“Have a nice day, gentlemen.” Moran raised a hand in farewell. He watched Potzner and Farrell retrace their steps along the perimeter of the campus. To Phelps he said, “Get onto the Chief Constable, Phelps. Tell him to expect a call. I’ll fill him in when I get back.”
Phelps nodded and made his way back to the squad car. He exchanged a few words with a uniformed officer, who nodded vigorously and started the engine. The car departed, siren ululating, into the distance. Moran found his place on the wall and unscrewed the lid of his Thermos. He reckoned on a day or two’s grace before Uncle Sam got the all-clear to muscle in. He sipped his coffee with satisfaction. Something big was going down and, for once, Brendan Moran was in the right place at the right time.
Chapter 21
The hotel foyer was cool in contrast to the baking street outside. A large rotating fan swished soundlessly above but Dracup still felt a trickle of perspiration run down his collar. He took another sip of iced water and replaced the glass carefully on the brass tabletop.
“So what brings you to Addis, Prof?” Dan Carey grinned. His main feature was a wide, roguish smile, enhanced by a long vertical scar that ran from one side of his mouth to the corner of his right eye. It gave him a rakish, dashing look. He was a wiry, tough-looking man in his mid to late thirties.
“It’s a long story,” Dracup replied. Where could he begin? Better to stick to a simple explanation. “I’m interested in Lalibela and its religious background. I want to spend a few days gathering information, taking photographs.”
Carey nodded. “Research project, is it? Charles seemed pretty excited.”
“Of a kind,” Dracup agreed. He felt uneasy at his economy of truth; there was something about Carey that invited openness.
“Well, I’ve been to Lali a couple of times and I can tell you this much – you won’t get a lot out of the priests and holy men. Their lips are sealed, especially to Westerners. Start asking too many questions and they clam up like old maids with their dentures stuck together.”
Dracup forced a laugh. “I’ll be persuasive.”
“You’ll need to be.”
“And you’re okay with tomorrow morning?” Dracup fought to mask his agitation. Tomorrow wasn’t soon enough. Now wasn’t soon enough.
Carey shook his head. “It’s not a problem. I’ve been wanting a weekend off for a while – the school’s been busy. I need to get out of town, rough it a bit.” He laughed. “It’s in my nature. I’m a bit of a nomad. I’ll pick you up first thing and we’ll head off.”
“How long will it take?”
Carey shrugged. “Couple of days – the roads are pretty bad. We’ll stop off at Dessie and maybe Weldiya – that’ll be an experience for you.” There was a glint in the Kiwi’s eye. He knocked back his drink and stood up. “Right now you’ll have to excuse me, Prof – I have to get to a meeting. Someone’s got to cover for me while I’m away.”
“Of course. See you in the morning, then.” Dracup watched Carey walk away, reassured that he’d found an ally. He drained his drink and headed back to his room to re-examine Theodore’s tablet. He traced the inscriptions with his thumbnail. Ω section 1921, TD,GRC. Left in situ. Theodore had been successful; he had seen Omega with his own eyes. But would Lalibela give up its secrets so easily to his grandson?
“You wait,” Carey grinned. “Thirty minutes and the word’ll be out. We’ll have company all right.”
Dracup frowned and shuffled closer to the fire. The drive had been a careering, pothole-avoiding rally all the way from Addis. Much of the driving had been off-road, an inconvenience that Carey seemed to find enjoyable. Dracup shifted his weight. His backside was a painful pad of bruising. They were parked several hundred metres from the road – apparently in the middle of nowhere. “There’s nothing around here,” he replied. “Company from where?”
Carey looked over Dracup’s shoulder and laughed. “How about there?”
Dracup turned to follow Carey’s pointing finger and saw to his amazement a line of young Ethiopians approaching the campfire. They were singing, a low rhythmic melody, and smiling. They showed no fear of the two men.
“Told you,” Carey said. “They know when strangers are about.”
The group of newcomers settled themselves by the fire, chattering among themselves. They grinned at Dracup and his Kiwi companion, pointing to the tents and the jeep. One of the youngest, a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, produced some substance from her bag and threw it on the fire. A sweet smell wafted over the gathering. Dracup recognised it. “Eucalyptus.” He smiled and touched his nose. The girl grinned and said something to her companion, a boy of about the same age. They laughed and began singing again, clapping and slapping their thighs in time to the music. The moon shone brilliantly in a clear sky, illuminating the youthful faces of the visitors as they celebrated the simple joy of being alive.