Background
If John Morgan were a tree, he'd be an oak; others find shelter from his strength. A character firmly rooted, drawing others to his circle of family and friends: under the shadow of the Eden Tree.
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Caleb Weingart, Professor of Ancient Languages and Artefacts at Cairo University, enjoyed happily married bliss with Miryam, his soulmate. He looked back and recalled the obstacles to their happiness, especially in their early courting.
Thirty years before, Caleb's family had been anxious that he might marry beneath himself: beneath their expectations. They had held high hopes that their son would marry an academic with similar interests to his own. To their dismay, they had discovered that he had fallen in love with Miryam Latchman, information they had gleaned from his diary under his mattress. Blushing at the intimate details of their secret meetings, they had finally confronted him.
"Caleb! Your father and I are very upset that you have been seeing this...this Miryam behind our backs!" His mother waved his diary at him. "It must stop immediately. We've made plans. Your father and I want you to have a baleboste, a homemaker for your wife," his mother continued. His father nodded; easier to agree when Mrs Weingart reached full flow.
"But we love each other..." Caleb protested in frustration.
His mother interrupted, as she often did, "Oy vey iz Mir. There are other considerations than love, Caleb! Isn't that right, Papa?" and she assailed Caleb with other pleadings and arguments. Caleb's father nodded.
"Anyway," Caleb said when his mother drew breath, "how did you find my diary? I had it hidden in my bedroom."
"No good son keeps things from his mama," Mrs Weingart said, folding her arms around the diary to her ample bosom. Mr. Weingart nodded; he kept nothing from his wife, an impossible quest. He winked at Caleb and looked proud of his son.
*
Caleb did one day marry Miryam. But he had learned from the experience with his parents that keeping his diary from prying eyes was vital. So whenever he left his study at Cairo University, he locked his diary in his desk drawer, and carried the only keys in his jacket pocket. He believed his secrets were safe.
*
Eitan Dreyfuss did not know or care what the 'stupid professor' had in his study: he just wanted to find something he could sell. Eitan worked as a cleaner at the university and he knew that he would not be under suspicion if he was spotted in the corridor with his cleaning trolley. He had tried a few doors and found with frustration that his master key didn't open them, but his heart raced when old man Weingart's door clicked open.
"Ha ha," Eitan whispered to himself, "that old goat has slipped up. What a klots, block of wood." Glancing left and right and feeling safe, Eitan entered the sanctuary of the professor, pushing his cleaning trolley. Taking a can of pine polish, he quickly sprayed the desk, making himself look busy, his eyes and ears alert.
He scanned the shelves and desk and quickly placed whatever looked valuable into his refuse sack. He secreted a clock, a silver trophy, some expensive-looking pens, and a few silver photo frames. "The old shmendrik has nothing of value. What a jerk. He even takes his laptop home," Eitan spat with disgust.
Grabbing a letter-opener from the desktop, he levered the drawer catch with a loud crack! and glanced inside. He stopped, listening carefully for any noise in the corridor. A diary rested atop papers, pens and a magnifying glass. He threw it all in with his other loot, and dragged the trolley backwards through the door. The door closed with a gentle 'clunk'. Eitan smirked and wheeled his trolley onwards to complete his shift. 'A few more hours to go,' he thought.
Hours later, his right arm above his head, he said, "What a boring old toad," and breathed a disappointed sigh as he lay in bed reading Caleb's diary. Page after page he turned over impatiently. Arriving at one page, however, the hairs on the back of his neck tingled as he read of an "ancient box with treasure". He read on, his heart pounding. He came to the last entries about the professor's nephews talking with an Englishman who would be flying over to Israel to collect the box. Eitan swallowed and checked the dates.
He rubbed his hands together. "Well, well. Perhaps there is something in this." The next morning, he spoke with some people that he often did business with, careful not to give too much away. Eitan and two others made plans to stake out the Hilton.
