Thank you, W. Today my wife blessed me and bid me goodbye with a smile on her lips. She said to me: ‘From the day I met you I knew that you were made for martyrdom. Today is the happiest day of my life.’ Blessed be Allah for having bequeathed me someone like her. D
Blessings upon you, D. O
Isn’t your soul filled to bursting? Would that we could share it with someone, shout it to the four winds. D
I too would like to share it, but I do not feel your euphoria. I find myself strangely at peace. This is my final message, since I leave in a few hours with my two brothers for our appointment in Amman. W
I share W’s sense of peace. Euphoria is understandable but dangerous. In a moral sense, because it is the daughter of pride. In a tactical sense, because it can cause you to commit mistakes. You should purify your thoughts, D. When you find yourself in the desert you’ll have to wait many hours in the hot sun for Huqan’s signal. Your euphoria could quickly turn to desperation. Search for the things that will fill you with serenity. O
What would you recommend? D
Think of the martyrs who have gone before us. Our struggle, the struggle of the umma, is composed of small steps. The brothers who slaughtered the infidels in Madrid achieved one small step. The brothers who destroyed the Twin Towers achieved ten such steps. Our mission signifies a thousand steps. It aims to bring the invaders to their knees forever. Do you realise? Your life, your blood, will bring about an end that no other brother can even aspire to. Imagine an ancient king who has led a virtuous life multiplying his seed in an enormous harem, defeating his enemies, expanding his kingdom in the name of God. He can look around himself with the satisfaction of someone who has fulfilled his duty. That is how you should feel. Take refuge in that thought and transmit it to the warriors you will take with you to Jordan. P
I’ve meditated for many hours on what you told me, O, and I am thankful. My spirit is different, my state of mind closer to God. The only thing that still causes me distress is that these will be our last messages to each other, and that, although we will triumph, our next meeting will be in another life. I’ve learned so much from you and have passed on that knowledge to the others.
Until forever, brother. Salaam Aleikum.
65
THE EXCAVATION
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Wednesday, 19 July 2006. 11:34 a.m.
Hanging from the ceiling in a harness twenty-five feet above the ground in the same place where four people had lost their lives the day before, Andrea couldn’t help feeling more alive than she ever had in her life. She couldn’t deny that the imminent possibility of death excited her and in a strange way it obliged her to waken from a dream she had been stuck in for the last ten years.
Suddenly questions about who you hate more, your father for being a homophobic bigot or your mother for being the stingiest person in the world, begin to fade before questions like, ‘Is this rope going to hold my weight?’
Andrea, who had never learned to abseil, asked that she be lowered to the bottom of the cave slowly, partly through fear and partly because she wanted to try out different camera angles for her shots.
‘C’mon, guys. Slow down. I have a good one,’ she yelled, leaning back her head and looking up at Brian Hanley and Tommy Eichberg, who were lowering her with the aid of a hoist.
The rope stopped moving.
Below her lay the wreck of the excavator, like a toy smashed by an angry child. Part of the arm stuck out at a strange angle and there was still dried blood on the shattered windscreen. Andrea pointed her camera away from the scene.
I hate blood, hate it.
Even her lack of professional ethics had limits. She focused on the bottom of the cave, but just as she was about to push the shutter she began to spin on the rope.
‘Can you make it stop? I can’t focus.’
‘Miss, you’re not made of feathers, you know?’ Brian Hanley shouted down to her.
‘I think it’s better that we keep lowering you,’ Tommy added.
‘What’s the matter? I only weigh eight and a half stone - can’t you deal with that? You seem a lot stronger,’ Andrea said, always knowing how to manipulate men.
‘She weighs a lot more than eight stone,’ complained Hanley in a low voice.
‘I heard that,’ said Andrea, pretending to be insulted.
She was so excited by the experience that it was impossible for her to be angry with Hanley. The electrician had done such a great job in lighting the cave that she didn’t even need to use the flash on her camera. Opening up the lens more allowed her to get great shots of the final stage of the dig.
I can’t believe it. We’re a step away from the greatest discovery of all time, and the photo that’ll appear on every front page will be mine!
The reporter observed the inside of the cave closely for the first time. David Pappas had calculated that they needed to build a diagonal tunnel down towards the presumed location of the Ark, but the route - in the most abrupt manner possible - had come across a natural chasm in the earth that bordered the canyon wall.
‘Imagine the walls of the canyon thirty million years ago,’ Pappas had explained the day before, drawing a small sketch in his notebook. Back then there was water in this area, which is what created the canyon. When the climate changed, the rock walls began to wear away, producing this terrain of compacted earth and rocks that surrounds the canyon walls like a giant coating, sealing off the type of cave that we hit on by chance. Unfortunately, my mistake cost several lives. If I’d checked to make sure the ground was solid on the floor of the tunnel . . .’
‘I wish I could say I know how you feel, David, but I have no idea. I can only offer you my help, and to hell with the rest of it.’
‘Thank you, Ms Otero. That means a lot to me. Especially since some members of the expedition are still blaming me for Stowe’s death just because we argued all the time.’
‘Call me Andrea, OK?’
‘Sure.’ The archaeologist pushed his glasses back shyly.
Andrea noticed that David was almost exploding with the stress of it all. She thought of giving him a hug, but there was something about him that made her increasingly uneasy. It was like seeing a painting you’d been staring at suddenly illuminated, revealing a completely different picture.
‘Tell me, David, do you think that the people who buried the Ark knew about these caves?’
‘I don’t know. It’s possible there’s an entrance in the canyon that we haven’t discovered yet because it’s covered with rocks or dirt - somewhere they used when they first put the Ark down there. We’d probably have found it by now if this damned expedition wasn’t being run in such a crazy way, making things up as we go along. Instead, we’ve done what no archaeologist should ever do. Maybe a treasure-hunter, yes, but it’s certainly not how I was taught.’
Andrea had been taught how to take photos and that’s exactly what she was doing. Still contending with the spinning rope, she reached her left arm overhead and grabbed a piece of rock that was jutting out, while her right hand aimed the camera towards the back of the cave: a high but narrow space with an even smaller opening at the far end. Brian Hanley had installed a generator and powerful lights that now cast the large shadows of Professor Forrester and David Pappas against the rough rock wall. Each time one of them moved, fine grains of sand fell from the rock and floated down through the air. The cave smelled dry and acrid, like a clay ashtray left in the kiln too long. The professor kept coughing, even though he was wearing a dust mask.
Andrea took a few more shots before Hanley and Tommy grew tired of waiting.
‘Let go of the rock. We’re going to lower you down.’
Andrea did as she was told and a minute later she was standing on solid ground. She undid her harness, and the rope went back up. It was now Brian Hanley’s turn.
Andrea approached David Pappas, who was trying to help the professor to sit down. The old man was shaking and his forehead was drenched
in sweat.
‘Drink some of my water, Professor,’ David said, offering him his canteen.
‘Idiot! You drink it. You’re the one who has to go into the cave,’ the professor said. The words brought on another bout of coughing. He ripped off his mask and spat a huge glob of blood on the ground. Even though his voice had been damaged by his illness, the professor could still hurl a sharp insult.
David put the canteen back on his belt and went over to Andrea.
‘Thank you for coming to help us. After the accident, the professor and I are the only ones left . . . and he’s not much help in his state,’ he added, lowering his voice.
‘My cat’s shit looks better.’
‘He’s going to . . . well, you know. The only way he could delay the inevitable would be to get on the first plane to Switzerland for treatment.’
‘That’s what I meant.’
‘With the dust inside that cave—’
‘I may not be able to breathe, but my hearing is perfect,’ said the professor, although each word ended in a wheeze. ‘Stop talking about me and get to work. I’m not going to die until you get the Ark out of there, you useless idiot.’
David looked furious. For a moment Andrea thought he was going to answer back, but the words seemed to die on his lips.
You’re totally screwed, aren’t you? You hate his guts but you can’t confront him . . . He hasn’t just cut off your nuts, he made you fry them for breakfast, thought Andrea, feeling some pity for the assistant.
‘Well, David, tell me what I have to do.’
‘Follow me.’
About ten feet into the cave the surface of the wall changed a little. Were it not for the thousands of watts lighting up the space Andrea probably wouldn’t have noticed it. Instead of bare solid rock, there was an area that seemed to be formed of bits of rock piled up on top of one another.
Whatever it was, it was manmade.
‘My God, David.’
‘What I don’t understand is how they managed to make such a solid wall without using any mortar and without being able to work on the other side.’
‘Maybe there’s an exit on the other side of the chamber. You said that there had to be one.’
‘You could be right, but I don’t think so. I’ve taken new readings with the magnetometer. Behind this block of stones is the unstable area we identified with our initial readings. In fact, the Copper Scroll was found in a hole just like this one.’
‘Coincidence?’
‘I doubt it.’
David knelt and touched the wall gently with his fingertips. When he found the slightest crack between the stones he tried pulling with all his might.
‘There’s no way,’ he went on. ‘This hole in the cave has been sealed on purpose; and for some reason, the stones have become even more tightly compacted than when they were first put there. It could be that in two thousand years there’s been downward pressure on the wall. Almost as if . . .’
‘As if what?’
‘As if God himself had sealed the entrance. Don’t laugh.’
I’m not laughing, Andrea thought. None of this is funny.
‘Can’t we pull away the stones one at a time?’
‘Not without knowing how thick the wall is and what’s behind it.’
‘And how are you going to do that?’
‘By looking inside.’
Four hours later, with Brian Hanley and Tommy Eichberg helping him, David Pappas had managed to drill a small hole through the wall. They’d had to take apart the motor of the large rock drill - which they hadn’t used as yet, since they’d only had to dig through earth and sand - and lower it part by part into the tunnel. Hanley put together a strange-looking contraption from the pieces of the wrecked mini-excavator at the entrance to the cave.
‘Now that’s recycling!’ Hanley said, pleased with his creation.
The result, besides being ugly, was not very practical. It took all four of them to hold it in place, pushing with all their strength. To make matters worse, only the smallest drill bits could be used, to avoid subjecting the wall to excessive vibration. ‘Seven feet,’ Hanley yelled, above the clanking sound of the motor.
David pushed a fibre-optic camera connected to a small view-finder through the hole, but the cable attached to the camera was too stiff and short and the ground on the other side was full of obstacles.
‘Shit! I won’t be able to see anything like this.’
Feeling something graze her, Andrea brought her hand up to the back of her neck. Someone was throwing small stones at her. She turned around.
Forrester was trying to get her attention, unable to make himself heard above the din of the motor. Pappas went over and leaned his ear towards the old man.
‘That’s it,’ David yelled, both agitated and overjoyed. ‘That’s what we’ll do, Professor. Brian, do you think you can make the hole a little bigger? Say about three-quarters of an inch by an inch and a quarter?’
‘Don’t even joke about it,’ Hanley said, scratching his head. ‘We don’t have any small drill bits left.’
Wearing thick gloves he was removing the last of the smoking drill bits, which had bent out of shape. Andrea remembered when she’d tried to hang a beautiful framed photo of the Manhattan skyline in her apartment on a weight-bearing wall. Her drill bit had been about as useful as a pretzel stick.
‘Frick would probably have known what to do,’ said Brian sadly, looking at the corner where his friend had died. ‘He had a lot more experience of this kind of thing than I do.’
Pappas didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. The others could almost hear him thinking.
‘What if I let you use the medium-sized drill bits?’ he finally said.
‘Then there wouldn’t be a problem. I could have it done in two hours. But the vibration is going to be that much greater. The area is clearly unstable . . . it’s a big risk. You’re aware of that?’
David laughed, without a drop of humour.
‘You’re asking me if I’m aware that four thousand tons of rocks might come crashing down, pulverising the greatest object in the history of the world? That it would destroy many years of work and an investment of millions of dollars? That it would render pointless the sacrifice of five people?’
Fuck! He’s completely different today. He’s as . . . contaminated by the whole thing as the professor, Andrea thought.
‘Yes, I’m aware, Brian,’ David added. ‘And I’m going to take that risk.’
66
THE EXCAVATION
AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN
Wednesday, 19 July 2006. 7:01 p.m.
Andrea took another photo of Pappas kneeling in front of the stone wall. His face was in shadow, but the device he was using to look through the hole was clearly visible.
Much better, David . . . not that you’re exactly a great beauty, Andrea observed wryly to herself. In a few hours she would regret having that thought, but at that moment there was nothing closer to the truth. That machine was amazing.
‘Stowe used to call it an ATER. Annoying Terrain Explorer Robot, but we call it Freddie.’
‘Any special reason?’
‘Just to fuck with Stowe. He was an arrogant prick,’ David replied. Andrea was surprised at the anger displayed by the usually timid archaeologist.
Freddie was a mobile camera system with a remote control that could be used in places where human access would be dangerous. It had been developed by Stowe Erling, who would sadly not be there to witness his robot’s debut. In order to navigate obstacles such as rocks, Freddie had been equipped with treads similar to those used on tanks. The robot was also submersible for periods of up to ten minutes. Erling had copied the idea from a group of archaeologists working in Boston and had recreated it with the help of some engineers from MIT-who were suing him for going off on this mission with the first prototype, although this was something that would no longer trouble Erling.
‘We’ll put it through the opening to ob
tain views of the grotto’s interior,’ said David. ‘That way we’ll be able to figure out if it’s safe to knock down the wall without damaging what’s on the other side.’
‘How can the robot see in there?’
‘Freddie is equipped with night-vision lenses. The central mechanism throws out an infrared beam that only the lens can pick up. The images aren’t very good quality, but they’re good enough. The only thing we have to watch for is that it doesn’t get stuck or tip over. If that happens, we’re finished.’
The first few feet were fairly straightforward. The initial stage, although narrow, gave Freddie sufficient room to get into the cave. Crossing the uneven area between the wall and the ground was a little more difficult as it was rough and full of loose rocks. Luckily the robot’s treads could be operated independently, enabling it to turn and circumnavigate lesser obstacles.
‘Sixty degrees to the left,’ said David, focusing on the screen, where he could see little more than a field of rocks in black and white. Tommy Eichberg was manipulating the controls at David’s request, since he had a steady hand despite his chubby fingers. Each tread was operated by means of a small wheel on the controls, connected to Freddie via two thick cables that provided power and could also be used to haul in the machine manually should something go wrong.
‘We’re almost there. Oh no!’