The Joshua Files - a complete box set: Books 1-5 of the young adult sci-fi adventure series plus techno-thriller prequel

by M. G. Harris

  After allowing the music to loosen her limbs a little, Marie-Carmen answered the door to the room service delivery and took her salad over to the glass table where she’d left her MacBook. The web browser was open at Archaeologyconspiracies.com

  She’d had a run-in with this website before. The authors had reprinted an article she’d co-authored with Professor Andres Garcia of the University of Oxford, about the possible discovery of a fifth codex of the ancient Maya. The article had got Marie-Carmen into no end of trouble with her peers. A fellow Mayanist and former tutor of hers had even cancelled Marie-Carmen’s appearance at a conference. He’d telephoned to explain her rejection, a conversation that still made Marie-Carmen’s cheeks sting at the memory of the sheer disdain in his tone.

  The idea that there might be an undiscovered, fifth codex of the ancient Maya, was not itself so controversial. It was the fact that the codex of which Marie-Carmen and Andres Garcia had written – the fabled ‘Ix’ Codex – was said to have the so-called Mayan ‘doomsday’ prophecy of 2012 as its theme.

  Like all archaeologists, Marie-Carmen knew the 2012 ‘prophecy’ was likely nothing more than a highly imaginative misreading of the Mayan calendar. As in all scientific pursuits, a tiny area of doubt remained; a doubt that required a continued search for new evidence. When Andres Garcia had asked for her a second opinion about the decipherment of some inscriptions he’d found, Marie-Carmen had agreed with him. The article they’d produced hadn’t completely changed her mind, but she was now more open to the idea that a fifth codex might indeed exist.

  But whether it could really have anything to do with ‘2012’? Such ‘conspiracy theories’, it seemed to Marie-Carmen, rarely advanced the knowledge of archaeology in any meaningful way. Yet she couldn’t deny it – they raised the profile and glamour of her profession. Marie-Carmen knew only too well. The reality consisted of something far less exotic: painstaking, detailed research and endless verification of available evidence. Bizarre mythologies and dreams of buried gold had turned archaeology into a rather sexy undergraduate subject at university. As a tenured faculty member with a ‘job for life’, Marie-Carmen could only be grateful for that.

  Nevertheless, she examined the article in more detail. The author was an amateur archaeologist. He described how he had acquired an ancient Mesopotamian pot several years ago in an auction, the original owner a German collector who had found the pot on an excavation of Tell ‘Uqair about eighty miles south of Baghdad, back in the 1920s.

  The pot contained five clay tablets, immaculately preserved, each inscribed with clearly visible cuneiform. The pot had probably been found originally in the ruins of a settlement. The place had been sacked and burned to the ground. This had the effect of firing the clay tablets, rendering indelible any writing.

  Teaching himself from textbooks to read the Sumerian cuneiform script, the author claimed that one of the tablets was of particular interest because it used twenty symbols or ‘logograms’, whose meanings were known, but in an entirely novel context.

  Marie-Carmen knew enough about Sumerian cuneiform writing to be aware that like some modern languages such as Hungarian (but unlike ancient Mayan, her own specialty), the language was ‘agglutinative’, a type of language in which words are built up by stringing forms together. Therefore, a basic word, symbolized by a collection of markings known as a ‘logogram’, could be made more complex by the serial addition of different vowels and consonants. These would be built up as additional markings on the original logogram. Together, the additional markings and the original ‘root’ logogram, would now convey a new meaning. Sometimes, two different logograms would be combined to create a composite logogram, with a new meaning.

  The author had discovered that all five clay tablets appeared to deal with matters of medicine and the treatment of various ailments. Of these five, one tablet contained twenty logograms with ‘supplementary signs’ to help clarify any ‘polyphony’.

  Yet these supplementary signs were entirely mystifying. This made it impossible to understand the meaning of a single logogram.

  The problem was polyphony – one word with multiple meanings. When teaching undergraduates this concept, Marie-Carmen would use as an example, the English word ‘fleet’ which can mean ‘speedy’ or alternatively, a collection of ‘naval vessels’.

  In Sumerian writing, polyphony was widely used. Supplementary signs appeared as modifications to certain logograms where more than one meaning was possible. These modifications would help place the logogram into the correct context. In the article, the author had used the example of the logogram for the word ‘naga’, which when modified in a certain manner could signify ‘raven’, instead of ‘soap’.

  The supplementary signs which appeared on this particular tablet with twenty logograms were totally unknown. They were unlike any which had already been observed on this set of logograms. The meaning of these logograms was logically, therefore, something other than it would be in any another context. But what?

  The logograms were grouped into seven groups. The numbers of logograms in each group were one of six, two of three and four of two. Alongside each logogram on the tablet was a brief description, which the author translated as consisting of phrases such as:

  entukumše igi – ‘As long as the first’.

  In addition, on the reverse side of the tablet the entire list of logograms appeared again, this time not grouped but simply ordered according to a single property, translated by the author as ‘solubility’. The author had in fact interpreted the phrase ‘ul eš’ as ‘love of water’ or more precisely, solubility.

  The author’s conclusion was astonishing. It would be thought radical by any respectable archaeologist, whether a Sumerologist or not. That included Marie-Carmen.

  The fact that there were twenty of these strangely modified logograms and their groupings, had inspired something described by the author (perhaps in a moment of hubris?) as ‘a remarkable flash of insight’. The revelation had been this: a stunning reminder of his biology classes at college. He’d remembered that just twenty amino acids were the basic building blocks of proteins, which performed most biological functions.

  The twenty amino acids were grouped into one group of six (known by modern biologists as ‘aliphatic’), two of three amino acids (‘basic’ and ‘aromatic’) and four of two (‘acidic’, ‘hydroxlyic’, ‘amidic’, ‘sulphur-containing’)?

  The exact same number and sizes of groups as that of the twenty logograms.

  Marie-Carmen realized now why the author was being featured in what was effectively a crackpot website. Ancient Sumerian understanding of amino acids? It seemed ridiculous. Knowledge of biochemistry, which had only come to light in the 20th century could not have been lost for thousands of years. Could it?

  The author argued that these unusually modified logograms actually represented twenty amino acids.

  Moreover, continued the article, the descriptions appended to each logogram seemed to compare each of the logograms to the others in the group, comparing properties such as their length and alkalinity. Finally, the entire list as it appeared on the reverse of the clay tablet could be used to place the logograms in order of inherent solubility.

  This, claimed the author, was analogous to comparing the molecular lengths, alkalinity and solubility of the carbon-based amino acids. Using this rudimentary guide to the relative properties of each amino acid, reasoned the author, it should be possible to work out which logogram represented which amino acid.

  Marie-Carmen read on in disbelieving fascination as the author continued, ending up with a table in which he claimed to have translated the logograms into their alternative, or secondary meaning as amino acids.

  He concluded with a direct quotation from the clay tablet, which he claimed represented a sequence of amino acids. He translated the logogram sequence into the single letter amino acid code, and then into a DNA sequence.

  This, Marie-Carmen realized, was how the Web search engine
had picked out the article.

  A sequence of fifteen letters from Pedro Juan’s DNA code exactly matched a sequence in the DNA translation of the Sumerian clay tablet. For good measure, the author had added the Sumerian words and translation of each logogram in its unmodified, original meaning.

  GYLIH = GGUUACCUAAUCCAU = lugal an un na ki = Master people of heaven and earth

  Even without the requisite knowledge to pass judgment on the author’s biochemical theories, she couldn’t ignore the biggest problem with his thesis. It flew in the face of all that was known of the scientific knowledge of the Ancient Sumerian culture. The Sumerians were generally credited with having invented writing, but advanced knowledge of biochemistry? It was unheard of. Marie-Carmen doubted that any respectable epigraphy, philology or archaeology journal would have given the article the time of day.

  Her own opinion was that the logograms were probably modified by a child, playing with the clay after the writer had finished his work: the ancient world’s equivalent of drawing little hearts and flowers on the dots of the letter ‘i’. The little act of vandalism may well have earned the child a beating – which, as far as Marie-Carmen was concerned, he deserved for the hours of wasted time he had cost the article’s author!

  Tired and listless from the apparently fruitless nature of her days’ work, she stood, stretching from hours of sitting at the laptop. She’d had enough. The hotel’s nightclub beckoned. She took a shower, was preparing to dress when she was overcome with a sense of just how tired she was. Suddenly the thought of being alone in a nightclub while on the other side of the world, Jackson slept, seemed impossibly, unbearably sad. Still in her towel, Marie-Carmen lay on top of the sheets.

  Sleep invaded her senses, dragging her in like a swamp. Just before she was sucked under, her thoughts returned to Pedro Juan. There’d been so little time to think, she’d barely had a moment in which to mourn him. She hadn’t seen him in several months, but could imagine the scenes of grief among her family – scenes which ought to have included her. What would her family make of her absence? Her presence at the funeral looked unlikely at this point. Marie-Carmen’s sudden, unexpected disappearance would now add to her family’s anguish over Pedro Juan’s murder.

  Pedro Juan had discovered something worth being killed for. The secret had to lie in the biochemical properties of the DNA samples that he’d planted on Jackson Bennett. Or else it was hidden in a message encoded by the molecule. Perhaps an anagram of the letters?

  Was it possible that such a seemingly preposterous article could shed some light on the puzzle of the ‘BELTRAN’ sequence’? Her professional opinion of the article was low. Still, Marie-Carmen decided that it might be prudent to share her discovery with Jackson. And to call her family, let them know that she was safe. It was the last thought she had before drifting into a deep, exhausted slumber.

  Melissa DiCanio

  As they passed the boardroom, Andrew stopped in front of the door.

  “She asked me to just pop in and give her the nod when we were halfway through the tour. Let’s just give the old girl a wave, shall we?”

  He then opened the door, in which four sharp-suited executives from the Frankfurt Stock Exchange were intently listening to the concluding comments of Melissa DiCanio. They seemed astonished at the intrusion. DiCanio herself just beamed and waved at Andrew and Jackson.

  “Hey Jackson! Great to see you! I’ll be with you in just a second, darlin’! Andrew’s gonna take care of you real nice.”

  Jackson was beside himself with amazement. Last time he’d met DiCanio she had been coolly professional, distant. From the impression he thought he’d made, he would easily have believed her if she’d acted as though she had never met him before.

  Finally, he said to Andrew, with a puzzled grin, “I don’t get it. She’s being so friendly. Yet, really, she hardly knows me. She’s completely different to how she was four years ago.”

  Andrew was only vaguely interested. “It’s probably because you’re a Yank. She gets all freaked out about so many of us being Brits. Thinks we talk oddly and don’t have good manners around ladies.”

  Jackson imagined what it would be like to be one of the only American fellows of a Cambridge college and on the board of a mostly European-staffed biotechnology company. Could it possibly be so isolating that one would begin to yearn for the company of a compatriot? Jackson found it unlikely. He’d have expected an Anglophile like DiCanio to be in her element.

  Andrew escorted Jackson to the staff restaurant. They picked out apple-cinnamon muffins and white-glazed doughnuts from the morning tea selection.

  “So, Andrew, let me ask you this,” said Jackson. “What’s your role in the organization?”

  “I’m officially Head of Strategic Planning. Unofficially that means that I run around looking after Melissa and bouncing ideas with her, coming up with proposals, writing presentations for the Frankfurt Stock Exchange, you know, that sort of thing.”

  “Did you prepare an agenda for my time here?”

  “Not exactly. Melissa wants to wing it a bit. She’s cleared the rest of the morning to spend with you. Really, your guess is as good as mine.”

  “She’s ‘cleared the rest of the morning’? Aren’t I going to meet with some of the scientists? Do you want me to give a presentation? Can you at least give me a clue?”

  Andrew chuckled. “No idea, mate. Just relax. She wants to have a bit of a pow-wow is my guess.”

  Jackson had to ask the question that now inflamed his curiosity.

  “Is this kind of treatment normal? By her standards, I mean.”

  Andrew appeared to consider this. “Well, she’s got that whole southern United States courtesy thing obviously, so that’s pretty normal. Melissa often does prepare agendas. Then again, she does have quite a few of these lock-in type sessions now and again. I don’t get involved with all of them. Lots of what we do here is pretty hush-hush. I don’t get nosy when I’m not invited. Your thing, though, is right up my alley. So I reckon I’ll be joining you for part of the day at least.”

  Jackson was just polishing off the last of his muffin when DiCanio appeared. With a wide grin she walked over to greet him, hand outstretched.

  “Jackson, goodness, it’s so great to see you again after all these years! How the heck are you?”

  Jackson stood up, shaking her hand. He took her in with his eyes. DiCanio’s clothes and coiffure were much improved from what he remembered, as one might expect of a woman who now had the means to fund the best couture and grooming that money could buy.

  Her hair, which had once been an unremarkable light brown color and style, was elegantly cropped and colored in subtle variations of blonde. She wore predominantly grey and cream, not a business suit as such but obviously carefully selected, expensive-yet-understated garments, cut and fitted with a practiced eye.

  It was not a look that Jackson was accustomed to in the professional women he knew. Most of them were fellow lab scientists and shared his love for the shabby/casual. Others, in the professions or business would force themselves to wear business suits when necessary. He reflected on how loftily inaccessible DiCanio’s clothes made her look, by comparison with Marie-Carmen’s more naturalistic and frankly sensual mode of dress.

  There was little doubt in his mind which type of woman he preferred. He almost smiled when he remembered his joking promise to Marie-Carmen, making a mental note to tell her by email that he was safe from DiCanio’s charms.

  The pleasantries aside, DiCanio’s tone turned grave.

  “We were so devastated to hear about Pedro Juan, I can’t tell you.”

  “Yeah, it was awful. How did you hear?”

  “When we didn’t get a response to the email inviting him out here, well, we just called in to check things out. Then we hear this just terrible news about Pedro Juan and Simon Reyes, can you imagine?”

  Jackson felt his heart sink; his worst fears were confirmed.

  “Simon Reyes?”


  “Yes. Didn’t you know? I thought you’d know. Simon disappeared. Apparently on the way to meet you!”

  Jackson’s tone became urgent as the full implications of her phone call to the Temixco lab began to sink in.

  “Professor DiCanio. . . did you mention, to PJ’s people in the lab, that you would be meeting me here in Switzerland?”

  DiCanio reacted with obvious puzzlement.

  “Why, yes. What’s wrong, Jackson? Do you have any idea what happened to Pedro Juan and Simon?” Concern and anxiety were inherent in her voice and eyes.

  Jackson glanced at Andrew Browning. “Professor DiCanio, can we talk alone for a few minutes? I’m sorry, Andrew, but I’ve been through some stuff and at least one colleague is dead. I have to be real careful who I speak to now.”

  DiCanio dismissed Andrew with a sympathetic yet firm glance. He departed without a word, just a polite, friendly smile.

  “By all means, Jackson. Also, please call me ‘Melissa’, everyone else does.”

  The restaurant was mostly empty now and no other staff were seated within earshot. Even so, Jackson lowered his voice.

  “PJ’s lab phone is bugged. Simon disappeared on the way to pick me up. I’m afraid he must be dead because we’d agreed on a meeting place, and he told me what he’d be wearing. Someone turned up for that meeting, and tried to kill me. I don’t know Simon, but I’m guessing that it wasn’t him.”

  DiCanio’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness! Now you’re worried that. . . ”

  Jackson continued, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “Exactly. If you told them on that phone that I’d be meeting you here, then the people who were looking for me in Mexico, who killed Pedro Juan and probably Simon too . . ., then they know just where to find me!”