The Trespass (23 page)

“Murder enquiry? We’d assumed a break-in.” Potzner looked genuinely shaken. He took a step towards the gatehouse porch.

Moran stepped in front, blocking the way. “This is police business, Mr Potzner. Unless you have anything useful to tell me I suggest you obtain a letter of authority to involve yourself in this case. I’d also like an answer to my last question. Perhaps you and your colleague would like to accompany my Sergeant down to the station and we can get to the bottom of it?”

Phelps had sidled up to the group and was hovering, hands in pockets, observing.

“The hell I will, Inspector.” Potzner glared. “Okay, if that’s the way you want it. I’ll be back. Very soon.”

“Have a nice day, gentlemen.” Moran raised a hand in farewell. He watched Potzner and Farrell retrace their steps along the perimeter of the campus. To Phelps he said, “Get onto the Chief Constable, Phelps. Tell him to expect a call. I’ll fill him in when I get back.”

Phelps nodded and made his way back to the squad car. He exchanged a few words with a uniformed officer, who nodded vigorously and started the engine. The car departed, siren ululating, into the distance. Moran found his place on the wall and unscrewed the lid of his Thermos. He reckoned on a day or two’s grace before Uncle Sam got the all-clear to muscle in. He sipped his coffee with satisfaction. Something big was going down and, for once, Brendan Moran was in the right place at the right time.

The hotel foyer was cool in contrast to the baking street outside. A large rotating fan swished soundlessly above but Dracup still felt a trickle of perspiration run down his collar. He took another sip of iced water and replaced the glass carefully on the brass tabletop.

“So what brings you to Addis, Prof?” Dan Carey grinned. His main feature was a wide, roguish smile, enhanced by a long vertical scar that ran from one side of his mouth to the corner of his right eye. It gave him a rakish, dashing look. He was a wiry, tough-looking man in his mid to late thirties.

“It’s a long story,” Dracup replied. Where could he begin? Better to stick to a simple explanation. “I’m interested in Lalibela and its religious background. I want to spend a few days gathering information, taking photographs.”

Carey nodded. “Research project, is it? Charles seemed pretty excited.”

“Of a kind,” Dracup agreed. He felt uneasy at his economy of truth; there was something about Carey that invited openness.

“Well, I’ve been to Lali a couple of times and I can tell you this much – you won’t get a lot out of the priests and holy men. Their lips are sealed, especially to Westerners. Start asking too many questions and they clam up like old maids with their dentures stuck together.”

Dracup forced a laugh. “I’ll be persuasive.”

“You’ll need to be.”

“And you’re okay with tomorrow morning?” Dracup fought to mask his agitation. Tomorrow wasn’t soon enough.
Now
wasn’t soon enough.

Carey shook his head. “It’s not a problem. I’ve been wanting a weekend off for a while – the school’s been busy. I need to get out of town, rough it a bit.” He laughed. “It’s in my nature. I’m a bit of a nomad. I’ll pick you up first thing and we’ll head off.”

“How long will it take?”

Carey shrugged. “Couple of days – the roads are pretty bad. We’ll stop off at Dessie and maybe Weldiya – that’ll be an experience for you.” There was a glint in the Kiwi’s eye. He knocked back his drink and stood up. “Right now you’ll have to excuse me, Prof – I have to get to a meeting. Someone’s got to cover for me while I’m away.”

“Of course. See you in the morning, then.” Dracup watched Carey walk away, reassured that he’d found an ally. He drained his drink and headed back to his room to re-examine Theodore’s tablet. He traced the inscriptions with his thumbnail.
Ω
section 1921, TD,GRC. Left in situ.
Theodore had been successful; he had seen
Omega
with his own eyes. But would Lalibela give up its secrets so easily to his grandson?

“You wait,” Carey grinned. “Thirty minutes and the word’ll be out. We’ll have company all right.”

Dracup frowned and shuffled closer to the fire. The drive had been a careering, pothole-avoiding rally all the way from Addis. Much of the driving had been off-road, an inconvenience that Carey seemed to find enjoyable. Dracup shifted his weight. His backside was a painful pad of bruising. They were parked several hundred metres from the road – apparently in the middle of nowhere. “There’s nothing around here,” he replied. “Company from where?”

Carey looked over Dracup’s shoulder and laughed. “How about there?”

Dracup turned to follow Carey’s pointing finger and saw to his amazement a line of young Ethiopians approaching the campfire. They were singing, a low rhythmic melody, and smiling. They showed no fear of the two men.

“Told you,” Carey said. “They know when strangers are about.”

The group of newcomers settled themselves by the fire, chattering among themselves. They grinned at Dracup and his Kiwi companion, pointing to the tents and the jeep. One of the youngest, a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, produced some substance from her bag and threw it on the fire. A sweet smell wafted over the gathering. Dracup recognised it. “Eucalyptus.” He smiled and touched his nose. The girl grinned and said something to her companion, a boy of about the same age. They laughed and began singing again, clapping and slapping their thighs in time to the music. The moon shone brilliantly in a clear sky, illuminating the youthful faces of the visitors as they celebrated the simple joy of being alive.

It was a mesmerising moment, and as Dracup drifted off to sleep later that evening he carried the scene with him into his dreams. In the campfire circle of his imagination Natasha was beside him, her voice joining the others in song. The song was heartbreakingly beautiful; he could hardly bear to listen. The fire burned slowly down and the voices hushed into reverential silence. They stepped forward, bending to look into what appeared to be a deep trench filled with colours – a bowl of reflected light.

Dracup wanted to see and stepped forward but Natasha gripped his arm, shaking her head.
We can’t, Daddy. It’s not for us
. There was another, a tall figure by the light. Natasha shrank from it, clinging to his arm. The figure stepped forward, beckoning.
She is mine.
Dracup opened his mouth to protest but his tongue was impotent, glued to the roof of his mouth. Natasha let go of his arm and took a faltering step towards the light.
No – NO.

Dracup woke with a start; he sat up, disoriented. It was freezing cold but sweat was running freely down his back. He crawled forward, opened the tent flap and went out into the night. The campfire had burned low, its embers glowing like fireflies, but there was no sign of the children, just a faint trace of perfumed bark in the air. He walked a few paces from the tent and relieved himself. The moon hung in the sky like a yellow orb, the distant mountains silhouetted against a backdrop of ochre. He raised his head to the stars, far-off pinpricks of blue, the dust lanes of Andromeda a distant smear of matter. For a long time he looked into the cosmos. And strangely, he found a prayer on his lips:
Oh God, if you are there, please help me. I can’t do this on my own. Help me find her. Just help me find her.

Carey rose with alarming cheerfulness at first light. Dracup heard the Kiwi whistling, a tuneless parody of the children’s harmonies from the night before. The tent flap parted and a steaming mug of coffee presented itself. “G’day Prof – good sleep?”

Dracup groaned. His bones were ice. “I didn’t realise the nights would be so cold.”

Carey laughed. “Too right. We can get a few more blankets in Dessie this afternoon if you like – they’ve got a general store.”

Dracup eased his battered body into the chill dawn. A few scattered clouds drifted in the metallic blue of the new day. A faint drone from the north announced the presence of an aircraft, a speck in the huge canopy above. Like the flying machine, he felt very small in this huge country, diminished by its timelessness.

“Another coffee?” Carey offered the pot. “Warm you up for the journey.”

Dracup shivered and held out his mug.

They drove on in the ever-increasing heat of the day. Dracup looked up and winced at the brightness. Another aeroplane was heading in the same direction but parallel to the road, slowly pulling ahead. Dracup squinted at the small machine. He turned to Carey. “Seems to be a popular flight path.”

“Oh yeah,” Carey replied, shouting above the noise. “There’s a small airstrip at Lali – you can hire a two-seater in Addis. A lot of people do that – it’s a little quicker to get there.” He grinned. “I prefer this way, though. You feel part of the country.”

Dracup’s rear end had felt enough of the country by now, but he knew what the Kiwi meant. His thoughts strayed to the one subject he wanted to avoid: Sara. His anger, which had made it easy to exclude her from his thoughts, had slowly been replaced by the emptiness of loss. He thought of the last night in Aberdeen, remembered her expression of concern at the airport. How could he have been so wrong? Charles had theorised about her involvement in the diary episode, perhaps even Natasha’s abduction. He still couldn’t believe it. There were too many missing pieces to make a judgement. Perhaps Lalibela would change all that. The jeep clattered on, Carey spinning the wheel every so often to avoid a pothole. “How long to Weldiya?” he shouted in the Kiwi’s ear.

“A few hours. We’ll stop and rest up for the night, get something to eat – they do a good milkado there too.” Carey let go of the wheel with one hand and gave Dracup the thumbs up.

“Milk what?”

“Milkado.” Carey gave a wide grin. “Legacy from the I-ties – it’s similar to a latte. Milky coffee, but a little stronger. Good stuff. Almost worth a visit on its own.”

The route became progressively hillier as they climbed higher into the mountains. The sheer beauty of it took Dracup’s breath away. “What’s our altitude?” he asked.

“About three thousand metres I reckon. Look at this.” Carey honked his horn as they eased past a group of cyclists. “Crazy bastards.” He waved as they overtook the leaders. “Not the easiest way to travel.” He grinned. “They do a lot of bike tours up this way.” Dracup looked back at the bikers’ slow, sweaty progress. The front cyclist waved then pointed. All the bikes stopped at his signal and dismounted. Dracup half turned in his seat but was nearly flung out of the vehicle when the jeep veered sharply to the side of the road. He heard Carey let out a yell of surprise as he saw the oncoming silhouette of an aeroplane. It tacked lower on its trajectory and headed straight for them.

“What the h... get down!” Carey jerked the jeep back onto the tarmac and slammed on the brakes. The plane skimmed overhead, engine screaming, banked steeply and swept back towards them. Carey gunned the engine, heading off the road towards the hillside where the steep incline offered some protection. The machine came lower and lower and then lower still, causing the cyclists to throw themselves flat on the tarmac as it passed a few metres over their heads.

Carey’s foot crashed down on the brakes a second time. “Out!” Dracup yelled and threw himself under the jeep. The earth erupted around them as a chattering line of bullets ripped along the driver’s side, clanging against the metal like a team of manic steel band drummers.

Carey appeared next to him. “Friends of yours?” he shouted.

Dracup curled himself tightly by the front wheel and listened for the throb of the aeroplane’s engine. Would it make another pass? The noise receded. He stuck his head into the open and checked the sky. The plane was a retreating smudge, becoming smaller with each passing second. Half a minute later it had disappeared altogether. Carey rolled out from under the vehicle and brushed himself down. “What was all that about?” He looked at Dracup suspiciously. “Something to do with your ‘research project’?”

Dracup wiped sweat from his forehead and nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to drag you into all this.”

Carey shrugged. “No worries.” He scanned the open skies. “Looks like they’ve gone for now.”

“They’ll be back.” Dracup sat heavily in the passenger seat and took a swig from his water bottle while Carey conducted an inspection of the vehicle.

“They missed the tyres – that’s a miracle.” Carey climbed back in. “And the petrol tank. You’re a lucky old jalopy.” He patted the dashboard affectionately.

Behind them the cyclists were picking themselves up and pointing to the two men in the jeep. Dracup sensed a confrontation looming. “Better be off before we have a steward’s enquiry.”

Carey glanced back. “No damage? Well, I guess you’re right – no need to hang about. Hold tight.” He let the clutch out. For a few kilometres they both nervously surveyed the empty sky.

“Well that’s a first for me. I’m normally treated pretty well by the locals.” Carey grinned and shook his head ruefully. “For a moment I thought we’d carked it good and proper back there.”

“They weren’t locals,” Dracup said. “Not by any stretch.” He would have to come clean. Perhaps it was just as well that Carey had all the facts. He took a deep breath and clapped the Kiwi on the shoulder. “Dan, I owe you an explanation.”