Secrets of the Dead

Gruber pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his desk and lit one. ‘He was economical with his biography.’

‘Michael worked for the European Union, and his murder was an international incident. The police are still investigating. I’m sure they’ll be keen to retrace his movements in the weeks before his death – and find out what was in his possession.’

‘But you are talking as if we are some sort of criminal enterprise here.’ He frowned, to show he wasn’t insulted, simply expected better. ‘We are a government-funded institution with an impeccable academic reputation. The most advanced in the field. If the police come here with questions, naturally we will cooperate.’

But she’d sat at tables opposite infinitely more difficult men than Gruber – and learned how to play them. The cigarette had burned down quickly. She could see the thought rattled him.

Provenance unknown, the letter said. In other words: if no one claims it he gets to keep it. And he definitely wants to keep it.

‘I only want to see it. And the papyrus wasn’t the only artefact. There was something else that Michael left me – perhaps you could advise me on it, after I’ve seen the manuscript.’

I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

The cigarette had burned down to the filter. Gruber stubbed it out in a copper ashtray, then stood. He took a fat bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked a deep drawer in the filing cabinet behind his desk. Out came a steel briefcase with a combination lock. Gruber’s finger hovered over the dial.

‘I appreciate if you keep this in confidence. The analysis is incomplete. It would be unfortunate if misinformed speculation created confusion – before we can publish in the correct channels.’

‘Of course.’

He snapped open the case. A soft bed of tissue paper and raw cotton filled it: in the centre lay a dark brown, tusk-shaped lump that reminded Abby of some petrified wood she’d seen in a museum. Gruber pulled on a pair of white cotton gloves and lifted it carefully into a white mould that looked like a plaster cast.

‘You are familiar with our work here in the institute?’

‘I read a bit on your website.’

‘Micro-CT. The CT stands for Computed Tomography. It is a multiple X-ray scan which builds a fully three- dimensional digital model of an object to a resolution of twenty-five microns.’ He saw the look on her face. ‘Very precise.’

‘OK.’

He slid the mould into a perspex cannister and carried it across the room to the machine that Abby had noticed when she came in. It looked like a cross between a microwave oven and an early Eighties computer – a small compartment with a glass door, between two angular blocks of beige metal. A yellow sticker in one corner warned of radioactivity.

‘Is that it?’

‘Michael Lascaris was unusual in bringing the papyrus to us – most manuscripts must be scanned in the libraries which hold them. We make the machine portable enough to travel.’

He put the papyrus upright in the chamber and closed the glass door. He pressed a button. A white light came on, spotlighting the canister, which slowly rotated in place.

‘Forgive me, but what’s the point of all this? You’re trying to read the scroll with X-rays?’

‘Eventually. To begin, we must first unravel it. The papyrus is a scroll that has been rolled up for centuries. Over that time, the paper has become damp and fused together. To physically unroll it would destroy it. What we are doing is using X-rays to build a 3-D model of the entire roll on a microscopic level. Then, with powerful algorithms, the computer can virtually unroll this into a single sheet as it would have appeared to the man who wrote it.’

‘And then you can read it?’

‘Perhaps. Before about ad 300, the ink is carbon-based. They use soot to make the ink black. After that, they start to write with iron-gall ink. This uses a chemical reaction between acid and iron sulphites to make an ink that lasts much longer. Because there are actually tiny particles of iron in the ink, it absorbs light differently, and so it is possible to register it on the scan.

A picture appeared on the wide screen mounted on the wall above the scanner – a monochrome image of the scroll spinning in virtual space. In black and white it looked like a lump of coal. When Gruber touched it, the image seemed to fly towards them until it filled the screen. It turned end-on, revealing tiny concentric whorls.

‘Those are the spirals of the scroll,’ said Gruber.

‘Can you read it?’

Gruber touched the corner of the screen and it went blank. ‘Scanning is easy. Unravelling …’ He sighed. ‘Imagine cutting an onion into the smallest possible pieces. Then imagine you have to put back the pieces to reassemble the original onion. The analytical power required is immense. And this is not an official project. If I run the analysis, I must do it when the computer cluster is not in use.’

Hope withered inside her. And what was Michael doing with an ancient papyrus scroll? ‘Did he say where he found it?’

Gruber sat down and lit another cigarette, offering Abby one as an afterthough. She took it gratefully.

‘Mr Lascaris was – I think it is the right word – reticent, yes? He did not tell me where he found this thing. He did not tell me how he happened to possess it. He did not even say his occupation, though it was obvious he was not a researcher. I was hoping if you came here, you might give me some answers.’ He tapped some ash into the ashtray. ‘At least now I know he was a diplomat.’

Abby took a drag of the cigarette. The nicotine was like a gift. ‘I wish I could help you.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You said you had something you would show in return.’