‘You tell me, Colonel. If it wasn’t murder, it was a very determined suicide. He has a knife wound at the base of his spine, which is by definition fatal.’
‘And very difficult to accomplish,’ Dekker said.
‘What do you mean?’ Russell cut in, standing next to Dekker.
Further away, Kyra Larsen was squatting next to the professor, attempting to console him. She draped a blanket over his shoulders.
‘He means that it was a perfectly placed wound. With a very sharp knife. Stowe hardly bled at all,’ Harel said, taking off the latex gloves with which she had examined the body.
‘A professional, Mr Russell,’ added Dekker.
‘Who found him?’
‘Professor Forrester’s computer has an alarm that goes off if one of the magnetometers stops transmitting,’ Dekker said, indicating the old man with a nod of his head. ‘He came over here to give off to Stowe. When he saw him on the ground, he thought he was sleeping and started sounding the air horn in his ear until he realised what had happened. Then he kept blowing the horn to alert us.’
‘I don’t want even to imagine how Mr Kayn is going to react when he finds out Stowe was murdered Where the hell were your men, Dekker? How could this have happened?’
‘They must have been looking out beyond the canyon, as I ordered. There are only three of them covering a very large terrain on a moonless night. They were doing all they could.’
‘Which is not much,’ Russell said, pointing at the body.
‘Russell, I told you. It is insane coming to this place with only six men. At a push, we have three men doing four-hour guard duty. But to cover a hostile zone like this, we really need at least twenty. So don’t blame me.’
‘That’s out of the question. You know what would happen if the Jordanian government—’
‘Will you two stop arguing!’ The professor had got up, the blanket hanging from his shoulders. His voice shook with anger. ‘One of my assistants is dead. I sent him here. Will you please stop blaming each other?’
Russell went silent. To Andrea’s surprise, so did Dekker, although he saved face by turning to Dr Harel.
‘Can you tell us anything else?’
‘I imagine he was killed up there and then he slid down the incline, given the rocks that came down with him.’
‘You imagine?’ Russell said, raising an eyebrow.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m not a forensic pathologist, just an ordinary physician who specialises in combat medicine. I’m certainly not qualified to analyse a crime scene. In any case, I don’t think you’re going to find footprints or any other clues with the mixture of sand and rock we have out here.’
‘Do you know if Erling had any enemies, Professor?’ said Dekker.
‘He didn’t get on with David Pappas. I was responsible for the rivalry between them.’
‘Did you ever see them argue?’
‘Many times, but they never came to blows.’ Forrester paused and then shook his finger in Dekker’s face. ‘Wait a minute. You’re not suggesting that one of my assistants did this, are you?’
Meanwhile, Andrea had been observing Stowe Erling’s body with a mixture of shock and disbelief. She wanted to walk over into the circle of lamps and pull on his ponytail to show that he wasn’t dead, that it was just a sick joke of the professor’s. She understood the gravity of the situation only when she saw the frail old man shaking his finger in the gigantic Dekker’s face. At that point the secret that she had been withholding for two days cracked like a dam from the pressure.
‘Mr Dekker.’
The South African turned to her, his expression clearly not friendly.
‘Ms Otero, Schopenhauer said that the first encounter with a face makes a lasting impression on us. For the time being I’ve had enough of your face - understood?’
‘I don’t even know why you’re here, nobody asked you to come,’ added Russell. ‘This story is not for publication. Go back to the camp.’
The reporter took a step back, but held the gaze of both the mercenary and the young executive. Ignoring Fowler’s advice, Andrea decided to spit it out.
‘I’m not leaving. It’s possible that this man’s death is my fault.’
Dekker came so close to her that Andrea could feel the dry heat from his skin.
‘Speak up.’
‘When we arrived at the canyon, I thought I saw someone on top of that cliff.’
‘What? And it didn’t occur to you to say anything?’
‘I didn’t give it much importance at the time. I’m sorry.’
‘Terrific, you’re sorry. That makes everything all right then. Fuck!’
Russell was shaking his head, amazed. Dekker scratched the scar on his face, trying to take in what he had just heard. Harel and the professor were looking at Andrea in disbelief. The only one who reacted was Kyra Larson, who pushed Forrester aside, rushed over to Andrea, and slapped her.
‘Bitch!’
Andrea was so stunned that she didn’t know what to do. Then, seeing the anguish on Kyra’s face, she understood and lowered her arms.
I’m sorry. Forgive me.
‘Bitch,’ the archaeologist repeated, throwing herself on Andrea and pummelling her face and chest. ‘You could have told everyone that we were being watched. Don’t you know what we’re looking for? Don’t you realise how it affects us all?’
Harel and Dekker grabbed Larsen by the arms and pulled her back.
‘He was my friend,’ she mumbled, moving away slightly.
At that moment David Pappas arrived at the scene. He had been running and sweat was pouring from him. It was obvious he had fallen at least once because there was sand on his face and glasses.
‘Professor! Professor Forrester!’
‘What is it, David?’
‘The data. Stowe’s data,’ Pappas said, bending over and leaning on his knees to catch his breath.
The professor made a dismissive gesture.
‘This isn’t the time, David. Your colleague is dead.’
‘But, Professor, you have to listen. The headings. I’ve fixed them.’
‘Very good, David. We’ll talk tomorrow.’
Then David Pappas did something he would never have done were it not for the tension of that night. Grabbing Forrester’s blanket, he jerked the old man around to face him.
‘You don’t understand. We have a peak. A 7911!’
At first Professor Forrester didn’t react, but then he spoke very slowly and deliberately, in such a low voice that David could hardly hear him.
‘How big?’
‘Huge, sir.’
The professor fell to his knees. Unable to speak, he leaned backward and forward in mute supplication.
‘What’s a 7911, David?’ asked Andrea.
‘Atomic weight 79. Position 11 on the periodic table,’ the young man said, his voice breaking. It was as if, in delivering his message, he had emptied himself. His eyes were on the corpse.
‘And that is . . .?’
‘Gold, Ms Otero. Stowe Erling had found the Ark of the Covenant.’
37
Some Facts about the Arc of the Covenant, Transcribed from the Moleskin Notebook of Professor Cecyl Forrester
The Bible says: ‘And they shall make an Ark of shittim wood: two cubits and a half shall be the length thereof, and a cubit and a half the breadth thereof, and a cubit and a half the height thereof. And thou shalt overlay it with pure gold, within and without shalt thou overlay it, and thou shalt make upon it a crown of gold round about. And thou shalt cast four rings of gold for it, and put them in the four corners thereof; and two rings shall be in the one side of it, and two rings in the other side of it. And thou shalt make staves of shittim wood, and overlay them with gold. And thou shalt put the staves into the rings by the sides of the Ark, that the Ark may be borne with them.’
I’ll apply the measurements of the regular cubit. I know I’ll be criticised because few scholars do; they rely on the Egyptian cubi
t and the ‘sacred’ cubit, which are much more glamorous. But I’m right.
This is what we know for sure about the Ark:• Year of construction: 1453 BC at the foot of Mount Sinai.
• 44 inches long
• 25 inches wide
• 25 inches high
• 84-gallon capacity
• 600 pounds in weight
There are people who would suggest that the weight of the Ark was greater, around 1,100 pounds. Additionally, there is an idiot who dared to insist that the Ark weighed more than a ton. That is crazy. And they call themselves experts. They love to add the weight of the Ark itself. Poor idiots. They don’t realise that gold, even though it is heavy, is too soft. The rings could not have supported such weight, nor would the wooden poles have been long enough for more than four men to carry it comfortably.
Gold is a very soft metal. Last year I saw a whole room covered in thin sheets of gold made from one good-sized coin, following methods dating back to the Bronze Age. The Jews were skilled crafts-men, and did not have great amounts of gold in the desert, nor would they have burdened themselves with such a great weight that they left themselves vulnerable to their enemies. No, they would have used a small amount of gold and created thin sheets of it to cover the wood. Shittim wood, or acacia, is a solid wood that could last centuries without being damaged, especially if it was covered by a thin layer of metal that did not rust and was indifferent to the effects of time. It was an object built for eternity. How could it be otherwise, since it was the Timeless One who gave the instructions?
38
THE EXCAVATION
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Friday, 14 July 2006. 2:21 p.m.
‘So the data had been manipulated.’
‘Somebody else had the information, Father.’
‘That’s why they killed him.’
‘I understand the what, where and when. If you’ll just give me the how and the who, I’ll be the happiest woman in the world.’
‘I’m working on it.’
‘Do you think it was an outsider? Maybe the man I saw at the top of the canyon?’
‘I don’t think you’re that foolish, young lady.’
‘I still feel guilty.’
‘Well, you should stop. I was the one who asked you not to tell anyone. But believe me: someone in this expedition is a murderer. That’s why it’s more important than ever that we talk to Albert.’
‘OK. But I think you know more than you’re telling me - much more. Yesterday there was an unusual amount of activity in the canyon for that time of night. The doctor wasn’t in her bed.’
‘I told you . . . I’m working on it.’
‘Shit, Father. You’re the only person I know who speaks so many languages but doesn’t like to talk.’
Father Fowler and Andrea Otero were sitting in the shade of the west wall of the canyon. Since nobody had slept much the night before, after the shock of Stowe Erling’s murder, the day had begun slowly and heavily. However, little by little, the knowledge that Stowe’s magnetometer had discovered gold began to eclipse the tragedy, altering the mood in the camp. There was a whirlwind of activity around quadrant 22K, with Professor Forrester at its centre: analysis of the composition of the rocks, further tests with a magnetometer and, above all, measurements of the solidity of the ground for digging.
The procedure consisted of running an electric wire through the ground to find out how much current it would handle. A hole filled with earth, for example, has less electrical resistance than the undisturbed ground around it.
The results of the test were conclusive: the ground at this point was very unstable. This infuriated Forrester. Andrea watched as he gesticulated wildly, throwing papers into the air and insulting his workers.
‘Why is the professor so angry?’ asked Fowler.
The priest was sitting on a flat rock about a foot and a half above Andrea. He had been playing with a small screwdriver and some cables that he had taken from Brian Hanley’s toolbox, paying little heed to what was going on around him.
‘They’ve been running tests. They can’t simply dig up the Ark,’ Andrea replied. She had spoken with David Pappas a few minutes before. ‘They believe that it’s in a manmade hole. If they use the mini-excavator there’s a good chance the hole will collapse.’
‘They may have to go around it. That could take weeks.’
Andrea took another series of shots with her digital camera and then looked at them on the monitor. She had some excellent pictures of Forrester literally foaming at the mouth. A frightened Kyra Larsen throwing her head back in shock after the news of Erling’s death.
‘Forrester is screaming at them again. I don’t know how his assistants put up with it.’
‘Maybe that’s what they all need this morning, don’t you think?’
Andrea was about to tell Fowler to stop talking nonsense when she realised that she had always been a fervent believer in using self-punishment as a way of escaping grief.
LB is proof of that. If I practised what I preached, I would have thrown him out of the window a long time ago. Damn cat. I hope he doesn’t eat the neighbour’s shampoo. And if he does, I hope she doesn’t make me pay for it.
Forrester’s screams were inducing people to scurry around like cockroaches when the lights are turned on.
‘Maybe he’s right, Father. But I don’t think it shows much respect for their dead colleague to carry on working.’
Fowler glanced up from his work.
‘I don’t blame him. He has to hurry. Tomorrow’s Saturday.’
‘Oh, yes. The Sabbath. The Jews can’t even turn on a light once the sun sets on Friday. It’s nonsense.’
‘At least they believe in something. What do you believe in?’
‘I’ve always been a practical person.’
‘I suppose you mean a non-believer.’
‘I suppose I mean practical. Wasting two hours a week in a place full of incense would take up exactly 343 days of my life. No offence, but I don’t think it’s worth it. Not even for a supposed eternity.’
The priest chuckled.
‘Have you ever believed in anything?’
‘I believed in a relationship.’
‘What happened?’
‘I screwed up. Let’s just say that she had more faith in it than I did.’
Fowler remained silent. Andrea’s voice had sounded slightly forced. She realised that the priest wanted her to unburden herself.
‘On top of that, Father . . . I don’t think that faith is the only motivating factor behind this expedition. The Ark is going to be worth a lot of money.’
‘There are roughly 125,000 tons of gold in the world. Do you believe that Mr Kayn needs to go after the thirteen or fourteen inside the Ark?’
‘I’m talking about Forrester and his busy bees,’ Andrea replied. She loved arguing but hated it when her arguments were so easily refuted.
‘All right. Do you want a practical reason? They’re in denial. Their work keeps them going.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Dr Kübler-Ross’s stages of mourning.’
‘Oh, yes. Denial, anger, depression, all that stuff.’
‘Exactly. They’re all in the first phase.’
‘The way the professor is screaming, you’d think he was in the second.’
‘They’ll feel better tonight. Professor Forrester will conduct the hesped, the eulogy. I believe it will be interesting to hear him say something good about someone other than himself.’
‘What’s going to happen to the body, Father?’
‘They’ll put it in a hermetically sealed body bag and bury it for the time being.’
Andrea looked at Fowler in disbelief.
‘You’re joking!’
‘It’s Jewish law. Everyone who dies has to be buried within twenty-four hours.’
‘You know what I mean. Aren’t they going to return him to his family?’
??
?Nothing and nobody can leave the camp, Ms Otero. Remember?’
Andrea put the camera in her backpack and lit a cigarette.
‘These people are crazy. I hope this stupid exclusive doesn’t end up wiping all of us out.’
‘Always going on about your exclusive, Ms Otero. I can’t understand what it is that you need so desperately.’
‘Fame and fortune. How about you?’
Fowler stood up and stretched his arms. He leaned backward and his spine gave a loud crack.
‘I’m just following orders. If the Ark is real, the Vatican wants to know, so they can recognise it as the object that holds God’s commandments.’
A very simple answer, quite ingenious. And totally untrue, Father. You’re a very bad liar. But let’s pretend I believe you.
‘Maybe,’ Andrea said after a moment. ‘But in this case, why didn’t your bosses send a historian?’
Fowler showed her what he had been working on.
‘Because a historian couldn’t have done this.”
‘What is it?’ Andrea said curiously. It looked like a simple electrical breaker switch with a pair of wires coming out of it.
‘We’ll have to forget yesterday’s plan for contacting Albert. After Erling’s murder, they’ll be even more on their guard. So this is what we’ll do instead . . .’
39
THE EXCAVATION
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Friday, July 14, 2006. 3:42 p.m.
Father, tell me one more time why I’m doing this.
Because you want to know the truth. The truth about what’s going on here. About why they bothered to contact you in Spain when Kayn could have found a thousand reporters more experienced and famous than you are right there in New York.
The conversation continued to ring in Andrea’s ears. The question was the same one the weak little voice in her head had been asking for quite some time now. It had been drowned out by the Philharmonic of Pride, accompanied by Mr Visa Debt, baritone, and Ms Fame at Any Cost, soprano. But Fowler’s words had given the weak little voice centre stage.