Reckoning Read Online Free PDF

science, the more technical reference of knowledge, while Simon personified the more sensitive spiritual acumen, and also commanded the power and protection of Rome.
    More than once, to Malachi's astonishment, Simon's quiet, humble voice, with his fearful evocation of the Roman Catholic Church, had preserved both their excavations and lives in countries as diverse as Iran, Syria, and Egypt. Though, for the most part, they executed their last expedition in the Negeb of Israel without incident until that day of remarkable discovery, when the horror was unearthed, and the terror began.
    Fulfilling his solemn responsibility, even as his duties required, Simon immediately sent a dispatch to Rome, alerting Pope Clement. Then Malachi and Simon began an immediate translation.
    Malachi remembered how they had worked ceaselessly through the next 48 hours, carefully completing a Latin translation of the ancient book that was long ago sealed with the emblem of Titus Flavius Vespasian, Emperor of Rome. By the time they finished the translation, the scorching desert air had almost obliterated the original writing, leaving only isolated lettering and the faintest swirling on the crumbling parchment. But by that solemn hour, both he and Simon had realized, with the most profound regret, what they had truly discovered. And, as reluctant brothers in a horrible crime, they planned to burn the parchment.
    It was an act that went against everything Malachi knew and believed, for his was a life dedicated to the discovery and preservation of lost artifacts and texts and civilizations. But the manuscript was not part of history, he told himself. No. It was part of death itself, and had no place in the world of men. Before the dark deed could be completed, however, an official emissary from Rome arrived, demanding the manuscript under the authority of Clement. Always loyal, old Simon reluctantly surrendered the parchment.
    Malachi never saw it again.
    Awakened from his memory, the professor found himself in his bedchamber. He touched the lamp upon his desk, and the room was instantly bright. But he sensed a presence beside him in the chamber, and his heart skipped a beat as he turned, gasping and livid, towards the still form sitting in the chair at his bed.
    Malachi froze, unable to run, unable to shout, and struggled to meet death as he had always intended, with dignity, his faith defiant to whatever painful end was forced upon him. Yet the stranger did not move, did not speak, and the professor squinted, peering, to discern the form.
    The stranger was dressed in subdued clothing, a vague array of gray and black. Yet the athletic build was evident, muscular but lithe, like the body of a professional boxer. Not over muscular, it was hardened and powerful, even in stillness presenting an impression of explosive power and swift agility.
    Recovering with each moment, Malachi studied the stranger's features. Though only in his early thirties, the man's deeply tanned face betrayed the weathered signs of long exposure to sun and wind; it was lined and toughened, aged beyond his years. His collar-length dark brown hair was raggedly cut, providing a shaggy frame to the lean face. The faint image of a thin white scar descended from an area beside his left eye, drawing a line past his cheekbone. It was almost imperceptible, as if the wound had occurred long ago. Smaller scars crisscrossed the weathered face: the white trace of another cut, a long, scarred burn mark, narrow as a man's finger, on the left side of his neck.
    The face reminded Malachi of photos he had seen of the last Apache warriors, those hardened desert fighters who had savagely refused surrender until they were finally, brutally conquered only by superior force.
    The man's mouth was tight and slightly frowning, as if stoically indifferent to pain or pleasure. But it was the narrow eyes, seeming to shift from blue to gray, that struck Malachi as remark-able, and held him.
    Predatory and