“It was my pleasure.” Michel beamed back at her. “You are a quick study, my dear young Pythia. But tell me how I may help you today. I understand you are searching for megaliths in North Africa?”
“Perhaps Erik should join us for this part of the conversation,” Griffin suggested.
Cassie sprang out of her chair. “I’ll get him.”
She darted to the door before anybody could object, curious to see exactly what was going on in the hall.
She had to walk down the corridor until it branched at the end. Peering around the corner, she saw Erik pinned against the wall with Fifi pressed up against him whispering something in his ear. They were about to kiss.
“Ahem!” Cassie cleared her throat emphatically.
Erik darted a flustered glance in her direction. Fifi stared at her coldly.
“Play time’s over. We need you back at the meeting.” Without waiting to see if they followed, Cassie spun around and marched back to the professor’s office.
Chapter 23—Don’t Hate The Playa
The conversation hung temporarily suspended until Erik and Fifi filed into the room and took their seats. Griffin seemed alarmed by the expression on Cassie’s face.
“Everything all right?” he whispered anxiously.
She gave him a grim smile. “Just peachy.”
Disregarding the temporary interruption, Michel resumed the discussion. “I understand you are searching for megaliths in North Africa. There are several in the immediate vicinity and, no doubt, many more buried beneath the sands of the Sahara.”
“Papa, perhaps you should tell them about the stone circle at Mzora,” Fifi prompted, focusing on the topic at hand for once. “It is the closest.”
“That is true,” Michel concurred. “I have a few photos.” He sorted through a pile of papers on his desk and produced several letter-size pages of photographs which the Arkana team passed around. They displayed aerial shots of a large circle consisting of a few hundred stones of various sizes. Some were tall and pointed like obelisks, others much shorter.
“As you can see, there was a large tumulus at the center of the ring which was excavated sometime in the 1930s,” Michel explained. “Now all that remains are the X-shaped trenches that were cut right through the center of the mound. This stone circle was used to mark the solstices and it is believed to have been constructed by the same megalithic builders who erected sites in Europe and the British Isles.”
“Well, Mzora seems to fit our criteria.” Griffin’s voice held a hint of enthusiasm. “The calendar stones are of the right age. They would certainly have been in place at the time the Minoans reached Africa.”
Cassie squinted at the image. “I don’t think so.”
Everyone stared at her in blank surprise. She hastened to add, “I don’t mean that Griffin’s wrong. I mean I’m not getting a hit on this site.”
Michel didn’t question her comment. Instead he moved on to another stack of papers. “Then perhaps you might want to consider something farther afield. Here is a site in Algeria near Djelfa. It is called Mechra-Sfa or the Ford Of Flat Stones.” He passed around more photos. “We have very little data about its origins. And here is another series of megaliths in the Atlas Mountain region.”
The Arkana team circulated the pictures and the men looked hopefully toward Cassie.
“Anything?” Griffin asked.
The Pythia shook her head. “Nope.”
“Then let’s look at Tunisia next,” Michel continued. “Here are photos of the megalithic tombs near Makthar.”
This time the photos revealed vertical stone blocks holding up immense horizontal slabs. After the pages were passed around, Cassie shook her head once more. “Sorry guys, but I’m not getting anything.”
Fifi scowled at her but kept quiet.
Erik, who had been silent up to this point, said, “I think I know how we can speed this up. Griff, are any of these sites in line with the latitude you recalculated?”
The Scrivener sighed. “I should have thought of that sooner, shouldn’t I? Michel, I’m very sorry not to have begun at the beginning. We’re actually looking for megaliths at approximately twenty three degrees north latitude—somewhere around the Tropic Of Cancer.”
Michel sat forward in his chair. “The Tropic Of Cancer did you say?”
“What’s the Tropic Of Cancer?” Cassie asked.
“It’s a line of latitude at twenty three point five degrees north which has special significance,” Griffin replied. “Around the time of the summer solstice in June, it marks the position where the northern hemisphere is tilted toward the sun to its maximum extent. If one were to stand on the Tropic Of Cancer at noon on the longest day of the year, the sun would cast no shadow because its rays are hitting the earth directly. The Tropic Of Cancer derives its name from the constellation in which the sun was positioned when this phenomenon was first discovered. Its counterpart in the southern hemisphere is called the Tropic of Capricorn because the sun was stationed in the constellation of Capricorn around the time of the solstice in December.”
“If you’re searching for megaliths near the Tropic Of Cancer, I think I know just the site.” Michel smiled with satisfaction. “Give me a moment. I didn’t print photos of this location because I was concentrating my search primarily in northwest Africa.” He turned to his computer and started typing. After a few moments his printer disgorged several pages of photographs. “Have a look at these,” he suggested.
Cassie intently scrutinized the image that was handed to her. The photo displayed a flat stretch of sand interrupted by a series of oddly-matched rocks. Some of the stones jutted up out of the desert at oblique angles. Others were flat slabs embedded in the ground. The size and color of each of the boulders was different. No attempt had been made to shape them in any way. However, they had been placed equidistant from one another to form a circle. In the center of the circle were several other stones, seemingly scattered at random. After studying the photo for several seconds, Cassie raised her head and smiled. “I’m getting a strong pull from this one.” She peered at Michel. “What is this place?”
“It is called Nabta Playa and is very old. The stones were arranged to record celestial phenomena many thousands of years ago when the Sahara was still green pastureland. Some estimate the age of the site at eight thousand years. More importantly for your purposes, it is erected precisely on the Tropic Of Cancer as it existed in 6000 BCE. Of course, the stones you are seeing in the photographs are no longer in their original location.”
“What!” Griffin gasped in alarm. “Where are they now?”
“In the Nubian Museum. This is a simulation of what Nabta Playa must once have looked like. Some of the stones in the exhibit are original parts of the calendar circle. Others are still onsite.”
“Oh, dear. That means the lily mark, if it existed, may have been defaced or destroyed and we would have no way of knowing.”
Michel sighed. “I am sorry. The Egyptian government is not so interested in preserving ancient artifacts which are pre-pharaonic. The idea of an ancient Nubian culture possessing sophisticated calendar measurement which predates Egyptian civilization by millennia doesn’t fit the current overlord narrative.
“You said Nubian Museum,” Cassie repeated doubtfully. “Where is this Nabta Playa circle?”
“In southern Egypt,” Michel replied. “In the middle of the Nubian desert.”
“There may be nothing left to find there,” Griffin observed gloomily.
“Oh, there’s something all right,” Cassie retorted. “We have to take a chance and go there.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Erik extricated himself from Fifi and stood up. “Michel, can you arrange the paperwork for us in Egypt?”
“Certainly. When will you be leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning if we can catch a flight,” Erik replied. “OK with you guys?” He glanced at Cassie and Griffin for confirmation.
They both nodded.
/> Fifi looked shocked by the sudden turn of events. She opened and closed her mouth several times before words could form. “But wait.” She stood up and linked her arm possessively through Erik’s. Appealing directly to him, she said,” Mon chéri, you only just arrived. There are many, many stone circles nearby that you should search first.”
Erik shook his head, appearing more relieved than regretful. “Sorry, Fifi. We can catch up another time.”
“But this is madness!” she protested. “You are willing to leave at a moment’s notice and fly halfway across Africa simply because the little girl thinks Nabta Playa is the right spot?”
At those words, Cassie stood up too. Fifi’s attitude, and her accent, were getting on the Pythia’s nerves. She folded her arms resolutely. Glaring directly at Fifi, she said, “Sorry to burst your bubble but I don’t just think Nabta Playa is the right place. Zee leetle girl KNOWS it is!”
Chapter 24—A Lack Of Intelligence
Joshua waited patiently at the back of the shooting range while Orvis Bowdeen finished some last minute instruction before dismissing his class for the day. The process was a lengthy one since Bowdeen had to speak through an interpreter. From what little Joshua had managed to see, these recruits were still fairly inept in the use of firearms. He hoped their instructor would be able to whip them into shape soon.
After they’d all filed out, Bowdeen packed up a duffel bag of gear and headed toward the exit door. He was unaware that he had a visitor. When he noticed Joshua standing in the vestibule, he gave a start. Joshua found the mercenary’s reaction odd. The man was a combat-hardened veteran with a brawny physique and an off-putting scar that twisted his lips into a perpetual sneer. Not the sort of man one could frighten easily but the sight of Joshua appeared to have done exactly that.
“Hello, Joshua, I forgot you were flying out here today.” Bowdeen covered his initial reaction and stepped forward to shake hands.
The spymaster gave his associate a bland smile. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Bowdeen.”
“How was your trip?”
Joshua shrugged. “Like most trips, tedious. This is the first time I’ve crossed an ocean but in all other respects it was quite similar to flying across the United States.”
“Have you seen much of Germany yet?” The man seemed determined to make small talk.
“The language may be different but the customs of the Fallen appear to be much the same from country to country,” Joshua replied flatly. “I have little interest in seeing more of them. My sole reason for making the trip was to speak to you on a matter of some importance.”
“Right.” Bowdeen cleared his throat uncomfortably at the veiled rebuke. “Let’s go to my shack and talk.”
He led the way out of the shooting range which was located in a wooded area several acres from the central portion of the compound. The two men followed a worn foot path a few hundred yards through the trees to what appeared to be a thatched cottage.
“This used to be a woodcutter’s hut long before the Nephilim came to these parts,” Bowdeen explained. “Since I had to spend a fair chunk of time here and I didn’t want to bunk in the main house, the local brotherhood fitted it up for me. C’mon inside.”
Joshua surveyed the interior of the rustic cottage. It consisted of one room. The ceiling was so low it almost grazed the top of his head. There was a small central table which Bowdeen was obviously using as a desk. The kerosene lantern resting on a stack of papers suggested that the cabin had no electricity. A ladder at the back of the room led to a sleeping loft above.
“My meals get sent over and there’s no indoor plumbing but, believe me, I’ve had to make do with worse than this in my time.” Bowdeen walked over to the tiny window at the far side of the room where several amber bottles were propped against the glass.
“Without a refrigerator,” he explained, “it’s the only way to keep them cold.” He took two bottles from the sill and held one out toward Joshua. “Want a beer?”
The spymaster recoiled at the offer. “No, thank you. I don’t drink alcohol.”
“Suit yourself.” Bowdeen put one of the bottles back. “Since you rub elbows with the Fallen so much, I just figured that you might have picked up some of our ways.” He grinned. “Maybe next time.” He flipped the cap and took a long swig before setting his bottle down on the table.
Joshua found the man’s comment insulting. The spymaster prided himself on his ability to travel among the Fallen without being contaminated by their influence. He never forgot that the pure blood of angels ran through his veins. Lowering himself to adopt the customs of the outer world was inconceivable. Of course, he didn’t allow his face to betray his outrage. He merely smiled.
“Take a seat.” Bowdeen gestured toward a sagging sofa that was drawn up to face the fireplace.
Joshua selected the corner of the couch farthest from the grate. He instinctively preferred to keep to the shadows.
The mercenary walked over to the cold hearth, knelt down and began to build a fire. Over his shoulder, he said, “According to the calendar, it’s almost spring but the air still has a nip to it.” It took him about five minutes to coax the kindling into a blaze. When he was satisfied with the result, he took the seat opposite Joshua and held his hands out to warm them.
“How are your students progressing?” the spymaster asked. He knew his father would want a report.
Bowdeen shrugged. “As well as can be expected for kids who’ve never handled a gun before. We’ll get there. I didn’t think much of you when you started but you turned out to be a decent marksman.”
“Yes, I am,” Joshua agreed softly. “You taught me well.”
“I suppose you’re here because your father wants you to set up the same intelligence network as you did back in the States?”
“Yes,” the young man assented. “I’d like you to provide me with the names of potential candidates from the students you’re training. At least one of them will need to be able to speak English. You know the sort I’m looking for by now.”
“I ought to after all the work we did stateside. I guess I’ve spent more time with you than anybody else in the Nephilim.” He seemed on the point of saying something more but stopped short.
“Mr. Bowdeen?” Joshua prompted. “Is something troubling you?”
The mercenary flinched at the observation. “You might say that. Something’s been weighing on my mind for a while now.” His voice held a note of misgiving.
Joshua didn’t press him. He assumed he could get more information by not appearing to be too eager to obtain it.
Bowdeen gave the spymaster a furtive look and sighed. “I don’t suppose you have any notion what your father intends to do with the undercover groups you’re setting up and all these sharpshooters I’m training?”
Even though Joshua had secretly been asking himself the same question for months, he tried to appear indifferent. “I haven’t any idea. I imagine all these measures are to better protect us from the outside world.”
The mercenary stared into the fire and made no reply.
“Do you have a theory of your own, Mr. Bowdeen?” Joshua hoped that the man did because the Diviner certainly hadn’t been forthcoming about his intentions.
Without shifting his gaze, the mercenary replied, “It seems to me that your father isn’t so much trying to defend what’s his as attack what isn’t.”
“Really?” Joshua didn’t need to feign surprise. He turned slightly in his seat so he could study the soldier’s face.
“Your brotherhood already lives behind ten foot fences. You’ve got surveillance cameras deployed everywhere. You’ve created a fortified position but where’s the enemy?”
“Why, the enemy is all around us, Mr. Bowdeen,” Joshua protested. “The world of the Fallen is a constant threat.”
Bowdeen gave a rueful laugh. “I don’t see anybody storming your gates, son. The rest of the world is doing its best to ignore you but your father is acting like he expe
cts some kind of confrontation.”
“Shouldn’t he?”
“If you don’t poke a sleeping bear in its den, it’s got no reason to come charging at you.”
“What are you suggesting?” The mercenary’s apprehension was infectious. Joshua began to feel it creeping into his own thoughts too.
This time Bowdeen’s eyes met Joshua’s. ‘I think your father has plans to poke the bear.”
“I... uh... I’m afraid I don’t understand.” The spymaster had never considered that Abraham would intentionally antagonize the Fallen. Ever since the days of Jedediah Proctor, their first Diviner, the Nephilim’s mandate had been made clear. Live apart and keep sinless until the return of the Savior. It would be an abomination to deliberately court the attention of the outside world. Nobody knew that better than the Diviner himself.
“You can’t be serious, Mr. Bowdeen!” Joshua couldn’t be sure if he was trying to persuade the mercenary or persuade himself that his father’s actions remained in accord with the Lord’s plan for the angelic brotherhood.
Bowdeen’s scarred lips grimaced. “You mark my words, son. Your Diviner’s got a fierce itch to start something and I don’t want to be around when he gets to scratching.”
Chapter 25—First Tango In Rabat
After leaving Professor Khatabi’s office, the Arkana team walked silently back to their hotel. They weren’t walking so much as jogging. Cassie strode several feet ahead of her companions and they had to quicken their pace to keep up. Sensing her mood, neither man seemed inclined to venture a comment and risk getting his head bitten off.
Thankfully, the trip back was only a few blocks long. The trio hastened through the lobby and made directly for an open, empty elevator.
Once the doors slid closed, Cassie turned on Erik. “You’re unbelievable!”
The Paladin gave an impish grin. “Thanks.”
Riddle Of The Diamond Dove (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 4) Page 13