‘Well, obviously it could have gone better. We didn’t quite get the information we needed.’
‘You mean she gave you the slip, somehow managed to meet up with Ronan and this mysterious X and you still don’t know who or how. And now they’ve escaped with TB2. And a good part of our equipment. And the pods they came in on. In fact, this could be a new St Mary’s definition of the words “total fuck-up”. And don’t tell me that he’s probably plastered all over the Cretaceous by now because I don’t want to bloody hear it.’
‘You’re feeling a bit under the weather,’ he said soothingly. ‘I know it’s natural for historians, but try not to dwell so much on the past. This operation’s going to be a huge success. We’ll be heroes when we get back and Edward’s already scheduling new assignments, so really, you’ve got a lot to be positive about.’
I remained unimpressed.
‘I’ll admit to a nasty moment when our two lovable scamps and their home-made flamethrower nearly saved the day, though. Who ever thought we’d live to be grateful for methane?’
The pod was empty by now. An amazing number of sick people had picked up their beds and walked. People obviously preferred the blazing sunshine to the blazing row I was trying to have – and failing.
He moved in for the kill. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’
‘I know nothing of the sort. You just hurled me across the car and went at it like a crack-crazed rhino.’
He smirked. ‘I did, didn’t I?’
I sighed in frustration.
He took my battered hand and kissed it. ‘I have to go. When this is done – when we’re all finished here, I’d like to take you away for a few days. What do you think?’
‘Not more camping?’
‘Well, this time I was thinking there would be soft beds – big, soft beds and good food and plenty of alcohol. And decent plumbing, of course. Will you come?’
Many, many times, was probably the correct answer to that, but I pretended to consider.
‘Somewhere cool.’
‘Well, you won’t be getting out of bed, far less going outside, so it’s not really that important, but yes, somewhere cool if that’s what you’d like. Now, are you going to lie there all day?’
After all that, packing the scrolls into pots was comparatively easy. Just hard, hot, back-breaking toil.
We worked inside as much as we could, sorting the scrolls under Dr Dowson’s guidance. It was a slow business, mainly because Peterson and I kept unrolling them to look at the contents. I found some kind of a bestiary with some pretty good drawings of lions and crocodiles and a beautifully rendered drawing of some technical device which meant nothing to me but Professor Rapson nearly swooned over, prophesying a world-wide sensation when that was discovered.
We laboured over the hot pitch in the hot sun, but the worst bit came when we lugged the pots up into the rocks and then carefully lowered them down into the cave. We broke a few in the process, but nothing serious. We were in no rush and there was no point in everyone dropping from heat exhaustion. This had to be done exactly right. People had given their lives for this. Imagine if Thirsk and Egyptian archaeologists broke through and only found a load of dust and shattered pottery simply because we’d cut corners.
They lowered the last pot down to me. I stacked it with care, making sure it lay wedged safely amongst the others, straightened up slowly, and thought about the price we had paid for this. Was it worth it? I had been prepared to sacrifice myself to save the pods. Dave Murdoch and Jamie Cameron had actually made that sacrifice. I gave the pots a small nod of acknowledgement and thanks.
And then it was done.
All we could do now was keep our fingers crossed that no one stumbled across them in the meantime. Or the cave didn’t collapse. Or flood. Or that the scrolls themselves would stand the test of time …
It took a week to do the FOD plod. We did it once and then I made them do it again. We had to use metal detectors. I got quite paranoid about shell casings, shrapnel – everything. Archaeologists would be all over this site like a rash. The last thing they needed to find was two-thousand-year-old bullets.
All that remained now was for the cache to be discovered. Safe and intact.
The Chief laid in our final co-ordinates. We were returning to St Mary’s some six months after we left and nearly three months after Thirsk’s expedition set out.