The Lost Book of Mormon Part 2

A mystery woman brought me a priceless archeological artifact.

I was speechless—captivated by her beauty and excited by the possibility of participating in momentous find of great historical and cultural significance.

My jaw must have dropped because she looked at me quite pleased, and I thought, feeling vindicated.

“Sariah…I’m overwhelmed…speechless. Of course, you must know what you’ve found.”

“I do—at least, I’m fairly certain—I just want confirmation.”

I nodded, “And I too need a second opinion. If you don’t mind, I’d like to consult with a colleague who specializes in this area.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “I’ll leave my phone number and we can set up an appointment.”

After she left, I was trembling with excitement. I was on the phone immediately to Jerrod Mason at the Antiquities branch of the Smithsonian.

“I’ve an artifact here you’ll want to see.”

“Oh please, Paul—not Native American—I’m up to my ears.”

“It’s Mormon.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, it’s genuine and was brought personally to me by a woman. She guards it with her life. But I don’t want to speak about it on the phone. How soon can you be here?”

“I’ll grab a flight and be there later tonight. Oh, and by the way, don’t let her out of your sight.”

“No problem with that,” I smiled.

We met with Sariah the next day. Jerrod’s reaction was the same as mine. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it. This metal book has caused such controversy—particularly for the Smithsonian—and here I am, holding it in my hands.”

“Then, you’re not convinced it’s gold?” asked Sariah, a concerned look on her face.

“It’s copper with gold overlay—See?” He held out the artifact to her. “If you look closely you’ll notice the leaves are thin as tin and engraved on both sides with a dark stain that makes the hieroglyphs easier to read.”

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed.

Jerrod was quick to reassure her.

“Oh, but that’s not the point—the gold doesn’t make it wondrous—its mere existence does. This is amazing,” he said, hefting the tome, “it weighs about 50 pounds and these D-shaped silver binding rings allow it to open like a book. Marvelous!”

“Can you decipher the writing?” I asked.

“No,” he frowned, “it’s not an known script—in fact, I doubt it’s a known language at all.”

“That’s interesting.”

Sariah was looking quite defensive.

I intervened. “It doesn’t detract from the find,” I reassured her.

Her demeanor had definitely changed, however, and she wasn’t convinced by my words.

Jerrod enthused, “You’ll want this authenticated by several experts and then I’m sure it will be exhibited…”

“No,” she said firmly. “That wouldn’t be right.”

“But surely you wouldn’t want such a marvelous object hidden away in a museum vault?”

“I’m not sure what I want.” She placed the book back in the bag and reached for her coat.

The look of alarm on Jerrod’s face told me I’d better say something.

“Can we meet later for dinner, Sariah—just you and me—and discuss this?”

Her eyes darted from me to Jerrod, but in the end, she relented.

“Why don’t we meet at Coro’s at eight?” I suggested, figuring she’d feel more vulnerable if I came to her apartment.

She nodded and left in a somber mood.

Jerrod was beside himself. “What the hell is she doing, Paul—does she walk around with that satchel like a military aide carrying the nuclear football?”

“Maybe she feels more comfortable with it in her possession.”

“It doesn’t belong to her you know—it belongs to posterity.”

I nodded. “She’ll have to be recompensed and reassured that no harm will come to it.”

“Damn it, Paul—it’s more than that—she’s guarding it like the Ark of the Covenant.”

“I’ll talk with her, Jerrod. Let’s just be gentle with her for now—go slowly.”

He wasn’t convinced, but there wasn’t much he could do.

Hell, there wasn’t anything either of us could do—she held the book.

It was her call.

© 2018, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

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