Part 4 (2/2)

'Raelsen? Oh yeah. But he's looking on the wrong mountain.'

'How do you know?'

Noorbergen shrugged, squinted against a sudden gust of wind. 'Dunno. A feeling. Something. Dunno. I just know I'm right.'

That's what I thought when I married Benny.

Noorbergen jumped up. 'What are we waiting for then? Let's get back and crack the champagne.' He set off back down the slope.

I followed more slowly. When I reached the camp it was to walk into a confused hubbub of voices. Denton was clutching a long paper printout and dancing around the campfire. Candy was shooting video footage of everyone. Even the soldiers seemed to be infected by the mood. Those not posted to guard the camp.

'- even allowing for distortion it's definitely -'

'- boats simply aren't that -'

'- end's the stem and which the -'

'- made of wood would have collapsed centuries ago -'

'- about this ma.s.s? Obviously an intrusion but -'

'- explain the shape - it can't all be made of -'

'- d.a.m.n printout show any discrete objects like nails or -'

'- stone -'

'- hull pool -'

'- earthquake damage -'

'- the size is all wrong -'

'- the size is spot on -'

'- the shape is -'

'- the geological position is -'

'- no way it would have retained its shape after so much -'

'- the h.e.l.l is it supposed to be made of if it isn't -'

Denton grabbed Noorbergen and draped the printout around his shoulders, danced him around the fire.

Candy walked towards me waving a camcorder. 'Care to comment for the record?'

'You found it?' Jason asked. 'Already?'

'We found something. It's rectangular. It fits the cla.s.sical description.' She shrugged. 'We won't know what it is exactly until we perform the radar scan.'

I thought about this while watching the revelry going on around the camp.

At least - almost all the way round the camp. .

Only the farmer, Ahadi, did not join in the revelry. He was seated beside his mule some distance from the fire, staring at the Americans with curious eyes. After a few minutes Kuresh walked around a bluff of rock and joined the seated farmer. They both watched the Americans for a few more minutes. Then Kuresh got up and walked towards the fire. He held out a hand to Allen and spoke in Arabic, following it up with halting English.

'I right. Letter right. You pay me now.' His face split in a hopeful grin as Allen happily grasped his outstretched hand and pumped it for all he was worth. Kuresh looked around then, perhaps trying to spot Ozer in order to gloat. Failing to spot the soldier, Kuresh returned his attention to Allen, and to Allen's wallet.

Candy moved in for a close shot as Allen broke open the wallet and reached for some cash.

At the same moment Denton popped the cork on a bottle of champagne.

At the same moment Mehmet Ozer staggered into camp carrying the bloodstained body of Major Raykal.

The major's throat had been slashed wide open.

Chapter 3.

I was looking at a giant's playground: tumbled rocks as big as houses, shallow, giant's-footprint-like depressions filled with melt.w.a.ter. A carpet of flowers grew from the water. Several thousand frogs told us in no uncertain terms exactly what they thought of these strange creatures who had invaded the foothills of their mountain.

Wondering if any of these big greenies were likely to turn into a husband-squelching prince at the cost of a good snogging, I followed Raelsen and the others and eight pack-laden mules carefully between the water-filled depressions. Boots soaked now would be uncomfortable for a very long time, and I had nothing to change into since the demise of my Liz Lewitts back in Dogubayazit. If there's one thing experience in field trips has taught me it's this: never let your boots get wet.

As I walked I did what archaeologists habitually do - I studied the ground. In particular the flowers, which were somewhat weather-beaten, with tall, th.o.r.n.y stems and shrivelled-looking mauve petals.

While I was looking at them Dilaver splashed into a puddle, grabbed a handful of stems, stripped the thorns from them and crammed them into his mouth. 'Much good,' he mumbled. 'Eat of the plant of Utnapishtim: ”The old man will be young”.'

I knew the story. It was old, its origins in the Epic of Gilgamesh. In it the plant was. called amomum - and it was supposed to bring everlasting life to anyone who ate enough of it.

I grabbed a handful of flowers from Dilaver. 'Let's hope it does the same for women, eh?' To Dilaver's amus.e.m.e.nt and enthusiasm, I began to munch.

Raelsen looked back over his shoulder and smiled. I knew what he was thinking: according to legend amomum was to be found in or close to the remains of the Ark.

I moved past Dilaver, who was still picking handfuls of stems and yelping every so often when the thorns proved more than he could deal with, offered some sherbet flying saucers covered in anorak pocket-fluff to the mules, shrugged when they turned their noses up at the sweets and ate them myself. The sherbet was flat but it took away the dirty rainwater taste of incipient immortality.

Raelsen was several yards ahead of the rest of the party. I drew level with him, panting not because of my exertion but because of the elevation, and handed him a stem.

He looked at me, took a mouthful, chewed, then spat out the pulped remains with a disgusted noise. ' '

I handed him a sherbet flying saucer. 'Immortality tastes like s.h.i.+t doesn't it?'

He laughed.

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