The Lost Codex

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My mother’s life changed dramatically the moment her father succumbed to a fatal heart attack at the dinner table. Following that traumatic event, she took on the challenge of raising her younger brother while my grandmother went to work in Manhattan. A dozen years later, during my childhood, whenever there was an issue in our Queens neighborhood, be it a broken streetlight or a problem at our local elementary school, people knew they could rely on my mother to raise hell — and get the problem taken care of. She fought when others yielded. She persisted when others acquiesced. Most importantly, my mother taught me perseverance, a vital trait without which I never would’ve been able to overcome the obstacles I’ve encountered in life. While each of my novels could have been dedicated to my mother, my milestone tenth book is for her.

Eylad Uziel walked carefully over the rough terrain of the Qumran caves. This was Bedouin territory in land governed by Jordan, but he was an Israeli — an unusual if not suicidal proposition. Then again, no one knew his true identity or nationality. Officially, he was the primary translator on the Catholic archaeological team led by Roland de Vaux, a French Dominican priest. Their sprawling, multiyear project was like no other in history: excavating the Dead Sea Scrolls.

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