Contract With God (33 page)

‘Can’t we pull away the stones one at a time?’

‘Not without knowing how thick the wall is and what’s behind it.’

‘And how are you going to do that?’

‘By looking inside.’

Four hours later, with Brian Hanley and Tommy Eichberg helping him, David Pappas had managed to drill a small hole through the wall. They’d had to take apart the motor of the large rock drill - which they hadn’t used as yet, since they’d only had to dig through earth and sand - and lower it part by part into the tunnel. Hanley put together a strange-looking contraption from the pieces of the wrecked mini-excavator at the entrance to the cave.

‘Now that’s recycling!’ Hanley said, pleased with his creation.

The result, besides being ugly, was not very practical. It took all four of them to hold it in place, pushing with all their strength. To make matters worse, only the smallest drill bits could be used, to avoid subjecting the wall to excessive vibration. ‘Seven feet,’ Hanley yelled, above the clanking sound of the motor.

David pushed a fibre-optic camera connected to a small view-finder through the hole, but the cable attached to the camera was too stiff and short and the ground on the other side was full of obstacles.

‘Shit! I won’t be able to see anything like this.’

Feeling something graze her, Andrea brought her hand up to the back of her neck. Someone was throwing small stones at her. She turned around.

Forrester was trying to get her attention, unable to make himself heard above the din of the motor. Pappas went over and leaned his ear towards the old man.

‘That’s it,’ David yelled, both agitated and overjoyed. ‘That’s what we’ll do, Professor. Brian, do you think you can make the hole a little bigger? Say about three-quarters of an inch by an inch and a quarter?’

‘Don’t even joke about it,’ Hanley said, scratching his head. ‘We don’t have any small drill bits left.’

Wearing thick gloves he was removing the last of the smoking drill bits, which had bent out of shape. Andrea remembered when she’d tried to hang a beautiful framed photo of the Manhattan skyline in her apartment on a weight-bearing wall. Her drill bit had been about as useful as a pretzel stick.

‘Frick would probably have known what to do,’ said Brian sadly, looking at the corner where his friend had died. ‘He had a lot more experience of this kind of thing than I do.’

Pappas didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. The others could almost hear him thinking.

‘What if I let you use the medium-sized drill bits?’ he finally said.

‘Then there wouldn’t be a problem. I could have it done in two hours. But the vibration is going to be that much greater. The area is clearly unstable . . . it’s a big risk. You’re aware of that?’

David laughed, without a drop of humour.

‘You’re asking me if I’m aware that four thousand tons of rocks might come crashing down, pulverising the greatest object in the history of the world? That it would destroy many years of work and an investment of millions of dollars? That it would render pointless the sacrifice of five people?’

Fuck! He’s completely different today. He’s as . . . contaminated by the whole thing as the professor
, Andrea thought.

‘Yes, I’m aware, Brian,’ David added. ‘And I’m going to take that risk.’

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN

 

 

Andrea took another photo of Pappas kneeling in front of the stone wall. His face was in shadow, but the device he was using to look through the hole was clearly visible.

Much better, David . . . not that you’re exactly a great beauty
, Andrea observed wryly to herself. In a few hours she would regret having that thought, but at that moment there was nothing closer to the truth. That machine was amazing.

‘Stowe used to call it an ATER. Annoying Terrain Explorer Robot, but we call it Freddie.’

‘Any special reason?’

‘Just to fuck with Stowe. He was an arrogant prick,’ David replied. Andrea was surprised at the anger displayed by the usually timid archaeologist.

Freddie was a mobile camera system with a remote control that could be used in places where human access would be dangerous. It had been developed by Stowe Erling, who would sadly not be there to witness his robot’s debut. In order to navigate obstacles such as rocks, Freddie had been equipped with treads similar to those used on tanks. The robot was also submersible for periods of up to ten minutes. Erling had copied the idea from a group of archaeologists working in Boston and had recreated it with the help of some engineers from MIT-who were suing him for going off on this mission with the first prototype, although this was something that would no longer trouble Erling.

‘We’ll put it through the opening to obtain views of the grotto’s interior,’ said David. ‘That way we’ll be able to figure out if it’s safe to knock down the wall without damaging what’s on the other side.’

‘How can the robot see in there?’

‘Freddie is equipped with night-vision lenses. The central mechanism throws out an infrared beam that only the lens can pick up. The images aren’t very good quality, but they’re good enough. The only thing we have to watch for is that it doesn’t get stuck or tip over. If that happens, we’re finished.’

 

The first few feet were fairly straightforward. The initial stage, although narrow, gave Freddie sufficient room to get into the cave. Crossing the uneven area between the wall and the ground was a little more difficult as it was rough and full of loose rocks. Luckily the robot’s treads could be operated independently, enabling it to turn and circumnavigate lesser obstacles.

‘Sixty degrees to the left,’ said David, focusing on the screen, where he could see little more than a field of rocks in black and white. Tommy Eichberg was manipulating the controls at David’s request, since he had a steady hand despite his chubby fingers. Each tread was operated by means of a small wheel on the controls, connected to Freddie via two thick cables that provided power and could also be used to haul in the machine manually should something go wrong.

‘We’re almost there. Oh no!’

The screen jumped around as the robot nearly tipped over.

‘Shit! Be careful, Tommy,’ David yelled.

‘Take it easy, kid. These wheels are more sensitive than a nun’s clit. Excuse the language, miss,’ Tommy said, turning to Andrea. ‘My mouth is straight out of the Bronx.’

‘Don’t worry about it. My ears are from Harlem,’ said Andrea, going along with the joke.

‘You have to stabilise the thing a little more,’ said David.

‘I’m trying!’

Eichberg turned the wheel carefully and the robot began to cross the uneven ground.

‘Any idea how much distance Freddie has covered?’ Andrea asked.

‘About eight feet from the wall,’ David replied, drying the sweat on his brow. Each minute the temperature was increasing because of the generator and the intense lighting.

‘And it has—Wait!’

‘What?’

‘I think I saw something,’ Andrea said.

‘Are you sure? It’s not easy turning this thing around.’

‘Tommy, please, go to the left.’

Eichberg looked at Pappas, who nodded. Slowly, the picture on the screen began to move, revealing a dark, roundish contour.

‘Go back a little.’

Two triangles with thin ridges appeared, one next to the other.

A row of squares grouped together.

‘A little further back. You’re too close.’

Finally, the geometry was transformed into something recognisable.

‘Oh, Lord. It’s a skull.’

Andrea looked at Pappas with satisfaction.

‘There’s your answer: that’s how they managed to seal the chamber from the inside, David.’

The archaeologist wasn’t listening. He was focused on the screen, mumbling, his hands clutching it like an insane fortune-teller looking into a crystal ball. A drop of sweat slid from his greasy nose and landed on the image of the skull where the dead person’s cheek would have been.

Just like a teardrop
, thought Andrea.

‘Quickly, Tommy! Go around it and then go forward a little more,’ Pappas said. His voice sounded even more strained. ‘To the left, Tommy!’

‘Easy, kid. Let’s do this calmly. I think there’s—’

‘Let me do it,’ David said, grabbing for the controls.

‘What are you doing?’ Eichberg said angrily. ‘Fuck! Let go.’

Pappas and Eichberg struggled over the controls for a few seconds, knocking the wheel in the process. David’s face was a vivid red and Eichberg was breathing heavily.

‘Be careful!’ Andrea yelled as she stared at the screen. The image was lurching around madly.

Suddenly it stopped moving. Eichberg let go of the controls and David fell back, cutting himself on the temple as he hit the corner of the monitor. But at that moment he was more concerned with what he’d just seen than with the cut on his head.

‘That’s what I was trying to tell you, kid,’ Eichberg said. ‘The ground is uneven.’

‘Shit. Why didn’t you let go?’ David yelled. ‘The machine’s tipped over.’

‘Just shut up,’ Eichberg yelled back. ‘You’re the one rushing things.’

Andrea screamed for both of them to be quiet.

‘Stop arguing! It hasn’t fallen over completely. Take a look.’ She was pointing at the screen.

Still angry, the two men approached the monitor. Brian Hanley, who had gone outside to get some tools and had been abseiling down during the brief fight, drew closer as well.

‘I think we can fix that,’ he said, studying the situation. ‘If we all pull on the cable at the same time we can probably get the robot back on its treads. If we pull on it too gently all we’ll do is drag it and it’ll get stuck.’

‘That won’t work,’ Pappas said. ‘We’ll yank the cable off.’

‘We’ve nothing to lose by trying, right?’

They lined up, each one holding the cable with both hands, as close as possible to the opening. Hanley pulled the cable taut.

‘On my count pull hard. One, two, three!’

The four of them yanked the cable at the same time. Suddenly it felt too loose in their hands.

‘Shit. We’ve disconnected it.’

Hanley continued pulling on the cable until the end appeared.

‘You’re right. Shit! I’m sorry, Pappas . . .’

The young archaeologist turned away, exasperated, ready to pound whoever or whatever was in front of him. He lifted a wrench and was about to hit the monitor, maybe in retaliation for the cut he’d received two minutes before.

But Andrea came closer and then she understood.

The transmission from the robot had remained on the screen. When they had pulled on the cable Freddie had righted himself before the cable had become disconnected. In another position without the skull blocking the way, the image on screen showed a flash of something that Andrea could not understand at first. Then she realised that it was the infrared beam reflecting off a metallic surface. The reporter thought she could see the irregular edge of what appeared to be a huge box. On top of it she thought she saw a figure but she couldn’t be sure.

The person who was sure was Pappas, who was gazing at it, hypnotised.

‘It’s there, Professor. I’ve found it. I’ve found it for you . . .’

Andrea turned towards the professor and took a photo without thinking. She was trying to get his first reaction, whatever it was - surprise, joy, the culmination of his long search and dedication and emotional isolation. She took three shots before she really looked at the old man.

There was no expression in his eyes and from his mouth there was only a bloody trickle that ran down into his beard.

Brian ran over to him.

‘Shit! We have to get him out of here. He’s not breathing.’

NEW YORK

 

 

Yudel was so hungry he could hardly feel the rest of his body. He was aware only of dragging himself through Manhattan’s streets looking for shelter in the doorways and alleys, never staying long in one place. There was always a sound, a light or a voice that frightened him and he would run, clutching the ragged change of clothes that was the only thing he owned. Except for his stay in Istanbul, the only homes he’d known were the hideout he’d lived in with his family, and the hold of the ship. For the boy, the chaos, noise and bright lights of New York were all part of a frightening jungle that was filled with danger. He drank from public fountains. At one point a drunken beggar grabbed the boy’s leg as he passed. Later, a policeman called to him from a corner. His uniform reminded Yudel of the monster with the flashlight who had searched for them while they hid under the stairs at Judge Rath’s house. He ran to hide.

The sun was setting on the afternoon of his third day in New York when the exhausted boy collapsed in a pile of rubbish in a dirty alleyway near Broome Street. Above him, the tenements were filled with the sound of pots and pans, arguments, sexual encounters, life. Yudel must have passed out for a few moments. When he came to, something was crawling over his face. He knew what it was before he opened his eyes. The rat paid him no attention. It was headed for an overturned bin, where it had scented a piece of dry bread. It was a large piece, too big to carry off, so the rat gnawed at it voraciously.

Yudel crawled over to the bin and grabbed a can, his fingers shaking from hunger. He hurled it at the rat and missed. The rat looked up at him briefly and then went back to gnawing the bread. The boy grabbed a broken umbrella handle and shook it at the rat, which finally ran off in search of an easier way to satisfy its hunger.