Q: Speaking of superstition, for many years your research has caused controversy in academic circles that are critical of using ancient texts to discover treasure. There have been insults hurled on both sides.
A: Academics . . . they couldn’t find their own ass with two hands and a flashlight. Would Schliemann have found the treasures of Troy without Homer’s Iliad? Would Carter have found Tutankhamun’s tomb without the obscure Ut papyrus? Both were heavily criticised in their day for using the same techniques I now use. Nobody remembers their critics, but Carter and Schliemann are immortal. I intend to live forever.
[a severe bout of coughing]
Q: Your illness?
A: You can’t spend this many years in damp tunnels, breathing dirt, without paying the price. I have chronic pneumoconiosis. I’m never too far from an oxygen tank. Go on, please.
Q: Where were we? Oh, yes. Have you always been convinced of the historical existence of the Ark of the Covenant, or does your belief date back to the time when you began translating the Copper Scroll?
A: I was raised a Christian, but converted to Judaism when I was relatively young. By the 1960s, I could read ancient Hebrew as well as English. When I began to study the Copper Scroll of Qumran I didn’t discover that the Ark was real - I already knew that. With over two hundred references to it in the Bible, it is the most frequently described object in the scriptures. What I realised when I held the Second Scroll in my hands was that I would be the one who would finally rediscover the Ark.
Q: I see. How exactly did the second scroll help you to decipher the Qumran Copper Scroll?
A: Well, there’s been a lot of confusion over the consonants like he, het, mem, kaf, wav, zayin, and yod . . .
Q: In layman’s terms, Professor.
A: Some of the consonants weren’t too clear, which made deciphering the text difficult. And the strangest thing was that a series of Greek letters had been inserted throughout the scroll. Once we had the key to understanding the text, we realised that these letters were the titles of sections, which changed the order and therefore the context. That was the most exciting period of my professional career.
Q: It must have been frustrating to dedicate forty-three years of your life to the translation of the Copper Scroll, and then have the whole matter resolved in the space of three months after the Second Scroll turned up.
A: Absolutely not. The Dead Sea Scrolls, including the Copper Scroll, were brought to light by accident when a shepherd threw a rock inside a cave in Palestine and heard something break. That’s how the first of the manuscripts was found. That’s not archaeology: that’s luck. But without all these decades of in-depth study, we would never have come to Mr Kayn . . .
Q: Mr Kayn? What are you talking about? Don’t tell me that the Copper Scroll mentions a billionaire!
A: I can’t talk any more about that. I’ve already said too much.
28
THE EXCAVATION
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Wednesday, 12 July 2006. 7:33 p.m.
The next hours were a frenetic coming and going. Professor Forrester had decided to establish the camp at the entrance to the canyon. The site would be protected from the wind by the two walls of rock that first narrowed then widened out and finally joined once again 800 feet beyond, in what Forrester called the index finger. Two branches of the canyon to the east and south-east made up the middle and ring fingers of the claw.
The group would live in special tents designed by an Israeli company to withstand the desert heat, and it took a good part of the afternoon to erect them. The work of unloading the trucks fell to Robert Frick and Tommy Eichberg, who used the hydraulic winches on the Kamaz trucks to unload the large numbered metal boxes containing the equipment for the expedition.
‘Four thousand five hundred pounds of food, two hundred and fifty pounds of medicine, four thousand pounds of archaeological equipment and electrical gear, two thousand pounds of steel rails, a drill and a mini-excavator. What do you think of that?’
Andrea was amazed and made a mental note for her article as she checked off the items on the list Tommy had given her. Because of her limited experience in pitching tents, she had volunteered to help with the unloading and Eichberg had put her in charge of directing where each box should go. She had done so not out of a desire to help, but because she supposed that the sooner she was finished the sooner she would be able to talk to Fowler and Harel alone. The doctor was busy helping to set up the tent for the infirmary.
‘There goes number thirty-four, Tommy,’ yelled Frick from the back of the second truck. The chain on the winch was attached to two metal hooks on either side of the box; it made a loud clanking sound as it lowered its cargo towards the sandy soil.
‘Be careful, this one weighs a ton.’
The young reporter looked anxiously at the list, fearing she had missed something.
‘This list is wrong, Tommy. It only has thirty-three boxes.’
‘Don’t worry. This particular box is special . . . and here come the people in charge of it,’ Eichberg said, unhooking the chains.
Andrea looked up from her list to see Marla Jackson and Tewi Waaka, two of Dekker’s soldiers. They both knelt next to the box and released the locks. The top came off with a slight hiss, as if it had been vacuum-sealed. Andrea glanced discreetly at its contents. The two mercenaries didn’t appear to mind.
It’s almost as if they were expecting me to look.
The contents of the case couldn’t have been more mundane: packets of rice, coffee and beans, arranged in rows of twenty. Andrea didn’t understand; especially when Marla Jackson grabbed a packet with each hand and suddenly tossed them at Andrea’s chest, the muscles of her arms rippling under her black skin.
‘There you go, Snow White.’
Andrea had to drop the clipboard in order to catch the packages. Waaka fought back a snigger while Jackson, ignoring the surprised reporter, stuck her hand into the space left and pulled hard. The layer of packages shifted to reveal a much less prosaic cargo.
Rifles, machine guns, and small firearms rested on layer after layer of trays. While Jackson and Waaka removed the trays - six in total - and placed them carefully on top of the other boxes, Dekker’s remaining soldiers as well as the South African himself came over and began to arm themselves.
‘Excellent, gentlemen’ said Dekker. ‘As a wise man once said, great men are like eagles . . . they build their nests on lonely heights. The first watch belongs to Jackson and the Gottliebs. Find cover positions there, there and there.’ He pointed to three places at the top of the canyon walls, the second of which wasn’t too far from the spot where Andrea thought she had seen the mysterious figure a few hours before. ‘Only break radio silence to report in every ten minutes. That goes for you, too, Torres. If you trade cooking recipes with Maloney like you did in Laos, you’ll have me to deal with. March.’
The Gottlieb twins and Marla Jackson took off in three separate directions, looking for accessible climbs to the sentry positions from which Dekker’s soldiers would continuously guard the expedition during its time at the site. Once they had determined their posts, they secured rope and aluminium ladders to the rock every ten feet to make the vertical ascent easier.
Andrea, in the meantime, was marvelling at the ingenuity of modern technology. Not even in her wildest dreams had she imagined that her body would find itself in the vicinity of a shower over the next week. But to her surprise, among the last items to be lowered from the Kamaz trucks were two pre-fabricated showers and two portable toilets, made from plastic and fibreglass.
‘What’s the matter, beautiful? Aren’t you happy you won’t have to crap in the sand?’ said Robert Frick.
The bony young man was all elbows and knees, and he moved about nervously. Andrea took in his vulgar remark with a loud burst of laughter and began to help him secure the toilets.
‘That’s for sure, Robert. And from what I can see, we’ll even have His and Hers bathrooms .
. .’
‘That’s a little unfair, seeing as there’s only four of you and twenty of us. Well, at least you’ll have to dig out your own latrine,’ Frick said.
Andrea went pale. Tired as she was, even the thought of lifting a shovel made her hands feel blistered. Frick was creasing up.
‘I don’t see what’s so funny.’
‘You’ve gone whiter than my Aunt Bonnie’s butt. That’s what’s so funny.’
‘Don’t pay any attention to him, honey,’ Tommy broke in. ‘We’ll use the mini-excavator. It’ll take us ten minutes.’
‘You always spoil the fun, Tommy. You should have let her sweat a little more.’ Frick shook his head as he went off to find someone else to bother.
29
HUQAN
He was fourteen when he began to learn.
Of course he first had a great deal to forget.
To start with, everything he had learned at school, from his friends, in his home. Nothing was real. Everything was a lie invented by the enemy, the oppressors of Islam. They had a plan, the imam had told him, whispering it in his ear. ‘They start by giving women their freedom. They place them on the same level as men to weaken us. They know that we’re stronger, more capable. They know that we are more serious in our commitment to God. Then they brainwash us, they take over the minds of holy imams. They try to cloud our judgement with impure images of lust and corruption. They promote homosexuality. They lie, lie, lie. They even lie about the dates. They say it’s the twenty-second of May. But you know what day it is today.’
‘The sixteenth day of shawwal, master.’
‘They talk about integration, about getting along with others. But you know what God wants.’
‘No, I don’t know, master,’ said the frightened boy. How could he be inside God’s mind?
‘God wants to avenge the Crusades; the crusades that took place a thousand years ago and those of today. God wants us to re-establish the Caliphate, which they destroyed in 1924. From that day on, the Muslim community has been broken up into parcels of territory that are controlled by our enemies. You only have to read a newspaper to see how our Muslim brothers live in a state of oppression, humiliation and genocide. And the greatest affront is the stake driven into the heart of Dar al-Islam: Israel.’
‘I hate the Jews, master.’
‘No. You only think you do. Listen carefully to my words. This hatred you believe you feel now, in a few years’ time it will seem to have been no more than a tiny spark compared to the conflagration of an entire forest. Only true believers are capable of such a transformation. And you will be one of them. You are special. I have only to look into your eyes to see you have the power to change the world. To unify the Muslim community. To bring sharia to Amman, Cairo, Beirut. And then to Berlin. To Madrid. To Washington.’
‘How will we do it, master? How can we bring Islamic Law to the entire world?’
‘You’re not ready for the answer.’
‘Yes, I am, master.’
‘Do you want to learn, with all your heart and soul and mind?’
‘There is nothing I want more than to carry out the word of God.’
‘No, not yet. But soon . . .’
30
THE EXCAVATION
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Wednesday, 12 July 2006. 8:27 p.m.
The tents were finally up, the toilets and showers had been installed, the pipes were connected to the water tank and the expedition’s civilian personnel was resting inside the small square created by the surrounding tents. Andrea, seated on the ground with a bottle of Gatorade in her hand, had given up trying to find Father Fowler. Neither he nor Dr Harel seemed to be around, so she devoted herself to contemplating the cloth and aluminium structures, which were unlike anything she had ever seen. Each tent comprised an elongated cube with a door and plastic windows. There was a wooden platform that sat about a foot and a half above the ground on a dozen concrete blocks to insulate the inhabitants against the burning heat of the sand. The roof was made of a large curve of cloth that was fastened to the ground on one side in order to improve the refraction of the sun’s rays. Each tent had its own electric cable that led to a central generator next to the fuel truck.
Of the six tents, three were slightly different. One was the infirmary, which had a rougher design but was hermetically sealed. Another formed the combined kitchen and mess tent. It had air-conditioning so that expedition members could relax there during the hottest hours of the day. The last tent was Kayn’s and was slightly removed from the rest. It had no visible windows and was roped off - a silent warning that the billionaire did not wish to be disturbed. Kayn had stayed inside his H3, driven by Dekker, until they had finished putting up his tent and he had yet to reappear.
I doubt he’ll emerge for the rest of the expedition. I wonder if his tent has a built-in toilet, thought Andrea, taking an absentminded sip from her bottle. Here comes someone who might know the answer.
‘Hello, Mr Russell.’
‘How are you?’ said the assistant, smiling politely.
‘Very well, thank you. Listen, about this interview with Mr Kayn—’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible yet,’ Russell cut in.
‘I hope you haven’t brought me out here just to sightsee. I want you to know that—’
‘Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,’ the disagreeable voice of Professor Forrester interrupted the reporter’s complaints. ‘Against our predictions, you’ve managed to install all of the tents on time. Congratulations. Give yourself a big hand.’
His tone was as insincere as the faint applause that followed. The professor always left his listeners feeling slightly uncomfortable, if not humiliated, but the members of the expedition managed to remain seated around him as the sun began to set behind the cliffs.
‘Before we get on with supper and the assignment of tents, I want to finish the story,’ the archaeologist went on. ‘Remember that I told you a chosen few had taken the treasure out of the city of Jerusalem? Well, this group of brave—’
‘One question keeps running through my head,’ Andrea cut in, ignoring the old man’s piercing look. ‘You said that YirmƏyáhu was the author of the Second Scroll. That he wrote it before the Romans razed Solomon’s temple. Am I mistaken?’
‘No, you’re not wrong.’
‘Did he leave any other writings?’
‘No, he did not.’
‘Did the men who took the Ark out of Jerusalem leave any?’
‘No.’
‘Then how do you know what happened? Those men carried a very heavy object covered in gold for, what, almost two hundred miles? All I did was climb that dune carrying my camera and a water bottle, and it was—’
The old man had grown redder with each of Andrea’s words until the contrast between his bald head and beard made his face look like a cherry resting on a wad of cotton.
‘How did the Egyptians manage to build the Pyramids? How did the natives of Easter Island erect their ten-thousand-ton statues? How did the Nabateans carve the city of Petra out of these same rocks?’
He spat each word out at Andrea, leaning over her as he talked until his face was next to hers. The reporter turned away to avoid his rancid breath.
‘With faith. You need faith to cover one hundred and eighty-five miles under a scorching sun and on rough terrain. You need faith to believe you can do it.’
‘So other than the Second Scroll, you don’t have any proof,’ Andrea said, unable to stop herself.
‘No, I do not. But I have a theory, and let’s hope I’m right, Ms Otero, or we’re going home empty-handed.’
The reporter was about to reply, but felt a slight elbowing in her ribs. She turned to see Father Fowler staring at her in warning.
‘Where have you been, Father?’ she whispered. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere. We have to talk.’
Fowler silenced her with a gesture.
‘The eight men who left Jerusalem with the Ark re
ached Jericho the following morning.’ Forrester had backed away and was now addressing the fourteen people who listened with growing interest. ‘We’re now entering the realm of speculation, but it happens to be the speculation of a man who has spent decades pondering this very question. In Jericho they would have picked up supplies and water. They crossed the Jordan River near Bethany and reached the King’s Highway near Mount Nebo. The highway is the oldest uninterrupted communications link in history, the path that led Abraham from Chaldea to Canaan. Those eight Jews walked south on that route until they reached Petra, where they left the highway and headed in the direction of a mythical place that would have seemed like the end of the world to the Jerusalemites. This place.’
‘Professor, do you have any idea which part of the canyon we should be looking in? Because this is place is huge,’ said Dr Harel.
‘That’s where all of you come in, starting from tomorrow. David, Gordon . . . show them the equipment.’
The two assistants appeared, each wearing a strange contraption. They had a harness across their chest, to which a metallic device the shape of a small backpack was attached. The harness had four straps from which hung a square metal structure that framed the body at thigh level. At the front corners of this structure were two lamp-like objects resembling the headlights of a car, which were pointed towards the ground.
‘These, good people, will be your summer outfits for the next few days. The device is called a proton precession magnetometer.
There were whistles of admiration.