Bin Hamish chuckled. "What makes you think they do not?" He raised a hand to stifle Lang's next question. "Let me tell you a brief story: In 1976 near Phoenix in the state of Arizona, there was a cotton farmer named David Hudson. In that area, the soil has a high sodium content, a condition Mr. Hudson attempted to lessen with high amounts of sulfuric acid. Do you understand?"
Lang nodded. "Using an acid to dilute a base, right?"
"Just so. Now, after one such treatment, Mr. Hudson Sent soil samples for analysis. When dried by the hot Arizona sun, some particulate in that soil sample would burst into flames and totally disappear. Do I have your attention?"
Lang helped himself to a pastry, a sugary substance that literally melted in his mouth, leaving a pleasant but unidentifiable flavor. "You do."
"Mr. Hudson had more analyses done over a period of years. Each time the substance tested as different elements at different temperatures____________________
"
Lang remembered what the professor at Georgia Tech, Werbel, had told him and Detective Morse. "Let me guess…" He related as best as he could recall.
"Precisely. You have already had this… this manna subjected to tests. But Mr. Hudson's story is not yet ended. He spent a fortune trying to develop this marvelous material into an energy source by use of superconductors. The sudden flame, the weightlessness, all had tremendous potential. First he was denied a building permit for a plant in which to work, and then fault was found with every plan he submitted. Then came zoning delays. Then came an unexplained explosion that leaked tons of toxic material. Your government people, environmental, employee safety…"
"OSHA," Lang supplied.
"Whoever they were, they imposed fines and other penalties. Then your military appeared and closed the man's research on superconductivity on grounds of national security. Frankly, Mr. Reilly, I was surprised your much-touted democratic government could act in such an arbitrary manner."
Lang wasn't. Once a motivated coalition of bureaucracy and military was formed, law, Constitution, and individual rights might not be suspended, but they could be made so expensive that only the wealthiest could afford them.
"You're saying the military intervened?"
Bin Hamish nodded. "Just so."
"So, they were interested in the weapon's potential," Lang mused.
"Not potential," bin Hamish corrected. "Very real."
"Real?"
"Mr. Reilly, surely you remember your President Reagan's Star Wars proposal, the idea of building a series of killer satellites that would knock Soviet missiles out of the sky? You will recall it was never built, but the mere threat caused such a surge in Russian defense spending that within a year or two the communists went broke."
Lang remembered clearly. It was the collapse of the Evil Empire that had precipitated his departure from the Agency. "You're telling me that Star Wars was actually a version of this… this whatever it is. Superconductor?"
Bin Hamish smiled and gave a slight bow. "Precisely. The talk of killer satellites was just a red fish."
"Red herring."
"A ruse by any name."
"So, the United Sates, at least, has this technology?"
"I am fairly certain, yes."
"Who else?"
Bin Hamish shrugged. "Who would know? Only the few physicists who are aware of the unique powers of the Ark realized what your president was actually describing."
"But the Egyptians must have some inkling of it. Otherwise why the surveillance?"
"From my published work they would know I am studying something that could be a potential weapon. I also am studying something that, if properly harnessed, could literally move mountains."
Lang settled back on his stool and refilled his teacup. "Or tons of rock to build a pyramid."
"Just so."
"But how?"
Bin Hamish was checking the backs of his hands again. "That I do not yet know. What I do know so far is what you have seen. The only material not affected like the slug of metal is pure gold."
"What happens to gold?"
"Gold, Mr. Reilly, does not burn. It melts. Your papers tell of Moses burning the golden calf. The only way he could have done that is by using a force similar to the one the Ark projects. It turns gold into the white powder. Manna, if you will."
"Let me get this straight." Lang was trying to reduce the process to one he could understand. "The white powder, manna, fuels the Ark, and the Ark turns gold into the white powder. Why?"
Bin Hamish moved his head slowly from side to side. "That is, so far, unknown to me. That is a law of the universe that is yet to be rediscovered."
Lang slid from the stool, standing. "Dr. bin Hamish, I appreciate your time. What can I do…?"
Bin Hamish crossed the room and somehow opened the panel. "It is unnecessary for you to do anything. As you can see from this house, I have no need of money. An inheritance and investments outside Egypt have seen to that. Having a chance to talk with you is recompense enough. I rarely have visitors." He nodded in the direction of the street and his minders. "You can understand why few if any of my former colleagues come to call."
Lang left by the same rear door through which he had entered. When he reached the street, the same two men were still in the same Mercedes.
FORTY
Four Seasons Hotel at Nile Plaza
1089 Comiche el-Nil
Cairo
Twenty Minutes Later
Lang had gone from the airport straight to meet bin Hamish, detouring only to entrust his single bag to the hotel's concierge before heading across the river. Now he had returned to a flurry of excuses and promises as to when he might occupy his room. His expectations were not enhanced by the marble-pillared lobby's growing line of disheveled arriving guests who were also looking forward to a shower, a shave, and perhaps a nap to bring their frayed psyches more in line with local time.
Although Lang had spent little time in the Arab world, he understood far better than most of his tired, jetlagged, and irritated fellow travelers how things worked. Deeply apologetic, the desk clerk pleaded an abnormal number of late checkouts and the lack of trained help.
He leaned toward Lang conspiratorially. "It is difficult to get these people to work," he confided with a patronizing smile that said he was sure someone of Lang's sophistication would understand the abhorrence with which local women regarded labor. "But we do have the presidential suite available right now. Only a few hundred pounds more than yours."
Lang wasn't falling for the old upgrade trick, one common throughout the Middle East. Instead he crossed the ornate lobby to press against the concierge desk so that those behind him could not see the ten-Egyptian-pound note he spread out on the varnished wood.
Smiling, he said, "I would like my room as soon as possible."
"Of course," the man said with an oily grin as he reached for the bill.
Lang stepped back, returning the money to his pocket. "It will be yours when you deliver the room key. I'll be in the bar."
Lang was uncertain whether the hotel's bar was supposed to be contemporary with an Egyptian flair or was just overdone. A round window of dark blue was reflected in twin crystal obelisks. He sat in one of the gold- lacquered chairs that vaguely resembled something he might have seen at Versailles.
A waiter who looked like he might have just left a meeting of the local Shriners, complete with fez, appeared as though from Aladdin's lamp. Already full of caffeine so early in the day, Lang ordered a large orange juice, leaned back, and went over the meeting he had just left.
Add to a Moses who was not Hebrew but a king and Israelites who were not Jews but Egyptians a weapon of ancient origin that, quite likely, had toppled a modern empire. Was it this device that the unknown "they" sought? More likely they were trying to suppress it. If someone were trying to prevent its proliferation, presumably that would be a power that already had it.