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...
His assailant was doing the obvious thing. All he had to do was walk round the foot of the bed and shoot him. Dracup had nowhere to go. They both knew it. And that made Dracup angry. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized this as a good thing; anger might give him an edge. He heaved the bedside cabinet in front of him before the next shot came. The round tore into the MDF of the cabinet and a splinter glanced off his forearm. He yelled out and reflexively pushed forward, rewarded by the sound of a soft curse as the cabinet connected with the man’s shin. Dracup propelled himself forward in a clumsy rugby tackle, desperately aware of his lack of fitness. He caught the man around the waist but the assassin was strong; he wrenched himself free and aimed a kick at Dracup’s head. The blow caught Dracup on the shoulder and threw him back into the corner. The figure lifted its arm again, lining up with Dracup’s head. Dracup scrabbled around the floor for something solid. There was nothing. Wait. His hands closed around the cool plastic of the control console. It might do. He clicked the button. Please God let it be the right one…