Sami left the room with Omar Yussef, while the priest again worked the combination on the safe.

In the stairwell, Sami pursed his lips. “He’s lying,” he whispered.

“You’re right,” Omar Yussef said. “Why would someone steal the scroll and simply give it back?”

The priest came out of the office and shut the metal door. He straightened his fez, gave a brittle, polite smile and gestured for them to lead the way up the stairs.

“Forgive me if I seem to be overprotective of the scroll, pasha,” he said.

Omar Yussef blanched at the unearned senior rank mistakenly accorded him by the priest. Thanks be to Allah that he doesn’t expect me to arrest anyone, he thought.

“It truly is important to the redemption of the entire world,” the priest continued. “You see, our holy texts tell us that the Messiah will be born to the tribe of Levi or Joseph. We Samaritans are all that’s left of those two tribes. But what makes us Samaritans? Only that we celebrate Passover and also the Feast of Tabernacles in the way taught by our tradition.”

“With the Abisha Scroll at the head of your procession.”

The priest opened a hand to acknowledge that Omar Yussef’s understanding was correct. “If we were to miss both these festivals for a single year, we would no longer be Samaritans. The lines of Levi and Joseph would come to an end, and there would be no possibility of a Messiah being born to redeem mankind.”

Omar Yussef stroked his chin with his knuckles. “Were there other ancient documents in the safe?”

“A few, but nothing else was taken.” The priest looked out of the window at Mount Jerizim. “Most of our ancient documents are kept in my house on top of the mountain. Some are almost a thousand years old. But none are nearly as old as the Abisha Scroll. Only the most valuable are stored here in the safe.”