Contract With God Part 16

A: Nonsense. I'll explain that to everyone tomorrow when we begin work.

Q: So you don't believe in the supernatural nature of the Ark?

A: With all my heart. My mother read to me from the Bible even before I was born. My life has been dedicated to the Word of G.o.d, but that does not mean I'm not prepared to disprove any myths or superst.i.tions.

Q: Speaking of superst.i.tion, for many years your research has caused controversy in academic circles that are critical of using ancient texts to discover treasure. There have been insults hurled on both sides.

A: Academics . . . they couldn't find their own a.s.s with two hands and a flashlight. Would Schliemann have found the treasures of Troy without Homer's Iliad Iliad? Would Carter have found Tutankhamun's tomb without the obscure Ut papyrus? Both were heavily criticised in their day for using the same techniques I now use. n.o.body remembers their critics, but Carter and Schliemann are immortal. I intend to live forever.

[a severe bout of coughing]

Q: Your illness?

A: You can't spend this many years in damp tunnels, breathing dirt, without paying the price. I have chronic pneumoconiosis. I'm never too far from an oxygen tank. Go on, please.

Q: Where were we? Oh, yes. Have you always been convinced of the historical existence of the Ark of the Covenant, or does your belief date back to the time when you began translating the Copper Scroll?

A: I was raised a Christian, but converted to Judaism when I was relatively young. By the 1960s, I could read ancient Hebrew as well as English. When I began to study the Copper Scroll of Qumran I didn't discover that the Ark was real - I already knew that. With over two hundred references to it in the Bible, it is the most frequently described object in the scriptures. What I realised when I held the Second Scroll in my hands was that I would be the one who would finally rediscover the Ark.

Q: I see. How exactly did the second scroll help you to decipher the Qumran Copper Scroll?

A: Well, there's been a lot of confusion over the consonants like he he, het het, mem mem, kaf kaf, wav wav, zayin zayin, and yod yod . . . . . .

Q: In layman's terms, Professor.

A: Some of the consonants weren't too clear, which made deciphering the text difficult. And the strangest thing was that a series of Greek letters had been inserted throughout the scroll. Once we had the key to understanding the text, we realised that these letters were the t.i.tles of sections, which changed the order and therefore the context. That was the most exciting period of my professional career.

Q: It must have been frustrating to dedicate forty-three years of your life to the translation of the Copper Scroll, and then have the whole matter resolved in the s.p.a.ce of three months after the Second Scroll turned up.

A: Absolutely not. The Dead Sea Scrolls, including the Copper Scroll, were brought to light by accident when a shepherd threw a rock inside a cave in Palestine and heard something break. That's how the first of the ma.n.u.scripts was found. That's not archaeology: that's luck. But without all these decades of in-depth study, we would never have come to Mr Kayn . . .

Q: Mr Kayn? What are you talking about? Don't tell me that the Copper Scroll mentions a billionaire!

A: I can't talk any more about that. I've already said too much.

28.

THE EXCAVATION.

AL MUDAWWARA DESERT, JORDAN.

Wednesday, 12 July 2006. 7:33 p.m.

The next hours were a frenetic coming and going. Professor Forrester had decided to establish the camp at the entrance to the canyon. The site would be protected from the wind by the two walls of rock that first narrowed then widened out and finally joined once again 800 feet beyond, in what Forrester called the index finger. Two branches of the canyon to the east and south-east made up the middle and ring fingers of the claw.

The group would live in special tents designed by an Israeli company to withstand the desert heat, and it took a good part of the afternoon to erect them. The work of unloading the trucks fell to Robert Frick and Tommy Eichberg, who used the hydraulic winches on the Kamaz trucks to unload the large numbered metal boxes containing the equipment for the expedition.

'Four thousand five hundred pounds of food, two hundred and fifty pounds of medicine, four thousand pounds of archaeological equipment and electrical gear, two thousand pounds of steel rails, a drill and a mini-excavator. What do you think of that?'

Andrea was amazed and made a mental note for her article as she checked off the items on the list Tommy had given her. Because of her limited experience in pitching tents, she had volunteered to help with the unloading and Eichberg had put her in charge of directing where each box should go. She had done so not out of a desire to help, but because she supposed that the sooner she was finished the sooner she would be able to talk to Fowler and Harel alone. The doctor was busy helping to set up the tent for the infirmary.

'There goes number thirty-four, Tommy,' yelled Frick from the back of the second truck. The chain on the winch was attached to two metal hooks on either side of the box; it made a loud clanking sound as it lowered its cargo towards the sandy soil.

'Be careful, this one weighs a ton.'

The young reporter looked anxiously at the list, fearing she had missed something.

'This list is wrong, Tommy. It only has thirty-three boxes.'

'Don't worry. This particular box is special . . . and here come the people in charge of it,' Eichberg said, unhooking the chains.

Andrea looked up from her list to see Marla Jackson and Tewi Waaka, two of Dekker's soldiers. They both knelt next to the box and released the locks. The top came off with a slight hiss, as if it had been vacuum-sealed. Andrea glanced discreetly at its contents. The two mercenaries didn't appear to mind.

It's almost as if they were expecting me to look.

The contents of the case couldn't have been more mundane: packets of rice, coffee and beans, arranged in rows of twenty. Andrea didn't understand; especially when Marla Jackson grabbed a packet with each hand and suddenly tossed them at Andrea's chest, the muscles of her arms rippling under her black skin.

'There you go, Snow White.'

Andrea had to drop the clipboard in order to catch the packages. Waaka fought back a sn.i.g.g.e.r while Jackson, ignoring the surprised reporter, stuck her hand into the s.p.a.ce left and pulled hard. The layer of packages s.h.i.+fted to reveal a much less prosaic cargo.

Rifles, machine guns, and small firearms rested on layer after layer of trays. While Jackson and Waaka removed the trays - six in total - and placed them carefully on top of the other boxes, Dekker's remaining soldiers as well as the South African himself came over and began to arm themselves.

'Excellent, gentlemen' said Dekker. 'As a wise man once said, great men are like eagles . . . they build their nests on lonely heights. The first watch belongs to Jackson and the Gottliebs. Find cover positions there, there and there.' He pointed to three places at the top of the canyon walls, the second of which wasn't too far from the spot where Andrea thought she had seen the mysterious figure a few hours before. 'Only break radio silence to report in every ten minutes. That goes for you, too, Torres. If you trade cooking recipes with Maloney like you did in Laos, you'll have me to deal with. March.'

The Gottlieb twins and Marla Jackson took off in three separate directions, looking for accessible climbs to the sentry positions from which Dekker's soldiers would continuously guard the expedition during its time at the site. Once they had determined their posts, they secured rope and aluminium ladders to the rock every ten feet to make the vertical ascent easier.

Andrea, in the meantime, was marvelling at the ingenuity of modern technology. Not even in her wildest dreams had she imagined that her body would find itself in the vicinity of a shower over the next week. But to her surprise, among the last items to be lowered from the Kamaz trucks were two pre-fabricated showers and two portable toilets, made from plastic and fibregla.s.s.

'What's the matter, beautiful? Aren't you happy you won't have to c.r.a.p in the sand?' said Robert Frick.

The bony young man was all elbows and knees, and he moved about nervously. Andrea took in his vulgar remark with a loud burst of laughter and began to help him secure the toilets.

'That's for sure, Robert. And from what I can see, we'll even have His and Hers bathrooms . . .'

'That's a little unfair, seeing as there's only four of you and twenty of us. Well, at least you'll have to dig out your own latrine,' Frick said.

Andrea went pale. Tired as she was, even the thought of lifting a shovel made her hands feel blistered. Frick was creasing up.

'I don't see what's so funny.'

'You've gone whiter than my Aunt Bonnie's b.u.t.t. That's what's so funny.'

'Don't pay any attention to him, honey,' Tommy broke in. 'We'll use the mini-excavator. It'll take us ten minutes.'

'You always spoil the fun, Tommy. You should have let her sweat a little more.' Frick shook his head as he went off to find someone else to bother.

29.

HUQAN.

He was fourteen when he began to learn.

Of course he first had a great deal to forget.

To start with, everything he had learned at school, from his friends, in his home. Nothing was real. Everything was a lie invented by the enemy, the oppressors of Islam. They had a plan, the imam had told him, whispering it in his ear. 'They start by giving women their freedom. They place them on the same level as men to weaken us. They know that we're stronger, more capable. They know that we are more serious in our commitment to G.o.d. Then they brainwash us, they take over the minds of holy imams. They try to cloud our judgement with impure images of l.u.s.t and corruption. They promote h.o.m.os.e.xuality. They lie, lie, lie. They even lie about the dates. They say it's the twenty-second of May. But you know what day it is today.'

'The sixteenth day of shawwal shawwal, master.'

'They talk about integration, about getting along with others. But you know what G.o.d wants.'