Dracup leaned back against the headboard and folded his arms. He appeared to have reached the inevitable brick wall. The one that read ‘Classified’. “All right. So what do you want from me?”
Potzner hesitated and once again looked uneasy. The cigarette case appeared. “The item I’m referring to has been — mislaid.”
“Mislaid?”
“Okay. Stolen.”
Dracup exhaled slowly. So that was it; they needed Theodore’s record. Some clue, perhaps, to help them find — what? He emptied the dregs of his tonic water into the heavy bathroom tumbler. Another thought occurred to him. “But you knew my aunt had the diary. So why didn’t you ask her for it?”
“Our problem has only recently arisen, Professor, otherwise we would have done.” Potzner drew on his Winston. “So your little acquisition has come at about the right time for us.”
“Little? If this is genuine, the implications are — staggering.” That’s putting it mildly, Dracup thought. He swigged back his tonic and looked at the American. “So how exactly will the diary help you?”
“I really can’t tell you any more, Professor.”
Dracup shook his head in exasperation. He wondered how far he could press the American. Potzner hadn’t threatened him — yet. He caught Potzner’s gaze and held it. “Perhaps I’ll keep hold of it for the time being.”
Potzner laughed softly. “Mr Dracup — I can’t emphasize enough — your cooperation would be a real convenience for us.”
“And if I refuse?”
“I’ll tell you what.” Potzner consigned the second stub expertly to the recesses of the waste bin. “I’ll let you sleep on it, okay? Have a read through if you like; hell, I’d do the same myself under the circumstances.” Potzner was on his feet and at the door. “I’ll look you up in the morning. Perhaps you’ll see things in a fresh light.”
Dracup got up to see him out. “I’m not parting company with the diary until I know what this is all about.”
Potzner shrugged. “Your decision.”
Dracup watched him walk down the corridor; a tall man in his late fifties, with a slight limp. Before he entered the lift he called back: “Professor Dracup?”
“Yes?”
“Take care, won’t you?” The lift doors opened and Potzner was gone.
Dracup sat quietly for ten minutes before kicking off his shoes and lying back on the king-size bed with a fresh drink. So it was true. It had to be if the CIA were after the diary. Dracup had no doubts concerning Potzner’s ‘Embassy’ role. But more fascinating was their stolen item. He picked up his grandfather’s diary and began to read. He studied the first entry:
21st Apr ‘20
First night in situ. Hardly believe we’re on board, after all the anticipation. RC is elated. Estimates are that we’re in the mid section — 3 fragments theory seems vindicated. The size of it is what thrills me! OT seems spot on re dimensions. It’s vast — the decking is clearly visible and quite well preserved
Three fragments? Presumably referring to the condition of the Ark — the way it had broken up over the years. OT? Dracup frowned. Of course — Old Testament. Dracup shook his head in disbelief. Could this vessel really be the Ark of Noah? A dark stain obscured the next two lines. Dracup raised the book to his nose and took a sniff. Impossible to say what had caused it. He picked up at the next legible point in the entry:
RC is concerned re the location of the sarcophagus. Clear indications that it was on board during voyage — the sceptre may hold the answer. I have many reservations.
Sarcophagus? The tone of his grandfather’s entry sent a chill down Dracup’s spine. He shook his head in puzzlement. Potzner wanted something precious that had been on board Noah’s Ark and then taken to another location…
Clear indications that it was on board during voyage
Dracup began to hum quietly. Something they had found on the Ark — some clue — had pointed Theodore to that other location.
the sceptre may hold the answer.
He flipped on a few pages.
27th Apr ‘20
Never been so cold. Descent halted for the day — driving snow. Tevfik’s death has shaken us all. A has not spoken of it, but seems consumed with fear. RC nervous that he’ll disappear and leave us. Constantly mutters under his breath. ‘Bekci, Bekci’ — apparently means ‘The Keepers, the keepers’. Some local superstition about the Ark we think. Despite it all I feel frustration above everything else — could only bring one or two finds of interest — the larger finds have to stay of course — have taken some samples from drogues. RC has the curious iron piece — I must say the CF is extraordinary even though I’m no expert! No wonder RC so excited. I just pray we get down safely and can examine all at our leisure.
Tevfik. A Turkish name. Dracup clucked his tongue. That fitted with the Ark’s location: Mount Ararat. He read on:
30th. Still in cave. Storm too severe to attempt any further descent. RC is out of his mind with fright. I must hold him together or we’ll [here there was a smear across the page] … eepers, the keepers’. It is unsettling to say the least; there must be a rational explanation. But am compelled to be honest — I saw it too. A was lifted away — not the wind; not a hidden crevasse … [unclear lettering here]. as taken. Hope to God we are near the track way — not that we’ll ever get our bearings in this weather. Food is nearly gone. Resorted to last tin of corned beef this morning. Wait! I hear it again. Something out on the mountainside. RC is muttering in his sleep — he probably hears it too. God preserve us and help us away from here. Tomorrow we must go and face whatever we must face. Whatever happens I shall cling to these treasures. There is much significance in them, I am convinced.
Dracup shivered. What had happened to them on the mountain? Could it be linked to the missing sarcophagus? Was that what Potzner was after? If so, who did the sarcophagus belong to? And why was it so important? Frustratingly the diary appeared to cover only the first expedition. There was no mention of the mysterious second location. He took a gulp of tonic water. At any rate, he knew what to do next. It was what he always told his students: when in doubt, examine available source material. Reluctantly Dracup fished in the bedside cabinet and found the inevitable Gideon’s Bible. Clearly it had rarely, if ever, been opened. Dracup flicked the pages and found the book of Genesis. Did it mention burials or death on the Ark? What should he look for? Something valuable; a wide remit.
An hour later and none the wiser he placed the Bible next to the diary, leaned over and clicked a button on his console. The electric blinds hissed open and the lights of Aberdeen invaded the room. He was glad of their company.
Dracup snapped awake. His bedside light was off. Something was wrong. He tried to recall the geography of the room. Which way was he facing? He opened his eyes slowly. The room was filled with moonlight; he could pick out every detail. Somewhere in the bowels of the hotel, a door slammed. The moon went behind a cloud and the quality of light deteriorated. A subtle movement, a paler shadow in the darkness, drew his attention. There. By the opposite bedside table, a tall figure leaning in towards him. Dracup was a big man but he could be agile when the occasion demanded and something told him this was such an occasion. He rolled just as a soft pop preceded a thump on his pillow where a second before his head had rested. A pungent, burning smell filled his nostrils, but by this stage Dracup was on the floor and groping frantically for a weapon. His brain raced in panic. Come on, he told himself. Think. That’s what you’re good at…