But Noah, the faithful son –
Once more in the earth you will find peace –
From whence you came –
Between the rivers –’
Farrell nudged Dracup. The American handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and a cellophane-wrapped sandwich. The label said Dellow’s Delicious Deli, Yeovil. Dracup doubted the description but received the snack graciously. He unwrapped the sandwich and took an automatic mouthful.
“Fingers crossed, huh?” Farrell said.
“I need more than luck, Farrell. I need a miracle.” Dracup gestured to the jostling group of boffins. “This guy is pretty good?”
“Fish? Oh yeah. If it’s doable, he’ll do it.”
But in less than thirty-six hours? Dracup’s mouth felt like sandpaper. He put his sandwich down.
A small cheer went up from the front. Farrell grinned. “There you go.”
Dracup looked at the screen. It had been split into right and left sections, the original text on the left. On the right, some new text appeared:
‘From holy resting place to rest upon the water – you have been brought, our father’
Dracup’s heart beat faster. Someone coughed. He looked round. Potzner was standing in a corner at the back of the room, enveloped in a cloud of smoke. His foot was tapping on the carpet tiles in a slow, constant rhythm. Farrell went over to Colonel Gembala and said something in a low voice. Gembala nodded and continued watching the screen. Dracup looked at the clock, a rectangular digital monstrosity that flapped over a plastic square for each new integer to display. It said 22:23.
There seemed to be some debate about the next translation. Dracup’s jpg appeared again. One of the techies was making some phonetic point about an indistinct character on the Lalibelian sceptre. Dracup looked at the close-up of Mukannishum’s long fingers and felt the sandwich turn to sawdust in his mouth.
22:45. The image disappeared and the text reappeared. With two new lines:
‘But Noah, the faithful son – shall lead you to cooler depths
Once more in the earth you will find peace – laid in the holy place’
A rumble of excitement passed through the room. One of the techies clapped another on the back. Dracup heard an exclamation. “All right!” He realized he’d been holding his breath. And his bladder. He made for the door to find the toilets. Farrell was at his side. He shrugged. “Sorry.”
When they returned to the briefing room the buzz of expectancy had grown. 22:52. Gembala was standing now, pacing up and down between two rows of plastic chairs. Potzner, a brooding figure, was keeping his distance. Fish and his colleagues were in a dense huddle. They broke apart. The screen flicked again.
‘From whence you came – to Kish the seat of kings
Between the rivers – beyond the gate of God’
“That’s it.” Potzner was moving to the front. “That’s it. Kish. Where the hell is Kish? Fish? Someone get me a map.” One of the technicians laughed, a release of nervous tension. Potzner shot him a black look and the smile disappeared. Fish and his men scattered as Potzner approached.
Farrell turned to Dracup. “That’s Iraq, isn’t it, Prof?”
Dracup was taking it in. Natasha is in Iraq?
Gembala was talking urgently to two men who had entered the room just before the last verse was completed. They were in USAF pilot’s uniform. Dracup caught one phrase: Stand by. They left on the double.
A map appeared. Potzner laid it out. “About eighty kilometres south of Baghdad.” He stabbed a yellowed finger at the position. “Are our guys anywhere near?” He looked at Gembala.
“Well, yes and no. It’s a protected area. We patrol but there’s no permanent occupation. The government’s pretty hot about the loss of archaeologically sensitive material. Since the museum in Baghdad was trashed at the beginning of the war –”
Potzner cut in. “Who knows anything about this place? Fish – get your ass over here.”
Dracup hovered behind Fish and craned his head for a better look.
Fish adjusted his glasses and brought his face close to the map. “Well, ah, it’s a ruined city. From what I remember the site would be around eight kilometres in total. It’s been partially excavated. There are mounds – I believe a large constructed palace was unearthed.”
“And?” Potzner probed.
“It was the first post-flood city,” Fish blethered on, warming to his theme. “That’s where it all started over. The royal seat was moved to Kish after the supposed flood. It’s all documented in the Sumerian Kings list – er, that’s an archaeological document they found in Mesopotamia,” he added for the benefit of the surrounding blank stares.