02 The Secret on Ararat (18 page)

THIRTY-ONE

THE DRIVE FROM ANKARA to Erzurum was long and dusty, and Isis had slept most of the way. Murphy wasn’t surprised. The training on Mount Rainier had been hard—even for the ex-Special Forces guys—and they all had the sore muscles and bruises to prove it.

He looked in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of her red hair, fiery in the late-afternoon sunlight. Her mouth was slightly open, giving her an innocent, childlike look. But he now knew it was an illusion. He thought back to their ordeal in Washington. She certainly hadn’t looked innocent or childlike with an automatic in her hand and a dead man at her feet.

And to think I brought her along to keep her safe
.

The Land Rover bumped over a pothole, and Murphy looked in the mirror again to see if Isis had been wakened, but her eyes remained closed.
She must be exhausted
, he thought.

Ahead, the empty road wound through low, dusty hills. On each side, biscuit-colored fields stretched into the haze. It felt to Murphy as if he were utterly alone. The sound of his own voice, barely audible over the hum of the engine, surprised him.

“You’ve got me all confused, Isis, you know that? I thought I knew what I was doing, but now … You know why I asked you to come on the expedition, to help me find the ark? To keep you safe! That was my stupid plan. After Talon tried to kill you, I knew I had to protect you, but how could I do that with you in Washington and me in Preston? I had to find a way to keep us together, even if it meant exposing you to more danger. I was dumb enough to think that I could keep you safe. I guess I still felt so bad that I wasn’t there when Laura got killed … I couldn’t let it happen again. Some plan, huh?” He shook his head. “But you know what? After you shot that guy in Washington—after
you
saved
me
—I finally realized I’d been kidding myself all along. I didn’t want you with me so I could protect you. I mean, I
do
want to protect you, but that wasn’t the real reason. I could have told Levi to keep a watch on you. No, the real reason was because … because I couldn’t bear to be apart from you. Because …” His voice lowered to a whisper. “… I’m in love with you.”

Curled in the backseat, Isis’s eyelids flickered briefly, but they remained closed. A single tear slowly made its way down her cheek.

An hour later they pulled up at the shabby-looking hotel Levi had recommended. “Here we are,” Murphy said, turning to Isis.

She sat up in the backseat and yawned, avoiding his eyes.

“We better get a move on, then,” she said matter-of-factly. “The museum will be closed in an hour. Just enough time to shower and change.”

Twenty minutes later they were standing at the front desk of the Museum of Antiquity and Ancient Relics. A young man in a threadbare gray suit greeted them. “Welcome. I take it that you are Professor Murphy and this is Dr. McDonald, yes?”

They nodded. “It’s good of you to let us look around,” Murphy said.

“It is my pleasure.” He stood up and gave a shallow bow. “Now, what exactly is it that you are looking for?”

Murphy explained about the Monastery of St. Jacob and Sir Reginald Calworth’s account of his travels there in 1836. The guide knew nothing about the writings of Calworth and little about the monastery. As for relics, he shrugged as if to say, “How would I know?” It seemed an odd attitude for a museum guide.

Then his face brightened. “Just a minute! We have one of our former curators here today. He is eighty-three years of age, and occasionally he comes and helps us out for a few hours. He is in the basement. I will get him.”

Murphy doubted the old man would know any more than the young guide, but when a frail, white-haired figure emerged from the basement a few minutes later he seemed sprightly and alert. The guide explained what Murphy and Isis were looking for, and after a
minute’s thought, the old man nodded vigorously and spoke excitedly to the guide in Turkish.

“Come!” said the young man, and they followed the old man down a flight of steep wooden stairs and into an Aladdin’s cave of antiquities. In the light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, they saw ramshackle piles of boxes, papers, and objects scattered in all directions.

“How are we going to find anything in this mess?” Isis muttered.

“He seems to know what he’s doing,” Murphy replied as the old man made his way through the chaos toward the far end of the room. Reaching a tottering pile of antique trunks, he ran his fingers over the worn labels, seeming to read what was written there by touch rather than sight.

Murphy and Isis held their breath and waited.

Eventually the old man rapped on one of the trunks and smiled broadly.

“This is the one! This is what you are looking for, I think,” announced the guide, and they quickly moved the other trunks aside. Murphy pulled out a flashlight and Isis peered at the label.

“Monastery of something,” she said. The old man nodded some more.

Opening a penknife, the guide slid the blade under the lid of the trunk and pried it open. A puff of sour-smelling dust made him lean back, coughing.

Murphy shined the light into the trunk. Then he reached in and gently pulled out what looked like an old copper kettle, blackened with grime.

He held it up to the light and Isis snorted. “Try
rubbing it, Murphy. Perhaps there’s a genie inside who’ll give us three wishes.”

The old man didn’t seem disheartened. This was obviously what he had hoped to find in the trunk. He jabbered something to the guide.

“Sir Reginald! Yes, it is his, I think,” said the young man, grinning proudly.

Murphy carefully placed the kettle back in the trunk. “That’s it?” he said. “Nothing else?”

The guide conferred with the old curator. He shook his head sadly. “He says that is the only relic we have left from Mount Ararat.” He shrugged fatalistically. “Thieves. It is the way of the world.”

Back on the street, Isis and Murphy wondered what to do next. He was surprised when she took his arm and steered him down a narrow street. “Come on, let’s find a café and get some coffee. Although a cup of tea might be more appropriate,” she giggled. He let her lead him past rows of dusty-looking shops, most of which were shutting up for the day as the call of the muezzin drifted down from the minarets on the other side of the town.

Something made Murphy look back, and he saw a large man duck quickly into a doorway. “Don’t look around,” he said, “but I think we’re being followed.”

Isis’s lighthearted mood changed in an instant, nightmare visions of their ordeal in Washington flooding her mind.

They quickened their pace and Murphy led her down a side alley. They broke into a run, hoping to emerge at the other end before their pursuer could see which way
they’d gone. The way was suddenly blocked by a thickset, unshaven man dressed in a shabby leather coat.

He smiled broadly, showing a row of gold teeth. “Please. No need to be afraid. I understand you are interested in relics from the Monastery of St. Jacob. Come this way.” He turned his broad back and started walking down the alley.

Murphy and Isis looked at each other, then followed.

Ten minutes later they were sitting cross-legged on a threadbare carpet, sipping tea from little glasses in which cubes of sugar slowly dissolved. The man in the coat held out a tray of pistachios and they each took one.

“How did you know who we were and what we were looking for?” Murphy asked.

The big man laughed. “Erzurum is not so big place. Easy to know everything.”

Murphy was about to press him further, but Isis knew they were wasting time. “Have you really got relics from the monastery? Things that came from Noah’s Ark?”

The big man touched his hand to his chest with an offended look. “You think I lie to you? Maybe it is better if you go. Perhaps somebody else will appreciate what I have.”

“Forgive me,” Isis said quickly. “Please, will you show them to us?”

He grunted and went to a pile of carpets against one wall of the little shop and reached behind them. He lifted out an ornately carved box about three feet long and set it down in front of them.

A rusting metal plate was inscribed in Turkish. Isis translated for Murphy.

“Bishop Kartabar,” she said.

Murphy’s heart started racing. “Kartabar was the bishop in charge when Calworth visited in 1836!”

They quickly opened the box and peered in. On the top were five booklike manuscripts with ancient leather bindings. The language seemed to be Latin. Underneath the manuscripts was a bronze plate with some strange markings on it that already had Isis puzzled. Below that were several small vases containing what looked like crystals, and some curious instruments that looked somewhat like sextants or theodolites. Murphy picked one up. “Whatever these are, Calworth must have brought them with him. They look too modern to have come from the ark.”

Isis started reading through the Latin manuscripts. Murphy continued to examine the other contents of the box, while the big man’s eyes flitted impatiently between his two guests as if he was trying to measure how interested they were—and how much they’d be willing to pay.

Eventually Isis said, “This is relatively straightforward stuff. Latin mixed occasionally with some Turkish and Armenian. Most of it describes life at the Monastery in the fourth and fifth centuries. But this is interesting—a letter addressed to the curator in Erzurum from Bishop Kartabar. It says the items in the box were taken from the
sacred ark
by a monk named Cestannia in
A.D.
507. A very hot summer had melted snow from the ark, and this Cestannia entered and took these
items and many more. The rest of the items are stored at the monastery.”

“What about the bronze plate? What did you make of the markings?”

“I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” she admitted. “It looks a bit like Hebrew—perhaps some type of proto-Hebrew. All I can tell you with any confidence is that it’s talking about metal and fire.”

“What do you mean, ‘metal and fire’?” said Murphy.

“It just talks about different types of metal and what kind of fire you need to make them. It doesn’t make much sense.”

She flipped some more pages. “Hmm. The bishop mentions that Cestannia saw
large writings
carved on the walls inside the ark, but that’s about all he says about it.”

Murphy turned to the big man. “Is this everything you have?”

His offended look returned. “Is it not enough? Ah, perhaps you would like some hairs from Noah’s beard!”

Murphy laughed. “That won’t be necessary. This is all very interesting. How much do you want for it?”

The big man stroked his chin. “One hundred thousand American dollars,” he said finally.

“What? You have to be kidding!” Murphy said, shaking his head. “I’m not even convinced any of these items came from the ark. Like I said, it all looks too modern.” He got up, dragging Isis with him.

With a panicked look, the big man put his hand on Murphy’s arm. “Okay, how much are you willing to pay? Maybe I give you a discount.”

Murphy pretended to think about it. “Ten thousand dollars. That’s my final offer. Take it or leave it.”

The big man scowled. “Okay, I take it. Give me the money now,” he said, holding out a grimy hand.

“We don’t carry that kind of cash around with us,” Murphy said. “We have to go to a bank. We’ll be back in the morning—say, ten o’clock?”

“Ten o’clock,” the big man agreed. “Don’t be late. Maybe I have other customers, you know.”

Murphy shook his hand and ushered Isis out into the street.

The big man sat down and carefully put the items back in the box before picking up a glass of tea and sipping the sweet, lukewarm liquid with a satisfied smile.

After a few minutes he looked at his watch and started to get up.

Which was when the high-velocity round punched a hole through the window and entered his forehead at several hundred feet per minute, blowing the back of his head and most of his brain out in a cloud of blood and bone.

THIRTY-TWO

SHEM WAS BARTERING FOR lamp oil when he heard a faint cry. He knew instantly it was Achsah. He turned and began running, pushing people out of the way
.

Neither Shem nor Achsah had thought there would be any danger in the crowded marketplace in broad daylight, but they were wrong. He had left her talking with a spice merchant when he went to look for lamp oil
.

A group of three men had spotted Achsah unaccompanied, quickly grabbed her, and were dragging her away from the market. She had started to yell when one of them struck her across the mouth and she fell. They ripped her robe and exposed her as they
lifted her off the ground. Some in the marketplace turned and looked, then went back to their business
.

Just another rape. Nothing out of the ordinary
.

With a yell, Shem charged the three men holding his wife. They turned to see a wild-eyed madman launching himself bodily into their midst. With as much force as he could muster
,
Shem hit the man to the right of Achsah with his shoulder. He went sprawling into a stack of pottery
.

He then struck the man on the left with his fist, and blood gushed as the man staggered backward, holding his hands to his shattered nose
.

The man in front began to reach for his dagger. Shem saw the move and started drawing his sword, but they were jammed too close together for him to use it effectively, so he jabbed the sword handle into the man’s mouth, sending fragments of teeth into the air. There was a cry of pain
.

The three men picked themselves up, cursing, and prepared to attack, when they saw the glittering steel in Shem’s hand. The thought of facing an angry husband wielding one of Tubal-cain’s singing swords was too much. They quickly ran back to the market and disappeared into the crowd
.

Shem held Achsah, who was crying uncontrollably. He still clutched the sword and kept one eye on the staring bystanders. He was filled with anger. “Let the flood come
, O
Lord,” he said to himself, “so we do not have to endure such things any longer.”

Japheth was walking on the roof of the ark when it happened
.

Suddenly, in the middle of the morning, it was starting to get dark. Turning around, he gasped. The entire eastern sky was filled with a vast flock of birds, like a huge locust swarm blocking the sun
.

“Where are they going?” he wondered. Then the first birds started landing on the ark. First a lark, then an egret, a bright blue parakeet, a mourning dove. Soon they covered the roof, birds of every size and shape and color
.

Japheth was speechless; he couldn’t move. He could only stare at the strange sight. Birds he couldn’t even put a name to
were twittering and cooing around him. Even more amazing was the fact that the birds seemed not to be afraid of him. He held out his arm and a dozen finches, sparrows, and hawks alighted on it as if it were the branch of a familiar tree
.

Soon he found himself walking among the birds, looking at their fantastic colors. These were birds he had seen only at a distance. Now they were only a few inches from him. He saw small birds like the canary, thrush, and warbler. There were woodpeckers, owls, and kingfishers. He was amazed by the multicolored toucans, macaws, and pheasants. Peregrines brushed wings with pigeons as if they were the best of friends instead of deadly enemies. The ducks waddled around with the pelicans and the flamingos. He was overwhelmed
.

It took a few minutes before the reality of what was happening struck him
.

For 120 years he had helped his family build the ark. It had seemed like a never-ending task. Would there ever really be a terrible rain and a great flood? Would all the animals really gather together and come aboard the ark?

His smile of understanding began to fade. What about those who would be left behind? They would be facing God’s judgment. They would be destroyed. His father’s warnings were now coming true
.

Japheth’s thoughts were interrupted by a harsh yelling. He went to the edge of the roof and looked down. His brothers and Noah were shouting and pointing toward the forest. As his eyes
lifted, his breath stopped
.

Coming over the hill, and through what was left of the forest of Azer, were the animals
.

They were making their way to the ark in a great herd, a milling crowd of beasts that was so huge he could hardly tell one animal from another. Straining his eyes as his mouth
opened in astonishment, he could make out bears, lions, an elephant amid the torrent of smaller creatures
.

As they neared the ark, he could see wondrous animals he had no names for and whose weird shapes he had never dreamed of—kangaroos, rhinoceroses, giraffes. The deer and the monkeys wandered with the leopards. The elephants looked huge as they lumbered among the skunks and porcupines, somehow managing not to crush a single one
.

“Come down and help us,” cried Shem
.

Japheth climbed off the roof to the walkway and then to the third floor. He went through the door and down the large zigzagging ramp to the ground
.

“What should we do now?” said Ham
.

“God has brought the animals here. He will show us what to do,” said Noah. He climbed up on part of the scaffolding supporting the ramp and looked over the animals
.

He began to notice that the animals were sorting themselves into pairs. Soon they were standing next to their mates. His heart leaped with joy as he realized what God was doing
.

“We will begin taking them up the ramp into the ark. Lead the larger and heavier animals in first. Take the elephants, hippopotami, and rhinoceroses down the inside ramp to the bottom floor. It will help to keep us from capsizing. Put the bear, moose, elk, and tapirs with them. We will bring in the large cats next.”

They set to work, amazed at the docile way even the fiercest animals let themselves be led aboard the ark and into their stalls. Noah and his family were too busy to notice the crowd of people who had gathered at a safe distance to watch this incredible sight. No one spoke—either from astonishment or from fear that the animals might attack them. Or perhaps the terrible truth had finally dawned on them
.

The flood was coming
.