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trench is immediately occupied by the enemy.’ His expression clouded over, as if all the distressing thoughts that had temporarily lifted, had suddenly renewed their grip.
    ‘What did you find in that file?’ asked Husseini.
    Blake hesitated, as though he were reluctant to reveal a secret that he had kept to himself up until that moment.
    Husseini lowered his gaze and helped himself from the platter. ‘You don’t have to answer me,’ he added. ‘We can talk about something else. Women, politics. With everything that’s been happening out my way, there’s plenty to keep us occupied.’
    Blake ate quietly for a few more minutes. It was quiet outside too. No one was on the streets, and the snow, which had begun to fall heavily, muted even the tolling of the bell in the university tower. Blake stood up and walked to the window. He thought of the scorching sand of the Valley of the Kings and felt for a moment that he’d dreamed up the whole thing. Then he continued with his story.
    ‘The file referred to the note that I had read in the Oriental Institute papers, and there was the beginning of the transcription of a hieroglyphic text that began with this phrase: I followed the Habiru from Pi-Ramses through the Sea of Reeds and then into the desert . . . ’
    Husseini nodded. ‘Impressive, no doubt about it. How it matches the beginning of the Book of the Exodus. But you know that the ethnic name Habiru has been interpreted very differently by the experts. Although it’s commonly assumed to mean “Hebrews”, there’s no way that can be taken for granted. I hope you didn’t go and shake up the whole Institute on this basis alone . . . They would obviously have put your ass on the line.’
    ‘The style of the ideograms was extremely similar to the so-called “Israel Stele”,’ observed Blake, clearly offended.
    Husseini seemed to reconsider. ‘No, that’s very impressive, I’d say. Sorry, I didn’t mean to question your competence. It’s just that certain things are very hard to believe. I’ll make more coffee. Would you like some?’
    ‘Sure, as long as you don’t start playing that music with your mortar again.’
    ‘American-style, filtered,’ said Husseini, taking a pot from the coffee maker, ‘otherwise we’ll never sleep again.’
    ‘That transcription, backed by Breasted’s reputation as the foremost expert in the field, contained the most explicit evidence of the historical reliability of the Book of Exodus ever found in any source apart from the Bible. And so I was determined to get to the bottom of it. Breasted had diligently noted where the original could be found. He had seen the papyrus in the house of a certain Mustafa Mahmoud at El Qurna, and had tried to buy it for the Oriental Institute. He had only managed to read the first line and copy the ideograms before the papyrus was put away.’
    ‘El Qurna is a tomb raider’s paradise. Crawling with forgeries as well, my friend. My bet is that he fell for a trap.’
    ‘Even so, I felt that the stakes were too high for me to drop my investigation there, and anyway Breasted was no dupe. If he was convinced that papyrus was authentic, I’d say there was a good chance that it was. Having weighed all the pros and cons, I thought it was worth the risk and I persuaded the department to allocate a considerable sum for field research that I would carry out personally. Olsen’s vote was conclusive for the financing.’
    ‘So you failed. And afterwards they were all there like vultures waiting to pick at your carcass. Right?’
    ‘Just a minute, dear colleague. I’m not that stupid. The papyrus did exist. And probably still does.’
    Husseini took a deep drag on his cigarette and shook his head. ‘Nearly ninety years have passed—’
    ‘I’m telling you that the papyrus existed . . . does exist.’
    ‘If you can’t prove it, it’s as if it didn’t, and you know that better than I do. Anyway, I’d like to know how you can be so sure.