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inscriptions run to the very edge.” He pointed excitedly. “And there is a border from the extreme left, as you would expect.”
    Sara squinted at the picture. “You mean if the object was complete, you’d expect an equivalent border on the right hand side.”
    “Exactly.”
    Dracup felt his excitement grow. There was significance here, he was sure of it. “And what shape would be produced by adding the mirror image of the object to itself?”
    Potzner drew a line in the air. “Right. I’m with you. A cross.” He frowned. “Well, leastways that’s what it looks like.”
    “An ornate cross, granted, but you can see the symmetry. It wouldn’t look out of place as the headpiece of a –”
    Sara whistled softly. “A sceptre, or … a standard? Could be.” She chewed her finger. “So we only have half the picture.”
    Dracup remembered his grandfather’s hastily recorded entry – the sceptre may hold the answer. I have many reservations. “Yep. This is the object he referred to, I’m positive. Now think about the footnote.”
    Potzner read aloud. “‘In time you will find the whole’. So, your grandfather recognized there was another section – a matching section – to be found.” He scratched his blue jowl thoughtfully. “Well, so what? Maybe it was just a reminder – an encouraging entry made for his own benefit?”
    “No, no,” Dracup said. “Remember my grandfather was a geologist, not an archaeologist. This clearly had some interest for him, but he probably sketched it for his colleague, because –”
    “Because your grandfather was a talented artist and his colleague, the archaeologist, knew that,” Sara finished for him.
    “Right. RC – Reeves-Churchill – was the on-site archaeologist. This was for him, I’ll bet, by request.”
    “But why code it in cuneiform?” Sara frowned.
    “Maybe they had some inkling that they were dealing with something dangerous, something that shouldn’t have been exposed.” Dracup was thinking about Theodore, how his mind had gone. And then Potzner’s discomfort when he had asked how the Ark discovery had been hushed up...
    “All the same,” Potzner said, “it doesn’t get us any further. To get a clear picture what the inscriptions on the whole object actually say, you need both halves.”
    Sara spoke up. “Well, we have half the script. Surely the first thing is to get an expert review of these inscriptions?”
    Potzner nodded. “I’ll take care of that.”
    Dracup was humming. “There is one place I can check out. My aunt transferred a number of my grandfather’s belongings to her own house. There may be something that’ll shed some light – letters, other documents. Who knows?” He walked to the window and looked out onto the street. A mother and toddler were making slow progress along the pavement. An image of Natasha came to his mind, smiling and holding out her arms. “Excuse me,” he turned abruptly, his voice catching. “I have to call Yvonne.”
    “Please do,” Potzner said, folding the photocopies carefully and depositing them in his briefcase. “I’m headed back to London. When I’ve had this analyzed I’ll call you.”
    Dracup went into the hall and took out his mobile. He dialled Yvonne’s number. Ten rings later Malcolm answered.
    “It’s me. Any news?”
    “Ah. Simon. Nothing yet, I’m afraid. But the police are being very helpful.”
    “Right. What have they got?”
    “A man and young woman were seen at the school shortly before Natasha went missing.”
    “And?”
    “They’re, er, following a line of enquiry.”
    “Really? So they have nothing. Look, Malcolm, my mobile is always on, day or night, so don’t hesitate if anything comes up.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “How’s Yvonne?”
    “Well, you know. Not so good.”
    “Tell her – tell her I’m doing all I can.”
    “Of course. I will. Goodbye.”
    Dracup joined Potzner and Sara in the lounge. Potzner raised his