The Trespass(26)

And then Churchill did something strange. He held up his arm and waved it slowly from side to side. The chorus finished and Dracup heard him singing in a high falsetto: “Tick tock tick tock – in the forest it’s seven past seven o’clock.”

“All right, George,” the matron said. “Never mind that. Last verse – here we are...”

“He gave us eyes to see them and lips that we might tell...”

Dracup felt a cold thrill run through his body. Churchill grinned back and sang on.

“All things wise and wonderful, The Lord God made them all.”

The chorus receded into the background as they found their way along the corridors to the front entrance. Dracup gripped Sara’s arm as they exited into the cold, clear air of the car park, their breath leaving white trails behind them.

She looked at him in astonishment. “What? What is it?”

“The clock. Don’t you see? That’s what he was telling us. In the forest it’s seven past seven o’clock he sang. Remember Theodore’s message? In time you will find the whole?” Dracup dragged Sara to the car. “Come on. Quickly. Whatever my grandfather intended to be found, it’s in the clock at Forest Avenue.”





Chapter 9





“Okay, come on. Let’s have it,” Potzner yelled, preempting the knock at his office door. Several lab-coated individuals burst into the room, preceded by a slight, bespectacled character Potzner knew as Mike Fish, head of the Forensic Paleontology group.

“Jim. We have a translation for you.” Fish removed his glasses and held up a red folder. “But I don’t think you’re going to thank us for it.” He smiled apologetically.

“Try me.”

“Right.” Fish drew out a sheaf of paper. The other team members shuffled nervously. One of them dropped a biro.

“In your own time…”

Fish glanced up and cleared his throat. “Okay. It’s a split message, we think. I mean, we think that around half of the text is missing – there are some connective words that just, well, finish right where they are. Could be that whoever sketched the diagram left out some of the lines. Anyhow, it’s definitely cuneiform script, of the style we’d expect to find in or around the Babylonian environs circa 4000 BC.”

“And?”

“This is what we’ve got.” He smiled apologetically. “It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“Just spit it out, Fish, will you?” Potzner shoved his chair back and stood up. Fish’s colleagues shrank towards the door.

“Right. Here we go. It’s very exciting. The use of cuneiform is normally restricted to tablets – writing tablets I mean – and pottery and so on. Soft imprints. It’s pretty uncommon having an inscription like this on metalwork. The diarist tells us that the composition of the object is silver, with gold inlay.” Fish brushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes. He was thinning on top and employed a version of the oddly popular comb-over technique, which was, in Potzner’s view, the worst form of denial.

“What does it say, Fish?” Potzner spaced the words with a second’s pause between each.

“Yeah. Sorry. Right.” Fish shuffled his papers. “Okay. Here we go. First line. From holy resting place to rest upon the water.”

“Go on.”

Fish turned to a colleague who whispered something in response. “Yeah. Well, we’re not too sure about this line. We think the name reference is Noah, but it may not be. Hard to say. At any rate, it refers to someone about to take an important action. But Noah, the faithful son...”

“Action? What action?”

Fish removed his glasses again and polished out an imaginary blemish. “Well, that’s the second half of the verse. The one we don’t have.” He shrugged his thin shoulders.

Potzner grunted. “Next.”

“Yeah. This is good. Very clear. Once more in the earth you will find peace.”

“If only I could,” Potzner said.

One of the technicians grinned, saw Potzner’s expression and converted the action to a cough.

“Okay,” Fish said. “Two lines to go. From whence you came.”

“And –?”

“Nope.” Fish smirked. “Between – between the rivers.”

“I wasn’t making a contribution, Fish.” Potzner fought his irritation. “Now read it all.” He sat on the edge of his desk and snapped his cigarette case open, released a new packet from its cellophane wrapper and began to transfer Marlboros from packet to case.

Fish took a deep breath. “What wouldn’t I give to see the real object this guy sketched from. I mean I really have to see the rest of the script to make sense of it all. It’s the clearest example –”