By early morning, the equipment that Locke requisitioned had arrived, followed soon after by the three mercenaries, who reported for duty straight off their plane. Locke briefed them about the mission, leaving out any mention of Noah’s Ark. He simply told them that they would be joining Locke, Grant, and Dilara on a mission into hostile territory and that they should be ready to fight. The helicopter would drop them on the eastern flank of Mt. Ararat and fly off to a staging area to the south. When they were ready to be picked up, Locke would radio the chopper. He didn’t want the helicopter around to tip off Garrett in case Locke arrived first.
The helicopter charter was a surprisingly new Bell 222, roomy enough for all six of them and their gear. During the flight out, the pilot told them that oil and mineral exploration had jumped dramatically in the last five years. For a fifteen-year stretch starting in the mid-80’s, Mt. Ararat had been off-limits to non-military personnel because of attacks by the Workers Party of Kurdistan, or PKK. The Kurdish rebels had taken tourists hostage and set off bombs in the southeastern cities of Turkey. But when the PKK leader was arrested in 2000, the attacks had become rare. The mountain was re-opened to tourism, and business interests in the area had grown.
The new openness allowed the pilot to fly them to Mt. Ararat without prior military approval, but they would be monitored closely by the listening posts that dotted the mountain to provide advance warning of any Armenian encroachments. The listening posts were the reason Locke hadn’t been able to fly to the mountain directly from Yerevan, which was much closer. There was a long and bloody history of conflict between the Turks and Armenians, and a helicopter flying over the border wouldn’t just arouse suspicion. It might be shot down.
The flight to the mountain took only 30 minutes. The rugged slopes were lined with rock-strewn valleys and overhangs that could have hidden hundreds of caves. The helicopter was above the tree line, but some plants survived at this altitude because it was below the permanent snow line. The chopper flew over the approximate location shown on the map in Khor Virap, and they began searching for a distinctive rock outcropping described in the text.
It was depicted on the map as the prow of a boat jutting from a cliff face and topped by a sail mast. That’s the way it would look from the southern view. The Ark door would be found 100 paces south of it, and the window would be another 100 paces beyond the door. The biggest problem would be if the outcropping no longer existed.
Mt. Ararat was a dormant volcano, and in the previous 6000 years minor eruptions and earthquakes could have easily destroyed it. Locke remembered New Hampshire’s famed Old Man of the Mountain formation, which resembled a bearded man peering from the side of Cannon Mountain. It was so well-known and loved that it adorned the state’s quarter. Ironically and tragically, the rock formation collapsed soon after the quarter was circulated, showing just how suddenly the topography of a mountain could change. The odds that the prow formation had survived were not good.
They made six passes from the south before he heard Dilara shout and point out the left window. Sure enough, the profile of the bow end of a sailing ship extended from a rocky cliff face. They were directly over Noah’s Ark. Dilara grinned at Locke, her excitement obvious. His own enthusiasm was tempered by caution.
They circled to see if they could spot any signs of others. The mountainside appeared empty of any human presence, but the terrain was so harsh, a company of soldiers could be hiding down there without being noticed. Locke instructed the pilot to set down on the nearest flat spot, which ended up being almost a mile away.
Locke, Grant, Dilara, and the three mercenaries jumped out and quickly pulled out their weapons and equipment. The mercenaries were armed with heavy automatic rifles, while the rest of them carried pistols and submachine guns. Because of how Dilara had handled the MP-5 inside Oasis, Locke had offered one to her as well, and she accepted without hesitation.
The helicopter dusted off, and the six of them began the hike to the entrance of Noah’s Ark.
“What’s our altitude?” Grant asked.
“Only about 9,000 feet,” Locke said looking at the peak that reached another mile and a half above them. Previous searchers had expected the Ark to be higher in the mountain, but the lower altitude made sense. To get building materials and animals into the Ark, it had to be accessible enough to walk to. The climbing wasn’t easy, but the grade was wide and flat enough to allow pack animals to climb.
The summer hadn’t fully abandoned the mountain. Even though it was October, the sky was clear, and the air was a brisk 50 degrees. As they walked, one of the mercenaries ran his hand over some leafy plants with fading purple blooms, just the idle move of a bored hiker.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Dilara said, nodding at the mercenary. The man gave her a look that said
“Why not?” Locke said.
“Because that’s monkshood. The leaves and flowers contain a deadly poison that can be absorbed through the skin. It’s been used throughout history to poison the tips of arrows.”
The mercenary ripped his hand away as if the bush were on fire and wiped it on his pant leg.
“If your hand goes numb for a little while,” Dilara said, “don’t worry. It’ll go away. Just don’t lick your fingers after lunch.”
After 30 minutes, they reached the rock formation, and Locke began counting his footsteps. Given his long legs, if he got to 100 before they saw the cave, it meant he’d passed it. But he didn’t have to worry. When he got to 93, he saw a dark hole in the mountain face. A cave.
The cave opening was a 20-foot-diameter semicircle, and from this angle, Locke couldn’t see the back of it. If Garrett were already here, the cave would be a perfect place to stage an ambush. Using hand signals, he instructed the mercenaries to circle below the view of the cave entrance and approach from the opposite side. When they were in place, Locke popped a flare and threw it into the opening.
No shots rang out, but he didn’t expect them to. Cutter and his men were too disciplined for such a simple ruse. From his pack, Locke removed one of the pieces of equipment shipped to him: a remote control vehicle with large knobby rubber tires. It was the size of a loaf of bread and had a camera mounted on top.
Locke set the vehicle on the ground and took out the controller, which had a pistol grip with a trigger for the accelerator. A small wheel allowed him to control the steering with his other hand. He gently pulled the trigger, and with a muted whine, the vehicle leapt forward and darted into the cave. A color LCD screen above the controller’s wheel showed the view from the camera.
Lit by the flare, the cave had a uniform shape all the way back to a wall at the rear 50 feet beyond. He could make out a few objects, but nothing large enough to hide behind. No one was inside.
Locke gave the all-clear. He replaced the vehicle and controller in his pack. He picked up the flare and walked farther into the cave, followed by Grant and Dilara, who used their flashlights. The mercenaries stayed outside on guard duty.
Halfway in, Locke saw a pile of boxes, some broken, some still intact, lying against the cave wall. He bent down to look at them. They obviously didn’t date from Noah’s time, but they weren’t new. They must have decomposed in the cave for 20 years. There was crude writing on the nearest box. It looked Turkish.
“What does that say?” Locke said to Dilara. He saw another box that was partly open and peered into it, pushing the flare in close to light it better.
“I can’t read it,” Dilara said. “It not Turkish. It’s Kurdish.”
The flare lit the box contents. When he saw what was inside, Locke jumped back before a spark from the flare could fall into it.
“What?” Grant said.
“Remember the PKK?” Locke said. “The Kurdish separatists the pilot told us about? This must have been one of their hideouts. If Dilara spoke Kurdish, she’d be seeing the word
Dilara froze when she heard the word “dynamite.”
“Get up slowly and ease away from the explosives,” Locke said. “Be careful not to touch the boxes.”
“Sweating?” Grant said as Dilara moved backward.
“Like a fat man in a sauna.”
If dynamite is left in an uncontrolled environment, the nitroglycerine inside will weep from the sticks, leaving behind crystals on the sticks and pooling in its liquid form. From Locke’s short glimpse, he could see the sparkle of thousands of crystals on the dynamite, which were cheaply made, not the newer sticks that resisted sweating. The boxes must have been there for years, subject to the extreme weather that blew into the cave.
“Is it going to blow up?” Dilara asked quietly.
