The Trespass (2 page)

“If I may –” Potzner took a step forward.

Dracup hesitated. Hold on, he told himself, it might not be anything to do with the diary. Then why this sense of foreboding? Well, if he was right Potzner could at least answer his questions – and he had plenty of those. He stood aside to let the visitor in. “Of course. Be my guest.”

Potzner entered the room and walked to the large picture window. The lights of Aberdeen winked in the failing light. “You know, you have a great view here.” He admired the scene for a moment, then bent over and flicked a button on the bedside console. The electric blinds folded the view away. “Can’t be too careful.” Potzner offered a smile and lowered himself smoothly onto the two-seater settee.

Dracup frowned. The diary had been a strange enough addition to his day. And now this stranger settling into his room like an old school friend…

“You don’t have something to –?” Potzner made the shape of a glass with his hand.

“Of course. Forgive me. What can I get you?” Dracup fumbled with the cabinet doors under the TV until he found the minibar. “There’s coke, white wine, gin.¬” He peered at a label. “Scotch –”

“That’s the one.”

Dracup poured himself a gin and tonic and sat on the edge of the bed. “So what can I do for you, Mr Potzner?”

“I’ll give it to you straight, Mr Dracup. You have something we need.” Potzner took a pull at his Scotch.

Dracup’s heart skipped. “Need? That’s a strong word.”

“It’s appropriate, Mr Dracup.”

“Well, go on, I’m listening.”

“You’ve come to Scotland to hear your aunt’s will. The solicitor gave you a diary this afternoon. It belonged to your grandfather, Theodore. Your aunt kept it a secret for many years. She had it placed under lock and key. Until her death.” Potzner produced a gold cigarette case and offered it to Dracup.

“No thanks.”

“Do you mind?”

“Carry on.”

Potzner thumbed his Zippo and inhaled deeply.

Dracup watched him suspiciously. “How do you know what I may or may not be doing in Scotland?”

Potzner sat forward. “Professor; it’s my business to
know
things.” The American went on. “Your name is Simon Andrew Dracup. You are forty-five years old. You were brought up in India, but relocated to Berkshire when your father was offered a consultant post at the Royal Berkshire Hospital. You wanted to follow him into medicine but your father dissuaded you. Your first girlfriend was Susan, your best friend’s sister. The relationship didn’t last because when you visited you didn’t know if you were there to see your friend or Susan and neither did they. Boy, that was a bummer. She really loved you.

You got straight As at A level and went to Bristol University to escape home, even though Reading offered a better course in Anthropology. You married Yvonne when you were twenty-eight, although you weren’t sure and your friends even less so. Your daughter Natasha was born eight years ago after your wife – sorry, ex-wife – had undergone a prolonged course of fertility treatment. Politically you swing to the left but enjoy a lifestyle that is definitely headed over to the right. Your students respect you and you’re known as a reliable guy. Professionally, you’re a hot potato. Your special interest is physical anthropology and you’ve made many field trips to many different countries. Your marriage ended because of the strain produced by successive failures of IVF, but your subsequent and unexpected love affair with one Sara Benham, a student at the University, has kept you on an even keel. You’re trying to make a go of it, but your ex and her new man are giving you a hard time. And the other side of the coin is tough too because, irrationally for a man of logic, you blame Sara for taking you away from Natasha, so you’re not sure how –”

Dracup had his hand up. “All right. All right.” Shaken, he took a long swig from his tumbler. Whoever Potzner was, he had all the facts straight. Detailed facts.

Potzner read his expression. “It’s my job, Mr Dracup. Nothing personal.”

“Nothing personal? That’s my
life
.”

Potzner crossed one long leg over the other and flicked ash into the wastepaper bin. “It all goes in the shredder after you give me the diary. You have my word.”

Dracup had his doubts but his curiosity was aroused. What else did Potzner know? Why was this so important? He went on the offensive. “So it’s genuine?”

Potzner raised an eyebrow.

“What the diary records about Noah’s Ark,” Dracup continued, “or at least the remains of some ancient vessel – that it was discovered in Turkey in 1920.”

“Yeah,” the American nodded thoughtfully, “the traditional Biblical location.”

Dracup shrugged. “Mount Ararat? Look, I’ve seen all sorts on the web about possible sites – blurred photos that show boat-shaped anomalies, stories about expeditions that never got off the ground – but my grandfather...” The idea was still preposterous, however he approached it. He frowned. “Theodore was actually there?”

Potzner got up and walked to the window. He moved the blind aside for a few seconds, then turned and faced Dracup. “Yeah. He was there.”

Dracup levelled his gaze directly at Potzner. “And how did you keep a discovery of this magnitude under lock and key?”

For a split second, Potzner looked uncomfortable. “Before my time, Professor. The Department took care of the details.”

“I see.” Dracup sipped his drink. A cover-up, then. A big one.

“But the fact is, Professor, your grandfather was part of another expedition –
after
the one that found the Ark. You might say it was inaugurated as a consequence of the success of the first.”

Dracup nodded. “Go on.”

“I’ll tell you as much as I can, Mr Dracup, but in the interest of security – and your own safety –”

“Oh, please, cut the crap.”

“Now you’re sounding more stateside than I do.” Potzner smiled briefly. “Okay. I’ll keep it simple. The Ark of Noah contained a number of –” Potzner searched for the right word, “– interesting finds. One in particular created a big stir. It pointed to another location where cargo from the Ark was apparently taken after it grounded. So, the second expedition followed this up six months later and returned with…” Potzner scratched his blue chin with a long forefinger, “… something priceless; something we have kept securely since it was first brought back to the US.”

“And my grandfather was part of all this?”

“Oh yeah. Up to his eyeballs. He was a key member of both expos. It was his expertise – and his colleague’s – that revealed the second location. He was not only a first-rate geologist but also a gifted historian. Seems that brains run in the family, right Professor? Anyhow, his colleague, guy by the name of Reeves-Churchill, was the archaeologist on both expeditions. We have no record of what happened to him. But as you know, although your grandfather made it back in one piece from both expos he didn’t keep too well after his return to the UK.”

“That’s an understatement. He was committed in 1921, the year after this diary was completed.” Dracup had picked up the diary from the bedside table, but quickly put it down again with a silent curse. Brilliant, Dracup. Now he
knows
you’ve got it.

If Potzner was excited at the sight of the diary, he didn’t show it. He reclaimed his former position on the settee and nodded. “Right. It was tough. A brilliant mind wasted – but it wasn’t all for nothing. Like I said, they found something extraordinary.”

Something in the American’s tone sent a cold wave down Dracup’s neck. He cleared his throat. “The discovery of the Ark is extraordinary enough, but it might help my understanding if you told me exactly
what
they found in this… other location.”

The American shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to say any more about that, Professor.”

Dracup leaned back against the headboard and folded his arms. He appeared to have reached the inevitable brick wall. The one that read ‘Classified’. “All right. So what do you want from me?”

Potzner hesitated and once again looked uneasy. The cigarette case appeared. “The item I’m referring to has been – mislaid.”

“Mislaid?”

“Okay. Stolen.”

Dracup exhaled slowly. So that was it; they needed Theodore’s record. Some clue, perhaps, to help them find – what? He emptied the dregs of his tonic water into the heavy bathroom tumbler. Another thought occurred to him. “But you knew my aunt had the diary. So why didn’t you ask her for it?”

“Our problem has only recently arisen, Professor, otherwise we would have done.” Potzner drew on his Winston. “So your little acquisition has come at about the right time for us.”

“
Little?
If this is genuine, the implications are – staggering.” That’s putting it mildly, Dracup thought. He swigged back his tonic and looked at the American. “So how exactly will the diary help you?”

“I really can’t tell you any more, Professor.”

Dracup shook his head in exasperation. He wondered how far he could press the American. Potzner hadn’t threatened him – yet. He caught Potzner’s gaze and held it. “Perhaps I’ll keep hold of it for the time being.”

Potzner laughed softly. “Mr Dracup – I can’t emphasize enough – your cooperation would be a real convenience for us.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll tell you what.” Potzner consigned the second stub expertly to the recesses of the waste bin. “I’ll let you sleep on it, okay? Have a read through if you like; hell, I’d do the same myself under the circumstances.” Potzner was on his feet and at the door. “I’ll look you up in the morning. Perhaps you’ll see things in a fresh light.”

Dracup got up to see him out. “I’m not parting company with the diary until I know what this is all about.”

Potzner shrugged. “Your decision.”

Dracup watched him walk down the corridor; a tall man in his late fifties, with a slight limp. Before he entered the lift he called back: “Professor Dracup?”

“Yes?”

“Take care, won’t you?” The lift doors opened and Potzner was gone.

Dracup sat quietly for ten minutes before kicking off his shoes and lying back on the king-size bed with a fresh drink. So it was true. It had to be if the CIA were after the diary. Dracup had no doubts concerning Potzner’s ‘Embassy’ role. But more fascinating was their stolen item. He picked up his grandfather’s diary and began to read. He studied the first entry:

21st Apr ‘20

First night in situ. Hardly believe we’re on board, after all the anticipation. RC is elated. Estimates are that we’re in the mid section – 3 fragments theory seems vindicated. The size of it is what thrills me! OT seems spot on re dimensions. It’s vast – the decking is clearly visible and quite well preserved

Three fragments? Presumably referring to the condition of the Ark – the way it had broken up over the years. OT? Dracup frowned. Of course – Old Testament. Dracup shook his head in disbelief. Could this vessel really be the Ark of Noah? A dark stain obscured the next two lines. Dracup raised the book to his nose and took a sniff. Impossible to say what had caused it. He picked up at the next legible point in the entry:

RC is concerned re the location of the sarcophagus. Clear indications that it was on board during voyage – the sceptre may hold the answer. I have many reservations.

Sarcophagus? The tone of his grandfather’s entry sent a chill down Dracup’s spine. He shook his head in puzzlement. Potzner wanted something precious that had been on board Noah’s Ark and then taken to another location…

Clear indications that it was on board during voyage

Dracup began to hum quietly. Something they had found on the Ark – some clue – had pointed Theodore to that other location.

the sceptre may hold the answer.

He flipped on a few pages.

27th Apr ‘20

Never been so cold. Descent halted for the day – driving snow. Tevfik’s death has shaken us all. A has not spoken of it, but seems consumed with fear. RC nervous that he’ll disappear and leave us. Constantly mutters under his breath. ‘Bekci, Bekci’ – apparently means ‘The Keepers, the keepers’. Some local superstition about the Ark we think. Despite it all I feel frustration above everything else – could only bring one or two finds of interest – the larger finds have to stay of course – have taken some samples from drogues. RC has the curious iron piece – I must say the CF is extraordinary even though I’m no expert! No wonder RC so excited. I just pray we get down safely and can examine all at our leisure.

Tevfik. A Turkish name. Dracup clucked his tongue. That fitted with the Ark’s location: Mount Ararat. He read on:

30th. Still in cave. Storm too severe to attempt any further descent. RC is out of his mind with fright. I must hold him together or we’ll [here there was a smear across the page] … eepers, the keepers’. It is unsettling to say the least; there must be a rational explanation. But am compelled to be honest – I saw it too. A was lifted away – not the wind; not a hidden crevasse … [unclear lettering here]. . as taken. Hope to God we are near the track way – not that we’ll ever get our bearings in this weather. Food is nearly gone. Resorted to last tin of corned beef this morning. Wait! I hear it again. Something out on the mountainside. RC is muttering in his sleep – he probably hears it too. God preserve us and help us away from here. Tomorrow we must go and face whatever we must face. Whatever happens I shall cling to these treasures. There is much significance in them, I am convinced.