“I know. Just read it.”
“Okay. Right. Here goes:
“From holy resting place to rest upon the water –
But Noah, the faithful son –
Once more in the earth you will find peace –
From whence you came –
Between the rivers –
“There you go. That’s it.” Fish nodded conclusively. His assistants smiled and made appreciative noises.
“Anything else?” Potzner asked them. “Any shape, any word, any stroke of the pen, any other diagrams that might help?”
Fish sighed. “I’m afraid not. We don’t think anything else cross-refers to this particular diagram. The footnote doesn’t really make any sense. It’s in a modern idiom. Roughly translated it says –”
“In time you will find the whole,” Potzner said. “I know.”
Fish and his team exchanged surprised glances.
“I don’t know why I bother with you guys,” Potzner said. “It’s kids’ stuff.”
Dracup inserted his hand carefully into the open door of the grandfather clock. He felt around on either side then slid his hand further up above the door, taking care to avoid contact with the suspended lead weights and pendulum, and was rewarded with the sensation of paper brushing along his searching fingertips.
“Is there something?” Sara asked.
“Yes – I’ve just got to –” Dracup eased the paper out of its hiding place, “– be careful I don’t tear it. It’s quite brittle.”
“Been there for a while, I guess,” Farrell said, chewing thoughtfully on a stick of gum.
“Got it.” Dracup removed his hand and inspected his discovery. They all peered at the closely formed writing. “Same as the diary,” Sara murmured. “It’s him all right.”
Dracup felt a familiar weariness creep over him. “Yes, but what on earth does it mean? Come on. Downstairs.”
They assembled in the front room and Dracup placed the handwritten note on the table. He rubbed his eyes and gave a sigh of frustration. The note was brief. It said:
L'Chaim Doctor A, and dial a close shave in the nick of time
Dracup found that his mind had gone into a kind of suspended animation. Churchill’s revelation had given him a surge of adrenaline and the hope of a quick answer. But the adrenaline had quickly dispersed, leaving him flat and exhausted. His grandfather’s strange words danced before him. He looked at his watch, wondering how much progress Potzner had made. Best give the American a few more hours before phoning in – he was confident Potzner would contact him with any news. And he in turn would want an update. “I need a coffee,” Dracup told them, and went into the kitchen.
As he waited for the kettle he thought about his aunt. How much had she known about all this? Perhaps she had kept herself in deliberate ignorance. The diary had remained at McPherson & McPherson’s offices. She hadn’t discovered the message in the clock, placed there by his grandfather probably some time before his committal. It was almost as if his grandfather knew what was likely to happen and had been able – rationally able – to leave markers for whoever followed, for whoever needed to follow in his footsteps. This was not a legacy of dementia but the premeditated act of a man intent on putting some wrong to rights. There had been something wrong about the second expedition; something had been done that should not have been done. It had not been in Theodore Dracup’s power to undo his actions, but he had seen to it that there would be a way for someone in the future to do just that; someone to make amends. Someone –
Dracup ran into the lounge. “The salutation is the easy bit.”
Sara looked up and frowned. “What?”
“L'Chaim! is a Jewish exhortation to good health. It literally means ‘To life!’ or, as we would say, ‘Cheers!’ when we raise a glass.”
“Okay.” Her forehead creased again. “But Doctor A?”
“Come on – abbreviate ‘Doctor’.” Dracup’s excitement was rising. “It’s not a reference to my profession – he couldn’t have known that.”
Sara snapped her fingers. “Of course! You drink from a cup; a Dr-a-cup.” She blanched. “It’s personal... to you.”
Dracup nodded. “It seems that way. I was just thinking about Theodore. About what he did. He meant me to find this.”
“Nice going,” Farrell said. “But you ain’t home and dry yet.”
“Thanks, Farrell.” Dracup sank back into the armchair. “Do feel free to make a contribution.”