Dracup was thinking about the sceptre. Not Noah’s sceptre. Adam’s. “This is extraordinary. It means—”
“It means we have a chance at immortality,” Potzner interrupted. “It means no more death.”
Dracup shook his head. “No, no it doesn’t.” He struggled to articulate the outrageous thought. “It means — it means there is a creator. A designer. God.”
“God?” Potzner guffawed. “If you want to call him that. But what do we know about him? I mean really know? What can we prove about the creator? For all you know, he could be half a million galaxies away from Earth by now. And do you think he — it — cares about — hell, even remembers — this speck of dust? So what if he set the ball rolling? It’s rolling along pretty good without him, huh? No, what we have here is human potential. We can be masters of our own destinies. We will build indestructible bodies.”
“Using Adam’s blueprint?”
“Why not? His body is different, Dracup, stronger. His DNA is a work of art, according to our guys. What we have in here ¬” Potzner thumped his chest for emphasis, “is some poor imitation, a flawed copy.”
“But Adam died.” Dracup frowned at Potzner’s strange logic. “At some improbable age, granted, but he still died.”
“Yeah, but think what you could do with a lifespan like that. Eight hundred, nine hundred years? C’mon, Dracup, where’s your vision? Think of the knowledge you’d gain, the quality of life you’d enjoy with no disease to interrupt you. We can do it. All we have to do is keep the research going. We’ll get there.”
“I don’t know. There’s another dimension you need to take into account.”
“Don’t go all Bible-belt on me, Dracup. We’re past all that.”
“On the contrary. I think you’re right in the middle of ‘all that’. Maybe this God isn’t as disconnected as you think; maybe he still has an interest in what’s going on here. And just maybe he won’t take kindly to your ‘research’.” Dracup paused, surprised at his outburst. Where had that come from? He suddenly felt mind-numbingly weary and rested his head against the side window, the effort of conversation almost beyond him. “Anyway, don’t you think the world should know the truth?”
“The truth? Are you crazy? What do you think would happen if we announced the ‘truth’ on the nine o’clock news? Do you think everyone would be going ‘whoopee — there is a God’?”
Dracup rubbed his eyes. Potzner had a point. “I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Well, maybe the fundamentalists, the born-agains. But the whole thing is a minefield. Did you know that there is a widespread belief amongst the Islamics that the revelation of the Ark will be a sign that Mohammed is returning to purge the Earth of heretics in a holy war? And what if it became common knowledge that the Ark had been discovered and then looted by the West? That unbelievers from the United States of America had tainted the sacred mountain? And we haven’t even gotten on to the Islamic view of Adam and the Bible vs. the Koran yet. Release this news and you set up the biggest excuse for civil unrest since — hell — since I don’t know when. You want Armageddon? Fine — give ’em the truth and that’s what you’ll get — the mother of all Jihads.”
Small droplets of spittle were collecting around Potzner’s mouth. Dracup pressed his face against the cold glass and watched the motorway slip by. His head was spinning. He tried to blank out Potzner’s voice. He needed to think.
Given a choice of enforced custody, Moran would have been Dracup’s preferred jailer. Potzner was like a gyroscope running out of energy; still turning but likely to fly off balance at any time. Dracup comforted himself with the thought that half the Thames Valley police force would be looking for them. But then where were the roadblocks and pursuing squad cars? And then he thought about Moran and the answer came to him: he’s waiting for the flash card analysis. He’s cutting Potzner some slack. And that meant the DCI would be expecting a progress report. Hope began to simmer again. With nothing visible from his window Dracup closed his eyes and ears to Potzner’s warped evangelism. Vivid scenes of Ethiopia immediately invaded the blackness. In his mind’s eye he saw Mukannishum in the church, elevating the Lalibelian sceptre like a Catholic priest raising a chalice. And then he remembered. Mukannishum’s accent, the strange vowel intonation. He suddenly knew where he had heard it before; not in the bass register of a man’s vocal cords, but a woman’s. Sara.
Chapter 31
“You betrayed me.” Sara flushed with disbelief. “My sister.”
“I told you. The girl belongs to me. And you do not belong here anymore.”
Sara’s eyes searched beyond Ruth to where the chamber opening allowed a little of the cavern phosphorescence to colour the cell. Outside were two of Kadesh’s elite, keeping watch. They wore desert combat fatigues and carried weapons procured from Kadesh’s liaison with Al-Qaida. Sara’s heart was full of fear, not for herself, but for the future of the Korumak.
“Ruth, please, be kind to the child.”
“Of course. She is mine. She will enjoy a mother’s love.”
“But can’t you see? There is great danger here. From the Americans and Al-Qaida. It’s not safe any more. You have to get away.”
“The blessed one is wise. Obedience to him is the whole of the law.”
Sara studied Ruth’s face. Her sister’s words filled her with alarm. Was it too late? She approached Ruth with her arms wide. “Listen to me, Ruth. Kadesh is going to kill me. And the girl. He’s lying to you. What else has he promised?”
“Not the girl.” Ruth shook her head emphatically. Her oiled hair left a tang of perfume in the eddy of her movement.
Sara seized her sister’s arm. “I saw what he wrote. He sent a message to Natasha’s father. It was a promise to kill us both. Unless—”
“Unless your lover comes to save you.” Ruth smiled strangely. “Yes. He must also die. Then it is over.” She pulled herself free. “I have to go.”
“Why did you come?” Sara shouted after her. To make sure I was still here? To make sure I was still alive?” Her voice degenerated with her anger. The door was locked into place and she was left alone in the twilight.
“Are you really going to be my mummy from now on?” Natasha asked.
“We’ll have such fun,” Ruth replied. “There is so much to see.”
Natasha looked doubtful. “But I miss my house and my friends, and—”
Ruth bent low and gripped the girl’s arms. “All that is past. This is your home now.”
“You’re hurting me.” Natasha began to cry. “My daddy will be cross with you. He never hurts me. Neither does my mummy. You’re not my mummy.” She tore herself away and flung herself onto the bed. “I hate it here.”
Ruth leaned over and touched the girl’s head lightly. “I’m sorry, Natasha. I just want you to be happy.”
She would make her happy.
Natasha’s face was buried in the pillow. “I want my daddy. He’ll come and get me soon.”
Ruth sat next to the girl and folded her hands in her lap. She felt distracted, as if some vital instruction had passed her by. When Natasha’s sobs had subsided she hugged her tightly. “Yes, child. He will come. He will come soon.”