible
scholar!" "Are you familiar with any tombs there?" ft "Well, I did some
thinking about that over the weekend. Actually, there ml an old Arab
cemetery located in that spot today. It's just to the side of an
ilastern gate into the old city. But I don't know of any ancient tombs
ever P^icavated there." "Well," Will countered, "you are about to see an
excavation there, and it's Mping to grab the attention of the entire world."

274 Craig Parshall

"Oh?" MacCameron replied, "how do you know that?" "Because what you have
shown me, here, is new evidence. When the judge comes back in, I will
have to advise him about it, as well as Sherman and Reichstad. When
Reichstad sees what 7QB

243 says, watch him scramble to get over to

Israel and start digging." "Well, I have thought about that," MacCameron
said. "But I know that if they find some tomb there, it certainly won't
contain the body of the Lord Jesus. The Word of God is sure, certain,
and perfectly clear about that!" I "I wish I had your faith," Will said.
"The way

I see it, we are about to play right into Reichstad's hands. I think
this may have been the real reason that he sued you in the first place.
To use you like a dog that brings the newspaper to his master--the way
Clarence used to do it for me. To use you to locate 7QB, and then fetch
it back to him. And with

7QB he gets the location of the occupied tomb of Jesus of
Nazareth--which would be Reichstad's ultimate trump card to demolish the
idea of the resurrection forever." Will glanced at his watch. "We'd
better get back in there. I'd rather not make another late entrance
today." Shortly after Will and his client had reached their table, the
door of Judge Kaye's chambers swung open and the judge mounted the
bench. "All rise!" the clerk shouted out. Judge Kaye waited until
everyone in the courtroom was seated, and then he began speaking. He
initially described the legal standards that apply to a judge's decision
on a motion for Summary Judgment. The purpose, he pointed out, was to
spare the effort of a full-blown jury trial in those exceptional cases
where there is no real dispute about the underlying facts, and where the
law is clear enough to permit the court to rule on the case in advance
of the trial. "On the issue of recklessness," Judge Kaye
began--Chambers, Sherman,

I and their clients stopped breathing--by I find that defendant Reverend
Angus MacCameron has failed to point to any adequate facts that could
have served as a reasonable basis for his extreme accusations against
Dr. Albert Reichstad, the plaintiff. I find that he showed a reckless
disregard for whether his allegations against Dr. Reichstad were, or
were not, accurate jou and truthful. There is no need for a jury trial
on that issue because I find that @ou] there is no material dispute on
the facts--and those facts, and the law, all to was: point in favor of
the plaintiff Dr. Reichstad, and against Reverend Mac! : Cameron."

The Resurrection File 275

Will heard Reichstad clap his hands together in joy at the other counsel
table. Will glanced over and his eyes met the eyes of J-Fox Sherman.

244 Sherman was gloating. "On the second issue of the defense of truth,"
the judge continued, While I find the poetic argument of Mr. Chambers to
be enticing, and eloquent, I do not find it to be persuasive on this
second issue." It was at that point that Will began thinking that
Sherman's motion against him for attorneys fees in the amount of
$245,000 just might be granted.

"On that issue of the defense of truth," Judge Kaye said as he went on,

and then paused for just a few seconds--seconds that seemed like hours
to : the watching lawyers and their clients--by I find as follows: While
the facts between are not really in dispute, the inferences that this
court could draw from those 1 facts are conflicting. Mr. Chambers, the
cases you cited in your brief are somewhat persuasive on that issue. The
fact is, the court coukj draw two out separate and contradictory
conclusions from the same set of facts. One con- I elusion is that Dr.

Reichstad had nothing to do with the two deaths at issue I and that he
was exemplary in his interpretation of the meaning of the 7QA I
fragment; the other conclusion is that Dr. Reichstad may have had some
'ccnection," no matter how remote, with those deaths, and further, that
he I either knew, or should have known, that his interpretation of the
7QA fragou ment was not scientifically sound and reasonable. I cannot,
at this stage of I: the case, decide where the truth lies. Mr.
Chambers--you will get your jury I trial on the issue of truth. Jury
trial will commence exactly one week from Itd.", Will attempted to rise
to address the issue of the newly discovered 7QB jfefragment, but
Sherman beat him to his feet. "Your Honor, what about my motion for
attorney's fees against Mr. Is Chambers for having wasted our time in
making us litigate this totally merijitless issue of recklessness? Now
that we have prevailed on that issue, we llwd respectfully request every
single dime of the attorney's fees that we fthave sought against Mr.
Chambers." . "Really, Mr.

Sherman, you didn't think I would grant that kind of I: motion in a case
like this, did you? Your motion is denied, Mr. Sherman." I "Well, Your

Honor, I would really urge you to--" Sherman tried to If counter. II "Is
this microphone working?" Judge Kaye said to his clerk, who was
jfattempting not to smile. "I could swear that the attorneys in this
courtroom Bcan't hear me when

245 I give a ruling. Mr. Sherman, this isn't the Harvard ^debating club.
The way it works in a courtroom is that you lawyers are

276 Craig Marshall supposed to argue before the judge makes his
ruling--not afterwards. When I make a ruling, your job is to smile, nod
politely, and sit down."

"Your Honor," Will said, "I do have some procedural matters to bring to
the attention of the court regarding the upcoming jury trial." Judge

Kaye nodded to Will to proceed and then leaned back in this chair. Will
described for the court how the 7QB fragment had just come into the
possession of his client. "Where is that 7QB fragment right now?" the
judge asked. "Reverend MacCameron has it right here with him, in the
courtroom today." There was a movement on the other side of the
courtroom, and Will became aware that Albert Reichstad was walking in
front of the judge's bench, heading over to him and his client. "Your
Honor, pardon me, but I would like to address the court as the plaintiff
in this case. I do believe that you must order MacCameron to show that
fragment to me immediately!" By the time Reichstad had finished his
words to the judge, he had made his way over to MacCameron's place at
the defense table and was grabbing for the envelope. With his eyes fixed
on Dr. Reichstad, Judge Kaye bellowed, "You, sir, have a lawyer. Who is
a highly skilled, and--I am assuming--a highly paid one. Get back to
your seat next to your lawyer and let him do the talking. That's what
you are paying him for." Reichstad lingered for a few seconds in front
of Will's table, his hand poised over the envelope. "Now, Dr.
Reichstad!" the judge yelled, his microphone shrieking with feedback. As
Reichstad walked back to his place next to J-Fox Sherman, who was
struggling to hide his astonishment at his client's conduct, Will
gestured to make a final point. "Your Honor, we anticipate that the
court will order us to produce what we have called the 7QB fragment to
opposing counsel and his client." "You have read my mind, counsel,"
Judge Kaye responded. Sherman was back on his feet. "We object, Your
Honor, to any reference to this alleged fragment as being 7QB." That is
prejudicial to our case,"

Sherman pointed out. "That reference assumes that it is connected in
some way with 7QA. And we vehemently deny that it is." "Your Honor, how
would he know that--until they examine it?" Will shot

246 back.

I The Resurrection File 277

"Okay. This is a tempest in a teapot,"

Judge Kaye said with finality. "This can court is not going to be
prejudiced by calling it 7QB. And if you think the (i jury will be
prejudiced, then at trial we can refer to it as the "It fragment,"
Sunless someone else has a better idea. Now, when can you get this
fragment I. to Mr. Sherman's experts?" out "This afternoon," Will
explained, "we had planned to receive 7QA. from Ithe plaintiff's side.
So at the same time, we will hand off 7QB to them. But fwe would ask
that the court impose the same highly restrictive conditions ipn their
examination of our fragment as they demanded for our examinaition of
their fragment." "Fair enough. So ordered," the judge said. knowledge .,
"I assume that this will require us to reschedule the trial date,"
Sherman flbroke in, in his best voice of reason and calm. "There is no
way that we can Know be prepared for trial in a week, in light of this
new evidence," "You assume wrong, Mr. Sherman. This trial date has been
set for some Htime. You yourself pressed for the earliest possible date.
We accommodated gtyou. The trial date for next week stays. You and your
experts will have to Hiustle a little, that's all, in examining this new
fragment. And Mr. Sherman, f&ou just may have to cancel your luncheon at
the White House, or whatever pt is that you had planned for this week
This trial comes first." : Then Judge Kaye turned to Will Chambers.,
"And you, Mr. Chambers. You need to get a shave and a new suit." it As
the judge rose and left the bench, the courtroom rose with him. Terri,
Will turned to his client. people "From now until the end of your jury
trial--this is when the fur really ptarts frying," Will said. "And I was
just thinking of Exodus chapter 14, verse 13," MacCameron feeplied.
"What's that?" "Moses and the Israelites were at the edge of the Red
Sea. The Egyptian Bprmy, with their chariots and spears, was about to
catch up to them, and it poked like they would all be slaughtered,"
MacCameron explained with a Imile. "But this is what Moses told the
people of God." And then he recited pie verse from memory:

rather Do not fear! Stand by and see the salvation of the LORD which He
will accomplish for you today.

278 Craig Parshall

From the other side of the courtroom there came the

247 sounds of J-Fox Sherman and his associate attorneys snapping shut
their oversized briefcases and gathering their black trial notebooks.
Will looked at his client and said, "I think I hear the Egyptians coming."

little

I I

I

out The Director of the Israeli Antiquities Authority was at his desk,
wishing he did not have to take the telephone call. He looked down at
the red blinking light on his telephone. His secretary buzzed in to him
', and reminded him that Undersecretary Kenneth Sharptin of the U.s.. I
Department of State was still waiting on the telephone, and was tired of
" being kept on hold. The Director had been expecting this call and knew
that I it required him to exercise extraordinary diplomacy--coma
daunting task ^because he would have to disguise his outrage at the
State Department's I meddling in the internal affairs of Israel. . He
grasped the handset, punched the button, and in his warmest and out most
winning way, began to exchange pleasantries with Sharptin. Yes, the.
Director told Sharptin, he understood the importance of the call. And he
out explained that he understood perfectly well that if Undersecretary
Sharptin had placed the call himself, it must be a matter of great
urgency. I "So, Dr. Reichstad has contacted you?" Sharptin asked. I,
"Yes," the Director said. "I spoke to him just a few hours ago." I "Yet
I understand that you were not fully cooperative with his request?" out
*To the contrary," the Director explained, "I was as cooperative as I
could I be, under the circumstances. But Dr. Reichstad was asking for
the immediate I issuance of a permit for an unprecedented excavation
along the walls of Old I Jerusalem. These permits take time. I am always
amused at the attitude of I some American researchers. They must think
that, because Israel is the land Of Bible miracles, our government
agencies can perform supernatural feats. I Moses may have parted the Red
Sea--but I wonder if his task would have been harder if he had to cut
through Israeli red tape." I "I didn't call to get a taste of your
Jerusalem humor," Sharptin responded ibitingly. "I called to make sure
that the permit

248 would be issued immediately!" I 279

I

I 280 Craig Parshall

: "Mr. Undersecretary, I can assure you we will place a very high priority

on this request. As you know, however, I am required hy our legal proce!
dures to submit this request for archaeological excavation to our
licensing I committee for approval. That takes time. Now, Dr. Reichstad
and his research center are certainly recognized experts. So the issue
of scientific "was' qualifications will not be a problem. But there is
the issue of--well, how

can I put this?--let's just call it "religious geopolitics."" to from
"That is why I am calling. I am speaking for the United States
government when I say that if Israel wants America as a continued ally,
then your absolute cooperation will be expected in this excavation. It
is just that simple."

"Mr. Sharptin, you are forcing me to be blunt. So I will be blunt. This
is an unprecedented insult--an incredible intrusion by your government,
into the internal affairs of the sovereign state of Israel. I know the
history of, pressure that has been applied to our tiny little country. I
am fully aware out of the inroads that a past President made into our
internal election process I and the pressure from your nation for us to
comply with Palestinian :. demands for land, and for the creation of a
Palestinian state. But this ploy-- "be this form of diplomatic
coercion--is outrageous! I suggest that if you want His us to give
priority to this permit, then the U.s.. Department of State should

1 follow normal diplomatic channels." "We've tried. Your ambassador has
been stalling. Your prime minister I won't take my telephone calls. So I
am warning you--if you do not handle were this excavation request
posthaste, and get it approved this week, I will

exercise every bit of my influence among the nations of the world, and
".. among antiquities scholars everywhere, to demand your resignation
and I to embarrass your nation. And make no mistake--my influence is
consid.; erable.", "This week? That is going to be very difficult. Maybe
impossible," the - Director responded. "@ou "Dr. Reichstad is engaged in
some court hearings in the U.s.. next week, "ij We would like the
excavation permit

249 to be approved this week, and digging 1 to start over the weekend
before Dr. Reichstad has to be in court." "Yes. The 7QA fragment lawsuit
against Angus MacCameron," the be Director noted. "The trial starts on
Monday, doesn't it? Before Judge I I Jeremiah Kaye." There was a pause
before Sharptin continued. II "It sounds like you know a lot about that
case. I would be interested in hearing what you know."

I The Resurrection File 281 his "Oh,

Mr. Sharptin, let's not be naive. There were some ham-handed * attempts
to keep the publicity down on that case. But the nation of Israel has a
history of gathering intelligence about those things that have an I
impact on our land, our people, or our future. Just check your Bible. It
goes all the way back to Joshua and Caleb." be "I want this permit for
Dr. Reichstad this week. And further, I want a * waiver of the
procedures regarding ancient burial sites. Tfour own supreme [court
ruled in 1992 that burial sites can be excavated." out "That's true,"
the Director acknowledged. "But we are also bound by the ^guidelines
issued by our attorney general in 1994. If Dr. Reichstad finds a

I'tomb--that can be excavated as an antiquity. But if they find a corpse
in that Itomb--well, that is very different. The corpse has to be turned
over--at the Ksite of the tomt.,--to the Ministry of Religious Affairs
for reburial. If the oucorpse is of Jewish descent, then it must be
buried in accordance with Jewish ijaw, in a Jewish cemetery.", appindex
A "If Reichstad finds a corpse--and I am betting he will--then he is
Etaking that corpse out of that tomb, and back to his lab for
examination," ioharptin stated pointedly. iou "That is not going to
happen, Mr. Undersecretary. You are not going to igoose-step your way
into our internal, domestic laws, and demand that we IWAIVE them for
your pleasure. Besides, while I know that you spent some Mime over here
in your past diplomatic days, I don't think you can possibly Hmagine
what is going to happen with this kind of dig." "Do you know who you are
talking to?"' Sharptin sputtered in a controlled rage. appindex A But
the Director kept talking through the undersecretary's tantrum. . "First
there will be the reaction of the Palestinians. The eastern, St.
IfStephen's Gate entrance to the Old City of

250 Jerusalem is right next to a Muslim cemetery. We will be lucky if
there aren't full-scale riots over the dig Because of that fact alone.
And because it is near the Temple Mount, some Palestinian anarchists are
going to think that this excavation is just a ploy to Itart tunneling
under the Dome of the Rock and the Also Aqsa Mosque, and piey will want
to start a war. Don't you remember the history of riots on the liernple
Mount? : "Then there are the ultra-orthodox Jews--our own people. They
will Ibject to any digging next to the wall of Jerusalem--and they will
want (absolute adherence to the laws regarding Jewish corpses. We have
had Riemonstrations, riots, and violence over other burial sites in the
past. We've pad the grave markers of deceased archaeologists desecrated.
But nothing

282 Craig Parshall like this. You have no idea what kind of nuclear bomb
this tomb excavation will become. "And I know what Reichstad is looking
for. What if he finds a corpse and says it is the Jesus of Nazareth? The
apocalyptic groups who want to "ijj

III usher in the End-of-Days violence are going to have a field day with
that I one. We will have to make that tomb excavation a full-scale
military zone." There was another pause. Then Sharptin concluded the
conversation. "I look forward to the permit being issued this week. On
behalf of the I United States, I want to thank you for what I am sure
will be your full and I'll complete cooperation." I After the Director
hung up the receiver he rubbed his forehead. He 11 looked up at the
ceiling fan for a moment. Then he called to his secretary. "Get the
chairman of the Licensing Committee on the line in ten minutes." 1 Then
he opened his desk and pulled out a little personal notebook of II
telephone numbers. Under ?"' he looked up the word "Mossad," the name
His 1 of the Israeli intelligence and espionage service. Under that
listing he found I the name of an old friend. Next to it was his
telephone number. I The Director quickly called that number, and waited
for his friend to pick up.

When he heard the voice on the other end, he said, "Nathan, this is
Jacob over at the IAA calling. We've got a situation here. A permit
request for a highly unusual burial excavation. U.s.. Department of
State is really putting the pressure on. This thing is an international

251 time-bomb. We could use your help." The voice on the other end said,
"I keep telling the agency I'm supposed i1 II to be in retirement. You
know, I am just starting to make some real money in my little art and
antiquities shop." The voice laughed. "Come on," the Director responded,
"why do you get to retire so young? What are you, fifty-three? Besides,
you know that spies never really retire-- I especially in Israel."

"So, how do I fit into this "situation" of yours?" 11 "Well," the
Director explained, "we've got Professor Reichstad, the researcher who
revealed the 7QA fragment. He's got the backing of the State Department,
and he wants to dig up an area where he thinks there is a first-century
tomb located. First problem--the site is at the eastern gate, --' right
there at the old Jerusalem wall. And if they uncover the tomb of an
ancient Jew--well, you know what that means! The ultra-orthodox will
fight to the death over that. And then there is the second little
problem-- he is proposing to dig right next to a Muslim cemetery. And of
course the whole thing is within view of the Temple Mount. That's
begging for riots.

The Resurrection File 283

And then there is this other little problem--he is going after this
burial site because he thinks that is where he can locate the corpse of
Jesus and lay waste two thousand years of Christian belief in the
resurrection." After a pause, the Director asked, "So, what do you
think?" "What you are describing--this is not exactly what I would call
a "situation," my friend," the voice answered. "Oh? Then what would you
call it?" "I think I would call it--Armageddon."

ill 57

In THE AFTERNOON, FOLLOWING THE COURT hearing before Judge Kaye, frantic
phone calls were made between Will Chambers and his experts, J-Fox
Sherman and his experts, and Judge Kaye's court. By the terms of the
judge's order, each group of experts were not only to be given access to
both fragments, but they also were to be witnesses to the scientific
examination by the opposing side at a "neutral site." The hot issue was
the location of the proper "neutral site." Judge Kaye had his clerk call
a friend at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. The University
hastily agreed to make a large laboratory available for several days. It
was big enough to house

252 several researchers simultaneously, as well as their equipment. The
University officials agreed to pledge absolute secrecy to the project.
Sherman insisted on that, and Judge Kaye ordered it. By the end of the
day, Reichstad and two of the scientists from his research center,
together with Dr. Giovanni and Bill Kenwood, who was

Will's materials engineer, were finally gathered together at the lab
room in Baltimore. An armored car with four armed security guards
accompanied Reichstad's delivery of the 7QA fragment. The tiny piece of
papyrus was enclosed inside a bullet-proof, vacuum-tight, barometrically
controlled glass case. Angus MacCameron showed up at the laboratory with
the 7QB fragment, but with a great deal less technological
sophistication. He carried it in a little plastic zip bag, inside a
tattered mailing envelope. The experts all agreed to work in
shifts--from seven o'clock until two in the morning for the first shift,
and from two until nine in the morning for the second shift. Bill
Kenwood would work the first shift for the defense side, with Dr.
Giovanni taking over on the second watch for her

appindex A The Resurrection File

I examination. Everyone brought cots, sleeping bags, and Thermoses, most
of which contained black coffee. Dr. Giovanni brought packets of
"stressielieving" herbal tea. 1 Will stopped by the office for a few
hours that night, and received a few calls from Dr. Giovanni about Bill
Kenwood's progress. It was great news, Eglthough not unexpected. out
Kenwood had done a preliminary microscopic examination of the right
Sledge of 7QA and the left edge of 7QB.

There seemed to be no question in llJus mind that 7QB had originally
been part of 7QA; that they had been llJoined exactly where MacCameron
and Giovanni had guessed. Further, it appeared that a modern, fairly
sharp cutting tool (either a razor blade or an Ktttist's blade) had been
used to score the surface of the fragment. The fragKaent had then been
torn at the scores into three pieces, yielding an irregular Appearance
at the torn edges. It was Kenwood's opinion that 7QA and 7QB Bwere two
of those three pieces because, when 7QA and 7QB were fitted together, it
left an irregular vacant space in the

253 upper right quarter. Bj Now there was no doubt: There had to be a
third piece--7QC--STILL out Khere somewhere.

. Will relayed the news by telephone to Jacki Johnson, who was working
Km the case every night from her home. Will thanked her again for the
legal research she did that had been so influential in Judge Kaye's
decision. A Kittle after midnight,

Will collapsed into bed at his apartment. were: The next morning Will
was about to leave for the day when his doorbell png. He was greeted at
the door by two FBI agents. They said they had Keen contacted by law
enforcement agents in Nevada. They wanted to talk with Will about his
alleged encounter with Abdul el Alibahd. Will had been naif expecting
them. Sunday night, when Will was being taken away from Mullburn's
pjtopia" by the squad of police officers, two of them had told him they
would drive him to a cab stand along the Strip so he could catch a cab
to Hue airport. On the way in, however,

Will had sounded them out, giving hem a few cautious details about his
weekend with Alibahd's terrorists. He Iftad assumed that the officers
would stick him squarely into the category pared by bigfoot hunters and
the people who complain of being medically wobed by space aliens. But
when the name of Warren Mullburn was implifeted, their eyes had
brightened up with interest. that The officers had called ahead to the
airport, asked them to delay the last M$red-eye" flight to Washington,
D.c., and then gunned their squad car to pe airport with lights
flashing. As Will had jumped out of the car, the Mpnior officer had said
he would be contacting the regional office of the FBI.

I 286 Craig Parshall

111 It was nearly noon when the agents finished their interview with
Will in his apartment. They suggested that a security detail be assigned
to him, since he was now a material witness to Alibahd's own implied
confession. Alibhad so words "the only dogs I kill are the kind that
wear shoes, and business suits, and work on Wall Street," were the
clincher in tying him to the Wall Street bombing. This time, Will
quickly agreed to the safety measures. As the two agents left they said
they would also be calling the investigators about the fire at Generals'
Hill. That last comment gave Will some renewed hope that he might be
cleared, once and for all, as a suspect in his house fire. But just a
few hours, after that, it became a full-blown reality. I Will was

254 back at his office, poring over the

MacCameron file, when he ," heard someone in the lobby. He glanced
around the corner and couldn't believe it. I Fiona was standing there,
her cheeks flushed, and a huge, dimpled grin I across her face. She was
holding a small box in her hands. "Do I have a present for you!" she
exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" Will asked, confused in his
delight at seeing her. 1 "I've been turning my condo upside-down,
rummaging through garbage cans, looking under my bed, tearing my closets
apart looking for it--" "Looking for what?" Will interrupted. "dis.
dismy attic, my storage space, my briefcase. I looked everywhere. I said
to myself, Fiona, there is no way that this dear man is going to jail
for this arson charge comwhen he is obviously innocent. This is not
going to happen. After everything he has done for your Da, you are not
going to let this happen. * out As Will was looking Fiona in the eyes,
his problems with the fire mar, His, shal's office seemed strangely far
removed. 1 @ou

"So, I found it!" Fiona exclaimed. out

"What?" I "Thebox.theboxthatcamewiththecrystal.statueofLiber tyyougave
me. I knew we had to prove you had been in New York that day. The name I
of the shop in New York was on the box. So I called them up. I gave the

people at the shop the date that you had been up there. They faxed me a
1 receipt for the purchase of the statue. When I described you, the girl
who His His was the sales clerk says she even remembers you being
there." out "How did you describe me?"

"I'm not telling!" she said laughing. I ' "Fiona, I don't know what to
say. This is incredible. You are so kind."

I' The Resurrection File - 287 out "The salesgirl's name and telephone
number are on the fax with, the sales be; slip." And then she added,
"Isn't God good?" be "Well.. disthere may be something to that," Will
said. "Of course there is!" Then she put her hand on his and said, "And
Da told me about you being attacked, kidnapped, and your life being
threatIcned. I can't begin to imagine what youVe been through. There is
no way I lean thank you for the risks that you have taken--and for being
my father's igSadvocate, and his friend, through all of this." 1;;
"Coming from you, that means more than you will ever know," Will
ptplied. For a moment there was an awkward silence as they merely smiled
find nodded to each other.

255 "Please let me know if there is anything

I can do to help you with Da's legal case." pr "Ott--how is your
mother?" "Bless her heart, every day is a struggle. Everyday she slips
away from us [little. But we thank God for every minute we have with
her." more" Then Fiona said goodbye and left the office with a little
wave. As soon Wks Fiona was gone Will faxed a copy of the sales receipt
to the fire marshal's edffice, along with a letter inviting them to
contact the sales clerk to verify ipis presence in New York earlier on
the day of the fire, and alerting them to iphe FBI'S anticipated
involvement in exonerating him. il- Forty-eight hours later, Will
received a call from the chief arson investiipator. His message was
terse, but hugely welcome. "You're cleared on the fire Ipvestigation.
You are no longer a suspect. Your insurance company tells us ilpey will
be in touch with you to arrange payment for your fire loss." Hi After
weeks of feeling like a man swimming under ice in the dead of pinter,
looking for an opening, Will was finally reaching the air. I'. Soon the
insurance proceeds would be made available to him. The insurPlnce
company would start reimbursing him for his temporary housing costs.
Ipnd he was cleared, finally, of the ridiculous but horrible suspicion
that he

Iliad burned down his own house, and then killed his own beloved
Clarence HP1' make the whole thing look like someone else had done it.
Hi;"- Will also felt better about the Reichstad lawsuit. Jacki was a
skilled ijptWyer, and the value of her help on the case was
immeasurable. Just as iltaportant, Will liked the feeling of working
again with his former assopate and friend. Will was also beginning to be
more optimistic about the jpjitcome of the case. Bill Kenwood's
conclusions that 7QA and 7QB had ipeen parts of the same fragment upped
the chances that 7QA was one of Rihe fragments possessed by Richard
Hunter before his death. It also supported MacCameron's allegations in
his magazine article that Reichstad

288 Craig Parshall was scientifically sloppy in rushing to judgment
about the meaning of 7QA without having all of the other evidence in
front of him. On the other hand, Dr. Giovanni's findings about 7QA and
7QB were less than stellar. She called Will the next morning after her
examination of the fragments. Yes, she affirmed that she could testify
that Riechstand was unprofessional in rendering opinions about 7QA

256 when it should have been obvious to him there were critical parts of
the fragment which had been torn away-- and which were still missing
when he published his findings. However, while Giovanni did believe that
7QB had been part of 7QA before Azid had torn it apart, the wording of
7QB actually supported Reichstad's conclusions on the essential point.
Taken together, 7QA and

7QB did seem to unequivocally support Reichstad's opinion that Jesus was
still buried somewhere, and that he did not rise from the grave on the
third day. In fact, 7QB seemed to give a description of the actual place
of Jesus' tomb--a location completely different than either the Garden
Tomb, or the tomb at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the two possible
sites of the place of Jesus' burial according to traditional Christian
thought. All in all, Will thought that the chances of clearing Angus
Mac- Cameron at trial from any liability for damages due to defamation
or libel were now about fifty-fifty. Still, those odds were a lot better
than where they had been at the beginning of the case. As for the
bizarre turn of events involving Alibahd and his band of oceangoing
terrorists, and the threatening encounter with Warren Mull- burn, Will
now felt safer, knowing that he was under twenty-four-hour FBI
protection. Occasionally he found himself wandering over to the window
to make sure the black, unmarked SUV with the agents was still outside
his building. Will was checking on his security team when he received a
call from Tiny Heftland. Tiny had been able to talk with the Israeli
police about the death of Harim Azid in Bethlehem. They said that the
Palestinian police in Bethlehem had bungled the investigation. Further,
the Israelis had seen clear, though subtle, evidence that Azid had been
tortured. They noted small electrical burns around several of his body
cavities. None of that information had made its way into the report
filed by the Palestinian police. Even more importantly,

Tiny said the Israeli police had bent over backwards in promising
cooperation when they learned that he was working for Will Chambers on
the Reichstad lawsuit. "Say, do you have some kind of pull over there in
Israel?" Tiny asked.

The Resurrection File 289

"None whatsoever," Will said, wondering over their eagerness to help.
"But here's the icing on the cake," Tiny added excitedly. "The
government over there is

257 willing to voluntarily fly to the U.s.. the two Israeli police
officers who were at the scene of Azid's death, so they can appear at
the trial. You simply have to agree to reimburse Israel for the
transportation costs." Will quickly cross-checked their names against
the names Tiny had given him earlier--the ones he'd listed as potential
trial witnesses in his written disclosures filed at the time of their
pretriai hearing. They matched. Failure to disclose them would likely
have resulted in Judge Kaye barring I their testimony "There's one more
mystery witness," Will said to his investigator. "According to the
police, there is a wandering desert Bedouin out there "somewhere by the
name of Muhammad el Juma, a member of theTaamireh ftribe. He's the guy

MacCameron said that Hunter had mentioned. He beifound the original
fragment in the cave near the Dead Sea. Amazjngly, his liiamily carried
this thing around the desert for some fifty years. Something out
happened to make him decide to sell it to Azid, who was some kind of
shirtItail relative of his. Then he seemed to disappear off the face of
the earth. I sdon't know what he would have to say. But I'm sure this
Bedouin could be a key witness. Up to now I thought that locating him
would be impossible. "However, I hear you telling me that the Israelis
are anxious to help--for Whatever reason--and so, well, I'm thinking
about something." "What?" Tiny asked. "Is your passport up to date?"

"Sure." "I want you to go over to Jerusalem and meet with the head of
the Israeli Ipolice. Explain who we are searching for--and why. See if,
between the Ipolice and any of your old contacts, you can't locate this
guy." "Well, there's another possibility," Tiny said. "What's that?" "We
might be too late. Maybe the bad guys got to this Bedouin. Maybe every's
sleeping the big sleep." "Well," Will responded, "then we had better
know that too." After Will hung up with Tiny he called Angus MacCameron.
Fiona rered and said he was napping, but she would wake him. After a few
tiutes he came to the phone. "Angus, this is W. When was the last
contact you had with Judith iunter, Richard Hunter so sister, over in
England?" "Just her note to me, along with 7QB." "How about with the
British Museum?"

1 290 Craig Parshal!

"Oh my," MacCameron replied, pausing to think, "a long time ago. I
contacted them after

258 Richard's death. And then again, after Reichstad published his
findings about 7QA in his archaeology journal." "What did you ask them?"
"Just whether they knew about any written antiquities that Hunter :
might have been working on at the time of his death--and if so, where
they might be." "What did they say?" "They didn't have a clue. Hunter
never talked to them about it. He showed up unexpectedly in London one
day, fresh from Jerusalem. Did

some work in his office. Then left and flew right back to Jerusalem. ,;
His According to his secretary, he said he was going back to his field
office to .,ea[ "fetch one last thing." Of course, he never returned. As
soon as he got back

to Jerusalem, he was murdered. Will, I believe he was returning for 7QA,
I- which he must have hidden back there. But as soon as he returned and
be"j located it, he was attacked. That's why Reichstad only got his
hands on if I

7QA. I think Hunter had already taken

7QB back to London, and planned l-just to have his sister mail it to me
if he felt threatened. Then he left it under the [I': sofa, where it
stayed until she discovered it." I'll "So what did he do with the
missing third piece--7QC?" Will asked. "I think," MacCameron said, "he
took both 7QB and 7QC with him to were London. He left 7QB in his
sister's flat. His sister had subleased the apart11 ment from a friend
and had it listed under her friend's name--I believe that is why
Reichstad's people didn't know to go there and ransack it." "And 7QC?",
"His message was clear--he was leaving me a clue that it was at the
were'gg'[ British Museum. The Museum carefully checked his office after
his death,

but found nothing. It has to be somewhere else at the Museum." lj "Why
don't you make a follow-up telephone call to the people you know iou the
best at the British Museum. Just ask around. See if anything has jogged

their memories. Ask about other places Hunter may have kept any of his
,bbf; papers or files." .1; MacCameron said he would do it, and then he
invited Will over for his out dinner on Sunday evening, the night before
the opening of the trial. Fiona just would cook. MacCameron promised to
play a little "squeeze-box" music

I after dinner. I ," Will accepted immediately. 1

259 Then MacCameron added, with a little wry humor, "And we will huddle
together like the Christians in the Catacombs--singing one last hymn,
and steeling ourselves for the ordeal--when Reichstad and Sherman, and the

I.

The Resurrection File 291

Court, take us by the scruff of the neck, and throw us gloriously to the
lions!" In the background, Will could hear Fiona laughing and telling
her father to stop being so sarcastic, and then saying: "Don't forget,
Da, you have the Lord. And, I might add, your own personal gladiator!"
Somewhere in a quiet spot deep inside him, Will Chambers wished he
didn't have to wait five days to join them.

I

The NEXT FEW DAYS, WILL FOLLOWED a familiar pattern. His career as a
trial lawyer had taught him to prepare meticulously before every trial.
He delegated the non-fact-specific legal research to Jacki. She was to
put together their proposed Jury Instructions and Jury Verdict form, as
well as a Trial Brief to the court on the general legal issues of the
case from the defense standpoint. Will would prepare a shorter Trial
Brief on the admissibility of documents, as well as responses to
anticipated objections by Sherman to the evidence they would be
presenting. Will created a master log that summarized all of the
evidence from all of the witnesses, and cross-indexed forty-three
separate issues and sub- issues, assigning a code number to each issue
and sub-issue, and then giving the location in the massive file where
the evidence could be found supporting it. It took from morning until
midnight of one day to assemble the dozen big black trial notebooks that
contained the entirety of Will's defense to Reichstad's suit. Then it
took another day-and-a-half for him and Jacki to assemble the notebooks
that contained the sequenced, tabbed exhibits that would be handed to
the judge, opposing counsel, and the jury, on the first day of the
trial. Now that he had FBI protection, Will permitted Jacki to travel
down to his office to help him. The third and fourth days Will finished
the outline of cross- examination questions and direct-examination
questions for each witness that he had been compiling throughout the
case, and questions for prospective jurors during jury selection. The
last thing he did was to outline his opening statement, and begin a
rough sketch of what

260 he anticipated as his closing statement.

iTHE Resurrection File 293

The pattern of trial preparation fit him like an old pair of sneakers.
He had gone through this procedure hundreds of times before. Yet on this
case--with these people--and more particularly, with these profound
issues at stake, his exacting preparation didn't seem to be enough. Will
wasn't sure what else he needed, but he knew in his gut that there was
something else. What was he missing? On Sunday evening he drove over to
MacCameron's home. Perhaps it was the stress of the upcoming trial. Or
maybe the joy of an odd friendship with these super-zealous Christians
who had, in a strange way, become a kind of family for him. But whatever
it was, Will felt a special eagerness as he walked up and knocked at the
door. When Reverend MacCameron and be Fiona greeted him at the door,
Will gave a good-natured laugh. Maci Cameron was outfitted in the full
tartan of the clan Cameron. Fiona was beeaidecked out in a red tartan
dress, and shoes with buckles. As she stood in the 'door for a moment,
with her dark hair cascading down, with the blush on jrher cheeks, with
her sparkling eyes, her beauty nearly punched the wind bright out of his
stomach. % "Why do I feel like I just stepped over the magic bridge into
the land of RBRIGADOON?" Will quipped as he entered the apartment with
an arrangement Kof flowers. As soon as he was inside Will asked if he
could see Helen MacCameron. they led him into her bedroom. He noticed
that a woman who appeared to Hbe a nurse was sitting next to her. ':
There was a glimmer of a smile on Helen's pale face beneath her oxygen
Jaiask when Will stepped in and touched her hand. Helen glanced over to
Hithe nurse, and the nurse bent over to her, lifted the mask up, and put
her ear Bplose to Helen's pale lips. "She wants to know why you aren't
wearing your kilt." Will smiled, and explained that he had knobby knees.
Besides, how Hpould he possibly compete with a real Scot like Angus
MacCameron, who looked so dashing in his clan outfit? : "You must be the
Robbie she has been expecting," the nurse continued. I "No, I'm Will
Chambers." I "Oh, she's been talking about her son--Robbie. A lawyer.
She was Rexpecting him tonight." Hi Will had not heard either MacCameron
or Fiona mention that there fWas another member of the family. He turned
to ask

261 MacCameron about it, Jp.eaut the older man put his finger to his
lips and said, "I think I'm going to

294 Craig Parshall leave the bedroom door open all the way. I think
Helen would like to hear the sounds of friendly voices, and the music.
We want her to be part of this." As they stepped into the kitchen
MacCameron took Will aside. "Before Fiona was born, my dear wife had a
miscarriage when she was eight months pregnant. It was a terrible loss
to both of us. But I think it was particularly hard on Helen. As it
turned out, it was a boy. We were going to name him Robert." "Oh, I'm
sorryst"Will said.

"No need. She must see something in you--something that shows her what
Robbie would have been like if he had lived and grown up. She seems to
be living more and more in the past now. The doctors told us that the
cancer has reached her brain." Fiona walked into the kitchen and kissed
her father on the cheek, then wrapped her arms around him and held him
for a long time. MacCameron wiped his eyes and brightened up. He said
dinner was ready. Will was informed that this was a "modified" Scottish
dinner. Scottish salmon appetizers were brought out first, and homemade
soda bread. There was mutton stew and beef roast (american--they
couldn't find Highlands beef in Washington, D.c.). But the blood pudding
was genuine. Will took a taste--but pushed it away discreetly while
Fiona and her father laughed. After dinner they went into the parlor and
MacCameron brought out his accordion. He commenced to play several old
Scottish tunes. When he got to some of the livelier music, he managed to
coax Fiona, despite her protestations, into doing some of the dances he
had taught her as a girl. Then Fiona sang a few songs in Gaelic, in a
lilting voice so sweet that it seemed, to Will, to emanate wholly from
another time, and another dimension. The last song Angus MacCameron
played was a slow, haunting melody called "Dark Island." Fiona
accompanied him on a slightly out-of-tune piano in the corner. Then
Fiona offered to clean up and do the dishes while MacCameron and Will
sat on the couch together and talked about the case. "I accessed the
Jerusalem Post on my computer earlier today, the minute I got home from
church," MacCameron explained. "An article mentions that a permit has
just been issued for an excavation in the vicinity of the St. Stephen's
Gate entrance to the Old City,

262 right along the wall. The permit was issued to Albert Reichstad and
his team." "He didn't waste any time, did he?" Will added.

The Resurrection File 295

"He must have filed an application with the Israeli Antiquities
Authority earlier this week, as soon as he had translated the St.
Stephen's Gate reference in the 7QB fragment. Will, this is unheard
of--a permit for this kind of controversial dig being approved in just a
matter of days! Somehow, Reichstad must have either applied incredible
pressure on the IAA, or else he has an inside connection. In any event,
we have to get to that excavation site--we have to be eyewitnesses to
Reichstad's activities there." Mac- Cameron's voice was rising in
intensity "Da, please don't get all riled up,"

Fiona said, peeking around the corner from the kitchen. "Angus," Will
said, trying to calm his client, "we have a trial starting tomorrow.
That has to be our priority. Besides, Reichstad has to be there in the
courtroom with us. He is not going to be over in Jerusalem. And knowing
him, he won't let his assistants start any significant work without him.
He is going to want to be right there when the digging starts'--so he
can grab the headlines and get the credit." "Yes, that is a good point.
But didn't you say that the trial is only going for three days next
week--Monday through Wednesday?" "That's right. Judge Kaye has a
judicial conference on Thursday and Friday. We will be off those two
days--then we reconvene the following Monday." "Then that is when
Reichstad is going to start digging. He will leave immediately after
court on Wednesday, fly out in the evening--and land in Jerusalem with
at least three days to commence the excavation. I'm sure that, before he
even gets there, his assistants will have done an electronic sweep of
areas around that gate. As I recall it, there is a small rise just to
the right of the gate entrance. They will try to get a fix on anything
that looks like a burial site there." "How?" "Reichstad will have all of
the sophisticated hardware. They have these little portable geophysical
radar systems--about the size of a large laptop computer. They can
detect the presence of burial locations, walls, almost anything
underneath the surface of the ground. Will, I can't tell you how
important it is that we plan on being there in Jerusalem when he starts
digging. If we are not, he can come back into court the

263 following week and say anything he wants about his excavation--he
can say that he found a corpse with a name-tag on it, a name-tag that
says Tomorrow Jesus, the son of Mary, and I didn't rise from the grave,"
and we won't be able to refute it!" "I understand. But there's another
issue," Will said, recalling his assignment to his client. "Did you call
the British Museum?"

296 Craig Parshall

"Oh--why yes. They have no idea where Richard may have kept any other
records and papers. But I did find out one other very important fact."
"Oh?" "They had a break-in at the Museum a few weeks ago. Sometime after
we disclosed the tape of Richard's answering-machine message to
Reichstad and his lawyers." "So?" "Vandals, they said, ransacked the
office of one of their researchers. A night watchman showed up, but they
got away. And what do you think his last name was--the researcher whose
office was burglarized?" "What?" "Lazarus. The office belonged to Isaac
Lazarus." Will thought for a minute. Then he cried out, "'Lazarus come
forth!"" "Exactly! The other side must have assumed, as I did, that the
"resurrection order" that Hunter was leaving as a clue in his message
had to do with the Lazarus story in the Gospel of John. Therefore, they
broke into Dr. Lazarus's office, thinking they could find 7QC before we
did." "Did they take anything from the office?" "The Museum didn't think
so. But I did get their preliminary approval for the two of us to search
through Lazarus's office in order to locate any papers belonging to
Hunter. And Richard's sister has been very kind. She was his last of kin
and has already given me permission to locate and keep any of the papers
or effects we find dealing with his discovery of his fragments in
Jerusalem. Hunter's last will and testament actually bequeathed to me
fifty percent of the value of any of his recent discoveries, and of his
writings over the last ten years of his life. Can you imagine that?"
Will smiled at MacCameron's good fortune. "When can we get over there?"
MacCameron asked. "To London?" "Yes!" "Angus, you've got me trotting all
over the world. Let's put in a day or two of the trial this week Then
we'll talk." "I'm going to book two tickets for us from D.c. to London,
leaving Wednesday night. We have got to try to locate 7QC before the end
of the trial. And then, if we have time, we will fly from London to

264 Jerusalem, observe what Reichstad is doing at the excavation site,
and then fly back for the rest of the trial next week" "Are you trying
to put your lawyer in a body bag?" Will asked with a wry smile. "Isn't
it exhilarating--digging for truthf MacCameron exclaimed.

: The Resurrection File 297 ft I* Fiona came into the room and joined
them. She reminded her father Ijjjat he needed to get his rest for the
trial. But MacCameron said he wasn't ouleepy. Besides, he added, after
Will left he wanted to spend some time ialone with his wife. ":.. Before
Will left, Angus MacCameron placed his hand on Will's head ^nd prayed a
blessing on him, asking for "God's power and wisdom" to guide pjm in the
trial. And then he prayed that Will would, in God's own timing, ppen his
heart to the resurrected Christ. I Fiona walked Will to his car outside,
gave him a quick hug, and thanked iim for coming. I* When Will finally
returned home to his apartment that night he realised that, in his
busyness he had failed to check for Saturday's mail in his piailbox. He
shoved his hand inside and pulled out a single envelope. It was "prom
his uncle, Bull Chambers. : Inside the envelope there was a color copy
of a photograph--and on it, liiull Chambers had written something. After
Will had studied it, he llaughed a loud belly laugh. 1 The photograph
showed Will struggling to hold up the huge marlin he jihad caught that
day on the ocean with his uncle. But Bull had drawn an ferow pointing to
the marlin and then written: "Just-Fox Sherman--your next Erophy catch!"
ji Will was still chuckling as he locked the door behind him and headed
ilbr bed.

The jury trial was set to begin that morning at 10:00 a.m. in the U.s..
District Court building in Washington, D.c. From its front steps, which
face.ccstitution Avenue, to the left and upward the dome of the U.s..
Capitol is visible in the distance. Farther still, just across the
street from the Capitol, are the white marbled steps and columns of the
U.s.. Supreme Court building. But the third branch of
government--symbolized by the White House--is geographically removed in
this triangulation of government power. Set apart, blocks away from the
other two branches, the White House is bounded by trees, by guardhouses,
and--at the behest of a

265 recent President--by huge concrete pillars along its frontage on
Pennsylvania Avenue--a monument to the threat of terrorism without. But
this morning, the White House rested comfortably secure from any threats
of anarchy and violence from without. Within, the President was having a
pleasant breakfast with Undersecretary of the Department of State
Kenneth Sharptin. The shortlist of the three possible running mates was
being winnowed, and sifted, and narrowed. Very soon, only one name would
remain. Billionaire Warren Mullburn had pledged his full financial
support--and the recruiting of thousands of "unpd" volunteers--to aid a
presidential ticket, as long as it bore the name of Kenneth Sharptin as
vice-presidential candidate. Mullburn already had in the works the
construction of a lobbying organization that would fund its own massive,
multimillion-dollar television ads in favor of a ticket coupling the
President with Sharptin as V-P.

As Will Chambers trudged up to the front steps of the federal
courthouse, wheeling a cart full of notebooks and file boxes for the
Reichstad vs.

The Resurrection File 299

@ou" MacCameron case, he thought back on the history of that building.
Here was 'I-, the place where President Richard Nixon had been laid low
by the decision be of a single federal judge during the Watergate
investigation. This same , building was the locus of legal battles
between the branches of government, grappling like titans of stone for
mastery of decision-making--mastery of money--or the mastery of power.
But this was also the building where workaday grand jurors from the @ou
District--the unemployed, the hourly laborers, the civil servants--had
con@ou sidered, weighed, and sifted the conduct of President William
Jefferson I Clinton. : Here, in this architecture of freedom, even the
lowly and the nameless I were empowered to judge the powerful. I Will
nodded hello to the security guards and bailiffs as he made his way
through the metal detector and passed box after box through the X-ray
machine. Judge Kaye had asked that legal counsel meet with him in his I
chambers at 9:30 to discuss preliminaries, and Will was a few minutes
ahead I of schedule. But J-Fox Sherman was already there ahead of him.
He was I surrounded by two legal associates, his personal paralegal, and
a law clerk, 1 all with

266 laptop computers, freshly scrubbed faces, and steel-stiff postures.
I Judge

Kaye explained that each side would have three 'peremptory I strikes"
for the jury--each party had the right to exclude three jurors for vir-
I, tually any reason. He also explained his pattern for taking
breaks--one mid- I morning, one mid-afternoon, and lunches exactly one
hour and fifteen I minutes long. I Lastly, the judge indicated that he
would be conducting the trial in I "bifurcated" fashion. The evidence
relating to Reichstad's damages--the I injury to his reputation, and his
"mental anguish"--would be reserved for I the second stage of the case.
That evidence would only be heard if Reich- I stad prevailed--and
MacCameron lost--on the single question involving I "liability." That
question to the jury was this: "Did Reverend Angus Mac- I Cameron, in
the subject article concerning Dr. Albert Reichstad, publish I
allegations which were substantially truthful?"" A "yes" verdict meant
that the trial was over and MacCameron had won. IA "no" verdict would
require

MacCameron to pay the hundreds of thouI sands--perhaps even millions--of
dollars in damages that the jury would I then determine in the second
phase of the case. "Bifurcation" is usually considered an advantage to
the defense, since I juries hearing evidence on a plaintiff's damages
sometimes become more I sympathetic toward the plaintiff on other issues
in the case. But here, Judge

300 Craig Parshall

Kaye's decision was no sign of partiality toward Will's side of the
case. The judge simply preferred that procedure in all of the damage
lawsuits that came before him. When Will and the other lawyers left
Judge Kaye's chambers and entered the courtroom, one half of the benches
in the audience section were filled with prospective jurors. On the
other side, Will noticed Angus Mac- Cameron sitting with Fiona. Behind
them was a round, familiar face. It was Brother Billy Joe Highlighter,
flanked by elders of his church. As Will would learn at break, they were
there in the courtroom to be a "spiritual presence for the truth." Dr.
Reichstad, and several of his research associates, were in the front
row. In the last row in the back, in the far corner, Jack Hornby sat
with his arms stretched along the back of the bench, a look of

267 subtle amusement on his face. Jury selection in the case took all
morning, and into the afternoon. Will struck from the jury an official
with Atheists International and a disgruntled government scientist who
had sued a co-worker (unsuccessfully) for having defamed his
professional reputation. Lastly, he removed from the jury a pastor from
a denomination called the Universalist Sanctuary of Light, which
maintained that Jesus never rose from the dead, and whose members
religiously followed the writings of Warren Mullburn, whom they
considered a "prophet" of evolutionary theology. j-Fox Sherman struck
the wife of a Baptist minister, a YMCA leader (presumably because he
also taught Sunday school at his church), and the director of a black
gospel choir. When the jury had finally been selected, Will felt that
his client still might get a fair trial--though considering the jury he
was left with, perhaps not in his lifetime, and perhaps not in that
courtroom. It was at such times that Will Chambers the trial lawyer was
reminded that human justice must invariably have a human face and a
human heart. If justice were to be meted out in the case oi Dr. Albert
Reichstad vs. Angus MacCameron and Digging for Truth Magazine, then
something extraordinary would have to happen. There were six jurors and
one alternate juror: a chemistry professor who had "no use for most
religion"; a bored-looking postal worker; an accountant from the General
Service Agency, who said he feared "fundamentalists" because they "blow
up buildings"; a grade-school teacher; a construction contractor; an
anthropology teacher in a local high school, who said she had read and
appreciated some of the writings of Dr. Reichstad, 1

The Resurrection File 301

Hbut boldly proclaimed that it would not affect her ability to be
impartial; iaad lastly, a bouncer in a dance club. ' After a break,
Sherman and Will gave their opening statements. Sherman was winsome,
casual, detailed, and persuasive. He promised : the jury that they would
see evidence of three types that would compel a . finding of "no" to the
jury question. First, he explained, the jury would behold the
professional credibility of dr. Reichstad. Sherman stretched out his
arms--like a male "Lady Justice." A catalogue of Reichstad's world-class
accomplishments tripped off Sherfjman's tongue: his awards, his published

268 works, his multiple degrees from

IWESTIGIOUS institutions, and the documentary film being made on his
life by pj*he Smithsonian Institution. As he listed Reichstad's
qualifications, Shermans outstretched right arm slowly lowered under the
invisible weight f7f his client's professional prowess. Then he
described the sparse and erratic eer of Angus MacCameron. But as he
listed MacCameron's qualificaons, his outstretched left arm never moved,
as if to say, "The defendant, lies and gentlemen of the jury, is not
only a lightweight, he is a feather- eight." Secondly, Sherman pointed
out that when MacCameron wrote his cle he had no proof whatsoever that
a) Reichstad's opinions about 7QA. ere scientifically unfounded, or but)
that Reichstad was in any way "conted" to the deaths of Azid and Hunter.
He urged the jury to listen closely to the evidence--and to reject any
"speculations and fantasies which ght be the product of a religious
extremist like MacCameron." Lastly, he pointed out that "right here, in
this courtroom, you are about see the unveiling of one of the world's
most important discoveries about lie real Jesus of Nazareth; and that
unveiling will show the absolute falsity fof Mr.

MacCameron's lies against Dr. Reichstad."

Then Sherman described the 7QB fragment, which, he asserted, actually
corroborated the 7QA fragment--as well as Reichstad's interpretation of
it. According to Sherman, (Qb actually mentioned the St. Stephen's Gate
location of the very tomb-- itherto unknown--that Sherman declared
passionately, "must obviously 1, to this day, contain the body of Jesus,
the world's greatest moral teacher, ijbut who was certainly no
resurrected godlike creature." Sherman sat down, and Will rose to his
feet and walked to the lectern in front of the jury box. He had no notes
in front of him. The contours and pines of his opening statement had not
just been memorized--they had ibeen consumed into the fibers of his
thinking and feeling about this case. Then Will stepped away from the
lectern, and began to speak.

by 302 Craig Parshall

"Ladies and gentlemen. You are to be the judges of'truth' in this case.
Not because Mr. Sherman or his client, or I or my client, have decided
that it will be so. But because a free system of government has summoned
you; called you from your everyday tasks to come

269 here--to; this place, at this time--to render a judgment about
"truth." There is no greater task in a free nation than this. "The facts
will show that Reverend Angus MacCameron wrote a scathing article
against Dr. Reichstad. And it was scathing. But the facts will show that
he spoke the truth when he wrote what he did. When he stated that Dr.
Reichstad's opinions about the 7QA fragment were seriously flawed, and
perhaps even fraudulent. Much is at stake with Dr. Reichstad's opinions
about this tiny, ancient piece of papyrus. For if he is correct, then we
may be witnessing the death of Christianity as a religion. "If Dr.

Reichstad is wrong, then Reverend MacCameron has helped to expose where
the real lie rests--because the lie is not with the article in his
little magazine. To the contrary, the evidence will conclusively show
that the lie rests squarely on the head of a world-renowned scientist
who, for reasons yet to be explored in this case, is trying to sell to
the world a hoax of unearthly proportions." Then Will paced over to the
center of the courtroom where, on a display easel, there was a greatly
enlarged photograph of 7QA. fitted together with 7QB. Will told the jury
that in the upper right corner there was a missing fragment But this
missing "It fragment" completed the all-important first and second
sentences of

7QA. Without "7QC," as Will called it, the

7QA fragment seemed, when considered just by itself, to be describing
the corpse of Jesus of Nazareth, and suggesting that his body never left
the tomb. He urged them to consider that Dr. Reichstad had made no
search for 7QB. That Angus MacCameron was the one who, in fact, finally
produced it; and that 7QC was still out there somewhere in some hidden
corner of the world. Without 7QC, the missing fragment, Will said, his
voice becoming passionate, Dr. Reichstad had merely shown a part of a
face, and then declared it to be a portrait. Displayed to the world a
patch, and declared it to be a garment "If we commissioned a great
artist to paint a full portrait, but received only half a face--and one
ear, one eye, only part of the mouth--wouldn't we declare that painter
to be inept?" Will asked the jury. "If we pay a tailor to sew a suit,
but it has only one sleeve, wouldn't we say that the tailor was a
fraud?" he added. Will continued by telling the jury that the evidence
would show how Reverend MacCameron knew that a half-truth is much more
dangerous

270

than a full-blown lie. So he published the truth about 7QA and Dr.
Reichstad in his magazine. "The evidence will show that Dr. Reichstad
mysteriously turned up in possession of 7QA immediately following the
deaths of Dr. Hunter and Mr. Azid, both of whom previously had had
possession of 7QA," Will stated. "Therefore, Angus MacCameron told the
truth when he said that Reichstad was somehow "connected" to their
deaths." Will continued. "Of course all of us--myself included--fear and
distrust die forthright tellers of truth. We shrink back from those who
dare to tell us all of the truth, because it may strike too close--it
may mirror to us a : sight we do not wish to see. So if you wish to
throw stones at the prophet *.ea[ of truth--then have at my client. He
is right here. And he makes an easy I target.

Or, you can do something else. You can realize your extraordinary I
opportunity to do a great and noble thing. You can do something quite
rare I in this unfair world. You can shed the light. You can do justice,
You can let I your verdict speak the truth." which The instant that Will
ended his opening statement, attorney Sherman I leaped to his feet and
asked for a "side-bar" conference with the judge. Judge I'.kaye looked
at his watch, and decided to release the jury for the day. After the
last jury member filed out of the courtroom, the judge enter- I tained
Sherman's argument. 1 "Mr. Chambers seems to have confused an opening
statement:--which mis only to include a summary of the evidence that
will be presented--with I closing argument," Sherman snarled. "His
so-called "opening statement" was replete with argument, Your Honor. I
move that his entire opening stateRJRNENT be stricken, and that the jury
be admonished to disregard every word of his opening." ii- Judge Kaye
turned to Will for his response. "Your Honor, if Mr. Sherman had an
objection, he should have raised it mduring the opening statement, at
the exact moment when it occurred. Instead, Mr. Sherman hedged his bets
and waited until I finished my entire opening statement to lodge his
objection. By waiting, he waived his objecWouldon." people J-Fox Sherman
jumped to his feet to respond, but the judge motioned to him to sit
down. "I don't need to hear any more. This isn't rocket science. Mr.
Chambers' Kbpening clearly had some improper argument, although I think
it was Somewhat responsive to some of the improper argument

271 you, Mr. Sherman, included inddyr opening. But regardless, Mr.
Sherman, you waited too long

1' I'.

304 Craig Parshall to object. Your objection and motion are denied.
Gentlemen, I will see you tomorrow morning." Sherman, unruffled, gave
Will a confident smile as both sides packed up for the day. His motion
had simply been a minor skirmish. Tomorrow, the ground war at Omaha
Beach would begin.

out The following morning, Will pulled into the courthouse, tired but I
confident. He had worked on the case until three A.m., poring over his I
cross-examination notes, and reviewing the points made by Sherman in his
out opening statement. Much like a military conflict, a trial takes on a
fluid, I ever-changing topography.

Despite exacting preparation, and voluminous out discovery, and
disclosure of facts by both sides, the real face of the battle ' never
becomes evident until the trial itself. Will Chambers knew that the I
visage of a case--its character and essence--only becomes clear when the
background and personality of the jury is known, and the opening
strategy I of the opponent is disclosed. With that information now in
hand, Will had I begun his usual exhausting routine of resurveying the
prospective battlem ground of the case, all over again, in preparation
for each day. At the start of the second day, Sherman's first witness
was Dr. Kurt Jorm genson, an associate in Reichstad's research center.
Jorgenson was an expert Bin ancient papyrus fragments, especially those
of Middle Eastern origin. 1; Under Sherman's friendly, casual
questioning, the scientist gave a lively but highly detailed description
of what papyrus was, producing several large diagrams and photographs as
he talked. Jorgenson described papyrus as a plant found in Egypt, parts
of ^Ethiopia, and--notably--in the Jordan River valley in Israel. In
ancient If times the plant was used to create a form of writing paper;
this was done by 1slicing it into thin layers, and then placing other
layers of material crosswise clover it. These strips were then
moistened, pressed, and stretched out to dry, EFINALLY, the sheets were
scraped to a smooth finish with a sharp object, and 1'fashioned into
rolls. He then gave a long history of the different uses

272 of papyrus by ancient peoples, including the Egyptians, the Romans,
the Greeks, and the first-century Jews in "ancient Palestine," his
nomenclature

I 305

306 Craig Parshal!

Ill 1 for the regions of the Middle East, and particularly that region
centering at Jerusalem. Most juries find such technical
testimony--particularly at the very opening of the case--to be dry,
dull, and occasionally confusing. In this case, however, Will noticed
that every member of the jury was attentive, and some members were even
transfixed during Jorgenson's testimony. Then Jorgenson moved into his
involvement in the 7QA analysis. He described how, at

Dr. Reichstad's request, he had become part of the team of experts to
evaluate the tiny papyrus fragment. Sherman had anticipated Will
Chamber's main theory of defense, and had decided to meet it head on.
"Now, you were aware that the 7QA fragment had an irregular shape?"
"Yes, that was very obvious during my examination." "Is that unusual
when it comes to fragments of documents two thousand years old?" "Oh,
not at all," Jorgenson noted confidently. "In fact, almost all such
fragments tend to be partially destroyed, frayed, disintegrated, torn,
water- stained, you name it and they come that way. Our job is to
reconstruct, in a scientifically valid way, what the fragment looked
like, and what it said, in its original form. In this case, it was
obvious that 7QA was torn along the edges. That was not unique. That
happens very often." "So the fact that 7QA. was ripped or torn--how
would that have affected Dr. Reichstad so ability to reach conclusive
findings about it?" "It would have no effect. Let me make a comparison,"
Jorgenson offered, with a smile. "When the boy comes in to school and
says "Teacher, I finished my paper, and it was wonderful and I deserve
an A-plus, but I can't show it to you because my dog ate it," we all
view that very suspiciously. But in the study of ancient papyrus
writings--sometimes parts of a fragment really have been eaten by dogs.
Why, I can even tell you stories about ancient fragments that were
chewed up by wild hyenas!" The jury smiled at this, and a few members
laughed along with Dr. Jorgenson. Sherman then had his expert witness
recount the process of matching 7QA with 7QB, and

273 Jorgenson described his confidence that they were, originally, part
of the same piece of papyrus. Finally the scholar addressed the big
issue in the case. "I believe, unequivocally, that the quality of the
7QA. and 7QB fragments are outstanding. Further, that they spell out, in
the Koine Greek language, the facts surrounding the burial of a male
individual known as Jesus of Nazareth, together with the fact that this
particular corpse was not

The Resurrection File 307 removed from the tomb--and therefore certainly
did not stand up and walk out three days later. Lastly, I firmly believe
that this fragment was written around the time of the death of Jesus,
and that it was written in the area of Jerusalem by someone who purports
to be an eyewitness. It is near-perfect evidence, historically and
archaeologically, of the nonresurrection of Jesus." "And your
conclusions confirm Dr. Reichstads published conclusions about 7QA?"
"Absolutely." "Did you expect some religiousstcultural backlash to your
7QA discovery?" "Of course. But nothing like what Angus MacCameron
published. That was just plain shocking." "Was Dr. Reichstad guilty of
either deception, or scientific malpractice--as

MacCameron wrote--regarding his findings on the 7QA fragment?"
"Absolutely not.

MacCameron's allegations about Dr.

ReicKstad were-- and are--totally unfounded. And Dr. Reichstad's
conclusions about 7QA are absolutely correct." Sherman rested his direct
examination. He sat down at his counsel table full of smiling legal
associates and a radiant client. Will walked to the podium, introduced
himself to the witness with a smile, and then began his
cross-examination with a seemingly minor point. "You said that it is not
unusual at all for a fragment to be torn along the edges like the 7QA
fragment was. Do you remember that?" "I'm not sure that is what I
actually said." "Well," Will said, "I have it right here in my notes.
You said, and I quote, that it "happens very often" in the case of
ancient fragments. Now, do you want me to have the court reporter read
back your testimony?" "Not necessary," Jorgenson noted confidently, "I
will accept your statement as accurate." "So, tell me, how many other
ancient papyrus fragments have you examined in your professional
experience?" "Oh my, hundreds--thousands--I suppose." "And how

274 many had irregular edges, and showed evidence of having been torn by
something?" "Many. Many. Too many to count." "Now you agree with me,
that 7QA, when examined microscopically, is shown to have been scored
with a hard, metallic, sharp instrument--probably a razor blade or a
artist s-type blade--and then torn along the scores?" "Yes, that would
appear to be the case."

308 Craig Parshall

"Scored with the kind of blade that is tempered steel?" "Probably." "The
kind of blade that is found only in the twentieth or twenty-first
century?" "Oh, I might argue a little with your dating--but--yes, it was
scored with a blade of recent origin." "So tell me, Doctor, exactly how
many ancient fragments have you rendered conclusive opinions upon, when
their edges show signs of having been removed from another fragment with
the use of a modern knife?" Sherman was on his feet objecting, but Judge
Kaye overruled him. Jorgenson was deep in thought, and said he had
forgotten the question and wanted it re-read. After the court reporter
had finished reading the question, Jorgenson tried to avoid the answer.
"I really don't understand the question," Jorgenson replied. "It doesn't
make any sense." "Then let's see what you don't understand," Will
responded firmly. "Do you know what "ancient fragments" are?" "Of
course." "Do you know what I mean by "conclusive opinions"?" I suppose." j

"How about my reference to the "edges" of a fragment having shown ji
signs of having been "removed from another fragment"--any problem be
understanding that?" :. "Well, now you're being a little ridiculous,"
Jorgenson responded, feeling were the noose starting to tighten.
"Perhaps you were thrown by my use of the unusual phrase "modem
knife"--do you have a problem understanding what a "modern knife" is?" I
Jorgenson paused. His smile was gone. There was a mild look of con1
tempt on his face.

[. "I don't know."

"Is it a fact that the only ancient fragment about which you were
willing in to render a conclusive opinion regarding its origin and its
meaning, when I His the edges of such a fragment show that it was in
fact tampered withand torn il II apart by someone very recently--the
only case of such a thing, is the 7QA. 1 fragment? Is that correct?"' :

"I don't know what you mean by "tampered with."" "Well," Will continued,
"what if an

275 antiquities dealer by the name of, Azid in Bethlehem, Israel, takes
an ancient fragment, for whatever reason, that @ou."i and uses a modern
knife to score it and then tears it into three smaller

and uses a modern knife to score it and then tears it into three smaller

I The Resurrection File 309 pieces, and sells you only one of the
pieces. Would you consider that 'tampered with'?" "I suppose I would."
"Would that be a reliable way to conduct your scientific evaluation--to
base it on a piece of papyrus that had been tampered with?" .:" "7QA was
not tampered with." "But it had been removed from the rest of the
fragment?" : "Yes." @ou "With the use of a modern knife--by someone who
had the fragment (before Dr. Reichstaddid?" : "Yes." % "You don't call
that "tampered with"?" I" There was a pause. I, "I don't know." very
"Let's change gears, Doctor. How important is context' in the matter of
evaluating the meaning of an ancient fragment?" 1 "Define "context,""
Jorgenson shot back. I "Well, lets define it the same way you used it
last month in fas. Journal feaofAncient West Asian Archaeology, where
you wrote, and I quote, "The phys 4cal context of an ancient papyrus
fragment is always essential in order to pftilly understand it."" very
"Yes. I wrote that. And I agree with what I wrote." "Is the best
"context" for understanding an ancient fragment always a jfcornplete
fragment; one that is of superior quality in its written characters,
iand bears no evidence of missing pieces?"

I "Yes, that is optimal." I "Have you ever, in your career, been forced
to withhold final conclusions gab an ancient fragment because the
context was incomplete? Such as jtpoor quality of the written
characters, or too much destruction by the natiiiral elements, or the
absence of too much of the adjacent writing?" it "Yes, quite often." 1
"But you did not withhold your final conclusions here. You did not
withpiold your absolute confidence in the validity of Dr. Reichstad's
opinions-- ipven though at the time you didn't have 7QB, and certainly
did not have the ijstill-missing "It fragment"--and even though you and
Dr. Reichstad knew Iphat the other missing pieces that had been torn
away might still be out ijthere somewhere?" 1; "Yes, Dr. Reichstad and I
felt we could still make absolute and final

276 conidusions about 7QA." : "Then let's evaluate why that is, Doctor."

310 Craig Parshall

Now Will moved away from the podium slightly so he could stand directly
in front of the witness. "Is it a fact that you, and Dr. Reichstad, are
both members of an organization called "Jesus

Quest for the 21st Century"?" "Yes, that's right. A very esteemed and
forward-thinking group of New Testament and antiquities scholars."
"About thirty-nine different scholars?" "Yes, that sounds about right."
"You are familiar with their writings?"" "Yes. I consider them my
colleagues." "How many have ever written or published any professional
article that expresses even the most theoretical belief in the
possibility that Jesus of Nazareth may have been physically
resurrected?" "I have not memorized their writings." 1 have them all
right here, in several notebooks," Will said. "Do you wish to have me go
through them, one by one?" Judge Kaye interrupted, "Oh pray no, Mr.
Chambers, let's not do that" Then the judge turned toward Dr. Jorgenson
and addressed the witness directly, leaning back in his large chair and
scratching the top of his head as he spoke. "Doctor, I notice in your
credentials that you still do some university teaching. I trust that
when your students ask you a question you give them a more direct answer
than you are doing right now. Just answer the question. Do you know
whether any of the members of this organization of which you are a
member believe in the physical resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth?" "Your
Honor, we all, as members of this group of scholars, have pledged
ourselves to absolute scientific integrity. How could we do that and
still cling to the very medieval notion that a man three days dead in
the grave suddenly gets up and walks out of his tomb?" "I think you have
answered the question," Judge Kaye concluded, and he nodded to Will
Chambers to continue. "Are you employed by Dr. Reichstad's research
center?" "Yes." "Do you know what the going salary rate is, in America,
for experts papyrology, with your experience and background?" "I have a
pretty good idea." "Are you being paid more than the average?" "If I can
speak frankly, my credentials are better than most scholars my field.
Therefore, I ought to be paid more."

The Resurrection File 311

"Do you consider yourself three times as good as other scholars?" "Oh,
hardly." "Yet you get a salary from Dr. Reichstad that is three times the

277 average for a scholar with your background and experience?" Now
Sherman was up with an impassioned objection. "This expert's salary has
nothing to do with this case." "I agree, Mr. Chambers," the judge said,
"unless you lay some other foundation." Will turned to the witness.
"Were you expected to be here testifying for Dr. Reichstad as part of
your employment?" "You might say that." "Are you being paid a separate
fee?" "No." "It's just considered part of your salary?" "Yes." "Is your
yearly salary about $500,000?" Sherman shrieked out his objection again.
"Overruled," the judge barked out. "Now this is a different ballgame."
"1500,000?"

"That's correct." "And you have stock options in the research center,
which recently became a publicly traded corporation?" "Yes. Yes. That's
right. This is still America. Land of opportunity." "And your stock
options are worth perhaps another $500,000?" "Yes. I guess that is
right." Will now walked back to the podium to collect his notes.
Jorgenson relaxed a bit, thinking the questioning was over. "Oh, one
other matter. Just a technical point, I suppose." "Yes,"

Jorgenson replied with a manufactured smile. "Exactly how much would
your stock be worth if Dr. Reichstad were to lose this case, and the
jury were to find that he committed scientific malpractice--or even
worse--scientific fraud? How much would your stock options be worth
then?" Sherman popped up again with an objection that the question asked
for "pure speculation." The judge permitted the answer, "if the expert
could venture an opinion." "I suppose the stock might go down."

312 Craig ParshaUs

"Go down?" Will said with his voice rising. "Wouldn't it sink like the
Titanic? Wouldn't it disintegrate like the exploding Hindenburg?
Wouldn't your stock option be something akin to a very poorly forged
copy of the Mona Lisa?" "Is that a question, or merely an attempt at
creativity, Mr. Chambers?" the judge asked. "I think it is the latter.
So, rephrase it." "If Dr.

Reichstad's opinions about 7QA are shown to be fraudulent, or recklessly
unfounded, as Reverend MacCameron has written, then your stock options
become worthless, is that correct?" There was silence as Dr. Jorgenson
glared back.

"That is probably so," he replied, "but I am not too worried about that
happening." 1 "Because you

278 did your job well today? You came here and supported your I boss,
Dr. Reichstad, who pays your salary?" "Yes, I support Dr. Reichstad." '
"Because you came here and protected your stock options?" I "That's not
why I came here." lj "Because you came here to support the Jesus Quest
for the 21st Century in their agenda to disprove the physical
resurrection of Jesus?" "I support that position. I am not ashamed to
declare that." "Does every person educated in biblical archaeology have
the right to take a position, one way or the other, on the issue of
whether the evidence supports the resurrection of Jesus?" "Of course."
"But you deny to my client, Reverend Angus MacCameron, that exact same
right?" It There was a pause, and Jorgenson shifted a little in his
chair. At first he parted his lips to answer, but nothing came out.
After a full thirty seconds of silence, Will turned and began walking
back to his counsel table. "That's all right, Dr. Jorgenson," Will said
in conclusion, "we'll let the jury answer that one."

pi

I: ti-i it 11 ' fi

SECOND WITNESS CALLED BY

SHERMAN was Dr. Victor Beady. He be also an associate at Reichstad's
research center. His testimony took up lie afternoon. Beady's evidence
centered on his particular area of expertise--carbonating of ancient
objects. He gave a convincing and impressive description "the concept of
carbon-dating, both in general and in regard to the tech"'ue he had
applied to date the 7QA and 7QB fragments as "definitely first
itury--and likely during the time period proximate to the death of Jesus
jious figure who is reported to have lived in ancient Palestine."
"Radiocarbon-dating," as Beady referred to it, was based on the
obsertion that the remains of organisms that were once alive (plants,
animals aple) all contain C-14 (radiocarbon), which is absorbed into the
tissues of lisms during their lifetimes. Because that element is both
radioactive unstable, he explained, and because it "decays away at a
known rate," at the death of that organism, the radiocarbon decay
begins--at an r-declining rate. By measuring the amount of radiocarbon
left in a nple and assuming the rate of decay as a given, he further

279 explained, one extrapolate to obtain the date when the original
sample was still part of living organism. In this case, he continued,
from a radiocarbon-dating standpoint, the fragments must be "from
approximately the years 30 to 90

C.e.-- Dmmon Era"--a designation that has replaced the traditional but
reliausly offensive "A.d."" Then Beady left the realm of
radiocarbon-dating and spoke on the basis ' his credentials as a
historian of antiquities.

He testified that the 30 to C.e. estimate for the origin of the
fragments could be further refined to the years between 30 to 68. He was
able to do this, he assured the

314 ' Craig Parshall jury, because of what he and other scholars of
history knew about the events of ancient Palestine in the year 68. It
was in that year that the Jewish desert religious community at Qumran
had abandoned their dwellings by the Dead Sea because of the invasion of
the Roman Tenth Legion. They had left behind their library of scrolls,
stored in nearby caves--the so-called Dead Sea scrolls. All this
historical background,

Beady went on to say, was very consistent with the information that Dr.
Reichstad had published, and with what Reichstad and he had personally
discussed, about the source of the fragment--that it had been in cave 7
at Qumran, stuck to the bottom of a jar, and was then found by an
unknown Bedouin boy, who, after many years, had sold it to Azid, the
antiquities dealer. Beady concluded his testimony by indicating that Dr.
Reichstad's conclusions about the date of the 7QA fragment--and the
origin of the fragment being the Jerusalem area, and that the fact that
it would likely have been written shortly after the time of the death of
Jesus of Nazareth--were all undoubtedly correct. As Sherman concluded
his direct examination of Beady, Will listened carefully. He waited,
expecting something more in Beady's final conclusions. Beady was fully
qualified to have given a broader opinion about Reichstad's
interpretation about the meaning of 7QA. But he didn't do that. And
Sherman did not ask him to. Will knew that sometimes what is not said in
court is sometimes more important than what is said. But there was
something else. Beady had been cautious in his testimony. Unlike
Jorgenson, he had not made wide, sweeping statements of support for
Reichstad and

280 disdain for MacCameron. His testimony was clearly cut with square
corners. Beady had been likeable and confident in front of the jury--but
what he had had to say had been carefully controlled and limited. Dr.
Victor Beady seemed to be a man who knew that the case had opened up
some dangerous pitfalls. He, for one, apparently did not want to walk
too close to the edge. As Will walked up to the podium for his
cross-examination he felt certain of one other thing. Beady had really
done very little damage in his testimony. Most of it related to the
dating of the 7QA. and 7QB fragments. But MacCameron was not disputing
these conclusions. So, while Will was prepared to challenge several
technical points in Beady's arguments about the accuracy of his
radiocarbon-dating procedure, he decided to let that go. He would just
hit on a few essential points. On cross-examination Beady readily
admitted, without dispute, that he was earning the same half-million
dollars a year at the research center as

If The Resurrection File 315

EJBRGENSON was. And he quickly conceded that he had the same
half-million- Jdoflar stock interest in the center that Jorgenson did. :
He also admitted his active participation in the

Jesus Quest for the 21st I Century group--and that the group was
singularly opposed to the tradil.tional idea of the bodily resurrection
of Jesus Christ. I; Will concluded his examination of Beady with a final
line of quesI tioning. His questions came from something Beady had said
in his direct I testimony, about the "jar" in the cave where 7QA had
come from. I "Dr. Beady, you said that 7QA came from a "jar." Right?" I
"Yes.

That's right." I "Did Dr. Reichstad tell you that?" I "He had to. He
obtained the fragment. And then at some point he must I have told me
that it had been kept in a jar in the cave before its discovery 1 by the
Bedouin, who then sold it to Harim Azid, who then sold it to Dr.
iReichstad." I "So

Dr. Reichstad told you that 7QA came from a jar in cave 7." I. "Counsel,
that is not too remarkable. Many of the Dead Sea scrolls and 1,
fragments in those caves had been kept in jars." I "But you said that
Dr. Reichstad told you that 7QA. had been "stuck to I the bottom of a
jar" in cave 7. Right?" I "That's right." out Then, for some reason Will
recalled a rather silly reference that Tiny out Heftland had made to him
once

281 about Reichstad's research building. He

I smiled a little as he concluded his cross-examination. I "One last
thing, Doctor. Would you describe the security system at Dr. out
Reichstad's research center as "world-class," perhaps "state of the
art"?" I "Yes. It is very sophisticated." I Will could see that Beady
was growing slightly uncomfortable. I "Other than the 7QA. evaluations
that have gone on there at that I building, are there any other "secret
experiments" going on--maybe down in out the basement--that would
require military-style remote sensors all over the I grounds of the
building?" I; Will heard a noise off to the side of the courtroom. Dr.
Beady's eyes

widened as if he had just been punched in the solar plexus. Will glanced
- over, and saw Reichstad gesturing urgently to the witness--but Sherman
had grabbed his arm and restrained him. "Objection!" Sherman shouted.
"Irrelevant. Immaterial. Prejudicial. And asking for confidential,
secret, and/or proprietary information about Dr. Reichstad's research
center."

316 Craig Parshall

Will agreed to withdraw his question. But as he walked back to his
counsel table he knew that he had just hit a trip wire with Albert
Reichstad. Perhaps Tiny had been correct. Maybe

7QA. was not the only thing that Reichstad had up his sleeve. Perhaps,
he mused, he had really stumbled across the Frankenstein castle after all.

AWLLL CHAMBERS KNEW THAT CONDUCTING the ideological warfare of a I jury
trial required the litigator to constantly reassess the field of combat.
To I' calculate the casualties; to observe the movements of the opposing
troops; to anticipate the strategy of the other side before their bombs
startraining down destruction. But he also understood that a trial
lawyer needed to practice the skill of out a tightrope walker. As is the
case with the man way up there on the highi wire, the success or failure
of the balancing act in a jury trial is often felt which before it is
actually seen. At the commencement of the trial, Will had determined
that the odds I would be stacked against him. In such situations his
strategy was to force a I break in the case--to change the feeling in
the atmosphere. To gain absolute I mastery over the physics of the high
wire--because failure to do so could I only mean

282 to experience the desperate falling sensation of defeat. As Will sat
down at the counsel table on the third day he knew that I Albert
Reichstad would be the next, and last, witness for the plaintiff's case.
1 J-Fox Sherman had originally listed a dozen witnesses. But for some
reason, which at the last moment he had announced that he would call
only three--and his client was the last. Originally Will had listed Bill
Kenwood, his materials engineer, to tes tify that 7QA and 7QB had been
scored by a sharp, metallic instrument of I recent origin and then torn
apart. But now he did not need to call him. Both I parties, after their
weeklong examination of the two fragments before the I trial, had agreed
on the findings that Kenwood would have presented. Now, out it was an
established fact in the case that 7QA had originally been attached to
7QB and that they had only recently been torn apart. Dr. Giovanni was
bound to do a fine job in her testimony, but Will knew I that she could
not carry the day alone. His client, Angus MacCameron, was

318 Craig Marshall an honest and forthright man, but he was not going to
make a good witness. In particular, Will noticed that Angus had grown
quieter during the trial, and by the end of yesterday's testimony had no
longer been writing notes on his notepad. In fact, he looked more
haggard and exhausted than Will had ever seen him before. Will also had
scheduled the testimony of the two Israeli police officers. But they
could only show that "Tony" Azid's death was by an act of murder, rather
than suicide. They could not directly link his death to Reichstad.
Ultimately, the case was about credibility. Who was the jury going to
believe--Reichstad or MacCameron? In that department Will had a plan to
expose Reichstad's lack of truthfulness. But it depended on Sherman or
Reichstad making the right kind of mistake, in the right kind of way.
Sherman was unlikely to trip up. Will's only hope was that Reichstad's
own penchant for self-aggrandizement would compel him to walk into the
silent trap. Will could only watch and wait. As Dr. Albert Reichstad
stood at the witness chair, raised his right hand, and swore to tell the
truth--the whole truth--Will knew that his cross- examination of this
witness would probably be the turning point--the hand-to-hand combat
that could sway the course of battle over to Mac-

Cameron's side. As Sherman began his direct

283 examination of his client, Will noticed something out of the corner
of his eye. Angus MacCameron had pushed something over to Will on the
counsel table. They were two airline tickets. One for

MacCameron, and one for him. Will noticed that it had them departing at
7:45 that night for London, out of Reagan National Airport. Will glanced
over at Angus who, though pale, was grinning. He obviously still
believed that they could find the missing 7QC fragment somewhere at the
British Museum even now, at the eleventh hour, in the middle of the jury
trial. How could his client still hold onto that hope? Was it that Angus
MacCameron was the most blindly optimistic client Will Chambers had ever
had? Or was there another explanation? Was this just one more example of
MacCameron's maddeningly persistent faith in a God of both ultimate
truth and personal familiarity? What would it be like to have that kind
of faith Will wondered silently.

After Sherman had finished taking Reichstad through his extensive
professional credentials, he continued his direct examination by having
his client relate his discovery of the 7QA fragment. Reichstad spoke
slowly and confidently from the witness stand. As he talked, he' turned
and addressed the jury directly, as if they were one of his groups of
adoring students at Harvard. Will had read every article that Reichstad
had ever written about the discovery of 7QA, and had traced every media
quote he'd ever given on the subject. Reichstad had always been cleverly
vague about how he had come into possession of the fragment. Now, as
Reichstad was testifying, he effortlessly recited the exact same
information he had previously disclosed on that subject, sometimes using
descriptions verbatim from his writings and media interviews. Reichstad
testified that he had been in Jerusalem, leading an archaeological
conference, when he received a phone call from Azid to come over to
Bethlehem and look at an ancient fragment.

He said he had indeed met with Azid, but couldn't recall the exact day.
There had been a free day in the conference, and perhaps that was when
he had traveled to Bethlehem, but he wasn't sure. He had immediately
concluded that the writing on this fragment, 7QA, referred to the burial
of Jesus, and that it looked, at least at first blush, quite authentic,
though he obviously had not been able to date it on the spot. Yet the
Koine Greek inscription on the fragment had raised his expectations that
this might just be

284 a find of monumental proportions. According to Reichstad, Tony Azid
had told him that he bought the ancient papyrus writing from a Bedouin,
some type of relative. The Bedouin said he had found it decades before,
as a boy, in what was now known as cave 7 at Qumran, near the Dead Sea. The

Bedouin had kept it for many years until deciding, for some reason, to
finally sell it to Azid.

320 Craig Parshall

Azid, as Reichstad explained it, had agreed to accept $50,000 for the
fragment. Reichstad left, and later wired the money directly into Azid's
account. One of his "assistants" had actually picked up the fragment and
brought it back to Reichstad by the end of the conference later that
week. "I am afraid that I can't recall the name of the assistant who
picked up 7QA and brought it to me," Reichstad explained. "We have
looked, but can't find any records on who it was. It was someone who was
only working with me as temporary staff during the conference. He was a
local Arab man, I think." "Why didn't you use one of your own personal
research assistants to pick up this potentially important fragment from
Azid?" Sherman asked, anticipating one of Will's cross-examination
questions. "Well, that was my preference. But, unfortunately, all of my
personal research assistants had their hands full during the conference
we were hosting." Then Reichstad was asked to explain his testing and
evaluation of the fragment. He gave a smooth, carefully rehearsed
description of his findings. "This was clearly the most authentic, most
historiographicaHy and archaeologically profound document ever
discovered on the subject of the burial of Jesus of Nazareth. It clearly
showed that a person who was a contemporary of Jesus, who was a witness
to his burial, was also a witness to the fact that his body was not
resurrected--but indeed was--and is to this day most likely--still in
that tomb. The examination I conducted was thorough, and was in keeping
with the highest possible standards of science and scholarship. To date,
except for Angus MacCameron's wild and unsupported libel against me, no
scholarship has dared to question the competency, or the integrity of my
conclusions." Then Sherman led him into the article written by
MacCameron. "When did you first learn of the article by the defendant,
which attacked you and your conclusions about 7QA?" Reichstad lowered
his head

285 dramatically, and asked if he might take a sip of water. The judge
and Sherman both nodded. He drank from the glass next to the witness
chair. Then he sighed and stroked his eyebrow, a gesture apparently
designed to disclose the inner pain of recalling what he was about to
describe. Will was riveted to Reichstad's testimony as he described the
party hosted by his colleagues and friends in honor of his discovery of
the 7QA fragment. Reichstad said it was at that party that he first
learned the real details of MacCameron's "libelous" article against him.

The Resurrection File 321

Sherman was about to lead him quickly off that point and onto another,
but Reichstad plowed ahead, describing in dramatic detail the
"humiliating arid shocking experience" of hearing his own friends and
associates yelling "murderer," and "fraud," to his face, and in the
presence of his wife. . There was a quick side-glance from Sherman
toward Will's counsel table. Sherman anticipated a loud objection from
his opponent as Reichstad's unprompted testimony about the details of
what was actually said at the party violated Judge Kaye's order of
bifurcation--an order which clearly, prohibited at this stage of the
case, any mention of evidence for damages, or testimony relating to
injury to reputation or emotional suffering. be But no objection came.
Will only sat silently His face gave no hint of die fact that he was
preparing the trap that would shut on Reichstad. Sherman moved quickly
to his final line of questioning. "Did you have any "connection"
whatsoever with the deaths of Harim Azid or Dr. Richard Hunter?"
"Absolutely not. That is a preposterous allegation by that man, Mac;
Cameron, and it is absolutely false." With that, J-Fox Sherman rested.

Will, CHAMBERS BEGAN HIS

CROSS-EXAMINATION of Reichstad as he was still walking from his counsel
table over toward the podium. Reichstad watched him, smiling
confidently. The large photographic blowup of the 7QA and

7QB fragments was on the easel in the middle of the courtroom. On
another easel, a large display bore the fragments' message translated
from the Greek: "7QA" AND THE BODY

OF JESUS OF NAZARETH "7QB" WAS

LAID IN THE TOMB // ATTHE EAST

286 GATE OF STEPHEN THEY DESIRED

TO ANOINT IT // THAT DAY BUT COULD NOT RETURN TO PREPARE THE BODY THE

BODY REMAINS IN THAT TOMB TO THIS

DAY

Will took a little laser pointer and indicated the word "JESUS" in the
second line. "Now Dr. Reichstad, let's talk about the Greek language of
7QA. and 7QB. In the

Greek of that day--and I believe in modern Greek-- the endings of words
would reveal the grammatical structure of the sentence?" "That is a
rather crude way of putting it," Reichstad answered. "Well, as an
example: In English, the word "Jesus" appears the same whether it is
used as the object or the subject--or whether we are talking about the
"possessive" phrase "of Jesus," or referring to something happening I

The Resurrection File 323

I "to Jesus," or someone being "with Jesus." In each case, in EngEsh,
the word out Jesus' would stay the same--but we would add things called
prepositions, as separate words, to show how we are referring to "Jesus"
in the sentence?" "I suppose that is one very rough, unpolished way to
explain that." . "Well, then let's polish it up, by all means. In the
Greek version of 7QA I; over there the word Jesus' ends with the Greek
letter called "upsilon," some- I thing that looks a little like the
letter TJ," right?" I "Very good, Mr. Chambers. I see you checked out a
book on New Tes. lament Greek from the local library," Reichstad
commented sarcastically. I "Yes, that is correct." which- "But," Will
continued, "in the Greek, unlike the English, the way a word is being
used in a sentence is reflected in the endings of the word itself,
fright?" "Yes. That is very basic first- or second-lesson Greek." which
"And if, in 7QA, Jesus' were the subject of the sentence; if the
sentence I said that "Jesus" was in fact doing something, then the
ending of the word I Jesus' in 7QA would be different, would it not? The
word Jesus' would look l.j like it does here on this enlarged photo of
7QA, except that it would I end with one additional letter--the Greek
letter "sigma'wh, at the end of I a word, looks like an English'S."
Correct?" I "Yes,"

Reichstad noted, with a sigh. I "Now let us assume, for a moment, that
there is a missing fragment

287 with I more writing--in the upper right-hand corner, just to the
right of the first out two lines of 7QA and just above 7QB. And for the
sake of argument, let's I assume that the words after the end of the
first line of 7QA that our "It fragou ment supplies are the words "OF A
FRIEND." Now, that would create I something that would look like
this..." And with that, Will placed a small out placard with those words
in the spot where the missing It fragment would his go. I "7QA" [It
fragment]

AND THE BODY// OF A FRIEND OF

JESUS OF NAZARETH ^qj] WAS LAID

IN THE TOMB // ATTHE EAST GATE OF

STEPHEN THEY DESIRED TO ANOINT IT // THATDAY BUT COULD NOT RETURN TO

PREPARE THE BODY THE BODY REMAINS

IN THAT TOMB TO THIS DAY

324 Craig Parshal!

"Now, do you agree with me that the ending of the word "Jesus" would be
exactly the same in my example, using my hypothetical idea of what the
It fragment might contain, as the ending of the word "Jesus" appears now
in 7QA?"

Reichstad shifted a bit in his chair. "In other words," Will continued,
"my hypothetical idea of what the It fragment might contain is
consistent with the Greek grammar of 7QA?" "Yes, that's correct. But
perfectly meaningless. We don't have the "It fragment" as you call it.
In fact, if the upper right corner of this piece were ever found, I
firmly believe that it would contain no writing of any kind." "You are
sure of that?" "Yes. Because, 7QA and 7QB make perfect grammatical
sense, as they are right now, without any additional speculations on
some unknown, hypothetical "It fragment."" "Well, with all due respect,
Doctor, you thought that 7QA made perfect grammatical sense too, before
Angus MacCameron came up with 7QB. And you were wrong in that respect,
correct?" "No. 7QA made perfect grammatical sense alone. Now, with 7QB
it makes even more sense." "And until we find the third missing
fragment--call it the "It" fragment, or 7QC, or whatever you want--until
we place that last part of the puzzle into this picture we are never
going to be absolutely sure about the full meaning of this ancient piece
of writing--isn't that correct?" "You never have absolute certainty in
science. But I am confident that there is no further

288 writing that is missing from this piece." "You would place all of
your professional integrity behind that statement?" "I certainly would."
Having placed Reichstad's credibility squarely in his sights, Will got
ready to squeeze the trigger. "I listened carefully to your testimony,"
Will noted casually, "regarding what you knew about the origins of the
7QA fragment. Where it came from. Cave 7.

The Bedouin. Your contact with Azid. I took very good notes. Now my
question is this--are there any more facts you can add about the way
that the fragment had been preserved in cave 7 when the Bedouin found
it?" "No, Mr. Chambers. I was very complete in my testimony. I've given
the jury--and you--a description of everything I know." "Everything?"
"Yes, that is what I said." 1

The Resurrection File 325

"I was just interested, then, in the jar." "Oh?" "Yes.the.ear." "What
jar?" "The jar in which the 7QA-7QB fragment was stored for some two
Ithousand years. Until one day the Bedouin, as a young boy, found it. In
cave plumber 7 at Qumran. That jar." "Well, it is a good assumption that
it was kept in a jar." "How do you know that?" "Because many of the
fragments of the Dead Sea scrolls were likewise I in earthen jars."

"But you never said anything in your testimony here today about nowing
that the fragments in this case had been stored in ajar." "Well, that
was certainly understood..." "By who? By you?" "I always assumed that
fact." "And therefore you omitted that fact in your testimony--because
you nply assumed it?" "I don't know what you are getting at, Mr.
Chambers." "Simply this: I have read every paper and article you ever
authored about 7QA fragment. Not one of them ever mentions that the
fragment had . stored in ajar. Not one. You do agree with that?" "Oh, I
don't know, Mr. Chambers. You have seen how many professional lolarly
articles I have authored in my career. I can't possibly recall every I
just because you want me to." "I have them right here--organized in my
notebooks by date and by ource. I would be glad to spend all day going
through them with you, Dr. eichstad. Is that going to be necessary?"
Judge Kaye came to life again, and broke in. "No, we are not going to do
lat, are we, Dr. Reichstad? Let's cut to the chase. Why don't you just
tell lo you recall ever writing about the fragment being found in a jar
was: Bedouin?" "Not that I can recall, no." "Thank you," Will added.
"But beyond even that--you never, at any

289 le, ever wrote that fact that the 7QA fragment had been stuck to the
attom of ajar?" "I suppose that's true, though I don't think it is at
all important to this Idase--one way or another." "Oh, but it is," Will
responded. "Dr. Beady testified earlier, quite clearly, Ithat you and he
had discussed that the papyrus fragment was discovered by

.

I ill1

326 Craig Parshall the Bedouin, stuck to the bottom of ajar. Now is that
a fact? Is that what Azid told you shortly before his death?" "I don't
recall." "Do you know why Dr. Beady--one of your trusted research
associates--would make that up?" "Certainly not." "Any reason to believe
that Dr. Beady lied about that?" "No, not in the least." "But you do
recall ever telling him that?" "No, I don't." "The most important
archaeological discovery about Jesus of Nazareth in the history of the
world--according to you--but you can't recall whether it was found in
ajar or, if it was, whether it had been stuck to the bottom and had to
be pried loose by the Bedouin?" "I can't recall ever hearing those
things from Azid or anyone else. But in any event, I really don't see
the point." "Let me help you there," Will said more intensely. "Would
you agree that if you came by this 7QA fragment in an honorable way from
Mr. Azid, and Mr. Azid told you the details of how the fragment was
originally found--that is, stuck to the bottom of an ancient jar--would
it be reasonable to expect that you would have published that
information in one or more of your many writings about 7QA.?" "Perhaps."
"But if you came by 7QA from Mr. Azid in a dishonorable way--and if Mr.
Azid was in fact tortured before his death and gave up all the details
he knew about 7QA while electricity was being shot into every orifice of
his broken body, then perhaps you would be very hesitant to share such
details, would you not?" "This is preposterous! Where do you get those
bizarre ideas, Mr. Chambers? From the grocery-store tabloids?" "No,"
Will responded calmly. "From the two members of the Israeli police who
are scheduled to testify for the defense next week. That's where I get
those ideas." Reichstad made an unsuccessful attempt to dismiss Will's
comment by smiling at the jury. But he could only manage a twisted

290 smirk. "Dr. Reichstad, let's at least leave this matter this way:
One of your own witnesses, who is a trusted scientific associate, has
testified under oath that you told him about 7QA being stuck to the
bottom of a jar; you, on the other hand, deny even knowing about that.
Would you agree that we have a mystery on our hands, then?"

The Resurrection File 327

"You have it backwards, Mr. Chambers. Angus MacCameron is the one who
believes in mysteries, not me. I believe in facts."

"Well then, let's talk about another mystery. The mystery of the
humiliating party. Do you recall testifying earlier today about your
friends and colleagues yelling "murderer," and "fraud," at you as a
result of reading the MacCameron article?" I At that point J-Fox Sherman
leaped up to object. Judge Kaye motioned I to both attorneys to come up
to the bench, outside of the hearing of the jury. out "Your Honor, Mr.
Chambers is way out of bounds," Sherman sputtered. I "You bifurcated
this trial. No testimony is supposed to come out at this stage of the
case about humiliation to Dr. Rekhstad, or damage to his reputaItion."

"But your own client opened the door to that issue, Mr. Sherman," Will
ijshot back at the opposing attorney. "He went on, in great detail,
about that iparty and what was said. That door ought to swing both
ways." "Look, Jay," the judge responded, "your client swung that door
wide lopen. I am sure you advised him about my bifurcation order. And
then he Rjphose to violate it. Mr. Chambers wants to capitalize on this.
That's called ftttial strategy. Objection overruled. But Mr.
Chambers--don't go too far frith this." be When both attorneys had
resumed their positions, Will continued. "About the party. There was
some drinking?" "Yes" "Everyone having a good time?" be "Until the
comments about the MacCameron article came up. And then Bwas
humiliated." be. "Dr.

Rekhstad, I want you to listen very carefully to my next question. pere
it is: When your friends cried out "murderer," and "fraud," were they,
as Hf&Us as you, all laughing and making merry about it--making it into
a joke?" Hou "Absolutely not. I was devastated. Mortified." ' "Was
Kathleen Aberscombe there that night, at that party?" "Yes," Rekhstad
said. "If she were here--would she agree with

291 your recollection of the party? ^From would she agree with how I
have characterized the party?" ^Knowledge "She would agree with me. But
she isn't here," Reichstad declared. "I Happen to know that she is in
Turkey, with her husband.". ^Knowledge *^ationo, Dr. Rekhstad, she is
not. I would represent to you that her husband ^Hl ill. Her trip was
delayed. And I was able to serve her with a subpoena, ^-every and
testify next week when the defense puts on its case. And I

328 Craig Parshall know what she is going to say, because I have a sworn
affidavit from her." Will lifted up a typed document in his right hand.
Sherman jumped to his feet again, hut Judge Kaye cut him off. "I'm not
making decisions about defense witnesses right now," the judge said
firmly. "I have looked at Mr. Chambers' witness list for this first
phase of the trial--and Mrs. Aberscombe's name is not on it. On the
other hand, I'm sure she was not listed in this phase of the case
because Mr. Chambers assumed that Dr. Reichstad would not violate my
bifurcation order by talking about the details of that party at Harvard.
So Mr. Sherman, sit down. And Mr. Chambers, please get to the point."
Will Chambers looked into Reichstad's eyes. They both knew the same
thing. It was a roll of the dice.

If the judge ultimately prevented

Aberscombe from testifying in the defense case, Reichstad could say
anything he wanted to about the party, without fear of being
contradicted. But if Aberscombe did testify, not only would the jury see
him as a liar--but he also might be facing a criminal perjury
prosecution. Will pressed in. "Was there, in fact, great laughter and
joking and merriment when the words "murderer" and "fraud" were uttered
at that party?" "Someone may have been laughing." "Several people?"
"Perhaps." "Almost everyone?" "I didn't count noses." "Did your wife
begin laughing so heartily that tears welled up in her eyes?" "I think
she may have had too much to drink" "In fact, there were gales of
laughter at that party as you and your scholarly friends made fun of my
client--Reverend Angus MacCameron?"

"Angus MacCameron deserves ridicule from the scholars of the world-- he
took that chance when he decided to write that ridiculous article
against me." "But you think the article--and the allegations--were
ridiculous?" "Absolutely!"

"As did your friends at that party?" "Anybody with scientific
sophistication believes MacCameron

292 is a joke." "Including all your friends at that party?" Reichstad
leaned back in the witness chair. He smirked slightly and rotated his
head and his neck, as if he were relieving a cramp. "We were
joking--yes. It was a party."

I The Resurrection File 329

"So then--you lied, under oath, when in your deposition you testified in
I, these exact words," and with that Will Chambers read from the
transcript I of Reichstad's deposition: if out There was a voice raised
from a corner of the room.. disx sent chills jh down my spine, and it
literally broke my heart... very The voice shouted out, 'Murderer!
Murderer!"'' ' That other voice said 'fraud!""

5 "I did not lie!" Reichstad shouted out out "Was that statement that I
just read from your deposition--was it the I whole truth, and nothing
but the truth, so help you God?" And with that, I Will lifted up the
affidavit from Kathleen Aberscrombe and displayed it I prominently in
front of Reichstad. I "Maybe my deposition testimony was not entirely
accurate in all its I details," Reichstad finally responded. "I had
gotten very little sleep. You were I badgering me. I may have made
mistakes. I had been very busy with a com- I plicated research project
before coming to the deposition." I "A "complicated research project"?
In other words, you become more of a I liar the busier you get--is that
what you are saying?" I Sherman howled out an objection, but Judge Kaye
beat him to the I punch. I "That's enough! Mr. Chambers, I've given you
plenty of rope. But you I are getting perilously close to hanging
yourself--and your client. That quesI tion is ordered stricken. The jury
will disregard it." I Will nodded, apologized to the court, and then
positioned himself I directly across from Reichstad and smiled at him as
he launched into his I next cross-examination attack I "When you
testified under oath at your deposition, you said that you had I
identified for me every single book that you had ever authored. were you
being truthful?" I "Of course. Don't be insulting." were "Did you list
for me a little book you authored called A New Quest for Jesus?"
Tomorrow not sure." Will showed Reichstad a copy of his typed curriculum
vitae that had @ou been given to Will at the deposition. Reichstad's
lawyers had represented that the resume, drafted by Reichstad, contained
all of his professional cre; dentials and publications. out Reichstad
glanced at

293 the document for a moment.

1 UP

330 Craig Marshall

"Apparently I inadvertently omitted that book from my resume." "Was it
merely inadvertent?" "Yes, naturally." "Not intentional?" "No!"
Reichstad responded with irritation. "You know who Warren Mullburn is?"
Reichstad studied Will Chambers for a moment before he responded. He
straightened up a little in the witness chair, squaring his shoulders
and trying to look bored and uninterested in the questions. 11) "Do you
know who he is?" Will repeated. 11 "Of course. Most of the civilized
world has heard of Mr. Mullburn. He is quite famous. Books. Screenplays
for science-fiction movies. The world's .1 third richest man. Inventor
of various geological devices for the discovery of oil. And on and on."
1 "But you know him better than most. You have met with him." "Perhaps."
"Your research center, in fact, has been funded by millions of dollars %
from one of his subsidiary corporations. You would admit that?" "What
does that have to do with this case, Mr. Chambers? I object." J-Fox
Sherman leaped up and joined in his client's objection. The judge asked
where the questioning was going. jeaffl Will Chambers gave three simple
words--concise enough to let Judge [1 iJust Kaye understand the legal
justification, but without tipping off the witness. ." Will simply said,
"Motive for bias." I. '] "Overruled," the judge barked. "Has your
research center received millions of dollars of funding from one of Mr.
MuUburn's corporations?" "Yes. He believes in the advancement of
science." "Does he also believe in gaining a share of Saudi Petrol
Company, Saudi Arabia's leading oil company, and one of the largest oil
interests in the world?" "He is in the oil business. Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, OPEC has never permitted Western nations to
participate in OPEC meetings; and Saudi Petrol Company has never
permitted shared ownership with a Western corporate interest. Are you
aware OF THAT?" "I do read the financial pages. So I suppose I knew
that." "Is it a fact that you reported your progress on the 7QA
discovery to Mr. Mullburn?"

If The Resurrection File 331

"Yes. He is a controlling shareholder of our

294 research venture. That is pectirely appropriate." "And Mr. Mullburn
was pleased that you had concluded that 7QA dislbbproved the bodily
resurrection of Jesus Christ?" knowledge "Well, he felt that my
interpretations would open up new human underpstanding." "Mr. Mullburn
was pleased--because he had announced his conversion tltDo Islam shortly
before meeting with Muslim religious leaders in Vienna, If Austria, and
the Muslims reject the divinity of

Jesus--reject him as the Son of God. Correct?" Now Reichstad was taking
more and more time between his answers. B&He searched Will Chambers'
face in some kind of psychic effort to divine K'where Will had learned
so much about his partnership with Mullburn. m.. "As a convert to Islam,
I suppose he felt gratitude that we had finally .w proved that Jesus was
one with God, theologically." but "And the Islamic leaders in the
oil-producing countries--those clerics who exert indirect influence
within OPEC--THEY would have been particI ularly pleased with the fact
that Mr. Mullburn's well-financed research . center, the one that you
operate, had supported a major element of the Islamic faith--that Jesus
was a human prophet, not a divine Son of God. out Correct?" 1 "Fine.
Yes. Everyone here would probably agree with that. That proves I
nothing." out "And in addition to being helped by Warren Mullburn, you
have also 1 benefited from the assistance of Kenneth Sharptin,
Undersecretary of the Department of State, who along with Mr. Mullburn
has encouraged the iJQA project?" Judge Kaye jumped in as he saw the
scope of the case now broadening out to include the Executive Branch.
"How far are you taking this, Mr. Chambers? Are you asserting some in
kind of concerted agreement among a high-level State Department
official, I an oil magnate, and Dr. Reichstad regarding this papyrus
fragment?" I "It is my position,

Your Honor, that both Kenneth Sharptin and Warren I Mullburn provided my
client's opponent with an opportunity, and a motive, to misinterpret,
and exploit, the incomplete nature of the 7QA fragment." I After a few
seconds of silence, Judge Kaye looked at Will and said, "You I are on
very thin ice. I don't want to hear any half-baked conspiracy theory I
against a high-ranking State Department official that you cannot
absolutely prove. You have been warned."

295

Will quickly glanced toward the rear of the courtroom. Jack Hornby was
still sitting in his favorite perch at the back. But now he was leaning
forward on the bench in front of him; his eyes were trained on W. As
Will turned back to Reichstad, and continued his questioning, his voice
was slow, deliberate, and powerful, as it filled the courtroom. "Is it a
fact that you obtained help from Undersecretary Kenneth Sharptin? And by
help I mean this: that he used his considerable diplomatic power to
obtain special permission from the Israeli government--the Israeli

Antiquities Authority to be precise--to enable you to dig along the St.
Stephen's Gate wall of Old Jerusalem in an effort to locate the tomb
whose location is mentioned in 7QB?" "Is this really necessary?"
Reichstad said in a pleading voice to the judge. "Answer the question!"
Judge Kaye commanded. "Yes. The State Department was of some assistance
in getting that permission for me and my research team. As a matter of
fact, we are ready to start digging any day now." "You would agree that
such a dig is most extraordinary?" "Certainly. We expect to find nothing
less than the remains of Jesus of Nazareth. I would say that the word
"extraordinary" is barely adequate." "And for permission for such a dig
along the old wall of Jerusalem to be granted within just a week or two
of the request by you--that also is extraordinary?" "Of course. That is
obvious." "And the dig will take place right next to a Muslim cemetery,
and just a short way from the Temple Mount area, where mosques are
located that are held sacred by the followers of Islam." "All that is
true, yes. Yes." "All of that makes this proposed dig of yours
politically and religiously sensitive to say the very least--making it
even more extraordinary that permission was granted so very quickly.
Wouldn't you agree?" "This is such a waste of time. I have admitted how
extraordinary it all is. So what?" "Well, it all seems to come down to
this: Undersecretary Sharptin must have placed extraordinary diplomatic
pressure on the Israeli authorities to get permission so quickly for
your excavation. Is that the fact--or not?" "I don't know. I am not an
expert in foreign relations." "But you have attended a number of
functions, meetings, and conferences sponsored by the State Department
since the 7QA discovery, correct?" "Yes. As well as those sponsored

296 by a hundred other organizations and agencies."

The Resurrection File 333

"I'm just concerned with the State Department functions. Just those. At
2, the Undersecretary was present, and he praised your 7QA.
interpretation as something that boosted the Administration's "cultural
reconciliation" olicy in bringing together the Islamic East and the
Christian West?" "For peace. It is all for peace. Peace among mankind.
The way you say it, make it sound very sinister, Mr. Chambers."
"Perhaps. Maybe

I've gotten carried away. When we think of one of the orld's richest
men, owner of the world's fifth-largest oil interest, funding a
conligious antiquities project that will disprove the divinity of Jesus
at the ae time he is courting OPEC and Islamic leaders in an effort to
join the (Pec oil monopoly--when we think of the Undersecretary of the
State Dartment praising that very same religious antiquities project and
tiding over backwards to arm-twist Israel into giving you special
permission for the excavation that you expect will disprove the
resurrection of Jesus orever--which looks for all the world like a
massive public-relations gimck for the Administration's "cultural
reconciliation" project to'bring the lie East in closer harmony with
America. When you think of all of at--all those little pieces, like a
jigsaw puzzle on a card table, all fitting gether that way--doesn't that
look sinister to you?" "Only a paranoid conspiratorialist would think
that it is sinister." "Then am I being paranoid in suggesting that, in
addition to whatever lother financial benefits you have received from
Warren Mullburn--and ppart from the special benefits you have received
from Undersecretary pSharptin--and even apart from becoming a
world-renowned scholar whose fpicture is on the cover of magazines
around the globe, and on the primeItime talk shows, as the man who
debunked Jesus. Apart from all of that, is lit paranoid to suggest that
deep down, you really wanted to interpret 7QA Jthe way you did because
of your disdain for traditional Christianity, and for ^ccservative
Christian Bible scholarship?" "That is the most absurd thing you have
said today--and you have said I some very absurd things in this case! I
am a scholar in my field. I am a sciJf entist. I have no agenda except
for the truth. Unlike your client, who uses phis medieval religious
beliefs to obscure and distort

297 the truth." "Are you here for the truth, Dr. Reichstad?" "I am here
for the truth, and you know it." "Have you given us the truth today--the
truth under oath?" "Yes. Again you make me repeat myself. Yes. I have
told the truth under oath. Yes, I have." "You have said "yes" three
times--so I guess you really mean it. So then @ou you told the truth at
your deposition--also under oath--when you also

334 Craig Parshatt denied having any theological agenda behind your
interpretation of the 7QA fragment?" "Yes.

Yes. I told the truth then too." "And you told the truth at that
deposition when you denied ever having considered "conservative
Christian scholars" to be on the level of'cavemen' who haven't learned
the secrets of fire, or the wheel?" Reichstad was growing weary of Will
Chambers. He glanced over at J-Fox Sherman for some help; but Sherman
had long since decided that if he persisted in more questionable
objections he would risk alienating the jury. Sherman quickly shot a
glance at them to measure their reaction. They were all wide-eyed and
solemn. During the silence the bouncer at the dance club cleared his
throat loudly, and then leaned the side of his face on his hand as he
slowly swiveled in his chair and stared at Dr. Reichstad. "Did you tell
the truth in that regard--in denying that you had any agenda against
conservative Christian Bible scholars?" "Yes, I did. Right. I told the
truth. Correct. Anything else you want to bore the jury with, Mr.
Chambers?" Reichstad snapped back. "Well, just one more matter--and I'll
try not to put the jury to sleep with this one. In fact--if any of us
are getting sleepy, I think these last few questions will be a wake-up
call for all of us in this case, Dr. Reichstad." At that point, Will
walked quickly over to his table and, from beneath a file, he pulled a
slim little book. He held it high in his right hand as he walked back to
the podium. "I am holding in my right hand a copy of A New Quest for
Jesus. This is your book?" "It is one of my books. One of my older books.

I've written many books--frankly, I thought this one was out of print."
"But it is the only book that you failed to disclose to me at your
deposition, right?" "Oversight. Little slip-up. That's all." "I am going
to read the prologue to this book--a prologue authored by you," and as
Will said that, he handed the book to Dr. Reichstad. "Read along with
me, and make sure that as I read it to the jury I have

298 read the words accurately. Your words. Your book" Will took a
photocopied page of the prologue from his counsel table and began
reading it loudly and slowly. While he did, Reichstad's eyes were
flitting back and forth between the book in his hands and J-Fox Sherman,
who was grimacing. Will was emphasizing key words as he read.

The Resurrection File 335

While you 'mil find that this book, in its quest for a new idea about
who Jesus was, is eminently scientific, I must confess my own personal
agenda in writing it. The world has, for too long, been plagued with the
poorly reasoned writings and teachings of those who desperately hang on
to outdated notions of Jesus as the "resurrected Lord." This book will,
I hope, convince the reader that the conservative and fundamentalist
Christian scholarship on the issue of the resurrection of Jesus is much
like the thinking of the Neanderthal cavemen, before they had discovered
the secrets of fire, or of the "wheel. Soon, I hope, the world will
begin to reject their dangerous and misleading mythology about Jesus.

Will looked at Reichstad, who was now holding the book by his
fingertips, as if it were contaminated--as if its pages were covered
with bubonic plague. "Were those your words, written in your book?"'
Reichstad dangled the little book from his fingertips. His face bore a
look of disgust and disdain. "Yes. My words. My book. All right. That is
correct. All right? Anything else? Anything else here, Mr. Chambers?
Anything else you want to dig up against me? Anything else?"' These last
words were voiced by Reichstad at just below a shout, with his body
thrust forward in the witness chair. He had nearly risen to his feet.
"No further questions," Will said quietly. And he walked over to the
witness stand and reached out his hand so Reichstad could give the
little book back to him. Reichstad held the book out, but just beyond
Will's grasp, letting it fall to the floor with a small bang. Will
reached down and picked the book up, and looked into the eyes of Dr.
Reichstad, then turned to cross back to his table. As he did, he felt
the sensation a high-wire artist might feel when the act has been
performed, the risk faced, and the only thing left to do is make the
quick walk, one foot in front of the other, back to safety.

The JET WAS SOMEWHERE OVER the Atlantic

299 Ocean, winging through the blackness of the night. In the seat next
to Will Chambers, Angus Mac- Cameron was sleeping soundly and
exhaustedly. Most of the passengers had turned off their reading lights
and were dozing. But Will could not sleep. His mind was racing. And he
was troubled. He couldn't keep from venturing back to the trial, and the
cross- examination questions and the answers. The judge's interjections
and rulings. The look on the jury's faces as they had filed out of the
courtroom that afternoon, not to resume their seats until the following
Monday. The cross-examination of Reichstad. And the sound of Reichstad
so little book hitting the floor. He had the feeling that the tide of
battle had changed. Slightly, yes--but it had changed in their favor.
But instead of feeling satisfied with the progress of the trial Will was
in turmoil. Somehow the trial, its outcome, and winning and losing were
no longer the issue. Now that the legal flurry had subsided for a few
days, Will, in the disquiet, rushing darkness of the jet, was reflecting
on the gnawing emptiness within. And on the cold, glacial
dissatisfaction he felt with his life. Of course he was aware how he was
finally coming to terms with Audra's death. And how his abrupt
termination from the law firm, his problems with alcohol, the
destruction of his home, and the possibility of criminal arson charges
had all, somehow, been weathered. He had even survived a bizarre
encounter with an international terrorist--followed by his brush with
Warren Mullburn, which had been equally bizarre, and just as dangerous.
And Will was even at peace, in a strange way, with the fact that the
delightful and gracious Fiona, who seemed to be so full of life,
laughter, and

The Resurrection File 337 tender decency, could never be more than a
friend. Though he was tired of loneliness--tired down to the depths of
his heart--that was really not what troubled him most. What tortured him
was the hunger in his soul. A longing. A quiet voice that could not be
stilled. Not a threatening voice-- or a nagging one. But a persistent
calling. Like a parent who calls an errant child back to dinner. Or a
father who calls for a son to join him down at the pier for a fishing
trip; like a voice echoing off the lake. It was a strangely familiar
voice that was calling. A little like the memory of a reunion, long
forgotten. Why did he resist it, even fear it? Why would he not respond
to a call that came to him in a way that

300 sounded, and felt, so much like family? God, it seemed, was closing
in. Will knew that he had to make a serious decision about what he
really believed. Something would have to be done. The call had to be
answered or refused. Angus MacCameron slept nearly the entire flight.
Will nodded off in only small fitful, and interrupted, episodes. When
the jet landed at Heathrow Airport, the two collected their bags and
scurried to the subway. The "Underground" was the quickest way into
central London and the Bloomsbury District, where the British Museum was
located. MacCameron had called ahead to secure permission to search the
office of Dr. Lazarus, who was still out of town on an expedition in the
sub- Sahara. The two of them hurried up the steps of the Museum, and
walked through the main entrance of the yawning portico, entering
between the mammoth, scroll-topped columns of stone that dwarfed them as
if they I were ants. They introduced themselves to the security guard in
the cavernous main out lobby. He placed a phone call, then asked them to
wait. After a few minutes they were approached by the assistant
administrator of the Museum, a thin, middle-aged woman in a drab suit.
They showed

I their identification, and she proceeded to lead them through the
hallways, and upstairs, to the office of Dr. Lazarus. They were
accompanied by one of I the security guards, who, the administrator
indicated, would have to be @ou present during their review of the files
in the office. As they walked, the be administrator shared a little
history of the British Museum--which only I she seemed to find
interesting. "Now I know," she explained in her crisp British accent,
much like a out schoolteacher might lecture a grade-school class, "that
you are trying to ji'locate some of Dr. Hunter's missing artifacts. I
know you we come a far way.

II1 338 Craig Parshall

I know you are rather excited about finding them. But I should caution
you that the museum here is not like something that people see on the
telly, or in the cinema. We don't have mysterious antiquities lying
about, gathering dust and cobwebs in forgotten corners or hidden back
rooms. We are a very modern and scientific operation. I should be quite
surprised if you find the misplaced object that you are searching for."
"Have you ever misplaced any antiquities here at the Museum?"' Will
asked. The administrator giggled a bit. "Well, not antiquities--but
there was this one incident. Oh my, it caused an absolute

301 frenzy! Five human heads were found--I think they were dried-out
heads of South African Khoisan bushmen. Someone found them in a
cardboard box, in a back room of the Natural History Museum, back about
ten years. Can you imagine! Apparently the heads had been brought here
from the field in the mid-1800s. They were prepared by an archivist and
put away and apparently forgotten for more than a hundred years! South
Africa demanded the return of the heads so they could be buried. But of
course the Museum felt otherwise. It nearly caused an international
incident. Well, here we are." The administrator opened the office door
of Dr. Lazarus's office and turned on the lights. "Good hunting," she
said, andwitha "cheerio," she left. Will and MacCameron spent nearly six
hours searching Lazarus's file cabinets for any evidence of documents,
or files, from Dr. Hunter. But they found nothing. MacCameron looked
pale, and had to sit down frequently to rest. Will was beginning to feel
as if this idea of flying all the way across the Atlantic just to search
for the elusive 7QC fragment had been a disastrous waste of time. They
had no assurance it still existed. All they had was the cryptic message
from Hunter that seemed to indicate that it might be in the British
Museum somewhere. Will was tired, and knew that he still had work to do
to prepare for the next week's session of the trial. "Look here,"

MacCameron said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "Let's try to take
Hunter at his word.

Maybe the fragment was never in Lazarus's office after all. Maybe the
people who broke into his office did not find it there either." "Angus,
where does that leave us? I think we are at a dead-end."

"If we take Hunter's message literally, he said "the next time you come
to the halls of the British Museum..." I think that means that we should
comb the halls for clues."

The Resurrection File 339

Will felt himself getting angry and frustrated. For an instant, he
wanted to force his client to face the grim reality. He was fed up with
the expedition. "One hour," Will said. "We walk the halls for one hour.
And then we go out for dinner. I'll even buy. Then we check into our
hotel rooms for the night. Tomorrow we fly back." They started to look
through the hallways of the administrative wing. MacCameron was walking
more slowly than usual, and stopped to take sips of water at the water
coolers. "Actually,"

302 MacCameron told him as they walked the halls, "I have booked us on a
flight tomorrow to Jerusalem. I believe that Reichstad is already a step
ahead of us. I am sure he is already there, beginning excavation of the
area at the St. Stephen's Gate." There was silence between them for a
while as they looked in vain around the Museum, being followed by the
assigned security, guard and occasionally dodging staff of the Museum.
They were looking, but they did not know what they were looking for. As
they rounded a corner, Will wanted to start disputing MacCameron's plan
for a side-trip to Israel. But he glanced at his watch and realized that
the hour was almost up. Soon the two of them would be dining quietly,
and then Will could talk some sense into his client. Will glanced to his
right for MacCameron, but he wasn't there. He looked back. Angus
MacCameron had stopped in front of one of the staff doors. He had an
amazed, bewildered, almost pained look on his face. His mouth was
slightly open. But no words were coming out. After a moment, he lifted
his hand and pointed to the name over the door. The nameplate said, "Dr.

Lundgren Dedencrist--Department of Oriental Antiquities." "So?" Will
asked, not seeing the connection. "This is it. This has to be it!"
MacCameron cried out. "How could I have been so cloddish and stupid?"
But Will could still not see the significance of the name over the door.
"Will, boy. Reichstad must have told his goons to hit Dr. Lazarus's
office because of Jesus' "order" for Lazarus to come forth. They thought
it was that kind of order. But they were wrong." Will was nodding
thoughtfully as he recalled how MacCameron and he had discussed that
point previously. "I still don't understand."

340 Craig Parshall

MacCameron was jabbing his index finger toward the name over the office
door. "But there is another kind of'order," isn't there? Tell me, Will,
what is another meaning of the word 'order'?" "Well," Will said, "there
is the kind of'order' that you get when there is a well-organized state
of something. Like a "well-ordered" society. Like that?" "Stop thinking
like a lawyer! There is another kind of'order."" Will was getting tired
of playing twenty questions. "Well, there is--oh, I don't know--maybe
"order" in the way it is used in baseball. The "order" of the line-up.
Batting order." "Exactly!" MacCameron cried out.

"The batting order! Oh, that's rich. Except in the Bible, the apostle
Paul talks about an order

303 much more important than a batting lineup.

He gives us the "resurrection order!"

Don't you see?" "No," Will replied. "Richard Hunter, bless his heart--I
don't know whether he ever finally believed in Jesus before his awful
death. But one thing about my friend Richard--he knew his New Testament.
Better than some pastors. That's what he meant by the "resurrection
order." First Thessalonians, chapter four, verse sixteen. Paul talks
about the resurrection." And with that MacCameron pulled out his little
pocket New Testament and started reading:

For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the
voice of the archangel, andwiththe trumpet of God, and the dead in
Christ will rise first.

"I tell you, that's the "resurrection order" Hunter was talking about.
He said, when I am in the halls of the British Museum, to remember my
Bible, and to remember the resurrection order--in which the "dead in
Christ" rise first..."dead in Christ...'Dr. Ded-en-crist...Somewhere, on
the other side of this door, just a few feet from where we are standing,
lies the missing 7QC fragment. It's somewhere in the office of Dr.
Dedencrist. I know it." MacCameron needed to rest, so he asked that Will
run down to the central administrative office and gain access to the
office. The assistant administrator was just leaving for the day when
Will caught her and explained the urgent need to get into Dedencrist's
office and search it. She looked skeptical. "Dr. Dedencrist is currently
somewhere in the hills of Mongolia, with a group of American explorers,
looking for the burial site

The Resurrection File 341 of Genghis Khan. I don't know how we can
contact him to obtain permission." "Does he have a cell phone that works
internationally?" "Well, he did leave some numbers. I can try. Heaven
only knows where he actually is." Will walked back to the locked door
where MacCameron was sitting on a bench in the hallway, and explained
the problem. "I'm going to pray. Want to join me?" MacCameron asked.
Will somehow felt compelled to bow his head as Angus MacCameron, in
labored but impassioned words, asked for the intervention of "our Most
High King of the universe, our dearest heavenly Father," that he might
make possible a connection between the British Museum and Dr.
Dedencrist. By the end of the prayer, MacCameron was

304 out of breath, and Will was beginning to have serious concerns about
his client's condition. Will offered to find some water for his client,
and went down the hallway. After he had walked about twenty feet, he
heard the fast paced clacking sound of a pair of high heels down the
corridor. He turned and saw the assistant administrator approaching

MacCameron. She spotted Will and shouted, very uncharacteristically,
"Mr. Chambers! Quite extraordinary. Most unusual. I was able to get him
on his cell phone on the very first try. Dr. Dedencrist gave me
immediate approval for you to look for Dr. Hunter's things." "Isn't that
marvelous!" MacCameron said. "And I think you should know what else he
said." "What is that?" Will asked as he quickly approached her. "Dr.
Hunter was tight on space in his offices. He was something of a
pack-rat. Never tossed a thing away. He ended up keeping several filing
cabinets of his with Dr. Dedencrist, who didn't mind because he had the
extra space. So, there you are!" She fished through her keys, and tried
several that didn't fit. Finally she found the right key, unlocked the
door, and swung it open. As she turned on the switch, the fluorescent
lights buzzed, flickered, and then illuminated the room, as Will and

MacCameron walked in.

The ADMINISTRATOR TOLD THEM SHE WOULD

BE back to check on them in about an hour, when they would have to leave
for the day. She left, and the two began to scan the room. It looked
like what one would think of as the office of a museum staff member.
Stacks of semi-organized papers and files were scattered over Dr.
Dedencrisfs desk and credenza. There was a table in the middle of the
office, covered with maps and books. In one corner there was a computer
on a small desk. Beyond the desk there was a row of windows that gave a
panoramic view of the spires of the Royal Courts of Justice and the
River Thames off in the distance, reflecting the sun that was setting
over the city of London. Against one wall of the office there were
floor-to-ceiling bookshelves crammed with books. On the other wall there
was a row of four brown wooden file cabinets. Next to those there were
three tan, metal file cabinets, with a small label on each drawer that
simply read,

"Dr R.h." "This is it!" Will exclaimed. He told Angus MacCameron to sit
down and rest in the leather armchair in the corner of the office while he

305 went through the drawers. First, Will did a quick inventory of the
general contents of the three file cabinets. Not surprisingly, Hunter's
files were arranged largely in general alphabetical order. There were
hundreds of manila file folders with a variety of different-colored
labels, most of them with handwritten titles. "Didn't Hunter believe in
storing information on computer?" Will asked, as he considered the
number of files he had to scan. He was beginning to worry that they
might run out of time before the administrator returned and told them to
leave for the day.

The Resurrection File 343

"He was old-school--like me. He didn't trust storing a lot of
information on a computer," MacCameron replied. Will noticed that
several categories nearly took up a full drawer each, like "JERUSALEM,"
"MAPS," "MONTHLY REPORTS," and TENDING PROJECTS." After a hurried scan
of the labels of all of the files to see if anything directly relating
to the 7QC fragment would jump out, Will had come up with nothing. "I
suppose it was too much to ask for, that Hunter would make it easy for
us," Will said out loud to himself. He decided to hit "PENDING

PROJECTS" first, as that would be a logical place for Hunter to have
hidden the fragment. Will found budget projections, correspondence on
planned excavations south of die Qumran, articles on some promising
sites in Jordan to investigate, memos and notes, receipts for cash
expenses that Hunter had incurred; but nothing even remotely connected
to the ancient fragment he was looking for. Next he dove into the
'JERUSALEM" file--again thinking that it would be a logical location for
the fragment, but found only letters, Museum conference agendas, memos
from the Israeli Antiquities

Authority, personal cards from friends in Jerusalem, newspaper and
magazine articles about the Temple Mount, diagrams of various projects
planned in the Kidron Valley, just outside the Old City area--but no
7QC. Will looked again at the papers in the file, then reached in and
pulled out something that looked like parchment. Will glanced at the
paper, and then shook his head. "Dr. Hunter saved a menu from a
Jerusalem restaurant," he said. "He hides the most important
archaeological fragment of all time, but keeps a menu handy. Does anyone
see anything funny about

306 that?" Will said to the air. "Try

Bethlehem," MacCameron suggested from his leather chair, as he swabbed
perspiration from his forehead. "Yeah, that's right--that's where Azid's
shop was located," Will said as he pulled open another file drawer. But
when he located a thin folder with a "BETHLEHEM" label, he found it empty.

"There's nothing here," Will exclaimed. "You think he took it out of the
file at the last moment and put it somewhere else?" MacCameron said
nothing, but simply shook his head. Then Will thought about checking for
"AZID." But there was no such file. Finally Will decided to simply leaf
through the files alphabetically. But the next time that he glanced at
his watch, he realized that their hour in the

344 Craig Marshall office had already passed. Any minute their host
would arrive and politely kick them out, and he had only gotten to the
files bearing the label "MAPS." He flicked through the maps, diagrams,
and charts, but nothing looked promising. The next categories were "MAPKON,"

"MIDRASH," "MITHRAS

(Roman--2ND-5THIS CENTURY),"

"MITZVAH (see: PENTATEUCH)"--ALL of them looked unpromising. The door to
the office swung open and the assistant administrator appeared, putting
on her raincoat. "I'm afraid you will have to leave now, gentlemen. I
hope you brought your umbrellas; there is a tiny bit of a drizzle
outside. The security guard will escort you out." She disappeared from
the doorway, and the sound of her heels on the marble floor echoed away
in the distance. So, this is it, Will thought to himself. "Here we are
with our backs to the Red Sea. The Egyptians come roaring down at us in
their chariots. But the sea just doesn't part. Not this time. This time
they grease their wheels with us." Will glanced over at MacCameron, who
was leaning back, his head resting against the high-backed chair. He
seemed to be talking, mouthing words--but Will could hear nothing.
Looking back at the file drawer he had been working on, Will ran his
eyes over the file tabs once more. Finally he closed the drawer, and
walked away. And that was when he was aware of the silent touch from
somewhere in the dark--the invisible neuron firing, the minuscule
current of a thought-- sparked from the finger of someone or something.
Was it something he had heard? Or had read somewhere? He turned and
looked back at the file drawer he had just closed. "Something there..."
Will muttered. "Something

307 in that drawer..." He grabbed the metal handle, and yanked the
drawer open with such force that the file cabinet rocked and banged
against the wall. Will madly ran his fingers over the tabs: "MAPS,"
"MAPKON," "MIDRASH," "MITHRAS (Roman--2ND-5THIS CENTURY),"

"MITZVAH (see: PENTATEUCH)." "Greek,"

Will mumbled to himself. "The Greek for "Mark" The Greek name for the
Gospel of Mark.. disx looks like.. dis"MAPKON'.. disin the Greek, the
'appindex A' makes the sound of an 'Terri," so it sounds like 'Markon,"
but it reads 'MAPKONT His thoughts were tumbling over themselves as he
reached for the "MAPKON" file.

The Resurrection File 345

"Reichstad wrote that 7QA was the true original ending to the Gospel of
Mark. But that wasn't really his idea," Will continued to himself now
loudly. "He stole it--just like he stole 7QA. It was Hunter's idea...and
be Hunter told Azid.. disand that's where Reichstad got the idea.. disz
well as the 7QA fragment." With that Will pulled from the folder its
only contents, a large olive-green envelope, with the flourish of a
magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. "This is it!" Will yelled, and
quickly unwound the thread from the round : tab on the outside flap. @ou
He then pulled out the only thing within: a clear plastic zip bag. It
con. rained an irregularly shaped and yellowish piece of material with
the block out letters of Greek writing. out Will ran to the large table
that was cluttered with books and maps and papers. With his left arm, he
cleared a corner in one sweep, sending books clattering to the floor and
papers flying in the air. I He reached into his pocket and pulled out
the photocopy of 7QA joined I together with 7QB and laid it on the
mahogany surface of the table. He I placed the plastic bag with the
fragment onto the upper right-hand corner I of the photocopy, carefully
lining up its lettering to the right of the top two llines of 7QA, and
just above 7QB--EXACTLY where MacCameron had always tthought that 7QC
belonged. Is It was a perfect fit. The left-hand edge of this piece was
an exact match I with the right-hand edge of 7QA; and the bottom of this
new fragment I matched the top of 7QB. And the two lines of Greek
letters matched perIfectly with the top two lines of 7QA., apparently
completing them. 1; "Just like a jigsaw puzzle on Aunt Georgia's card
table!" Will

308 exclaimed. I But Will suddenly realized that he had absolutely no
idea what the two Pines of Greek writing on this new fragment actually
said. I He whirled around to Angus

MacCameron. 1 Will felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his
stomach. MacCameron had slumped over to one side of the chair. His face,
which iHvas drained of all color, was grimaced in pain, and his right
hand was balled Pup in a fist, held tight against his chest. Will rushed
over. I MacCameron was drenched in sweat, and his skin was cold and
clammy. I Will heard him groaning--a low, quiet groan of intense
suffering. I- Will dashed to the door. He saw the security guard
strolling down the Ipiall toward him. "Get an ambulance! Now!" Will
screamed out. "I think he's ouhaving a heart attack!"

IN THE HOSPITAL, WILL STOOD AT

THE TELEPHONE with the receiver at his ear. He dreaded making this phone
call to Fiona. She answered on the second ring. Will started explaining
everything. He shared with her that her father had suffered a serious
heart attack He blamed himself--Angus had not been looking good the
whole trip.

He'd seemed tired and sick. Short of breath. Will knew the symptoms. His
own father had died of a heart attack. Why in the world hadn't he been
able to figure it out before it was too late for Angus MacCameron? Will
gave Fiona the name and location of the hospital, the necessary
telephone numbers, and the name of the attending cardiologist. The
doctor had found a blockage in one of the left coronary arteries. They
had to stabilize his condition, and then would administer drugs in an
attempt to dissolve the clot. If that didn't work, Angus would have to
undergo surgery. Fiona listened quietly, intensely, then quickly asked a
series of questions. Was he expected to survive? She would immediately
fly over to London and be with him. Was he conscious? Was he in great
pain? Fiona said that she knew someone from her church who could stay in
the house with her mother while she attended her father in England. "You
said that the heart attack happened just as you found the 7QC fragment?"
"Yes. Your father was right about finding it--he's been right about a
lot * out of things. I didn't think we could locate it." Irjljj "Be
careful with that little piece of papyrus. You have to continue the case
next week--even though you will have to do

309 it without him." "I don't know how I can defend his case without his
being there-- without his testimony." "You have to," Fiona pleaded. "Da
knew what was at stake in this case, lili! He believed in the cause he
was fighting for. And he believed in you."

The Resurrection File 347

"Fiona, do whatever I can," Will said. "There is one more thing I know
he would want you to do." "Anything." "You must still go to Jerusalem
tomorrow. To be an eyewitness to whatever Reichstad finds in his
excavation." "I can't do that--I can't leave him alone," Will said,
feeling torn. "Please. Do this for my da. This is what he wants. Please
do this. This is what he lived for--to vindicate the truth. You have to
be his eyes and his ears at that wall in Jerusalem while Reichstad is
digging. The Lord will take care of my father..." There was a pause as
Fiona's voice cracked and she began crying. "The Lord will take care of
him until I get there. I'm going to leave right now. I may be able to
catch a plane out of D.c. within a few hours. But you have to be in
Jerusalem for my father tomorrow. Now please tell my da I love him. Tell
him I love him so very much. And that I will see him as soon as I
can--within twenty-four hours. And Will..." "Yes?" "Please take care of
yourself I don't want anything to happen to you..." Fiona's voice
cracked again, as they said goodbye to each other. When Will was finally
allowed into his room, Angus had IV tubes in both arms, as well as tubes
in both nostrils. A heart monitor beeped next to him. The nurse told
Will he could only have five minutes. Will took Angus MacCameron's hand
and squeezed it slightly to let him know that he was not alone.
MacCameron's eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes. After he had
focused, the corner of his mouth rose slightly in a smile. Then he
parted his lips to say something. "Don't try to talk, Angus. Just
listen. I spoke to

Fiona. She's flying over to London immediately. She says to tell you she
loves you very much." "Y.. disfound.. disx," MacCameron said in a voice
that was barely audible. Will pulled the baggie with 7QC out of his
pocket and held it up. be "No. You found it. You found it, Angus, with
your stubborn faith." MacCameron blinked a few times. Then he said
something that Will could not hear. Will bent down "close to listen.
"Bible..." "Bible?"' Will asked. Then

310

348 Craig Parshall

"Read...thirty-eight..." Will ran his finger down the page until it
rested on verse thirty-eight. Then he read it out loud:

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor
principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor
height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to
separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus the Lord.

Then Angus MacCameron whispered something barely perceptible. But Will
understood it perfectly. "I'm ready for the Lord.. disare you?"' Will
was still struggling for a response when the nurse came in and ushered
him out of the room. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the hospital
cafeteria, and then found a phone. After dialing Tiny Heftland's number
at his hotel in Jerusalem, Will got the hotel voice mail. He left a
message for Tiny's room. He told him about Angus MacCameron, and their
amazing discovery of what he decided, on the spur of the moment, to
code-name the "laundry ticket." Will ended the message by explaining his
plans to fly to Jerusalem the next day. Rather than go directly to his
hotel room, Will decided to wait for a while in the hospital lobby, just
in case there was any change with Angus. He put his coffee down beside
his chair and started to leaf through a magazine. It occurred to him
that he ought to somehow copy the fragment. Will's head jerked suddenly,
and he realized he had been falling asleep. He rubbed his eyes. A few
family members of patients were at the other side of the lobby. A man
operating a floor-polishing machine was working down the hallway.
Deciding to try Tiny again, Will went over to the pay phone. This time
Tiny answered. "Hey--Will, my man! Wow. This is really bad news about
MacCameron. Is he going to make it?"' "I hope so. You know that I'm
flying into Israel tomorrow." "Yeah. I'm sorry I'm going to miss you.
We've got one last lead--some guy in Bethlehem who says that if we're
willing to play a couple rounds of "pitch the American greenback," he
will locate our Bedouin friend for us. I'm leaving for Bethlehem right
away. "Look,

311 I'm glad you're coming here to Jerusalem. There's some unbelievably
heavy stuff coming down."

The Resurrection File 349

"Like what? Reichstad?" "Bingo. Reichstacl's put up this huge astrodome
tent thing around the bole site. Guys wearing spacesuit-looking things
are going in and out of : tent with all kinds of high-tech equipment.
They've already done some avation. And the local folks are really
starting to rock and roll. I mean k-throwing. Gun battles by the wall.
Israeli troops and Palestinian police hooting at each other. This is a
major war zone here, buddy. The Mayor of Jerusalem is talking about
shutting down the whole city--complete few--martial law. This is really
getting berserk. I hope you can get into : city." "Reichstad has already
excavated?" "Oh yeah. And man, do I have some news for you. Not good for
your [ient's case, I guess." "What did they find?" "A tomb."

"Say again? I couldn't quite hear you. Did you say a tomb?" "A tomb. Big
time. The Israeli government, for some reason, is feeding te all this
information about what Reichstad is doing over at the site. And lie
government folks are real anxious for you to get here. How they knew du
were coming I can't tell you." "So they've located a tomb..." "Yeah,"
Tiny explained. "They locate the tomb with their gadgets. They :
digging. They stop. They start again--I'm telling you, this whole thing
Bible-times Mystery Theater--then they punch through with little love
cameras--you know the kind of really thin optical wires with a iited
video camera on the end? And they use their locator gadgets again, bey
detect something..." "And what did they detect?" Will queried. "Okay,
right there, chief--right there you got a problem." "What do you mean?"
'"Well, they scan into the tomb..." "Yeah? And what? What?" "Will buddy,
let me just say it this way.. disthe tomb doesn't look empty."

There WAS VERY LITTLE CHANCE OF WILL'S catching much sleep on the 747
jet as he flew to

Israel. Not that he couldn't use it. Between the trip from the U.s.. to
England, and the time changes, and his vigil at the hospital, followed
by a dash to the airport for another flight to the Middle East, he
hadn't had a solid hour of sleep for almost two days. But he had his
homework to do--a little "light reading" before stepping into the midst
of a battle zone in

312 the most geopoliticaUy explosive, religiously charged hot spot on
the planet. Before heading to the London airport, he had dashed over to
a large, all- night bookstore near Picadilly Circus to pick up a couple
of books about the history of Jerusalem. He wanted to take in as much
information as he could about the St. Stephen's Gate area along the wall
of the Old City part of Jerusalem. He wasn't sure what he was going to
do once he landed. And of course, there was always the possibility that,
because of the riots and unrest caused by Reichstad's excavation, he
wouldn't be able to get anywhere near that portion of the city. On the
other hand, if Will couldget close to the dig, he wanted to know
something about the area he would be looking at. He had pledged to be Angus

MacCameron's "eyes and ears." He was not going to break that promise. In
the waiting area of the airport in London Will had made a frantic call
to Dr. Giovanni. It had suddenly dawned on him that he would need his
main expert witness there in Jerusalem--right next to him--while he
tried to monitor what Reichstad was doing. He left a message on her
voice mail, but he had no idea whether she could--or would--drop
everything to fly directly over to Israel, just to turn around and fly
back less than two days later in order to be in court for the
continuation of trial on Monday.

: The Resurrection File 351

And then there was another reason he wanted Giovanni with him. Will was
still carrying the little plastic bag containing 7QC in the pocket of
his coat. MacCameron had been stricken with his heart attack before
being able to interpret it. Despite schooling himself in the rudiments
of Koine Greek for the trial, Will couldn't read it. Giovanni was his
only hope. While in Jerusalem he wanted to transfer the fragment to her
and get her evaluation. As Will searched through the books he had picked
up, he learned a great deal about the historical development of the Old
City of Jerusalem, but only a few sketchy facts about the area at St.
Stephen's Gate. As Will had learned from MacCameron in one of their
first meetings, the gate was the place where, just outside of the city
proper, a Christian disciple named Stephen had been stoned to death for
his bold proclamation of the gospel, not long after the crucifixion of
Jesus. But, as he read on, Will was bewildered at the maze of contradictions

313 about this gate. He discovered that most historians had actually
ascribed the place of Stephen's stoning not to St. Stephen's Gate, but
to the opposite side of the Old City walls at a gate known in the modern
era as the "Damascus : Gate." :" However it seemed to Will that, because
7QB specifically referred to the "East Gate of Stephen," then at least
the mystery of which gate was the site of Stephen's stoning appeared to
have been solved. After all, the writer of : the fragment would
certainly have been knowledgeable about a major event of his own time.
So the gate at which Reichstad was digging, then, was : Stephens Gate. I
But that didn't solve the question of whose tomb it was that Reichstad
were had unearthed by following the clue in the 7QB fragment. Reichstad
was be undoubtedly still pursuing his mission to prove that the tomb was
the burial : site of Jesus. Perhaps the little 7QC fragment that Will
carried in his pocket would @ou end up providing the answer. Each time
Will reflected on that, he found I himself patting his pocket just to
make sure that the plastic bag was still, safely there. @ou From time to
time his mind would wander back to Angus Mac) Cameron, and the agony in
his face as he had desperately grasped his chest. be And then he thought
about Angus at the hospital. "I'm ready for the Lord," ' he had said.
When Will had heard that, his heart had seemed to burn within him. And
it was strangely similar to what he had been reading on the , plane
about Stephen's death. His sources quoted the book of Acts: While
Stephen was dying, he was still able to utter, "Lord Jesus, receive my
spirit."

352 Craig Parshall

Will could only wonder, in awe, at such peace of soul in the face of
impending death. As he thought about Fiona rushing to her father's side,
he also recalled how he wished he could have been with his own father in
his final moments of life. Will's dad, by all accounts, had died in the
early morning hours there in his newspaper office, completely alone.
There had been no goodbyes. No final words, nor any closing of all that
personal business of life between father and son. Only the absence. The
loss. The missed opportunities. Turning to the window that was next to
him, Will clumsily tried to mutter a short prayer for Angus. Afterward,
the only thing he was sure that he had said was the "Amen" at the end.
When the sun came up over the horizon, Will looked out of the jet and
had his first glimpse of Israel. It appeared as a long brown strip of
desert along the

314 blue Mediterranean. As the plane approached the Tel Aviv airport,
which was ringed with date trees and palms, he considered what a strange
pilgrimage it was that had brought him there. What powerful force was it
that had led him all the way to this ancient land? The jet jolted as it
touched down on the runway, and then it taxied to a halt on the tarmac.
As he unbuckled himself, Will couldn't help but feel, despite whatever
message there might be for the entire world from within that ancient
burial site along the Jerusalem wall, that he was about to receive some
profoundly personal message there also. Perhaps he was about to find out
something about himself. Maybe even something about the very face of
God--the inscrutable One--the "Ancient of Days."

out As Will entered the airport lobby in Tel Aviv, he heard his name
friend spoken from somewhere near. I Calling out his name was a man with
thinning hair and a huge grin, and I large navigator-type glasses. out
"Mr. Chambers, we have been expecting you," he said, as he reached out
out and shook Will's hand with gusto. "Amnon Solomon. But you can call
me I; "Nony." I'm the Assistant

Director of the Israeli Antiquities

Authority. How I was your flight? You look tired. You need to get
something to eat? We'll pick I up something for you on the way to
Jerusalem. Is this your first visit to I Israel?" I Will was not
expecting anyone to meet him, and was more than a little .. surprised.
were Then, as they walked through the airport, Nony was joined by a
tall, jp broad-shouldered man in a tailored leadier jacket, widi curly,
jet-black hair were' and darkly-tanned, chiseled good looks. @ou
Tomorrow Nathan Abrams," the other man said with a casual smile, "and it
is I wonderful to meet you, W. I'm here to be a kind of guide for you. A
driver.

I' Show you around. Get you into places." As they approached a black
Mercedes parked in front of the airport, Will said, "I certainly
appreciate your offer--but I don't expect to do much sightseeing while
I'm here." When he said that, Nony laughed a little, and Nathan gave
Will a knowing look. "No, I don't expect you will," Nathan replied in
his deep bari; tone voice. "But the Israeli government wants you to be
comfortable, and well tended-to, while you do your very important
business here. And, above I all, they want you to be safe." I At that,
Nathan and Nony glanced at each

315 other in a way that told Will I that there was more to Nathan's
helpful assistance than met the eye.

I 353

354 Craig Parshall

Inside the car, and speeding toward Jerusalem, they asked Will about his
law practice back in the States. And about American politics. Nony
talked a little about his family. Nathan, who was doing the driving, was
warm and friendly, but shared nothing about himself. After a while
Nathan began asking a few questions about Will's involvement in the
Reichstad case. They were quickly followed up by a series of questions
about Reichstad's research center in Maryland--and the need for its
super security system--and what Will knew about any other projects that
Reichstad and his staff might be working on. Remembering what Tiny
Heftland had said about the assistance he was getting from the Israeli
government, Will told the two men everything he felt he could reveal.
After a thirty-minute drive, Nathan pointed to the hill they were
climbing and said, "It's just over the horizon. Jerusalem." He pulled
the car over to the side of the road, reached into the glove
compartment, and pulled out two identification tags. He handed one to
Nony and one to W. "Where's yours?" Will asked.

Nony chuckled. "Oh, Nathan has his own

ID. Besides, he does business with everybody. They all know him." Nathan
went to the back of the car and pulled something out. He reached through
the window and handed them each a black flak jacket and a helmet.

"Put them on," Nathan said nonchalantly. As he got in the car he reached
under the seat, produced an Uzi machine gun, and laid it on the seat
next to him. It was at that point that Will began to understand that
Nathan was more than a tour guide. As they topped the hill, in the
distance Will saw the crowded mass of stone buildings of Jerusalem and
the burnished Dome of the Rock, all of it reflecting the bright sun like
a city of gold. "Look down there," Nathan said, pointing straight ahead
in the distance. "The hill off to the left, that is the Mount of Olives.
To the right, across from it, is the Old City section of Jerusalem. And
down there closest to the northeastern corner of the wall of the Old
City, that's Stephen's Gate-- that's where we are headed." Will squinted
in the intense sunlight as he gazed out toward the city. "Do you mean
down there," Will said, pointing to the spot where Nathan had indicated,
"down there where the smoke is rising up?"

316

Turning around with a grin and a little side nod of his head, Nony said,
"Probably tear gas. It should be cleared out by the time we get there."
As they turned off of HaShalom and onto Sultan Suleiman

Road so they could circle around the north end of the Old City, they ran
into a tangle of traffic, beeping horns and hands waving out of cars,
buses, and taxis. Up ahead they could see a military checkpoint had been
created in the middle of the street, flanked by Israeli soldiers. Nathan
reached onto the floor of the car, pulled out a portable flashing police
light, turned it on, and put it on the dashboard. Then he wheeled the .
Mercedes into the wrong side of traffic, dodging cars as he went, until
he roared up to the checkpoint. Two soldiers who could not have been
older than nineteen or twenty ran up to the car, holding onto the
machine guns that were strapped over their ' shoulders. "Let me talk to
your commanding officer," Nathan shouted out. In a few seconds an
older-looking man approached the car", bent down, to the drivers side,
and stared at Nathan. - As Nathan reached into his jacket pocket he
announced, am reaching ', for identification..." ' But the officer
smiled, and waved it off, and said, "Nathan, how have you been?" out
"Not bad. Business has been pretty good. New shop. Plenty of cusI
tomers." I "It's pretty rough going up there," the officer said, looking
beyond the- checkpoint. "Do you want an escort?" I

"No, thank you very much. I don't want to be a bigger target than I I
already am." I The soldiers opened the barricade to permit the Mercedes
through, and I the line of cars left behind them redoubled their
horn-blasting. Nathan I turned the car from Sultan Suleiman onto the
road that ran parallel to the out high, ancient Jerusalem wall to their
right. Above, over the walled city, Will I could see the golden Dome,
rising up in the middle of the Temple Mount. I As they drove, Nony
explained that the Stephen's Gate area was in a parijticularly volatile
spot for an archaeological dig. Not only was it not very far I from the
Islam-controlled Mount, as well as right next to a Muslim cerne1 tery,
but it also butted up against a wall of the Old City in
Jerusalem--conisidered the sacred property of Judaism. . "This is
unusual--all of this violence and rioting. You know," Nony Ipointed out,

317 "Israel is safer than New York

City, or where you come from-- tWashingtoneaD.c."

356 Craig Parshall

"Actually, Virginia," Will said, "but that's close enough." "The
conflict thus far near the Gate has been mostly between Jewish soldiers
and the Palestinians," Nony commented. "We haven't seen any violence
from the apocalyptic zealots--the ones that believe they can bring on
Armageddon by armed conflict. But we have to be ready for anything." As
they wound along the road in a shallow valley, a garden area off to the
left and the Old City wall on the right, they hit a bend in the road.
Suddenly the valley and hills around them opened into what looked like
the chaos of a battlefield. A canister of tear gas was being lobbed by a
soldier toward a group of fifty or sixty young male Palestinians who
were running headlong toward the Mercedes. The frantic mob rushed toward
them and began screaming, trying to get their faces near the windows.
"Fasten seatbelts," Nathan said casually. He pronounced the words with
the calm disof an airline pilot--one who knew more about the turbulence
ahead than he wanted to share with the passengers.

70 their Mercedes continued forward, rocks started bouncing off I hood.
"Oh no, and I just had a new paint job from the last set of dents,"
Nathan moaned. Nathan slowed the car and tried to navigate it through
the mob, but sev. men hopped onto the hood and started banging on the
windows with tieir fists. Nathan did a quick zig-zag with the steering
wheel, and the men the hood slid off. Suddenly Will heard a loud crack
near his head. He jooked at the window next to him and saw a small chip
in the glass. Then iiere was the crackling sound of gunfire off to his
left, as Will spotted sevLike Palestinians with handguns firing--and the
approaching Israeli soldiers ng back. As the soldiers converged on the
Mercedes and surrounded it, the mob spersed. Will pointed to the chip in
the glass next to his head. "Bulletproof glass. Great stuff, huh?"

Nathan responded, looking in his earview mirror. The soldiers walked
alongside the car as it took one more curve in the 1, and then Will
could see the little alley that was their destination. The small, short
street that led up to Stephens Gate cut through a hill. lOn top of both
sides were tall, temporary metal barricades that acted as

318 ishields. Nathan stopped the car, got out, and chatted with the
armed guards at the entrance of the street. Then he returned and told
Will and Nony that ley had to walk the rest of the way, about
seventy-five yards, up to the jGate. Nathan explained that he now had to
drive back to the airport to pick up someone else arriving from America.
"Nathan, one thing you haven't explained," Will commented. "You Ihaven't
told me how you knew I was coming. And why I'm getting this per[ escort.
Why the VIP treatment?"

358 Craig Parshall

"Well," Nathan explained in his deep voice, "here in Israel we survive
on good information. Both to warn us of our enemies--and to help us
welcome our friends." Then Nathan shook Will's hand and said, "Whether
you know it or not you are one of the friends." Will and Nony, dressed
in their flak jackets and helmets, quickly exited the car and walked up
the street that led directly to the Jerusalem wall. As they did, they
were flanked by young Israeli soldiers who lined both sides of the
narrow road, weapons slung over their shoulders. Will was squinting in
the bright sunlight. As Will shielded his eyes with his hands, he could
see straight ahead, to the end of the row of soldiers. In the ancient
wall that rose up about forty feet, there was a gateway made of yellow
stone, which surrounded and towered above an arched entrance that led
into crowded alleyways of the Old City within. To the right was a huge
white inflated tent of some kind that reached almost to the top of the
wall. Trucks, backhoes, and other pieces of digging equipment were
parked around the outside. Dozens of people were milling around the
entrance. One man with rolled-up shirtsleeves and a clipboard walked
briskly up to Will and Nony.

He nodded to Nony, and then introduced himself to W. "I'm Saul
Rosencrantz. I'm the official designee of the IAA at this project. Nony
here is my boss. Sol have to be on my good behavior. You fellows can
take off the military gear. You're safe here." As Will was led to the
entrance of the tent, he looked over to his left, through the arched
opening of Stephen's Gate, inside to the narrow street surrounded by
shops and buildings. "What's that, on the other side of Stephen's Gate?"
Will asked, looking at the ancient arched gate. "Oh, you would know that
as the "Via Dolorosa."'The street where they say Jesus was led to his
crucifixion."

319 Saul ducked to enter the tent. But then he realized that Will was
not with him, and turned around. Will was still standing motionless at
the same spot, slack-jawed, staring intensely at the winding Via
Dolorosa through the archway. "First time here?" Saul asked. Will
nodded. Saul smiled and put his hand on his shoulder, and said, "Time is
short. A lot is going on inside. Come on." Inside the tent Nony had
scurried off somewhere, while Saul quickly, in a hushed tone, began
describing to Will the group of dignitaries that were

." The Resurrection File 359 immed inside. As Will looked around at the
bazaar of men in head pieces, cards, and multicolored robes, he felt as
if he had walked into an internaional religious convention.

"That's Cardinal Guido Veronni from the Vatican, and Friend. Anthony
Jarronette, Personal Emissary of the Pontiff. Over there is a
representative if the Coptic Church of Ethiopia, and there, the
designate of the Greek Orthodox Church. Some of the American Protestant
groups are very upset hat we didn't give them a chance to be here. But
the problem was that this hing was thrown together so quickly there
simply wasn't enough time. Not be glib about this, but this is not an
"orthodox" type of burial excavation. Jot by any means. I think you
realize, Mr. Chambers, that, with all due espect, the U.s.. State
Department put incredible pressure on us to get this et up in record
time." Will heard some arguing to one side. He turned and saw an elderly
man a a long gray beard, wearing a black fedora on his head, and^a black
coat ind a shawl over his shoulders. He was flanked by a younger man in
blue eans and a yarmulke, whose long brown locks curled down the side of
his lead and who had a rifle slung over his shoulder. Those two were
arguing yith two others, apparently Muslim clerics--one with a short
beard, black obe, and square white hat, and the other in a white robe
that was wrapped, not one piece, around and over his head. : "That's
Rabbi Micah Karinsky. He's arguing with the Islamic Mufti of erusalem
and Sheik Ahammen Yessar. Those two are both with the Waqf, he Muslim
trust that controls the Temple Mount. The Muslims are upset nth the fact
that the Rabbi insisted on bringing his own personal body[Uard into the
tent." Saul took Will to the midpoint of the tent, where a group of

320 scientists aid researchers had gathered around a large foldup table.
The table was covtred with computers, cables, and several video screens.
Beyond the table by a few feet was another adjoining compartment of he
tent, but it was closed with a flap and a sign was posted that said, "No
Entrance--Excavation in Progress." Most of the researchers were crowded
around one large monitor. The Jack-and-white image on the screen showed
what looked like the interior ,f a rocky cave. "Adam, this is Mr.
Chambers from the United States," Saul said to the nan at the controls
of the video screen, who was wearing a headset and nicrophone. "Why
don't you give us both a rundown of the status thus far?" "Well," Adam
explained, "we have a square closing stone to this tomb. Characteristic
of first-century Herodian. The tomb itself has decorative

360 Craig Parshall features in keeping with some of the tombs we have
found from the same time period--20 to 60 C.e. Time of Jesus, we are all
convinced. Hard limestone, precise angles on the entrance, good
aesthetic finish. Ornamentation. The owner of this tomb had some pocket
change to spend. From what we can see from this position, it shows what
I think is the standard first- century arrangement. Two, maybe three
interior compartments. But we can't be sure until Reichstad gets inside
with his camera guy. They say they are going to need another thirty or
forty minutes before they are ready to go deep inside the tomb." The
researchers were all looking at their watches and milling around, making
conversation that, though apparently largely in English, sounded like a
foreign language to W. Saul excused himself for a few minutes and
disappeared. Will found a folding chair to sit down on. As he did he
patted his coat pocket and felt the outline of the plastic bag. Adam
came over with a Styrofoam cup of coffee, and offered it to W. "It may
be strong. We like it that way over here." Will thanked him. "You're the
lawyer?" Adam asked. "Yes. And feeling a little out of my league here.
I'm no religious expert. And I'm not an archaeologist." "No, but you're
a lawyer," Adam replied as he headed back to his video monitor. "That
means you ought to feel right at home in this place. The Christian
Gospels say that Jesus had some of his best arguments with lawyers,
don't they?" After finishing his coffee, Will leaned back and relaxed.
He listened to the sound of the tent billowing in and out with the
breeze. He hoped that

321 Angus MacCameron was faring better. And he wondered what Fiona was
doing right then. While he gazed at the video screen, Will wondered
where Jesus of Nazareth was in all of this. Here in a small, ancient
corner of Jerusalem that had been turned into a war zone. Amid the
high-tech equipment, and computers, and scientific knowledge of this
bevy of experts--and in the middle of all of the disputing religious
leaders and the government bureaucrats. Was Jesus going to be ultimately
found--or lost--in such a place? After more than an hour, Will was aware
that everyone--scientists, religious representatives, Nony, and
Saul--was gathering around the table with the video screen. Adam was
talking on the headset. Reichstad and his camera assistant were about to
enter the tomb. There were several moments of silence while the crowd
stood, shoulderto-shoulder under the large white canopy.

I The Resurrection File 361 fc Someone tapped Will on the arm. He turned
and saw the familiar face jjjjjf Dr. Mary Margaret Giovanni next to him.
She was carrying a small metal ["suitcase. She adjusted her glasses and
shook Will's hand, but said nothing % first. @ou Saul stepped over, and
asked

"What is your name?"' "This is Dr.

Giovanni," Will answered. "She is my expert." out One of the younger
scientists reached his hand over to Dr. Giovanni, fluid said in a hushed
voice, "Are you the Dr. Giovanni who worked with the legendary Geza
Vermes? And also at the Ecole Biblique at one time?"' I

"Yes," Dr. Giovanni said. "That was a while ago." I I'm honored to meet
you," the young scientist said. "I'm glad I got here in time," she said
to W. "A good-looking man at pie airport escorted me personally. You
must have some real connections. fou know, it's scary out there.
Rioting. Shooting. Where is 7QC?" were Will pulled the plastic bag out
of his pocket and discreetly passed it over oher. While the crowd was
riveted to the video screen, she walked over to a iorner, bent down to
the ground, and snapped open her metal briefcase. She tut on surgical
gloves and pulled the fragment out with tweezers. Then she ,laced it
between two glass plates, put plastic clamps at the edges, and bcked the
clamps. very. Then she took out a small handheld microscope that looked
like a tiny elescope, and

322 stared through it for several minutes at the fragment under he
glass. After that, Dr. Giovanni seemed to stare out into space, blankly.
the then took a small pad of paper and rapidly scribbled some notes down
Hi it. After looking through the microscope again, she placed it and the
fass plates with the 7QC fragment into her briefcase and locked it. Will
was about to ask her what the 7QC fragment said, but Adam tarred talking
into his headset. * "We are ready for entry into the tomb, ladies and
gentlemen. The next foice you hear will be Dr. Reichstad's." . On the
video screen, Will saw Reichstad in a white protective suit with helmet
that looked like it belonged on an astronaut. The cameraman was
blindlowing right behind him. The floodlight mounted on the handheld
video conamera illuminated the area. The two men ducked into the
opening, and leichstad began to speak.

"The outer chamber here.. disis.. disz you see very typical.. .th is the
"loculi,"'1 fee outer chamber...and.. disthe interior chamber.. diswith
arched shelves.. disover here.. .agst the wall is the "ossuary," the
bone box.. disv typical of the time of Jesus.. .now we are turning right
into the interior chamber..."

362 Craig Parshall

For a moment Reichstad's body blocked the view of the camera. The crowd
around the video monitor broke into intense chatter. Then suddenly all
conversation stopped as Reichstad started speaking again. "I am looking
right at it...Here it is!...Oh--it's a perfect specimen... The corpse is
covered with grave linens.. .oh, this is fantastic! A corpse.. .x looks
like a male judging by the proportion of the hips and shoulders... about
five feet seven inches in height.. disincredibly well-preserved..
.ladies and gentlemen...I give you...the body of Jesus of Nazareth!"
Reichstad moved out of the way and the camera zoomed in on the outline
of the corpse. "There is something on the ground next to the corpse, in
the form of a circle of some kind...v fragile vegetation...1 will
speculate here...I will have to take very careful samples.of this...I'm
sure our botanists can confirm this.. disb I am guessing that what we
have here is the "crown of thorns" that must'''mst have been buried with
the body of Jesus..." The crowd of religious representatives exploded
into an angry, dumbfounded, and confused cacophony of complaint and

323 disputation. "I can't hear Dr. Reichstad!

I can't hear him with all this noise--" Adam shouted out. But the noise
from the crowd subsided only slightly. The only person who was stone
quiet, and calm, was Dr. Giovanni. She moved through the crowd, elbowing
her way to the screen. "I want a close-up on the ossuary box," she ordered

Adam. "What?" "A close-up on the bone box there in the corner." "We
would like a close-up of the ossuary box...yes...a close-up..." Adam
said into his microphone. The camera moved and focused on the
stone-lidded box in the corner. "Closer," Giovanni said. The camera
zoomed in. "Closer and to the right a little, I want the full front and
center..." Once again the camera zoomed in. Then Giovanni quickly
scratched down some notes on her notepad. "Thank you, that's all

I needed," she said, and started walking away from the crowd at the
video screen. She picked up her metal briefcase and nodded for Will to
follow her. "This process is now going to take some time.. .they are
going to X-ray the corpse before doing anything else. My guess is that
Reichstad will not be able to actually do much to this corpse until
after our trial next week. It is all going to be a long and drawn-out
process." "Are you just going to leave? Now?" Will asked incredulously.

The Resurrection File 363

"We've got a plane to catch if we are going to be in court by Monday
morning for your trial. You know, I am really jet-lagged," she said. "I
really hustled to get over here." Will was thunderstruck by her
laissez-faire attitude. "What about that?" Will asked, motioning over to
the video screen. "That?" Giovanni said. "No. Take it from me.

No--that's not the corpse of Jesus of Nazareth." And then she smiled,
and started walking toward the entrance.

WlLITTLE CHAMBERS SAT AT THE

DEFENSE COUNSEL table in the courtroom of

Judge Jeremiah Kaye, waiting for the judge to enter for the continuation
of the jury trial. As Will sat and pondered the events of the last few
days, he fingered a coin in his right hand. He was thinking about
Jerusalem. And something that Nathan had asked him. After Nathan had
dropped off Will and Dr. Giovanni at the airport in Tel Aviv, Will had
reached through the window of the freshly dented black Mercedes and
shaken his hand, thanking him for everything. "Is there anything

324 else you can tell me about yourself?" Will had asked. Nathan had
smiled and handed him a card that read, "Art 8c Artifacts-- Nathan

Goldwaithe, Proprietor," with an address and telephone in the Old City
of Jerusalem. "This is all you need to know," he had said with a smile.
Then Nathan had reached in his pocket and pulled out a coin. "I think
I'd like to give this to you. Do you mind my asking--are you a
Christian?" Will had thought for a minute. Then he had said, "Let's just
say, right now I'm standing at Stephen's Gate, looking through at the
Via Dolorosa on the other side." "Okay, my friend," Nathan had said
laughing, "as a businessman I try to be sensitive to all my customers.
And I get the feeling that you are going to be back here again. So here
is a little sample--free of charge." He had handed a small, dark coin to
W. After studying it for a few seconds Will had thought he could see the
image of a face--a man with a beard--perhaps, but the image was
indistinct. "This is a coin from the Byzantine period, just a few
hundred years after Jesus is said to have walked the streets of
Jerusalem. But don't get too excited--it's really not that valuable.
I've got a number of these. The unique

364 be". The Resurrection File 365

phing about this coin is that it has one of the first images of Jesus
that flippeared on any coin." I Will had looked again at the visage on
the coin. He had been able to see lithe long, bearded face, and the
eyes, but the features had been rubbed down Ipo what was now only a
trace, a faint shadow of a likeness. 1: It's been worn down, of course,
over a millennium-and-a-half. So, you'll piave to fill in the rest of
the features, imagine how Jesus appeared, on your mown." After Will had
reached back through the window to shake his hand lagain, Nathan had
said, "Shalom," and sped off. 1; Will's mind snapped back to the present
as the door of Judge Kaye's ichambers suddenly opened and Judge Kaye
entered with his clerk ft Everyone in the room stood up. The judge
placed the thick court file on ithe judicial bench in front of him. "Any
preliminaries before I call the jury back in for this morning's
testilinony?" ft Will glanced over at the empty seat next to him, where
Angus MacRCAMERON should have been sitting. When he had arrived back to
his apartRinent from Jerusalem, he had called Fiona at the

325 hospital in London. But

IMACCAMERON had not gotten better. In fact, he had suffered a stroke in
the piospital and was in and out of consciousness. . Judge Kaye noticed
the absence of Will's client. "Mr. Chambers, is your client going to be
joining us?" to "Your honor, Reverend MacCameron is seriously ill." The
judge paused for a second. Will was hoping that he would not press Kfor
any more information. If he did, Will would be required to disclose it.
1; "Well," the judge said, "give him our best, and we hope he can join
us as isoon as possible. Any objections, Mr. Sherman, to the defendant
not being Bin the courtroom?"

Sherman was more than pleased for the defense case to proceed in the
[absence of the defendant himself. Dr. Reichstad sat expressionless next
to him. I Will stood up and addressed one more preliminary matter. "Your
Honor, II have a matter of great importance. I wish to give notice of
the discovery of ithe missing fragment--7QC--JUST a few days ago in the
British Museum." Sherman leaped to his feet. Reichstad was standing next
to him, trying 1 to argue something in Sherman's ear. I "This is
absolutely incredible, Your Honor!" Sherman exclaimed. "How lean we
possibly rebut this evidence after we have already rested our case?"

366 Craig Parshall

"Would you explain, Mr. Chambers, exactly how you came upon this 7QC
fragment in the last few days?" Will proceeded to explain in detail the
search that he and MacCameron had conducted at the British Museum. "What
do you contend that this 7QC says? How does it affect the credibility of
Dr. Reichstad's interpretation of 7QA?" Judge Kaye asked. "It proves,
conclusively, that what Reverend MacCameron said in his article about
Dr. Reichstad was the truth, Your Honor. 7QC completely changes the
meaning of the sentences in 7QA. I have a diagram here of what all three
fragments say together, now that we have all the pieces." Sherman howled
out an objection that the court should not even see, let alone consider
admitting such prejudicial evidence. Judge Kaye quickly dispatched
Sherman's objection and told Will to put up the chart. Will placed on
the easel the blow-up of all three pieces joined together. He also put
up his translation diagram, which read this way:

326

AND THE BODY// OF THE DISCIPLE

OF JESUS OF NAZARETH// THE

HONORABLE COUNSELOR

"7QB" WAS LAID IN THE TOMB

// ATTHE EAST GATE OF STEPHEN THEY

DESIRED TO ANOINT IT // THATDAY BUT

COULD NOT RETURN TO PREPARE THE BODY

THE BODY REMAINS IN THAT TOMB TO

THIS DAY

"Your Honor, we are prepared to show that all three fragments, when
taken together, clearly refer, not to the burial of Jesus, but in fact
to the burial of Joseph of Arimathea, a member of the religious ruling
body called the Sanhedrin, and a secret follower of Jesus." Dr.
Reichstad stood up and in a commanding voice declared, "This
interpretation is clearly a hoax. Besides, Your Honor, I can clearly
think of a way that this is really describing Jesus as the "honorable
counselor" who was buried. So this changes nothing." "Oh, there may be a
hoax, Your Honor," Will countered, "but it does not lie with us. Dr.
Giovanni is here to testify that the only reference in the Bible to an
"honorable counselor," is a reference to Joseph of Arimathea in the

The Resurrection File 367

Gospel of Mark, chapter fifteen, verse forty-three. Another translation
of the two Greek words in 7QC for "honorable counselor" would be
prominent member of the council." It would be an utter absurdity to
contend that Jesus was a member of the same religious council that
condemned him to death!" Sherman again rose to his feet, arguing that if
this evidence of 7QC was going to come into the case, then Dr. Reichstad
should be able to introduce the evidence of the discovery of the corpse
of Jesus in the tomb at Stephen's Gate over the weekend, exactly where
7QC said it was. But Will was unflustered. "Your Honor, Dr. Giovanni and
I were present at that excavation. She was a witness to an inscription
on a stone ossuary. That is a bone box the Jewish people would use a
year or more after the initial burial. They would return and deposit the
bones in that box for permanent burial. "There was an ossuary in that
tomb. And this is the inscription that was . clearly written on its
front, in both Aramaic and Greek:

, Joseph of Arimathea honorable counselor

327 and .;: disciple of the risen Lord Jesus

out "Your Honor, this tomb by Stephen's

Gate mat Dr. Reichstad has excaIvated is the second tomb of Joseph of
Arimathea, and clearly contains his Icorpse. The bone box proves that.
And all the fragments, when read logiou cally and together, show that.
Thefirst tomb of Joseph was the one that was iused for the burial of
Jesus, and it is empty." I "We found proof of the crown of thorns next
to the corpse!" Reichstad I shot out. "Of course," Will replied. "Joseph
of Arimathea took possession of the fbody of Jesus after the crucifixion
and made all the burial arrangements. It iis logical that he also came
into possession of the crown of thorns. And his H&iends obviously buried
it with Joseph when he died, in honor of his loyalty Ito

Jesus." "This is exactly what I didn't want to happen," the judge shot
out. "I am piot going to turn this courtroom into a theological or
archaeological disieussion of last week's news. By the way," and with
that the judge pulled out ilthree newspapers and fanned them out for all
to see, "three national newsjpapers all reported yesterday, on page one,
the "discovery of the corpse of IJESUS of Nazareth." Now we are going to
have to deal with the issue of that publicity possibly tainting the
jury. But before I rule, I think I am going to

368 Craig Parshal! have to listen to Dr. Giovanni's testimony on all of
these issues, in. the exclusion of the jury." As Will looked out into
the courtroom to summon Dr. Giovanni to the witness stand, he noticed
Jack Hornby sitting attentively. But now, Jack had moved forward to the
front row of benches, right behind Will Chambers' defense table. 1

[After Dr. GIOVANNI'S TESTIMONY,

Judge Kaye took a ten-minute break @ou to consider his rulings. Giovanni
had conducted herself brilliantly. The @ou judge had been impressed with
her credentials and her candor. She had out described her evaluation of
Dr. Reichstad so faulty methodology* in making ^ccclusive findings on
7QA under circumstances where it was, or should I have been, clear to
him that crucial parts of the fragment had recently been I torn away.
She also had showed how the configuration of the sentences in 17QA
alone, while it made grammatical sense, was nevertheless questionable. I
She had reasoned that

328 the obvious missing fragment had the potential of I radically
altering the complete meaning of those sentences. I Then Giovanni had
described her observations at the excavation at I Stephen's Gate. But
Judge Kaye had asked one question that bothered W. I The judge had
asked, "Can you, Dr. Giovanni, still give us your opinions I as they
stood prior to seeing the 7QC fragment, and prior to seeing the Iburial
site at Jerusalem? Are you able to do that?" I After a moment of
reflection, Dr. Giovanni had indicated that she could I still give her
opinions as they had stood a week ago--if the Court were to pnstruct her
to disregard and not mention the more recent developments. I After ten
minutes exactly, Judge Kaye stepped back into the courtroom. I "Here is
my ruling. No one is more keenly aware than I am of the imporpance of
getting to the truth in any case--it is essential to the pursuit of
jusItice. I "However, in this case I believe that Dr. Reichstad would be
unfairly Iprejudiced for the defense if, at this late hour of the case,
evidence of 7QC lor evidence relating to the inscription on the ossuary
box in that tomb were ^presented. I "But I also am ruling that Dr.
Reichstad may not introduce evidence of Ibis discovery of the corpse in
that tomb in Jerusalem over the weekend. And

I 369

370 . Craig Marshall the jury will be questioned on whether they were
exposed to any prejudicial publicity or news reports about that
discovery." Will was stunned. Without Angus MacCameron to testify, and
without being able to present all of the recent facts they had
uncovered, it appeared that he had almost no chance of winning the
lawsuit. "Are you ready, Mr. Chambers," the judge asked, "to present Dr.
Giovanni's testimony to the jury, consistent with the ruling that I have
just made?" But before Will could answer, he noticed that the judge's
attention had been diverted by something going on at the back of the
room. Will turned around. There was Tiny Heftland, grinning as if he had
just won the lottery. He was holding the door open with one hand and
making a flourish with the other, like an impresario introducing the
next act at a variety show. Entering behind Tiny was an elderly man who
looked like an Arab, dressed in a flowing white robe and carrying a
tall, carved staff. A young boy was holding his hand and looking around
wide-eyed as they

329 walked into the courtroom. "This trial is quickly becoming a
three-ring circus," the judge remarked. "Mr. Chambers, can you explain
this?" "Your Honor, I will need a few minutes to confer with my
investigator." "Granted. I will be right here waiting for you." Will
walked up to Tiny and the elderly man. "I struck gold, chief," Tiny said.

"Will, meet Mr. Muhammad el Juma and his son Ahmed. The reason we
couldn't locate him? Turns out that when he discovered that Tony Azid
had been killed for the fragment--well, he took the money that Azid had
paid him for it, and bought a little place in Bethlehem, and changed his
name. "Now, you might ask, how did Muhammad the desert king find out
that Azid was murdered? Because he is the one who found the body1. He
had delivered the whole fragment, complete, to Azid, and Azid paid him
like six or seven thousand dollars for it and says, if he resells it to
a guy he is thinking about, he will give Muhammad a percentage. Azid
confides that he is going to tear the piece into two or three parts in
an effort to bump the price up." "Did Azid say who he had in mind?"'
"Yep, chief," Tiny replied excitedly. "Our own

Dr. Hunter. So Muhammad packs up his tent and slips away into the night.
But a week later, he decides to return to cousin Tony's shop to see how
things are going with their mutual investment, and to see if Hunter is
going to get the British Museum to pay out a bundle. As Muhammad is
walking up to the shop, he 1

I The Resurrection File 371 I I sees this big blond dude walk out of the
shop in a hurry, I mean the guy is 1 leaving there in a sweat. Muhammad
goes in and discovers that poor Azid I had been done in. He gets the
police. But the Palestinian police have juris!" diction, and they blow
the investigation and call it a suicide." I "How about the blond guy?"
Will asked. I "Oh, that's just perfect," Tiny continued. "Get this. When
the Israeli police and I locate Muhammad they have him do a photo
identification of I some suspects. Guess who he IDS as the guy leaving
the shop? A guy named I, Bruda Weilder. He was suspected of an arson and
murder in Tel Aviv a few years back. Unfortunately they couldn't make it
stick He is also listed by Interpol as a suspect in crimes in Austria
and West Germany. But the best I thing is this: Weilder was--at the time of

330 Azid's death--the personal bodyou guard for Warren Mullburn. The
Israelis tell me that now with MuhamRmad's testimony, they are going to
reopen the Azid and the Hunter matters land charge this thug with double
murder. They've already started to look for aim." It Will turned and
strode up to the front. "Your Honor, I would like to

move that the court permit me to amend my witness list to add Mr.
RMUHAMMAD el Juma. The relevance of his testimony--and the great lengths
mine went to, to try and locate him--will be spelled out in the
preliminary Btestimony I would like to present, in the exclusion of the
jury, from Mr. (william Tinney Heftland, aka "Tiny" Heftland."

Over Sherman's loud objections Judge

Kaye permitted Tiny to testify for almost an hour regarding his search
for Muhammad, how they had finally ocated him, and how the evidence he
had would link 7QA, 7QB, and 7QC Ball together.

Tiny explained how the Bedouin tribesman could also connect the death of
Azid with Hunter's death, and lastly, could connect Mullburn's bodyguard
to the deaths, during the same week that Reichstad--a benefiBtiary of
Mullburn's financial support--had admitted coming into possession
J6f7QA. I Judge Kaye asked Tiny as many questions as Sherman and Will
Chamipers did. Sherman ferociously attacked Tiny so credibility by
showing that he pas a paid investigator for W. That he was biased, that
he had been Buisuccessful in his prior federal and police employment.
But Judge Kaye Wasn't buying it. *- When Tiny's testimony was finished,
Judge Kaye leaned back in his Khair. He would not, he said, retire to
deliberate this one. He already knew how he was going to rule. lou This
was it. Will could feel it. He knew this was one of those moments what
could turn a mere courtroom contest into a triumph of justice.

372 Craig Parshall

Judge Kaye leaned forward on his arms, which were crossed in front of
him. "Here is my ruling. Muhammad el Juma's testimony will be allowed.
In order to be fair to Mr. Shermans side, the new witness is to be made
available to Mr. Sherman for a deposition this afternoon, if Mr. Sherman
so desires. That way, Mr. Sherman, there will be no unfair surprises.
You may ask him anything you want before we resume in the presence of
jury tomorrow. Mr. Chambers, do you have an interpreter?" Will

331 looked back at Tiny, who nodded and pointed to a woman who had been
standing next to the Bedouin and his son. "All right. Then we will
adjourn for the day. We will start right at nine o'clock in the morning,
with the jury present, first with the testimony of Muhammad el Juma.
After that, Mr. Chambers, you can recall Dr. Giovanni and present her
testimony to the jury, and then that of the two Israeli police
officers." There was arguing somewhere in the courtroom. Suddenly, Will
realized that it was coming from the opposing counsel's table. Dr.
Reichstad was frantically yelling something at Sherman, and J-Fox
Sherman was yelling back. Judge

Kaye gave them both a bewildered look. "Do you have a problem that
concerns this court, or may I adjourn this case for the day?" the judge
asked. After Sherman and Reichstad had conferred in only slightly
quieter tones, Sherman walked slowly up to the podium. "I have a motion,
your honor." "What kind of motion?" "It is a motion that I feel I must
make to accommodate my client, though I do so with great reluctance."
"What kind of motion? Spell it out!" "We are moving for a voluntary
dismissal of this lawsuit--which is the plaintiff's right, Your Honor."
"In the middle of a jury trial? Now you decide to dismiss your case?"
"Well, Your Honor, perhaps my client can explain..." Reichstad hurried
up to the podium. "Your Honor. You said, yourself, that you have read
the headlines. You know by now that I have achieved something far beyond
what anyone has ever achieved in my field--I have located and revealed
the body of Jesus of Nazareth. At this point I don't need the decision
of a jury to vindicate me. The world has vindicated me. History will
vindicate me. Besides,

The Resurrection File 373

MacCameron wouldn't be able to pay me whatever the jury might award
anyway. I am trying to be a gentleman about this..." "Gentleman?" Will
shot back. "Your Honor, we object. We don't want a dismissal. We want
justice. We want Angus MacCamerons reputation restored after the
plaintiff has so wantonly smeared and defamed it in this courtroom."
"Mr. Chambers, I don't think I have any choice. I must permit plaintiff
to voluntarily withdraw his lawsuit, even at this late hour." "Then I
want compensation for my client--and my attorney's fees to be paid by
Dr. Reichstad and Mr. Sherman!" Will countered.

332 "On the basis of what?" Sherman shot back "On the basis of Rule 41
of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, and the ruling by the Court of
Appeals of the D.c. Circuit in

Taragan vs. Eli Lilly and Company" Will replied. Sherman was speechless.
"How soon can you file a written request for me to consider, Mr.
Chambers?" "Within twenty-four hours." "Mr. Sherman," the judge
continued, "within forty-eight hours after you receive Mr. Chambers
written request for attorney's fees and other compensation for his
client, you are to file your written response and any arguments you have
as to why I should deny Mr. Chamber's request. I will then try to get my
written decision out as rapidly as I can. This case is dismissed. Court
adjourned. Clerk, discharge the jury. Tell them they can go home.
Someone else, I guess, is going to have to solve the mystery of the
ages--It's not going to be them."

The following day, Will, as promised, filed with the U.s.. District
Court of the District of Columbiajudge Jeremiah Kaye presiding, a
written request for Dr. Reichstad or his attorneys or both, to pay two
separate sums of money. First, Will demanded payment for his attorney's
fees and the total costs of the defense of the case. After he had added
up his hourly fees as well as those of Jacki Johnson--hundreds of those
hours not yet billed to his stricken client--together with the costs of
international travel, depositions, expert fees, long-distance charges,
express deliveries, hotel rooms, and thousands of photocopies of
documents, he came up with a substantial figure. He was asking that
Reichstad and his lawyers pay MacCameron the sum of $596,843.74 for the
legal fees and costs incurred by the defense in the case. The second sum
that Will demanded gave him particular pleasure. Although he wondered
whether Judge Kaye would award a single penny for this category--because
of its unusual nature--he put it in anyway. Will asked that the Court
order Reichstad and his lawyers to pay the sum of $500,000 for the
"inconvenience and stress caused to Reverend Angus Mac- Cameron, and the
defamation to his reputation." The argument that Will made on this
latter point was simple and logical: Reichstad and his swarm of legal
sharks had done irrevocable damage to MacCameron's integrity and
reputation in presenting their side of the

333 case. By then prematurely dismissing their lawsuit before the
defense had had its chance to vindicate MacCameron, they left, as Will
put it in his brief to the Court, "an indelible stain on Reverend
MacCameron's good name; they drew, for all the world to see, a grotesque
caricature of my client, forever recorded in a court record; then
promptly dismissed their lawsuit, thereby wrenching the pen out of our
hands, and preventing us from ever

The Resurrection File 375 adequately correcting their ugly and false
picture of Reverend Mac- Cameron." A copy of Will's brief to the court
and request for compensation was taken by courier to the offices of
Kennelworth, Sherman, Abrams & Cantwell. There was a time, not so long
ago in the past, where Will Chambers would have personally delivered the
papers to J-Fox Sherman himself just for the pleasure of seeing his
expression. Just to tell him, eye to eye, that now the shoe was on the
other foot; that now Sherman and his client were the ones who had to
worry about whether they might soon be reaping the bitter harvest they
had planted themselves. There was a time when Will would have done
exactly that. But that time was not now. Will was no longer that
man--nor, it ' seemed, was he interested in taking that same road. After
the courier had picked up the written arguments to the judge, Will
returned calls from a few new clients. In between those calls he
ctonnected with Fiona, who was still in London. He was saddened that the
news about : MacCameron had not changed. She said that the doctors had
told her to ' "brace for the worst." Will asked her some questions, but
mostly listened. I Fiona asked about the trial, and Will explained the
strange turn of ..; events--the eerie excavation at St. Stephen's Gate,
and Dr. Giovanni's conf, elusion that the corpse found there was
definitely that of Joseph of Ari!" mathea; how Tiny had located Muhammad
el Juma, and how Reichstad out had withdrawn his own lawsuit rather than
permit the truth to come out. @ou And Will also explained to Fiona how,
in a rare reversal, Reichstad, the " complainant in a libel and
defamation case, was now facing their demand for I attorney's fees and
compensation for damage to Angus's good name. his "Da would be so proud
of you!" Fiona said. "How I wish he could have @ou been there." Will
told her that Angus MacCameron was very fortunate to have a out daughter
like her. Fiona said this was a very lonely time for her, and could I he

334 please call her again that evening. She would be by her father's
side in the I hospital throughout the night and into the morning. I Will
went out for some supper, then returned to work afterwards. As he people
locked up his Corvette in front of the old red-brick building that
housed his out office, the bells of St. Andrew's Church began ringing. I

As the tolling of the great bells filled the air, Will froze in his
tracks, next to his car. He looked over at the church, and its towering
steeple. Then he I quickly walked over to the entrance. He laid hold of
one of the iron handles and swung open one of the thick doors.

376 Craig Parshall

Will stepped inside onto the worn-looking multi-colored stone of the
vestibule. He saw a stairway to his left. He started walking up, then
increased his pace. Soon he was running up to the second floor. From
there, a very narrow set of stairs led upward in a dizzying spiral. Will
ran up the cramped stairwell, around and then around again as it took
him higher and higher. He glanced through the small side windows and, as
he quickened his steps, the street, the office building, and the
passersby down below, kept getting smaller. Finally, several stories
above the city of Monroeville, the staircase came up into a square,
musty room with dark, warped wooden floorboards, and thick ropes
dangling through an opening in the ceiling. There was a thin young woman
in the center of the room, with long brown hair that reached to the
middle of her back She looked straight at Will through the bell ropes,
still hanging on to one of them. The woman was smiling, and then Will
noticed something shiny at the collar of her sweatshirt. As Will walked
a little closer he saw that she was wearing a little baby's- feet
pin--and then he recognized her face. "You were there in court that day.
You're the one who grabbed my arm." "Yes," she said softly. "That was
me." "And you told me you would be praying for me." "Yes. And I have
been praying for you. You haven't remembered who I am, have you?" Will
struggled but only shook his head. "I'm Kimberly. My father was the
police chief. You were his lawyer, a long time ago. You won the case for
him, when the department tried to suspend him from duty to force him to
get help for his alcoholism." "You were just a little girl then. Now I
remember," Will replied. "I didn't mean to scare you by running up here
like this. I really don't know why I'm here." "Oh, but I do," she said
gently. "I know exactly why you are

335 here." Will wanted to reply, but whatever words he had intended to
speak became stuck in his throat. "You see," she continued, "I sort of
wished you would have lost that case for my Dad, then maybe things could
have changed and he wouldn't have drunk himself to death. In the years
after that, I would see your cases mentioned in the newspapers, or a
magazine here or there. So

I started praying, every day, that the Lord would lead you to become a
defender of his truth-- and a mighty advocate for his kingdom. I've been
one of the bell-pullers here at St. Andrew's for a while, ever since I
moved up here. Sometimes I've

The Resurrection File 377 been up here at night, and the only light
shining in that building across the street has been coming from your
office. And I've been able to see you working at your desk And I pray
for you. So I figure that's why you're here, right?" Turning away
slightly, Will had no words to speak at first; all he could do was nod
his head in agreement, and try to clear the catch that was in his
throat. The woman put her hands in her jeans and smiled an even broader
smile. Finally Will said, "Kimberly, I've got to go. There is something
I have to do." He went on. "Sometime I would like to come by, and we'll
talk some more. You can get me caught up on how you and the rest of your
family have been doing all these years." As Will started down the
stairs, he stopped and turned, and looked back at the woman standing
amid the ropes. "Thank you, Kimberly," he said, "from the bottom of my
heart." Then he walked down the long spiral descent to the ground level.
Will crossed the street to his building and steadily climbed the stairs.
He strode through the lobby and through the door into his office, where
he then plucked the Byzantine coin given to him by Nathan out of its
place in the glass box he had put it in on top of his desk He studied
it, and then sat down on the carpet with his back against his large
mahogany desk, knees drawn up, the coin in his hand. Will looked hard at
the semi-obscured, fifteen-hundred-year-old visage of Jesus that lay in
his hand. He was quiet for a long while, oblivious to the sounds of cars
down on the street below, and the occasional noise from elsewhere in the
building. Now he was intent on conducting only one piece of business.
Nothing else, at that moment, seemed to matter very much. Crossing his
arms, he rested them on his knees and bowed his head against them. And
with his eyes closed he walked into the silence of that moment. Time
slowed. Will

336 Chambers knew that in these quiet seconds of eternity he was to
encounter the Person of God. The ever-watching and : unseen face of the
Everlasting One. "God," he started out, "I don't know how to do this.
I'm not much of a "dis man. Lost. Confused. Busted dreams. And a broken
heart. I have so many be questions. And not many answers. But I've read
your written record. And I out know that Jesus is real--I know it. That
he was killed on that cross for my I sins. And for everybody's. That was
the mission. That's why he came. Death

378 Craig Parshal! couldn't hold him back--and the tomb couldn't either.
Which means he really was your Son, after all." Will thought for a
second and then said, "I'm afraid I don't know what comes next. Tell me
what I ought to do now. Just do what you have to do with my heart.
Thanks for listening." Then he added, "Amen." "Praise!" Will started at
the shout. Opening his eyes and turning himself to the side, he heard it
again. "Praise!" Hattie, the cleaning lady, was looking at him through
the open door. She was standing in the lobby of his office, beaming.
"Praise God!" Hattie was exclaiming. She was sweeping the air grandly,
back and forth with her hands, and doing a little jig with her feet.
"Lord, oh Lord! You went fishing and you caught yourself a lawyer
today!" Will started to get up to his feet, but Hattie walked in and
admonished him boldly, wagging her index finger. "Don't you get up from
there. That's holy ground. Holy ground! You stay right there on that
floor, Mr. Will Chambers." .w complied, leaning back against the desk
again, still seated on the carpet. "I want you to know, now, I wasn't
spying on you. I was just coming in to empty your wastepaper baskets,"
she continued. "But I must have been led here for a reason. Now, you
don't want to be a wasted seed, do you?"' There was a puzzled look on
Will's face. "That's bad, right?"' "Jesus says that the sown seed that
gets swooped up by the birds, or gets scorched by the sun, or gets all
choked off by the weeds--well, that seed is no good to nobody." "Yes,"
Will said remembering, "I think I read that..." "Do you have a church?"'
"I don't think so." "Now you ought to come down to my church; it's the
one down by the river. Not five blocks from here. Mount of Olives Church
of the Risen Savior. Brother Henry Bickford, Pastor. You come on down
there any Sunday morning." "I surely will," he

337 said. "And you bring a friend. That's our motto. "The message is too
good for just one." You got someone to bring with you?" "Yes," Will
replied. "As a matter of fact, I think I do."

The Resurrection File 379

"You invite that person." "I most assuredly will. I will be calling her
tonight. I'll ask her to join roe in coming to your church sometime."
"You do that, Mr. Chambers. God bless you real good now," she said as
she left the office and closed the door. Will could hear her singing
"What a friend we have in Jesus..." as she pushed her cleaning cart down
the hallway.

V-stNE WEEK LATER, AFTER

SUNDOWN, when the street lamps along the cobblestone streets of
Monroeville had just come on, Will was making a quick trip back to his
office. It was a mild night. Some of the evening birds were still
chirping, and there was a soft breeze blowing through the blossoms on
the pear trees. He had forgotten his wallet and checkbook and was
returning to the office to fetch them. As he got out of his car he
paused a minute to enjoy the sweet evening air. Then he entered the
building, locking the tall oak front doors behind him, and walked up and
the stairs to his darkened office and turned on the lights. He spotted
his wallet and checkbook--on his desk, as he had thought. He was about
to leave when the phone in the lobby rang. He thought about letting it
go to voice mail, but instead picked up the receiver. Jacki Johnson was
on the other end. Her voice was excited and she was talking a mile a
minute. "I was just on the Internet--I saw something that indicated that
Judge Kaye had just filed his decision.. dishe's posted it on the Web..
disb I can't get through to read it." The fax line started ringing in
the copy room. "Wait a minute," Will yelled, and he ran down the
hallway. After a few seconds the document started printing out. Will
could see the letterhead of the U.s.. District Court of the District of
Columbia on it. He ran back to the lobby and picked up the phone.
"Jacki--the court decision is just coming through the fax right now..
dishang on the line, and I'll tell you what the judge ruled as soon as I
read it." Will put the receiver down and started to run back down the
hallway, but the second phone line rang. When Will picked it up he heard
a woman's voice.

338

, "Mr. Chambers, I am a reporter from the Affiliated Press Service. We
have just received something in, a few minutes ago. I'm wondering if you
could confirm Judge Kaye's ruling, and give us a statement--" "Listen,
could you hold on for a minute?" Will broke in. He put her on hold, and
started back down the hall to the fax machine, but the third telephone
line started ringing. He grabbed it and asked that caller also to wait
just a minute, and then put him on hold as well. Before Will could start
for the fax machine again, he heard someone yelling his name outside,
down on the street. Will ran over to the window and yanked it open.
There, down on the be street, was Jack Hornby. Hornby was standing next
to a television truck with a large satellite dish. be "Will Chambers! I
need to talk to you!" Hornby yelled. "I really need the first interview
here.. disaf all I've done for you. So what do you say? Come : on down
here and unlock the door of this relic and let me in." : "What's going
on?" Will shouted down. "Reichstad versus MacGameron. That's what it
is." "I'm just getting the court so decision now on my fax, I haven't
even read Sit yet!" Will yelled. '

"You don't have to. I have it right here!" Hornby shouted back, waving a
I copy of the court's ruling in his hand. "Just give me the first crack
at this out story, and then after you talk to me, a real newsman, then
you can do the I standup interview for these TV clowns down here,
alright?" @ou; "So why did the Herald change their mind and decide to
cover this?" @ou Will asked, leaning out of the window. be "They didn't.
I changed jobs. Congratulate me. I'm the new Wash- I ington, D.c.,
bureau chief for American Press International. Now go pull the court
decision off your fax--just read the last page and then the foot- I note
on page seven--that'll give you the box score. You can read the rest
plater." I. Will sprinted down to the fax machine and pulled off the
sheets of I paper. He riffled through them and pulled out the last page
and page seven, as Hornby had suggested. Hornby was right. At the last
page Judge Kaye summarized his ruling. Regarding Reichstad and his
attorneys having to pay MacCameron for 1 the prejudice caused by their
abrupt dismissal of the lawsuit, the court found I Will's demand for
half-a-million dollars "slightly excessive." Instead, the I court ordered

339 Reichstad to pay Angus MacCameron

$400,000.

382 Craig Parshall

As for Will's attorney's fees and costs, and those of Jacki Johnson, the
court granted the entire $596,843.74; this also to be paid personally by
Dr. Reichstad. J-Fox Sherman's law firm, however, had been mercifully
let off the hook. Then Will turned to page seven of the court's ruling
and looked at the footnote. It read:

Plaintiff Reichstad argues that he decided to dismiss his lawsuit in the
middle of the jury trial because his recent discovery of an ancient
corpse has 'vindicated' his claim to have disproved the bodily
resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth--thus dispensing with the need for a
jury verdict to clear his professional reputation.

This argument the Court believes to be so incredible as to not be worthy
of belief. MacCameron's expert, Dr. Giovanni, testified convincingly, as
to the identity of the corpse found recently in Jerusalem, near St.
Stephen's Gate, most likely being that of one Joseph of Arimathea, a
follower of Jesus and the religious official who, according to the New
Testament, was the prime mover behind the burial of Jesus.

It would appear to this court that Dr. Reichstad's real motivation in
dismissing his lawsuit when he did was to avoid the damaging--indeed,
perhaps even indicting--testimony of Muhammad el Juma, a Bedouin
tribesman who discovered the 7QA, 7QB, and 7QC fragments--and who could
have linked Dr. Reichstad to the suspicious deaths of antiquities dealer
Harim Azid and Dr. Richard Hunter.

Judge Kaye concluded the unusual footnote this way:

The conclusion of this rather extraordinary legal action now ends the
inquiry into the burial, and possible resurrection, of Jesus Christ--the
most central tenet of the Christian religion. That question is left
unresolved. But then, perhaps that is also fitting. It is better left
decided within the chambers of the human heart, rather than the chambers
of a court of law. So, as matters stand, this Court, at least, can
venture no official opinion on that issue.

As Will started toward the door to go down and speak with Jack Hornby he
remembered Jacki on hold. Her line was beeping at the front desk.
"Jacki," Will said, picking up the phone, "the

340 court gave us almost everything we asked for. I can't talk right
now. I'll call you back in thirty minutes.

If The Resurrection File 383

, But when I call you back, I'm going to make you an offer to come back to

work for me, so be prepared to say yes!" When Will got down to Jack
Hornby on the sidewalk, the reporter was si smiling one of his ironic
smiles. I "I wanted to interview God on this one, like you once
suggested, but he's I not available. So I'll have to settle for you
instead." out "Don't be so sure about that," Will replied. The bells of
St. Andrew so I' were now beginning to toll from above them. "That may
be him calling if right now."

Seven Months Later

Washington, D.c., IS A CITY OF

MANY SECRETS--BUT ultimately, secrets only poorly kept. The word had
begun to surface that a federal grand jury had been convened in the
District regarding actions of Undersecretary Kenneth Sharptin--the
subject matter was illegal campaign fund-raising, possible violation of
several foreign relations laws, and influence-peddling and international
bribery regarding Warren Mullburn's attempted entree into OPEC. The
federal prosecutors handling the grand jury were in possession of unique
evidence that had been gathered by the FBI. The FBI'S agents had
followed up on Will Chambers' strange story of his abduction by Abdul el
Alibahd. Will's description of Alibahd's physical condition confirmed
other information gathered by the CIA and military intelligence. The
terrorist, it appeared, was dying, and his web of international criminal
activity was expected to soon unravel; his organization, it was thought,
would be retooled and continued by several of his lieutenants. But that
would not happen. American military operatives were closing in on
Alibahd and his group. Soon they would kill his bodyguards, and capture
the man himself. Consumed by lung cancer, Alibahd would be carried away
by Delta Force commandos on a stretcher--gasping for air, but finding
none. The FBI was also actively investigating the message Alibahd had
delivered to Warren Mullburn through W. Mullburn himself soon became
their focus, as well as his cozy relationship with Kenneth Sharptin and
his financing of Sharptin's bid for the vice-presidential slot. But the
federal

341 agents were astonished at the breadth and audacity of their apparent
conspiracy: a joint effort to bribe their way into a foothold in OPEC'S oil

I The Resurrection File 385

Ijnonopoly by using the currency of pro-Islamic American policies and
lleveraging increased U.s.. military aid to the Arab nations. : AH of
that was more than sufficient, several times over, to short-circuit I
any possibility of Sharptin's running as the vice-presidential
candidate. The oublic explanation given by the White House for
Sharptin's name being I dropped from the shortlist of running mates was
that he needed to "spend Ijnore time with his family." ii The real
question was--what family? Sharptin's wife had moved out a iyear before,
when she had learned of his various affairs. I One night, after Sharptin
had learned that he had been targeted by the Ijrrand jury, and while his
mistress slumbered beside him in the bedroom of Mns Old Town Alexandria
townhouse, the Undersecretary slipped out of lijed, put on his best
bathrobe, and quietly walked down the plush, carpeted [[Steps to his
well-furnished den. He eased himself down onto the smooth Iluxury of his
leather sofa. Then he popped the top off a small plastic bottle Band
poured the contents into the glass of liquor that was sitting in front
of Ifaini on the glass coffee table. be There would be no hesitation.
Kenneth Sharptin prided himself on Ibeing a man who knew how to make
decisions. He looked at the glass for ionly a second before he swallowed
the contents in a single gulp. The next morning, following that fatal
decision, his mistress would find ins body sprawled out on the couch.
She would grab her things and slip Kaway, before the police--and the
press--descended on the townhouse that Was about to achieve fleeting
celebrity status as the scene of the suicide of lithe Undersecretary of
the US. Department of State. By the time the news media started
reporting Sharptin's suicide and the Igrand jury in progress, Warren
Mullburn had already relocated his primary Residence to a secret villa
in Switzerland.

To his extensive staff he had left ouhe formidable task of clearing out
his Nevada desert mansion. Fifteen Ipioving vans and three
auto-transport trucks were needed to contain the Imported antique
furniture he had

342 collected from France, Austria, and

Russia, some modern furnishings inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright, the
Italian stone fountains, the eclectic mixture of original artwork
ranging from pezanne to Andy Warhol, the antiquities purchased from
dealers around the world, the classic antique automobiles, and the large
collection of the mrorld so most expensive sports cars. The last thing
the staff did, before locking the doors to the sixty-five-
Knillion-dollar compound, was to drain the Olympic-size swimming pool.
Then the parade of moving vans and transports began rumbling past the
Property's "For Sale--By Appointment Only" sign and down the desert

386 Craig Pafshall road on their route to the highway that led to Las
Vegas, and points beyond. The convoy of trucks, bearing the spoils of
Warren Mullburn the multinational corporate raider, snaked its way
along, creating clouds of dust in the Nevada desert like a procession of
some modern-day Genghis Khan. Only this Genghis Khan had already skipped
town. The only trace of Mullburn's presence in the Nevada desert was the
now-vacant collection of buildings known as

"Utopia," and a decaying corpse that would be found months later in the
nearby hills. The murdered body, identified as one Bruda Weilder, had
been left to be preyed on by the beasts of the wilderness. While his
small army of agents and employees were moving his worldly goods, Warren
Mullburn was on the telephone from Switzerland, talking to his
attorneys. The subject was how to fend off a possible criminal
indictment against him. The law firm was Kennelworth, Sherman, Abrams 8c
Cantwell--the Washington,

D.c., office. However, the attorneys were worried about a potential
conflict of interest in representing Mullburn because of the possibility
that Dr. Albert Reichstad, also their client, might be named as a
conspirator by the grand jury. That, of course, would be a shame--if not
a tragedy--for the firm, as Mullburn was a high-profile client, and was
certainly in a position to pay every penny of their high-profile legal
fees. But the decision of the attorneys in that firm about representing
Mullburn became much easier when, about three A.m. that Sunday morning
in Jerusalem, Reichstad would suddenly become indisposed from being the

343 client of Kennelworth, Sherman,

Abrams 8c Cantwell--or any other law firm for that matter. Reichstad had
been working through the night inside the excavation tent at the burial
site at St. Stephen's Gate. His assistants had all left for the night
and returned to their hotels. A disturbance farther down the eastern
wall of the Old City had drawn all of the guards away from the area
momentarily. A man, carrying what looked a little like a black trombone
case, was climbing the hill just above the Mount of Olives and the
Garden of Gethsemane. He stopped at the spot where he could view St.
Stephen's Gate and the great white tent of Dr. Reichstad. The man opened
the case, took out a lightweight missile launcher, and rapidly assembled
it. Then he loaded in an armor-piercing missile, pointing it toward
Reichstad's archaeological dig site, and looked through the sighting
device until he had the center of the white tent perfectly lined up.
When he squeezed the trigger the missile left a faint wisp of smoke behind

I The Resurrection File 387 if ,"x as it flew across the small valley
that separated the Mount of Olives from the old wall at St. Stephens
Gate and slammed into the excavation area where Reichstad was in the
process of using an X-ray machine to analyze the ancient corpse that was
scheduled to be moved the following day. After the explosion, very
little of Dr. Reichstad--and nothing of the corpse--was left. Reichstad
was able to be identified only because a few of I his teeth were found
at the scene of the missile hit. News reports indicated that no suspects
had yet been named by either the Israeli government or the Palestinian
Authority. However, several media "accounts speculated on whether
"Christian fundamentalists" intent on preserving belief in the
resurrection of Jesus could be linked to the murder of be Dr. Reichstad
and the destruction of the tomb at that archaeological site. : The
Secretary General of the United Nations, a few days later, had the
occasion to comment on the attack He remarked that "it was time for all
nations, peoples, and groups to renounce that kind of religious
fanaticism be that breeds violence." And then, while urging "Christian
leaders around the world to exhort their flocks and congregations to be
tolerant toward ideas that might challenge their own deeply held
beliefs," the Secretary General suggested that it might be time to

344 take concrete steps regarding religious - extremism.

"Let our children and grandchildren," he continued, "see the
twenty-first century as the time when all the people of the earth come
together, through : the United Nations, to prevent the spread of that
species of religious funda@ou mentalism that threatens global peace."

A WEEK AFTER ReichsTAD'S DEATH, following the memorial service for their
murdered boss, Dr. Victor Beady and Dr. Curtis Jorgenson sat in Beady so
car, a quarter of a mile down the road from their research center, and
talked. They were unaware of the van parked around the corner of the
next crossroad, screened from them by some trees. The two occupants of
the van were monitoring the conversation through a listening device that
had been planted in Beady's car radio. One of the men, listening
intently through his headphones, was Nathan Goldwaithe, sometime member
of the Israeli Mossad. The other man, who was sitting next to him in the
back, adjusting the sound levels, was Caleb Meir, a fellow agent. "This
is ridiculous, conducting business in the car this way..." Jorgenson
said while he fidgeted in the passenger seat. "No, not at all. Mullburn
has the whole building and grounds wired and bugged. There are remotely
controlled video monitors everywhere," Beady reminded him. "So what is
the report? Have they named any suspects in the Reichstad thing?" "Not
that I know of. But I have read a few reports speculating that it may
have been the work of "Christian fundamentalists." That's grand--and
amusing, don't you think?" "What is the plan.. .1 need to know what our
plan is..." "Stop worrying. Take a Valium. We are now in the second
phase. Nothing's changed. And this phase is much more airtight than the
first part. Besides, when Reichstad filed that idiotic lawsuit against
MacCameron he ended up destroying any chance we had to really exploit 7QA."

The Resurrection File 389

"Now that Reichstad is.. dishe's gone.. .i'm beginning to wonder. Are
you sure it was a good idea?" "Of course. With Reichstad out of the way,
and the corpse in that tomb blown to oblivion, who is to say who that
corpse really was? All the data disappeared in the explosion. And now we
can actually turn Reichstad into a martyour for the cause of

345 scientific enlightenment, and get on with running this show our
way." "But I've still got questions about out ability to pull off this
second phase. That's why I wanted to talk. How can you be absolutely
sure you can produce the results we want?" "How? Because I'm the world's
greatest expert in radiocarbon dating since W.f. Libby, who invented
it--that's how." "You may be sure about your carbon-dating, but what
about your genetic manufacturing? Are you sure you can get our parchment
and ink to test out to 700 B.c. a hundred times out of a hundred? If
we're going to pull this off with a single fragment, it's got to
reliably date older than all the existing Old Testament manuscripts."
"Why do you think I've been doing all this in the basement of that ugly,
stuffy, windowless building? Of course I can do it. Now all we have to
do is get in touch with the right people in Syria, or Iraq, or Iran. Can
you imagine how much they'll be willing to pay us for our little
Deuteronomy production--when we tell them that the inscription on it
reads that God gave Israel' to the Arabs, through Ishmael?" In the van,
listening to the conversation, Nathan gave his partner a flinty look.
They nodded to each other as they finished capturing it on tape. The
next day they would return the rental van, destroy the audio equipment,
and convert the final audiotape to a tiny electronic strip that would
fit into the end of a fountain pen. Nathan would carry that fountain pen
clipped inside the pocket of his leather sport coat as he boarded the
airplane in New York. In less than forty-eight hours he hoped to share
his information with ranking officials within the Mossad, a few trusted
members of the Knesset--and perhaps even the prime minister of Israel.

Because it was warm that Sunday morning in MonroeviUe, the big windows
of the Mount of Olives Church of the Risen Savior were cranked wide
open. The gospel choir was singing and swinging and moving together like
an undulating field of wheat. The sounds of their hymn, and the snare
drum and electric guitars that accompanied them, floated across the
river and could be heard on the other side where some boys were fishing
by the shacks that dotted the bank. Inside, Brother Henry Bickford, the
pastor, strode up to the pulpit as the church rang with the sound of
three hundred "Amens." "We are pleased," he began, "to have a special
guest, a brother with us this morning.

346 Someone who had medical problems--very serious medical problems. To
the very point of death!" When the "Amens" died down, he continued. "But
the Lord healed him, and brought him here to us today. The Lord, who
does all things perfectly.. disthe Lord, who is from Everlasting..
disthe Lord who takes the sting out of death and snatches victory out of
the grave!" The congregation exploded into a great, surging, joyful
noise. Someone was shaking a tambourine. As the pastor introduced him,
Reverend Angus MacCameron slowly stood up, leaning on his cane, and
waved to the smiling faces in the jammed church sanctuary. MacCameron
wore the face of a man who had come back from the grave, but whose heart
was still lingering at another grave--and on the memory of the woman who
had been called into eternity before he was. While MacCameron had been
struggling to survive a heart attack and a stroke, his wife, Helen, had
quietly lost her long battle with lung cancer. Helen had been buried in
a cemetery in northern Virginia in a simple

The Resurrection File 391 ceremony, attended by Fiona Cameron, the
members of her musical group, and a few friends of the MacCameron's from
church. Will Chambers had been there. Angus MacCameron, because of his
critical medical condition, had not. However, there had seemed to be a
powerful though invisible presence of Angus during the funeral. It was a
palpable feeling as the casket of his beloved wife was lowered into the
ground. Perhaps it was because of the bagpiper who played an old
Scottish hymn at the graveside. Or perhaps it was simply that--as those
near him knew--Angus was the kind of man who had always loved his wife
more than life itself. When Angus had regained consciousness and could
be told that Helen had died, he had mourned his wife--and the fact that
he had not had a chance to tell her goodbye. But then he had said,
through his tears, "Now I will simply have to give my darling wife that
"goodbye" in glory, at the same time I give her my most magnificent
"hello.""

After Angus had resumed his seat in a tall, ornate chair just behind the
pulpit, Brother Bickford continued. "Now, Brother MacCameron is going to
deliver a message this morning called "The Resurrection of Jesus--the
Power and the Glory." But first, we are going to be blessed again by our
choir as they lift their voices to the Lord." In

347 the third row from the front was Hattie the cleaning lady, wearing
her best white hat. She adjusted her reading glasses as she studied the
church bulletin. Sitting next to Hattie was Will Chambers. Will shifted
his Bible to his hand that was nearest to Hattie, and reached his other
one over to the slender, graceful hand that was resting next to him on
the pew. He folded the fingers of his big hand around the woman's hand,
enclosing it. Fiona laughed quietly and removed Will's hand from hers,
and whispered to him, "Da always taught me that it was not appropriate
for a lady to hold hands with a man during church." "Hands?" Will asked
slyly. "Yes," Fiona replied. Then Will moved his little finger over and
wrapped it around Fiona's little finger. "Will!" Fiona said with another
hushed laugh, "You are such a lawyer." After the church service, Will
and Fiona were going to drive to Generals' Hill. Will wanted to show her
the construction that was going on at the site of his old house. Rather
than trying to replicate the pre-Civii War

392 Craig Parshall mansion that had burned to the ground, he had decided
on something else. He had always wanted to build a huge log house, the
kind that had a massive stone fireplace and high, timbered ceilings.
Will Chambers was about to do exactly that. The new home would be built,
its walls raised, its roof established, on the scorched ground of the
past. Will walked hand-in-hand with Fiona, as they looked upon the
beginnings of construction on what had been a hill of desolation. Now,
with Fiona at his side, and a peace that lay within like a calm ocean,
Will knew that this was a place where old things had passed away. He
also knew, just as surely, that for him all things were becoming new.
The long night was over. Resurrection had begun.

Coming Soon

Attorney Will Chambers continues his defense of the truth in upcoming
novels in the Chambers of Justice series. Look for future releases from
author Craig Par- shall.

About the Author

Craig Parshall is a highly successful lawyer from the Washington, D.c.,
area who specializes in cases involving civil liberties and religious
freedom. He is also the frequent spokesperson for conservative values in
mainstream and Christian media.

Along with his wife, Janet, he coauthored the book Tough Faith, which
examines current events and trends in the United States and lays out a
roadmap for Christians' conduct in the twenty-first century.

Now, in The Resurrection File, he shows himself to be a gifted novelist.

The Million Dollar Mysteries

Penny for Your Thoughts by Mindy Starns Clark "You want me to
investigate whatThat "of course," Tom said, "your safety is my uppermost
concern. If at any point you feel you are in any danger whatsoever, I
would want you to pull out of the investigation immediately. I just want
the person responsible for Wendells death found." When he put it like
that, I really had no choice. "All right, I'll do what I can," I said
finally. "Thankyou, Callie," he replied, the gratitude evident in his
voice. "You've no idea what this means to me."

Just like that, Callie Webber, business investigator, finds herself
probing the sudden death of an old family friend of her employer.
However, she soon discovers that she has placed herself in a very
dangerous position. It seems the family has some secrets they would
rather not have uncovered. Her only hope is that God will help her use
her investigative skills to discover the identity of the killer before
she becomes the next victim...

In The Million Dollar Mystery series, brand new from author Mindy Starns
Clark, attorney Callie Webber investigates nonprofit organizations for the

J.o.s.h.u.a. Foundation, giving the best of them grants ranging up to a
million dollars. In each book, Callie comes across a mystery she must
solve using her former private-eye skills. A young widow, Callie finds
strength in her faith in God and joy in her relationship with her
employer, Tom.