The Six Messiahs - Mark Frost [23]
Stern, as well as Innes, stared at him uncomprehending, mouth agape.
"Have I left anything off?" asked Doyle.
Stern slowly shook his head.
"How in the world ..." began Innes.
"You wear a Star of David around your neck at the end of that chain."
Stern lifted the medallion, as described, from under his shirt.
"But how did you know he was Russian?" asked Innes.
"Stern is a fairly common diminution—Americanization, if you will—of an entire subgroup of Russian surnames. You display none of the obvious outward signs of a devout, Orthodox Jew—it's likely your father, who was undoubtedly part of the first wholesale immigration from Russia to New York a generation ago, is more avidly a practitioner—in spite of which you wear a religious symbol concealed around your neck, indicating some self-division about your status; a conflict not uncommon in the relationship between a father and his eldest son.
"The uppers of your shoes—relatively new as indicated by the lack of wear on the edge of the soles; purchased with the last few weeks—are a distinctive Spanish leather particular to Seville. Your stay in that one city was of sufficient length to have this pair of shoes crafted to order—three weeks to a month usually—which suggests you were probably there on business. And this afternoon I happened to overhear a portion of your conversation with the Captain about the safekeeping of a book."
Stern let them know all of Doyle's conclusions were accurate, save two: His shoes had been purchased from a bootmaker on Jermyn Street in London, where his recent business had been conducted—he'd never set foot in Spain—but yes the leather had been sold to him as a product of Seville, and the book in question was indeed of Spanish origin.
Innes shared but did not disclose his equal astonishment, unwilling to indicate either undue admiration of or a lack of solidarity with his brother. He knew Arthur had consulted with the police from time to time, and of course he'd written those detective stories, but had no idea his detective skills were sharpened to such a remarkable edge.
"So, Mr. Stern," continued Doyle, standing over the man, hands folded magisterially behind his back, "now you had better tell us about this book the parties allegedly following you are so interested in and how it came into your possession."
Stern nodded, running his pale, slender hands back through his unruly hair. "It is called the Sefer ha-Zohar, or Book of Zohar, which means 'The Book of Splendor,' a collection of twelfth-century writings that originated in Spain. They are the basis of what is known in Judaism as Kabbalah."
"The tradition of Jewish mysticism," said Doyle; he searched his mind, finding his hard knowledge of the subject frustratingly scant.
"That's right. The Zohar has been for centuries a restricted document, studied only by an eccentric line of rabbinical scholars."
"Well, what is it?" asked Innes, lost as a motherless calf.
"Kabbalah? Hard to describe, really; a patchwork of medieval philosophy and folklore, scriptural interpretations, legends of creation, mystical theology, cosmogony, anthropology, transmigration of souls."
"Oh," said Innes, feeling sorry he'd asked.
"Most of it's written as a dialogue between a legendary, perhaps fictional teacher by the name of Rabbi Simeon bar Yochai and his son and disciple, Eleazar. The two supposedly hid in a cave for thirteen years to avoid prosecution by the Roman emperor; when the emperor died and the Rabbi came out of seclusion, he was so disturbed by the lack of spirituality he saw among his people that he went right back into the cave, to meditate for guidance. After a year, he heard a voice that told him to let ordinary people go their own way and to teach only the ones who were ready. The Zohar is the record of those teachings, written down by his followers."
"Not unlike the Socratic dialogues of Plato and... er, what's his name," said Innes, not wanting to appear entirely ignorant, although he still had only