The Trespass (34 page)

“It’s in your face, Professor. You found something in Africa, didn’t you?”

Dracup patted his top pocket. The compact flash card was still there. “All right. I do have something – in jpg format. Your people can examine it.”

Potzner looked as if he had simultaneously won the lottery and witnessed his team win the super league. His eyes were wide. “I knew you’d come up with something.”

They drove on in silence for a while. Then Potzner said, “You ever have someone close to you die, Professor?”

“Apart from my parents, no. I –” Then with a sick jolt Dracup remembered Charles. “Not until recently.”

“Right. I’m sorry about Sturrock.”

“Thanks.”

“You see, Professor, as I was telling you in London, we have the potential to accelerate human genome research exponentially.”

“That won’t bring back the dead.”

Potzner shook his head. “No, no. You’re right. But it
will
prevent unnecessary death by disease. And it will – in time – decelerate the ageing process.”

“But there’s more to all this than just research, Potzner. If it’s true.”

“Oh, it’s true all right. I’ve seen it for myself.”

Dracup fixed Potzner with a steady, probing look. “Are you telling me that you have seen, with your own eyes, the preserved body of the first created man?”

Potzner returned the eye contact. “Yes. Without a doubt.”

“How can you be so sure? It could be anyone.”

Potzner chuckled to himself. “No, no, no. Don’t you get it? There was something pretty special about our first parents. Something that sets them apart from all their children.”

“Namely?”

Potzner leaned in close. “They were created, not born. They have no umbilicus.”

Dracup exhaled in disbelief. “A male body, with no belly-button?” This was insane. “And the female? Eve?”

Potzner shook his head. “Nope. Not a sign. It’s possible she’s buried in the location we all want to find. But, so far, there’s no evidence that her body received the same treatment.”

Dracup was thinking about the sceptre. Not Noah’s sceptre.
Adam’s
. “This is extraordinary. It means –”

“It means we have a chance at immortality,” Potzner interrupted. “It means no more death.”

Dracup shook his head. “No, no it doesn’t.” He struggled to articulate the outrageous thought. “It means – it means there is a creator. A designer. God.”

“
God?
” Potzner guffawed. “If you want to call him that. But what do we know about him? I mean
really
know? What can we prove about the creator? For all you know, he could be half a million galaxies away from Earth by now. And do you think he –
it
– cares about – hell, even remembers – this speck of dust? So what if he set the ball rolling? It’s rolling along pretty good without him, huh? No, what we have here is human potential. We can be masters of our own destinies. We will build indestructible bodies.”

“Using Adam’s blueprint?”

“Why not? His body is different, Dracup,
stronger
. His DNA is a work of art, according to our guys. What we have in here ¬” Potzner thumped his chest for emphasis, “is some poor imitation, a flawed copy.”

“But Adam died.” Dracup frowned at Potzner’s strange logic. “At some improbable age, granted, but he still
died
.”

“Yeah, but think what you could
do
with a lifespan like that. Eight hundred, nine hundred years? C’mon, Dracup, where’s your vision? Think of the knowledge you’d gain, the quality of life you’d enjoy with no disease to interrupt you. We can do it. All we have to do is keep the research going. We’ll get there.”

“I don’t know. There’s another dimension you need to take into account.”

“Don’t go all Bible-belt on me, Dracup. We’re past all that.”

“On the contrary. I think you’re right in the middle of ‘all that’. Maybe this God isn’t as disconnected as you think; maybe he still has an interest in what’s going on here. And just maybe he won’t take kindly to your ‘research’.” Dracup paused, surprised at his outburst. Where had that come from? He suddenly felt mind-numbingly weary and rested his head against the side window, the effort of conversation almost beyond him. “Anyway, don’t you think the world should know the truth?”

“The truth? Are you crazy? What do you think would happen if we announced the ‘truth’ on the nine o’clock news? Do you think everyone would be going ‘whoopee – there
is
a God’?”

Dracup rubbed his eyes. Potzner had a point. “I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Well, maybe the fundamentalists, the born-agains. But the whole thing is a minefield. Did you know that there is a widespread belief amongst the Islamics that the revelation of the Ark will be a sign that Mohammed is returning to purge the Earth of heretics in a holy war? And what if it became common knowledge that the Ark
had
been discovered and then looted by the West? That unbelievers from the United States of America had tainted the sacred mountain? And we haven’t even gotten on to the Islamic view of Adam and the Bible vs. the Koran yet. Release this news and you set up the biggest excuse for civil unrest since – hell – since I don’t know when. You want Armageddon? Fine – give ’em the truth and that’s what you’ll get – the mother of all
Jihads
.”

Small droplets of spittle were collecting around Potzner’s mouth. Dracup pressed his face against the cold glass and watched the motorway slip by. His head was spinning. He tried to blank out Potzner’s voice. He needed to think.

Given a choice of enforced custody, Moran would have been Dracup’s preferred jailer. Potzner was like a gyroscope running out of energy; still turning but likely to fly off balance at any time. Dracup comforted himself with the thought that half the Thames Valley police force would be looking for them. But then where were the roadblocks and pursuing squad cars? And then he thought about Moran and the answer came to him: he’s waiting for the flash card analysis.
He’s cutting Potzner some slack
. And that meant the DCI would be expecting a progress report. Hope began to simmer again. With nothing visible from his window Dracup closed his eyes and ears to Potzner’s warped evangelism. Vivid scenes of Ethiopia immediately invaded the blackness. In his mind’s eye he saw Mukannishum in the church, elevating the Lalibelian sceptre like a Catholic priest raising a chalice. And then he remembered. Mukannishum’s accent, the strange vowel intonation. He suddenly knew where he had heard it before; not in the bass register of a man’s vocal cords, but a woman’s.
Sara
.

“You betrayed me.” Sara flushed with disbelief. “My
sister
.”

“I told you. The girl belongs to me. And
you
do not belong here anymore.”

Sara’s eyes searched beyond Ruth to where the chamber opening allowed a little of the cavern phosphorescence to colour the cell. Outside were two of Kadesh’s elite, keeping watch. They wore desert combat fatigues and carried weapons procured from Kadesh’s liaison with Al-Qaida. Sara’s heart was full of fear, not for herself, but for the future of the Korumak.

“Ruth, please, be kind to the child.”

“Of course. She is mine. She will enjoy a mother’s love.”

“But can’t you see? There is great danger here. From the Americans and Al-Qaida. It’s not safe any more. You have to get away.”

“The blessed one is wise. Obedience to him is the whole of the law.”

Sara studied Ruth’s face. Her sister’s words filled her with alarm. Was it too late? She approached Ruth with her arms wide. “Listen to me, Ruth. Kadesh is going to kill me.
And
the girl. He’s lying to you. What else has he promised?”

“Not the girl.” Ruth shook her head emphatically. Her oiled hair left a tang of perfume in the eddy of her movement.

Sara seized her sister’s arm. “I saw what he wrote. He sent a message to Natasha’s father. It was a promise to kill us both. Unless –”

“Unless your lover comes to save you.” Ruth smiled strangely. “Yes. He must also die. Then it is over.” She pulled herself free. “I have to go.”

“Why did you come?” Sara shouted after her. To make sure I was still here? To make sure I was still
alive?
” Her voice degenerated with her anger. The door was locked into place and she was left alone in the twilight.

“Are you really going to be my mummy from now on?” Natasha asked.

“We’ll have such fun,” Ruth replied. “There is so much to see.”

Natasha looked doubtful. “But I miss my house and my friends, and –”

Ruth bent low and gripped the girl’s arms. “All that is past. This is your home now.”

“You’re hurting me.” Natasha began to cry. “My daddy will be cross with you. He never hurts me. Neither does my mummy. You’re not my mummy.” She tore herself away and flung herself onto the bed. “I hate it here.”

Ruth leaned over and touched the girl’s head lightly. “I’m sorry, Natasha. I just want you to be happy.”

She would make her happy.

Natasha’s face was buried in the pillow. “I want my daddy. He’ll come and get me soon.”

Ruth sat next to the girl and folded her hands in her lap. She felt distracted, as if some vital instruction had passed her by. When Natasha’s sobs had subsided she hugged her tightly. “Yes, child. He will come. He will come soon.”

“Okay, Mr Dracup. Journey’s end. For now.” Potzner held the door and Dracup stepped onto the tarmac. Around him he was aware of the bulky shapes of aircraft and the transient movements of US personnel tending to the myriad jobs of an operational base. Huge golf-ball-shaped radomes studded the airfield perimeter, bonding a veneer of science fiction to Dracup’s embattled thought processes. Potzner ushered him quickly across the concrete apron to a squat perimeter building, within which nestled a warren of open-plan activity. He felt like an intruder, a feeling compounded by the curious stares he attracted as they made their way across the operations floor. A queue was forming around a white-aproned sandwich lady, through which Potzner shouldered his way without apology. Dracup closed his ears to the expletives and followed the American as he negotiated the maze with practiced ease, nodding briskly to a familiar face here and there until they entered a door simply marked ‘Intelligence Officer’.

Sitting on a corner of the single desk was Farrell, who raised a hand in half-salute then let it drop back to his side with a curt nod to Dracup.
He looks worried
. Dracup caught the anxious glance that passed between Farrell and the man behind the desk, who had stood up to greet the newcomers.

“Colonel Gembala – this is Professor Dracup.” Farrell performed the introductions. “He has the information we need.”

Gembala extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Professor. I’ve heard about your solo performance. You’ll be taking a back seat from this point on.”

“Has Fish arrived?” Potzner demanded. Farrell opened his mouth to reply but Potzner cut him off. “If not, why the hell not?”

Gembala walked round the desk and patted Potzner on the shoulder. “He’ll be here in ten, Jim. Take it easy.” The voice was firm but rang with a conciliatory note. Dracup watched with interest.
They’re handling him with kid gloves.

Potzner flicked his Zippo and lit a Marlboro. He blew smoke and held out his hand to Dracup. “May I?”

Dracup took the flash card from his pocket and placed it in the American’s outstretched palm. Potzner jammed the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and held up the card between his thumb and forefinger. “You went through a lot for this, Professor.” The sardonic smile was back in place. “The world will be grateful.” Potzner addressed Gembala. “Is everything ready for us, Colonel?”

“Fuelled and waiting on your word,” Gembala replied.

“Then we just need Fish.” Potzner inhaled smoke and blew a thin stream towards Farrell, who waved a practiced hand in front of his face.

The desk phone rang. “That’ll be him.” Potzner stubbed the cigarette out on the corner of the waste paper basket. “Let’s go.”

They assembled in a larger room Dracup guessed was used for briefings. There was a projector and laptop set up for presentations as well as seating for around fifty bodies. A small, nervous-looking man entered the room from a side door and approached with an expression of pained excitement.

“Okay Fish, let’s roll the slide show.” Potzner handed him Dracup’s flash card.

“Right. If you gentlemen will just give us a few minutes –” Fish indicated several other new arrivals who were engaged in animated conversation. One of them was fiddling with the laptop. A blank yellow square appeared on the screen, shrinking in size as the technician focused the lens. Familiar text appeared:

‘
From holy resting place to rest upon the water –