"Then two days before the regiment was to depart, the colonel gathered all the officers and told us that the Fourteenth Railroad Battalion had arrived with orders from the czar to climb the mountain and find Noah's Ark."
"Hal-le-lujah," several people shouted in unison.
"Well, that's not what I said," Zobolotsky responded. "My first thought was that no one could climb to the top of that mountain. Good luck, boys, I said to myself. Then the colonel looked us over and I saw his eyes stare right at me. He said that the battalion would need a medical doctor to join them, and the next thing I knew—how do I say it? The colonel volunteered me to stay behind with the battalion. I was very disappointed. Only later I realized it was God's will that I stay. God's will, and of course, the colonel's, too."
The audience laughed, and Indy chuckled along. At least Zobolotsky wasn't boring.
"The next week one hundred soldiers were picked to climb the mountain. We were divided into two groups and we soon found ourselves marching up different sides of the mountain. It was a very difficult climb that took us two days. During the second day, it seemed that we were almost to the top. Then we would reach another crest and see that there was more mountain ahead of us. Finally, late in the afternoon we crawled to the top of a ridge, and there we saw it. The Ark was resting in a saddle of the mountain between the two peaks. The soldiers from the other group had already reached the ship and we could see them walking around it and on top of it."
"Oh, Lord," the woman next to Indy whispered.
"So we hurried down, moving faster than we had gone all day. When we arrived, everyone was amazed that there was actually a ship here on the mountain. We were fourteen thousand feet above sea level. It was huge, and the entire ship was covered with a thick layer of pitch that had preserved it, so that most of the ship looked in very good condition.
"I saw that the door had fallen off and it lay next to the ship. It was partially burned and I thought that lightning must have hit it. I went inside and looked around, and that was when I knew it must be the Ark. There were three decks and on each of them were cages. Lots of cages of different sizes."
Oh, brother, Indy thought. This is entertaining, but it was getting to be a bit much. Moses had written the story of Noah around 1475 B.C., supposedly about fourteen hundred years after the great deluge. Even if a wooden ship could somehow still exist after almost five thousand years, finding Noah's and finding it virtually intact was just too good to be true.
Zobolotsky explained how the soldiers meticulously measured the Ark, drew diagrams of the exterior of the ship and each of the three interior decks, and took numerous photographs. "We were all very excited about what we had found, and a message was sent to the czar. Later, a full report was prepared with the drawings and photographs, and it was carried by messenger to the czar's palace. Unfortunately, we know nothing of what happened to the messenger or the report. You see, about the time he would have arrived in Petrograd the czar was overthrown in the Bolshevik Revolution."
Swell, Indy thought. A testimonial, but no evidence. Zobolotsky turned and motioned toward the side of the church. An attractive, young blond woman walked toward the pulpit carrying a canvas bag. She passed the bag to Zobolotsky, who laid it on the pulpit and removed something that was wrapped in cloth.
"I had the feeling that I should take something of the Ark with me just in case anything happened to the rest of the evidence. So when no one was looking, I took a piece of wood from the broken door and quickly hid it in my pack."
He stepped aside; the woman took his place and began to slowly unwind the cloth. She must be his daughter, Indy thought. He glanced over at Shannon and saw a look on his face that he hadn't seen since they were in college and Shannon thought he'd found the love of his life, a music major who was fascinated with jazz and infatuated with Shannon. She was just right for him, but when she'd found out about his family, she'd suddenly broken off their engagement.
Everyone leaned forward for a better look. "Now you will see it," Zobolotsky said. "Here, my good friends, is a piece of Noah's Ark." The woman lifted a blackened, oblong object above her head. It was about the length and thickness of her forearm. Everyone was quiet; some people bowed their heads in silent prayer, others held their hands out toward the piece of wood as if to be closer to it or to soak in its sacred energy.
Zobolotsky could've found the stick behind the church for all Indy knew. He shifted his gaze from the piece of wood to the woman. He could see why Shannon was so taken with her. She hadn't said a word, yet Indy almost felt as if he knew her. She was innocent, honest, dedicated, and compassionate. He didn't know how he knew this, but he would be surprised to find out otherwise. For a moment, he thought her eyes met his, then she lowered the object. As she rewrapped it and returned it to the canvas bag, Zobolotsky finished his narrative.
"Soon I will be leaving the United States and going back to Turkey, where I will climb Mount Ararat again. I know I must go back. I have no choice. The sacred Ark is pulling me. There are dangers, of course, but I know I am under the guidance of the good Lord. Someday I hope you will invite me back and I'll tell you all about my return to the Ark. Thank you."
As Zobolotsky and the woman walked away from the pulpit the audience rose to its feet and applauded loudly. Indy stood and watched the pair until they disappeared from sight. He didn't know quite what to think. It was an interesting performance, but what was the point? What did Zobolotsky expect to gain from it?
He was sore and tired and ready to go back to the hotel, and the sooner the better. He'd say hello to Shannon, then he'd be on his way. But the evening's entertainment wasn't quite over yet. The choir was on its feet again, and as the applause started to die, the vacuum was filled with the lyrics of another lively gospel song.
"Ol' Noah's lookin' for his mountaintop,
Goin' let that dove go fly flippety flop.
When that bird come back round with a sprig
You bet Noah's goin' dance all over that rig."
The crowd clapped to the beat, and hardly anyone left until the song was over. Finally, as the rows of chairs emptied, Indy walked over to Shannon, who was wiping his cornet with a towel.
"So what did you think, Indy?"
"I enjoyed it. Glad I came."
"What did you think of Katrina?"
"The girl?" Indy shrugged. "A real heart-breaker, I'd guess."
"Thanks for being so encouraging."
"Well, you know how it goes sometimes."
Shannon laid his cornet in its case. "Let's see if we can talk to them. You could have a chat with Dr. Zobolotsky about the Ark, and I could get to know Katrina better."
Indy held up a hand. "I don't think so. I've heard all I care to hear for tonight."
"Really? You mean to say that if Dr. Zobolotsky offered you a chance to go with him to Mount Ararat on his mission, you wouldn't jump at it?"
"First of all, archaeologists don't go on missions. They go on expeditions. They're scientists, not part of a church."
"All right, all right. But answer my question. Would you go with him if you had the chance?"
"I'm not interested in missionary work. Besides, there's a real good chance I'm going to be teaching right here in Chicago this summer. I'll find out for sure tomorrow."
They headed down the aisle toward the door. "I don't know, Indy. I just had the feeling that you'd be more excited about this."
Indy didn't say anything more until they stepped outside. "Do you really think Zobolotsky found Noah's Ark, Jack?"
"You heard what he said. You think he'd lie in a church about something like that?"
"It's not a lie exactly. I think he saw what he wanted to see. Or believes. That's all."
"Yeah, I suppose," Shannon said, sounding disappointed. "C'mon, Mr. Scientist, I'll give you a ride to your palace."
They climbed into Shannon's Model-T runabout and pulled away from the curb. "I thought you sounded good tonight, Jack. It was a different style for you.
"
"Thanks." Shannon seemed fatigued. His shoulders slumped, his jaw was slack.
"So how'd things go with your brothers?"
Shannon shrugged. "Not so good. We had a talk, but I don't know what's going to happen. Things could get violent very easy."
"Can't you do something to stop it?"
"Any suggestions? I'm out of them."
Indy didn't know what to say. As they slowed to a stop in front of the hotel Shannon leaned back in his seat. "The way things are going I may get to heaven before you. But I'll blow my horn when I see you coming."
7
The Reflecting Pond
It was his first time back on campus since he'd graduated, and Indy couldn't help feeling uneasy about it. Even though eight years had passed, he still remembered how he'd been treated during his last days here. But why even think about it? Mulhouse had retired; Founding Fathers' Day had been dropped. Yet he still felt an undeniable undercurrent of tension as he approached the campus.
He passed the university bookstore, peered in through the window, then crossed Ellis Avenue. He walked past the administration building where he'd been interrogated by Mulhouse and some of the regents. He could still picture himself sitting at a long table on the top floor and facing his gray-haired accusers. His gut tightened as if he were up there now doing it over again. He walked along the south side of the building through a narrow passageway and into the quadrangle.
The university, with its neo-Gothic buildings, looked the same as he remembered it. But there were differences. The students, for instance. They looked very much like the ones he'd been teaching in London, but seeing them here made him realize how much he'd changed over the past eight years. Not only were the students no longer his peers, they looked like kids.
As he strolled across the campus he tried to recall what he'd been like in his student days. One thing struck him. Even though he'd gone on to get a Ph.D. and had already experienced life as few people ever do, he felt he knew less now than he had in his undergraduate days. But back then he had everything figured out. He knew the answers, whether it was about politics or linguistics, love or war. But in his present ignorance about all of those topics, Indy knew he was far wiser than he had been at age twenty-one.
He passed a building where he had taken many of his language classes, then climbed the steps of the one housing the archaeology department. The clock in the waiting room outside of Angus O'Malley's office read two-twenty-three when he arrived. He introduced himself to the secretary, a young woman with short, straight hair and bangs that framed a thin face with closely set eyes. He guessed she was a student working a part-time job.
"Dr. O'Malley has a couple of people with him, but he's expecting you."
Indy sat down and picked up an alumni magazine from a stack on the table and paged through it. After a few moments, he glanced up and saw the secretary watching him. He smiled and looked back down at the magazine.
"I understand you might be joining the staff," she said.
"I hope so."
"You took your degree here, too, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Dr. O'Malley sent for your grades."
"Really? They weren't very good."
"I know. You took a lot of tough courses, though. All those linguistic courses are tough. Especially Anderson's 301 course. He still fails nearly half the class every semester."
Swell. The secretary knew more about his academic record than he could remember. He turned the page of the magazine, hoping she'd get the hint. He wondered how much emphasis O'Malley would put on his undergraduate grades. He'd never been too concerned about his grade-point average. It wasn't until he was in graduate school that he'd started getting A's in most of his classes.
"As long as you don't take advantage of your position, everything is fine here," the secretary said when he didn't respond.
Indy looked up from the magazine. "Excuse me?" She leaned forward and gave him a conspiratorial look.
"The professor you'll be replacing got fired because he was making advances at the girls in his classes and fixing their grades if they went along with what he wanted."
"Well, I guess I don't have to worry then," he whispered back to her. "I don't fix grades, and I'm not the least bit interested in extracurricular activities with my students."
"Oh. That's good."
From the tone of her voice, she sounded disappointed. She'd probably hoped he would wink at her or something and say that he would have to watch himself. Ever since Fitzgerald had written about petting on college campuses in This Side of Paradise, there'd been a controversy raging about the morality of college coeds. The professor in question probably had been caught researching that very question himself, and no doubt in great depth.
He heard voices as the dooy of O'Malley's office opened a few inches. "I'm sorry I can't be of any assistance, but I'm sure you understand we have our priorities," O'Malley said.
"Well, you're missing a great opportunity," someone else said.
Indy knew that voice. Then the door swung open and he saw O'Malley and Vladimir Zobolotsky. They paused, letting Zobolotsky's daughter step through the doorway.
"You'll regret your decision," the woman said in a firm voice.
The pair swept past Indy, followed by O'Malley. "Well, I'm sure I will, if you are successful," O'Malley said as they paused in the outer doorway. "Good luck and thank you for stopping by."
Indy studied the shapely legs of the blonde as he tried to recall her name. When his gaze climbed her body, he saw she was staring back at him, a scowl on her face. Then she turned on her heel and was gone.
Katrina, that was it. Lovely Katrina. What the hell were she and her father doing here? Probably after money. O'Malley was the chairman of the department, after all, and he'd have a list of contributors who might back the expedition.
O'Malley let out a long breath and shook his head. "What a story. You wouldn't believe it. So how are you, Indy?"
Indy stood up and they shook hands. "Great. Let me guess, he's going to look for Noah's Ark."
"You must have read about him in the papers."
"No. I heard him talk last night."
O'Malley looked surprised. "You actually went to that church to hear him?"
"A friend invited me."
"Oh. So what did you think about Dr. Zobolotsky's claims?" O'Malley asked as they walked into his office.
"Probably about the same thing as you did. They don't make myths out of wood."
O'Malley laughed. "Well put, Indy. Well put." He pointed at a chair. "Please, sit."
"I suppose he wanted you to fund his expedition?"
"Actually, he wasn't looking for money. In fact, quite the opposite. He was willing to pay. He wants to authenticate his expedition with the name of a major university behind it." O'Malley shook his head in disgust. "I don't care how much money he offers, I would never send any of my staff on such an expedition. The university would be the laughingstock of the academic world."
"If he's got money, I'm sure someone will take him up on it."
"No doubt. The world's full of fools." O'Malley cleared his throat and opened a file folder on his desk. "Now, about our business." He stared at a piece of paper for a long moment and seemed to hesitate. A frown creased his forehead. He tapped his desk with a pencil.
Indy wondered what the hell he was doing. Maybe it was something about the salary. He hadn't even thought about that. It better be competitive; he wasn't about to work for peanuts.
O'Malley ran his hands over his face, then looked up. "You know something, Indy? As much as I would like to hire you, I just can't do it."
The last three words hit like a blow to the gut, and it was harder than anything dished out by Capone or his thugs.
"Why not?"
"After I talked to you yesterday, I sent for your records. They arrived this morning." He rapped his pencil against the file folder. "Everything is in order, except... It seems you were involved in an unfortun
ate incident here at the end of your senior year. I think you know what I'm talking about."
Founding Fathers' Day, Indy thought as his hopes plummeted. "That was a long time ago, and President Mulhouse is—"
"I know, I know. But the university has a long memory about such things, and whether Mulhouse is here or not, it doesn't really matter. You embarrassed the institution and your name is on a list."
"What list?"
O'Malley hesitated. "It's a list of..."
"A list of people you can't hire because they think for themselves. Right?" He stood up. "That's swell, Dr. O'Malley. I think I've heard enough. No sense wasting time, mine or yours."
"I'm sorry, Indy," O'Malley said, rising from his chair. "There's nothing I can do about it."
"Nothing that won't shake the walls of this hallowed institution, but I guess you're not about to do that. Nice to see you again."
He walked out without looking back. So much for his new job. So much for living in Chicago. He was ready to get out of the city. He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't want to stay around now. The university didn't want him, and even Shannon didn't think it was a good idea for them to see each other.
He crossed the quadrangle and headed for a tree-lined roadway on the east side of the campus. He felt like a ship without an anchor. Up until now his life had been relatively structured, with either his studies or a teaching job forming the backbone of his existence. But now there was nothing, not even a family to speak of.
He reached a path veering to his left from the roadway and followed it. The trail wound past a quiet pool of water officially known as Botany Pond. He walked over to it and stared into the glassy water. His reflection wavered like a mirror in a funhouse. He sat down on the grass and wondered if the students still called it the Reflecting Pool. In his undergraduate days, he'd stared into the water, thinking about his problems, problems with girls mostly. Now he couldn't even remember which girls had been of such concern to him.
Indiana Jones and the Genesis Deluge Page 7