The Jesus Files

By Chad Stauber

A MYSTERY-THRILLER following a scholar named Josh Koseman in his search for understanding about the life of the historical Jesus... AFTER THE DISAPPEARANCE of his mentor, Myriam de Tourelle, a business man approaches Josh with a proposition: to help him find an ancient lost gospel describing an odd early Christian ritual... AS THE STORY proceeds through the streets of Jerusalem then of Rome, it turns out that several groups are vying to attain the gospel, the contents of which will scandalize the world. Within this maelstrom of turmoil, the scroll becomes a catalyst for change - Josh must face his own past and the demons it contains... --- Dr. Chad Stauber (alumnus of Massey College; PhD, University of Toronto; MA, Hebrew University of Jerusalem) is a specialist in the Second Temple period, early Christianity and the Dead Sea Scrolls.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329156234

Book preview

The Jesus Files

The Jesus Files: A Novella

By Chad Stauber, PhD

Copyright

Copyright © 2015 by Chad Stauber

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

First EBook Printing: 2015

ISBN 978-1-329-15623-4

DSS Publishing (Domus Stauber-Sabaudiensis)

Toronto, Ontario

www.thejesusfiles.com

Book I: Discovery

Chapter 1

Myriam de Tourelle started to struggle again ― her hands had been bound to the chair with such rigour that she felt the skin on her wrists tear as she tried to free them. She moved them back and forth against the rough twine then gave up once again.

‘If I can only get this rope off!’ she thought to herself.

Her captor had only bound her hands, but they were tied so tightly to the lowest rung on the back of the chair it was impossible for her to stand up.

The corners and extremities of the room were dark as pitch except for a dull glow of light emanating from the edge of an obscured window. She could hear the voices of pedestrians and the rumble of traffic at street-level mixed with the sound of subterranean dripping. Unfortunately, her own murmurs were muffled by a broad piece of duct-tape plastered across her mouth.

As she thought about her situation she couldn’t hold back tears from running down her cheeks. While she had seen scenes of kidnappings in the movies, she had never imagined she’d be in a similar situation. A gruesome thought kept coming back to her.

‘Please God, don’t let them torture me… I can’t go this way!’

At that moment, the sound of a door-knob creaked through the void and a harsh beam of light from the upper room shone down.  A form descended into the basement with heavy steps. Myriam’s eyes shut as they tried to adjust to the new intensity of light, and when she opened them, a broad-shouldered man in taupe garb was standing in front of her holding a letter.

Good evening, Prof. de Tourelle, said the man in a lewd tone. I’d like to have a conversation with you again. I trust you won’t get too loud if I take this tape off?

The man grabbed the end of the tape and ripped it off with a brusque pull. Myriam let out a sharp shriek then quickly shut her mouth ― glaring in dead silence. His sadistic eyes were bulging from their sockets.

Good girl. Nice and quiet. You’ve probably realized that no one will hear you down here. I feel bad that we’ve been introduced in such a brutal manner, but I can assure you ― we’re actually interested in collaborating. In fact, we’re willing to pay you handsomely. It doesn’t have to be like this.

"Please! I’ve told you already, I have no idea how I could even collaborate. I barely understand what it contains! Besides, I don’t know where it is anymore!"

Her captor shook his head from side to side, a thick smirk forming on his face.

Prof. de Tourelle, please don’t play me for a fool! We’ve already seen some of your notes. We just want it. Either you’re on our side, or you’re against us. Trust me, I’ll exterminate you if you’re not cooperative. On the flipside, if you help us, I have the authority to cut you a nice fat cheque.

He waved the letter he was holding as he spoke.

As frightened as she was, Myriam began to seethe with anger.

I told you already ― I don’t know where the scroll is!

The man nodded his head.

I will only make this offer once.

Myriam felt like she was in a nightmare. Struggling yet paralyzed. Hoping to wake up. She wanted to go home and pretend she had never heard of this damned scroll. She had laboured over it ― it seemed now like she couldn’t remember a time when it didn’t exist. Above all, she knew it was her responsibility to protect its contents. After a long pause, she looked up to the man and retaliated with resolution.

You bastards have no clue!

If the man’s eyes had been protruding before, now they were ready to burst out of their sockets.

"You stupid bitch! he exclaimed savagely. You’re the one with no clue. I’ll get what I want even if I have to beat it out of you!"

He delayed for a moment then ― without warning ― hit her across the face with the back of his fist. She felt dazed after the sharp impact, and before she could say a word he had re-taped her mouth. Myriam felt the blood trickling from her nose down her chin ― this physical sensation was coupled with a sense of complete hopelessness enveloping her.

She tried to look around ― the sadist had disappeared out of direct view to some other part of the basement. She could hear him mumbling to the right of her, accompanied by the sound of clinking metal objects. After a brief pause, she heard the words she had feared since the beginning of the ordeal.

If you won’t talk, I’ll use some persuasion!

Her adrenaline began to surge ― she started to wrestle with her hands. The rope was loosening, and she was nearly able to get one hand free. Then, the sound of a drill sounded out in staccato thrusts.

"How about we drill for some information?"

Her struggling escalated to writhing and finally one hand popped out of the loop that had bound it. The rope fell from the back of the chair.

The shadowy figure moved in front of her again, wielding a large drill that looked like it was for boring holes in cement.

How about I drill you a little then we’ll see if you feel like having a little chat…

He pressed the trigger and it gave out a rusty screech. He revved it several times then pointed it at her thigh. Myriam glared at the drill. He engaged it again and a steady, piercing sound filled the hollow space.

Time slowed as he approached. The terrifying noise disappeared from immediate perception and was replaced by the sound of blood pulsing in her ears. It was as if God had slowed down time. Slowed it down for her to react. Without hesitation, her fist came barreling around from behind her and hit him dead in the eye.

The assailant dropped the drill as Myriam plunged to the floor, trying to get her bearings.

"Porca troia!" he screamed out, covering his eye as he groped.

Myriam fumbled around for any solid object her trembling hands could find. They chanced upon a two-by-four. In what felt like a Benaiahian moment of victory, she leapt to her feet and hit him across the head so hard that she heard an echoing crack.

The Egyptian tumbled to the ground like a rock. Myriam stood up over him and like a blood-thirsty bacchante, smashed his skull repeatedly with the implement. She let go of the weapon, which hit the floor with a hollow clunk. It was as if she had awoken from a dream and lying before her was a spectre incarnate. Beside his head ― a charnel pile in a pool of blood ― had dropped the letter he had been holding. Myriam could only see two words ― nihil obstat.

She tore off the tape covering her mouth, and tears began to run down her cheeks. Never in her life had she hurt another human on purpose. Yet here in front of her was her executioner ― she had cheated Death by offering a sacrifice in her place.

Although she was overwhelmed by the nightmarish ordeal, she knew she had to escape. She peered up to the blacked-out window, still hearing voices and traffic. She opened it, climbed out into the back alley, and began to limp away as