The Trespass(51)

“Yes, yes. Quite. Let’s have those stanzas – the translation I mean.”

“On that sheet.” Dracup leaned over and slid the paper across the table.

“Now then.” Sturrock squinted.





“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 – “





“Right. Well, the first line implies something that was in one place – for a long time, I’d say. And obviously venerated.” Sturrock peered at the verse. “And whatever it was, it went on the Ark. To rest upon the water. Yes?”

“Yes. I suppose so.” Dracup felt his eyes beginning to close. He rubbed them and blinked.

“And when the Ark grounded, Once more in the earth you will find peace, and particularly From whence you came, both imply a return to the original location.”

“Possibly. I have a problem with that, though.”

“Namely?”

“You global flood people would accept that the antediluvian and the post-flood world were – are – very different?”

“Yes.”

“With a considerably altered ecosystem and geological foundation?”

“Highly probably. But that’s not to say all areas were altered beyond recognition. Depending on the geology of the location pre flood, when the waters eventually receded there may have been little or no change to solid formation land masses, rock strata, whatever.”

“Charles, it’s not my area of expertise.”

“Nor mine, but I’ve read some interesting papers on the subject. Bottom line is, if something had been secreted below ground, provided the geology was sound enough it may still be there today.” Sturrock’s expression changed.

“What?”

“You look absolutely knackered, Si. Early start tomorrow. White Waltham for eight thirty. You need to get some sleep.”

Dracup let out a groan.

“Problem?”

“Yes. I’ve left my suitcase at the hotel.”

“Ah. I’ll pick it up if you like.”

“And risk getting your head blown off? I don’t think so. I have my passport, fortunately.” Dracup patted his pocket. “The clothes are just an inconvenience.”

Sturrock downed his brandy in one. “Right. Perhaps I can lend you some essentials.”

Dracup smiled. “Charles, you’re a good man.”

Sturrock shook his head. “Just helping an old buddy.” He replaced his glass on the table with a deepening frown. “Simon – are you going to be all right?”

Dracup was glad he’d chosen Charles as a confidant; the archaeologist’s concern was almost comical. He shook his head. “Charles, I have absolutely no idea if I’m going to be all right.”

Sturrock fixed Dracup with a mock serious expression. “I have every confidence.” He raised his glass, which he had subtly contrived to refill. “My dear chap. Here’s to Africa.”





It was a bright, sunny morning. White Waltham’s windsock ruffled gently in a cool westerly breeze as Dracup was led reluctantly onto the grass where several aircraft were sitting expectantly, like seagulls waiting for tourists to arrive with ice creams and sandwiches. He watched suspiciously as Sturrock gestured towards the smallest aircraft, which looked to Dracup rather like a grown-up version of the boyhood models he had painstakingly constructed in his bedroom.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“What do you mean? She’s a beaut. Perfectly airworthy.”

“But we can’t both fit in there.” Dracup examined the cockpit with a growing sense of alarm.

“Of course we can. It’s only a short flight. You’ll get used to it in no time.”

Dracup carried that thought through the pre-flight preparations. Sturrock chattered excitedly about oil pressure, crosswinds and fuel checks. Dracup’s hands were cold and clammy. He attempted a kind of self-deluding detachment, as if he wasn’t really about to climb into an aerial coffin. Forty-five minutes later Sturrock opened the throttle and they rumbled across the grass to the take-off position. When the ground fell away beneath them, leaving Dracup’s stomach with it, he was beginning to wish he’d risked Moran’s vigilance and gone for the Heathrow option after all.





Africa





Chapter 17





“You lost him?” Potzner listened incredulously. “How hard is it to find a University Professor in his home town?”

“I never actually found him, sir. He wasn’t at home.” Farrell’s voice crackled defensively.