Dracup leaned forward, heart racing. It was too good to be true... but maybe...
Carey was shaking his head. “No, sorry mate. I know what you’re thinking. This is where it gets a bit hazy for me. I’d just reached the step by the altar when something whacked me on the bonce and I was on the deck.”
“And then –?”
“Not a lot. When I woke up I could see daylight through the tunnel, so I took a stroll along there until I heard you shouting.”
“Shouting?” Dracup frowned.
“Yeah. At the lion.”
Dracup shook his head. “I don’t remember –”
“Don’t worry about it – sunstroke does things to you. Anyhow, you seemed to have Simba all sorted out. Guess he thought you were just too weird to eat, right?”
Dracup tried to laugh through the pain of his headache and failed. Then he remembered the sceptre. “Wait – in the church. Omega –”
“No chance.” Carey pursed his lips and scratched his chin through several days’ growth of reddish stubble. “Whoever clocked me one made off with the goods.”
Despair grabbed at Dracup’s guts. He had rescued the diary but without the sceptre – he had to find it. “Who was it? Did you get a look?”
“Nope. Only thing I can tell you is it wasn’t one of them priests.”
“How can you be sure?”
“He was wearing trousers. With turn-ups. I got a look just before the lights went out.”
A thought occurred to Dracup. “The priests. That’s why they didn’t come back to check on me. They were –”
“Distracted. Yeah.” Carey smiled. “There was a bit of a rumpus going on when we drove through the town earlier. I’ll bet that’s what it was about.”
“But if it wasn’t the priests who clobbered you, then who the – ?”
“Good question.” Carey arched his eyebrows. “But there were two people in that light aircraft. It was the passenger who gave us a lead hosing.”
“Mukannishum.” Dracup shuddered as he remembered the zealot’s demise.
“Sounds like it. But that leaves the pilot.” Carey rattled his knuckles on the chair.
“But the pilot was probably a hired flier.” Dracup frowned.
Carey shrugged. “Maybe he was. Maybe not.” He finished the dregs of his beer and looked wistfully at the empty glass. “Question is, what now?”
Dracup poured himself a fresh drink. “That’s a no-brainer. I go back to the church.”
Carey spun round. “Are you totally crazy?” He looked at Dracup in amazement. “You’ve just avoided ending your days as a lion’s dinner and you want to go back? You know what you should do? You should get the police in from Addis.”
Dracup studied his fingernails. They were chipped and ragged. “No police.” He shook his head emphatically. “I have no choice, Dan. I need to find the sceptre.”
“Ah, but do you?” Carey smiled. He went to the door, opened it a fraction and whistled. Enjoying Dracup’s bemusement he stood to one side and watched his reaction. Footsteps rattled on the threshold and Bek walked into the room.
“Boss, I didn’t know. I really didn’t. I’m very sorry. Bek will make it all right.” The boy was obviously frightened. He was clutching a tattered canvas bag to his chest as if his life depended on protecting it.
Dracup felt a mixture of emotions. Overriding the more negative of these was a strong sympathy for Bek’s situation. “Let me guess. The long man got to you before I did. Made you an offer you couldn’t turn down?”
Bek’s eyes were downcast. “I never thought anything bad would happen, boss. No way.”
“You don’t know the half of it, lad,” Dracup said. He pondered in silence for a few moments, then extended his hand. “Tell you what. Let’s start again.”
Bek grinned as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his thin shoulders. He flashed Dracup a wide smile.
Carey watched approvingly. “And I think you have something to show Professor Dracup, young man. Am I right?”
Bek nodded eagerly. His hand went into the bag like a cobra striking at its prey. When the hand came out it was holding Dracup’s camera.
Dracup’s mouth dropped open. “I’ll be damned.”
“Wait till you see some of the holiday snaps,” Carey advised.
A small beam of hope began to percolate in Dracup’s head. Bek handed him the camera with a barely concealed look of pride. Dracup took it and flicked the selector switch to ‘display’. The images appeared obediently, lined up in their digital grid. Each shot was crystal clear, the cuneiform clearly visible. Dracup’s fingers were trembling as he hit the zoom button. He looked at Bek as if the boy had just presented him with a cheque for a million pounds. Carey’s face was creased into a lopsided perma-grin.