The Covenant of Genesis (3 page)

‘We destroyed them and the site,’ cut in Zamal bluntly.

Ribbsley looked towards the darkened opening. ‘So, you just decided to bomb the site. I see.’ A pause, then he wheeled about on one heel, voice dripping sarcasm. ‘And what
exactly
did you expect me to learn from a smouldering crater?’

‘We still have copies of the survey team’s photographs,’ said di Bonaventura. He beckoned a younger man, another blond European, to approach. The soldier held up a manila envelope.

Ribbsley dismissed it. ‘Happy snaps taken by oily-thumbed roughnecks are hardly going to be helpful.’ He reached under the brim of his hat to knead his forehead with his fingertips. ‘Do you know why translating this language has been so hard? Why it took eight years for me to work out even the basics?’ He lowered his hand and glared at Zamal. ‘Because every time the Covenant finds even the tiniest scrap of anything new, they blow it up and kill everyone in the vicinity!’

‘That is the Covenant’s purpose,’ Zamal said angrily.

‘Yes, if you take the most literal, block-headed interpretation possible.’ Ribbsley let out a theatrical sigh. ‘Flies, honey, vinegar, catch . . . can anyone rearrange these words into a well-known phrase or saying?’

‘You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar?’ offered the soldier with the envelope, a Germanic accent to his clipped English.

Ribbsley clapped his hands. ‘Top marks! Jonas, who is this prodigy?’

‘Killian Vogler,’ said di Bonaventura. ‘My protégé.’ A note of challenge entered his words, as if daring Ribbsley to continue mocking him. ‘I will soon be retiring from the Covenant for a new position in Rome - Killian will take my place in the Triumvirate.’

Ribbsley backed down, slightly. ‘A new position? Still
in pectore
, I assume . . . Well then, I hope this young gentleman keeps the saying he just recited in mind once he takes your place.’ Vogler gave him a sardonic look. ‘The next time you make a discovery like this, Mr Vogler, perhaps you might consider allowing me to examine the site
before
you blow it to pieces? If I can decipher more of the language, I may be able to locate other sites - before they’re stumbled upon by random passers-by whom you then have to kill.’

‘I will bear it in mind, Mr Ribbsley,’ said Vogler with a humourless smile.

‘
Professor
Ribbsley, thank you very much,’ Ribbsley snapped. He snatched the envelope from Vogler’s hand and riffled through the contents. ‘Well, it seems consistent with the other sites - the
remains
of the other sites, that is. And the characters on the tablet in this photo do match the Veteres alphabet. But there’s nothing I haven’t already seen.’ He looked back at the cave. ‘What else is in there?’

Di Bonaventura nodded to Vogler. ‘Killian will show you. You may as well get to know each other - I’m sure you will be working together again in the future . . .’

 

Ribbsley emerged from the cave just ten minutes later, disappointed and angry.

‘Nothing,’ he said, shooting an accusing glare at Zamal. ‘Absolutely nothing worthwhile was left intact. Just more scraps.’ In one hand he had a clay cylinder about two inches in diameter, fine grooves encircling its length - up to the point where it ended in a jagged break. He dropped it to the ground at his feet; it shattered. ‘A complete waste of my time.’

‘For which you are being very well rewarded,’ di Bonaventura reminded him. ‘And you still have the photographs of the site.’

‘I already told you, there’s nothing new on them. I’ll be able to translate the text properly once I can check my notes, but I could read enough to know it’s nothing of interest.’ He looked at his helicopter. The young woman was still in the cockpit, clearly bored. ‘Well, since there’s nothing more for me here, I’ll be going. I do hate the desert.’ He irritably brushed some sand off his white cotton sleeve.

‘I’ll walk you to your helicopter, Gabriel,’ said di Bonaventura. Ribbsley started towards the aircraft without even looking back at the others, di Bonaventura beside him. ‘What were you
thinking
?’ said the soldier in a quiet growl once they were out of earshot.

‘About what?’

‘Bringing your - your
girlfriend
with you. Are you mad? Zamal would have shot her without a thought just for being here, and Hammerstein would not have tried to stop him.’

Ribbsley smiled. ‘Ah, but I knew you’d be in charge, Jonas.’

‘Not for much longer. Once I go back to Rome, all I can do is advise. Killian will be making the decisions in the Triumvirate. And despite my teaching, he is still young enough to see the world in absolutes. And one of those absolutes is that anyone who could reveal the secret of the Veteres to the world is a threat to be eliminated.’

‘Don’t even think about hurting her,’ said Ribbsley, a sudden hardness in his voice.

Di Bonaventura regarded him with mild surprise. ‘She’s that important to you? Interesting.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘No threat intended, Gabriel, I assure you,’ di Bonaventura said with a placatory smile. ‘She just seems younger than I expected.’ He took a closer look as they approached. ‘How old is she? Twenty-one? ’

‘Twenty-
two
.’

‘And you are now . . . ?’

‘Her age isn’t the important issue,’ snapped Ribbsley defensively, forcing the older man to hide his amusement. ‘What matters is her personality.’

By now di Bonaventura could see that Ribbsley’s passenger was extremely beautiful, with a toned body to put many a model to shame. ‘But of course.’

‘She’s quite incredible, actually,’ Ribbsley continued, his tone softening as he gazed at her. ‘An exceptionally cultured and refined woman. And as you know, I’m a man of very refined tastes.’

Di Bonaventura caught the scent of over-liberally applied Bulgari cologne. ‘And expensive ones.’

‘Which is why I put up with you calling me across continents at a moment’s notice. The Covenant pays far better than Cambridge!’ Both men chuckled, then shook hands as they reached the chopper. ‘Well, good luck with the new post, Jonas. Maybe I’ll pop in to see you next time I’m in the Eternal City.’

‘I look forward to it.’ Di Bonaventura stood back as Ribbsley climbed into the cockpit, quickly and expertly running through the pre-flight sequence. The rotors groaned to life, rapidly picking up speed. The soldier moved back out of the whirling sandstorm.

‘Goodbye, Cardinal!’ shouted Ribbsley, giving di Bonaventura a jaunty wave. The helicopter left the ground, wheeled about and headed south.

Di Bonaventura watched it go, then returned to the cave, looking in the direction of the ragged craters marking what had once been the survey camp. There was still clean-up work to be done; the bodies of the men at the camp, or whatever was left of them, had to be found and buried, all evidence of the camp itself removed. Anything that could expose the Covenant had to disappear. Without trace.

Without exception.

 

‘Why did you call him Cardinal?’ the young woman asked.

‘Private joke,’ Ribbsley told her.

‘So who were they?’

He paused before reluctantly answering. ‘They’re . . . archaeologists. Of a sort. I occasionally help them with translations of ancient texts.’

‘I had no idea Cambridge professors made house calls for translation emergencies.’

‘They’re very competitive about their work. Cut-throat, you might say.’

‘Really?’ She arched an eyebrow and smiled wolfishly. ‘I’m intrigued.’

Ribbsley huffed. ‘They’re hardly your type . . . Lady Blackwood.’

Sophia Blackwood grinned. ‘I suppose not. Can you imagine what my father would say if I spent time with some bit of rough trade? He’s suspicious enough of you as it is.’

‘Now, for what
possible
reason could his lordship be suspicious of a Cambridge professor?’

Sophia leaned closer, her long dark hair brushing his shoulder as she slipped her hand between his legs. ‘I don’t know. Maybe because you’re secretly fucking his daughter?’ She cupped her fingers round his groin and squeezed gently.

He made a muffled noise deep in his throat. ‘That might be one reason, yes.’

She laughed, then tightened her grip slightly. ‘So, you aren’t going to tell me any more about those people?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Ribbsley, smiling back at her.

Tighter still. ‘Really?’

The smile vanished. ‘Ngh! No. Believe me, Sophia, this is one of those very rare occasions where ignorance really is bliss. Or at least safer.’

She withdrew her hand, turning away in feigned offended disappointment. ‘I see,
Professor
.’

‘Oh, don’t be like that,
my lady
,’ said Ribbsley, playing along with her game. ‘I’m sure I can make up for it somehow.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I recall that you have a reasonable ability with languages . . .’

‘Don’t go out of your way to praise me, Gabriel,’ she said sarcastically.

‘Compared to me, I meant. But you could help me with the translation - it’d save me a lot of time if you took care of the drudge work.’

‘Oh! Thrilling.’

‘You’ll find it interesting, trust me. The language is . . .’ He smiled. ‘
Unique
. Then afterwards, since we’re in Oman, a meeting with the Sultan, perhaps? I’ve met him before; I’m certain I can arrange something.’

Her perfect smile returned. ‘You know, that might do the trick.’

‘I thought it might.’

Her hand slid between his legs once more. ‘Although . . . I’m still terribly hurt that you wouldn’t tell me who those men were.’

He tensed for a moment, before her touch made it clear she was joking. ‘Some things in life have to remain mysterious, Sophia.’

Attention divided between flying the helicopter and the movement of her hand, Ribbsley didn’t pick up her low words over the clamour of the cabin. ‘Not for me, Gabriel. I
always
get what I want. Eventually.’

‘
S
hark!’

At almost a hundred feet beneath the Java Sea, daylight was diffused to a dusky turquoise cast, but there was still more than enough illumination for Nina Wilde to see the predator turn towards her. ‘Shark!’ she repeated, voice rising in pitch. ‘Eddie, do something!’

Eddie Chase swept past her, using the thrusters of his deep suit to place himself between his fiancée and the shark as he brought up his speargun. He aimed the .357 Magnum cartridge forming the spear’s explosive power-head at the approaching creature . . . then lowered it again.

‘What are you doing?’ Nina asked, green eyes wide with fear. ‘It’s coming right at us!’

‘It’s only a thresher. Don’t worry, it won’t do anything.’

‘But it’s
fifteen feet long
!’

‘It’s not even six. I know the helmet magnifies things, but Jesus!’

The shark came closer, mouth gaping to expose ranks of sharp triangular teeth . . . then turned its head almost dismissively and powered off into the murk.

‘See?’ said Chase. ‘Nothing to worry about. Now if it’d been something like a tiger shark, you’d know about it.’

‘How?’

‘’Cause I’d be shouting “Shit, it’s a fucking tiger shark, aargh!” and firing off spears as fast as I could load ’em!’ The balding, broken-nosed Englishman turned so that the lights on his deep suit’s polycarbonate body lit up the redhead’s pale face through her transparent bubble helmet. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ Nina answered, with a slightly embarrassed smile. She had undergone dive training off the coast of Long Island, near her native New York, and was still getting used to the enormously more varied marine life of Indonesia. ‘It’s just that to me, “shark” equals “severed head popping out of a boat”.’

Chase chuckled, then a hint of concern came into his voice, even through the distortion of the underwater radio system. ‘How’s your leg?’

‘It’s . . . okay.’ It wasn’t technically a lie, as the bullet wound she had received to her right thigh four months earlier, now more or less healed, wasn’t actually hurting, but it had definitely stiffened up during the dive.

‘Uh huh.’ He didn’t believe her. ‘Look, if you want to go back to the ship . . .’

‘I’m fine, Eddie,’ Nina insisted. ‘Come on, let’s carry on with the survey.’

‘If you’re sure.’ Chase managed an approximation of a shrug through the deep suit’s bulky casing.

She gripped the flexible control stalk on her suit’s chest and used the thrusters to lift herself off the sea bed, using her finned feet to bring herself to a horizontal position before zooming away, Chase behind her.

Their survey took them along a circular route, taking twenty minutes to complete. Nina was disappointed that she failed to discover anything new - but that feeling vanished as they returned to the centre of the circle.

Almost a year earlier, a local fishing boat had, by chance, dredged up a handful of wood and stone artefacts from the sea floor. The Indonesian authorities quickly realised they were very old and hence potentially extremely valuable; the lucky fishermen had received a payment to persuade them to ‘forget’ exactly where they had made their discovery, so the site could be properly examined before opportunistic treasure hunters picked it clean.