Guggenheim Bilbao
Bilbao, Spain
Present Day
“R
eady?”
Archaeology Professor Laura Palmer’s heart raced as she stared at the shroud-covered table in front of them. Their host, Professor Yves Marchand, stood beside it, one corner of the shroud gripped in his hand as her husband, James Acton, shook with anticipation. “Does a bear—”
She squeezed his arm hard, ending what was to be yet another unfortunate one-liner.
“Yes,” he said wisely.
Marchand removed the shroud with a flourish, and they both gasped in awe at the sight. The Bible lay split into two halves under protective glass, highlighted from above as if from the heavens, the massive tome.
“Unbelievable!” whispered James as he slowly circled the incredible historical find. She had seen one of the other Bibles several years ago, and had planned on watching her husband’s reaction, but those thoughts were lost as she was taken in by the pristine condition.
“It’s remarkably preserved,” she observed. “I knew from the pictures it would be, but in person…” She sighed, shaking her head. “Simply stunning. This is in better condition than the Codex Amiatinus, I can assure you.”
“After the discovery, I was fortunate enough to be able to see the Codex Amiatinus for comparison purposes, and I have to agree.”
James pointed at a thin hole that appeared to go through one half of the Bible, perhaps a couple of inches in length. “What do you think made—” A faint alarm sounded and they all froze. “What’s that?”
Marchand dismissed any concern with a wave of his hand. “It’s nothing. Just the alarm from a fire door. I accidentally set one off this morning when I went for a cigarette.”
“There’s no sign?”
“There is.” He shrugged. “I thought it was just for show!”
Laura leaned in to examine the cut sliced through the center of one half of the Bible, curious as to what could have made such a distinct hole, when the unmistakable sound of gunfire shattered their calm.
Signaling what was certain to be another harrowing day in their tumultuous lives.
