Praise for Urcelia Teixeira
This is the power of Urcelia's words; her beautiful literature, combined with her flawless narrative is stunning and so she most certainly is an author to watch out for.
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Full of intrigue, mystery and action. Urcelia Teixeira did an excellent job keeping my interest.
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Urcelia has proven her versatility as an author, that's for sure!
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ALEX HUNT and The Golden Urn
A Relic Chaser Adventure
Urcelia Teixeira
Copyright © 2018 by Urcelia Teixeira
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Alex Hunt and the Golden Urn is a work of fiction. Characters, events and dialogue found within are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, either living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
Copyrighted material
Gone too soon!
In loving memory of my father who awakened my sense of adventure by introducing me to Indiana Jones!
Our regular camping trips were spent fishing and diving for lobster & abalone or hiking through Cape Cobra infested mountain paths in Cape Town, South Africa!
Dad, our adventures live on!
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Urcelia Teixeira
Preface
Based on true events
In December 2013, a guard outside a mountain shrine in Phnom Penh, Cambodia was woken by a barking dog and found the lock to the shrine’s door broken and their sacred Golden Urn, missing.
They said that The Urn contained the hair, teeth, and bones of Buddha’s body and had been respected by Buddhist followers for thousands of years.
Relics such as this one, have enormous religious and cultural significance for Cambodians. The Golden Urn is believed to have been brought from Sri Lanka to Cambodia in the 1950’s to celebrate 2 500 years since Buddha’s birth. In 2002, Norodom Sihanouk who was the king at the time, moved the relic forty-five kilometers away, from the capital city Phnom Penh to Oudong. Tens of thousands of religious followers attended the ceremony in honor of their king and Buddha.
But the unexpected theft of this sacred relic sparked a nationwide manhunt and prompted an outcry amongst Buddhists across Cambodia. There were those followers who doubted it was the original holy Urn, to begin with, and insisted on proof of its authenticity.
Police officials interrogated thirteen of the guards and subsequently detained six of them.
A mere two months after its disappearance, authorities found the missing Golden Urn during a house raid in Oudong, about 130 kilometers from the shrine where it got stolen.
However, to this day, none of the detainees delivered the mastermind or motives behind the theft of The Golden Urn.
The Urn’s authenticity is still in doubt and has never been proven.
For more on the Golden Urn and its significance, please visit www.urcelia.com
Chapter One
South-East Cambodia
Sam’s feet wedged beneath the two enormous boulders that lay perched on the edge of the cliff in front of him. He heaved back into the rope he had tied around his waist and looped around the nearby tree. Sam pulled back hard. He repositioned his one foot as the uneven terrain threatened to throw him off balance. The squeaky sound coming from the rope rubbing against the rugged trunk had him worried. Beads of sweat trickled down his face. The Cambodian jungle was hot and humid, but the sweat on his face was evidence of something far more concerning.
He glanced at the rope chafing against the tree and watched as a single strand unraveled. His heart thumped hard against his chest. He gripped the rope tighter around his hands preparing for the worse. The scruffy threads of the strained rope sliced into the flesh of his bare hands.
Hundred-and-fifty meters below the sheer cliff edge, at the other end of the rope, Alex searched the rock wall behind the cascade of water falling from above her head. Rappelling had never appealed to her, but she could hardly hold Sam’s weight over the steep three-hundred-meter waterfall, so the duty lay on her to descend the steep cliff. The icy cold spray from the water had her drenched, and her feet slipped against the smooth, wet surface of the cliff side. Masses of water poured down from the waterfall’s edge above her head. What was she thinking? She hates heights. Perhaps she shouldn’t have looked down into the frothy white water that smashed into the rocks below. Alex pinched her eyes closed as she battled to control her breathing. She thought she had her Agoraphobia under control by now, considering everything she had been through in Tanzania. Her condition had improved substantially since then.
Her harness cut into her groin as it carried her entire weight. Her hands glided against the stone wall searching hand-over-hand for an opening. The century old map the Police Commissioner gave them showed there were ancient tunnels to a hidden temple in the rock face behind the waterfall.
“There’s nothing, Sam! Just solid rock surface and water!”
Lots, the thought echoed in her head.
Without warning, she plunged several meters and came to a dead halt, bashing her shoulder hard against the wall.
“SAM!!” she screamed upwards toward the top of the cliff.
Sam lay face down in the dirt holding onto the rope for dear life. His cheek was on fire where the cord slapped him across his face as the last strand broke free from the tree behind him. Somehow, he caught the end of the rope just before it could disappear over the cliff and plunge Alex into a watery death. It took every bit of his strength to hold on.
“Sam! Pull me up!” Alex shouted while she frantically searched with her hands for something to cling onto, but the wall was entirely smooth. Strands of wet hair lay across her face, making it almost impossible to see anything. Why isn’t he answering?
“S-A-M! What’s happening up there? Pull me up!”
“I - I’m try-ing.” He forced out a soft, barely audible shout under the immense strain of her pendulous weight.
Sam pulled the rope enough to allow his wrist around it twice and managed to do the same with his other hand to support a firmer grip. Having been in a standing position just about took all he had, but lying face down had him in an awkward position of having to rely on the strength of his arms alone.
Alex faced certain death. He shut his eyes and tugged hard at the rope using its leverage to get on his knees and slowly back onto his feet. Once up, he twisted his body around the rope and once again found his footing against the boulders.
“Alex! You okay?” Finally able to speak loud enough for her to hear.
“Sure! I’m admiring the view while you take your time pulling me up!”
Yup, she’s okay, he thought.
“Do you have any footing?”
“No, nothing!”
She was oblivious to the dire circumstances that unraveled on the cliff’s edge high above her dangling body.
Sam’s eyes remained pinned on the three untangled strands of cord eroding against the sharp edge of the cliff in front of him. He instantly regretted giving in to her. Not that he would have convinced her otherwise. Alex was relentless in pursuing any relic hunt. No matter the cost.
“You’re going to have to keep the rope steady on your side, okay? Try not to move too much and find something to grab onto!” Sam shouted.
His feet pushed down firmly on the ground as he heaved. Almost there. Another cord snapped, and he found himself wondering how many strings the rope had. Eight? Twelve? He willed his mind into persuasion that all will be just fine. He tugged relentlessly. Finally, what felt like a lifetime later, Alex’s hands appeared over the edge of the rocky height.
The victory had been short-lived as another string snapped just as he spotted the top of her head above the cliff’s edge. He swore under his strained breathing.
“Climb, Alex! I’m not sure the rope is going to hold!”
Alex’s anguished look in her eyes said it all, so Sam gave one final hard pull. The rope snapped and landed him flat on his back.
“Alex!”
He jumped up and scrambled to the cliff’s edge where Alex clung for dear life off the side of the rock face.
“Help me, Sam! I can’t hold on any longer.”
Her one hand had caught a thin vine root about half a meter down. She was barely within Sam’s reach and the root was not long enough for her other hand to grab onto, much less strong enough to hold her full weight.
“Look at me, Alex! I’ve got you. Give me your hand.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can!”
Sam wasn’t all too sure he would ever forget the look of desperation in Alex’s eyes that had already pooled with tears.
“Alex. You’re going to have to give me your hand. I’ll catch you, I promise.”
“If I let go I’ll fall, Sam. Please don’t let me fall?” She started a faint sob; her eyes pinned on his hand.
“Alex. Look at me. I’m not going to let you fall. We have a relic to find, and an entire country depending on you. You’re going to grab my hand when I count it down, and I’m going to pull you up, okay? You can do this. I’m not letting you die here today, you hear me?”
She merely nodded; her teary eyes remained locked with his. Sam had curled his one foot around a watermelon-sized rock in the hope that it would sustain his weight and hold him back while he stretched as far as it would allow toward Alex’s hand. His fingertips just touched her knuckles. There simply isn’t any room for error, Sam reminded himself. He hid the fear in his eyes as he started counting.
“Three — Two —One!”
Alex let go of the root, propelled her lean body and stretched her hands upwards toward Sam’s. Her one hand was firmly in his grip but the other; only hooked by their fingertips. It felt as if all the tendons in his arm were ripping from his shoulder bone.
“Sam. My fingers are slipping.” Her hands were still wet from the water spray. “I can’t hold on.”
“I’ve got you, Alex.” Sam’s words strained as he clung to her one hand with all he had. “You’re not dying here today, do you hear me? I’m going to hoist you up enough for you to grab onto my other arm, okay? I’ve got you.”
He wasn’t sure he had the strength to even pull her up another centimeter. He needed convincing himself as his arm burnt under the immense strain. But he dared not show it. He clenched his teeth together and somehow managed to lift her just enough so she could grab tightly onto his wrist. His foot stretched around the sharp rock cutting into his ankle. The stone was the only leverage he had. It had to hold up. Careful to not slide over the cliff, he drew back until he could sit up on his knees and pull her up by the waist of her pants. Paralyzed with fear, Alex threw her arms around his neck and clung to him like a small child would a parent on the first day of school.
Over the last couple of years they grew quite close. There have been times it veered on perhaps too close in a working relationship. But right here, right now, they couldn’t care. She needed him as much as he needed her.
“Well, that didn’t quite go down the way we planned.” He finally said in an attempt to relieve the awkwardness of their embrace. Alex’s tender weeping instantly became a subdued giggle in response. She pulled back and wiped her face with her T-shirt.
Walking to retrieve her backpack from under the tree, she found herself questioning if this was what she had signed up for. Since her father’s retirement, she had been on several expeditions in the role of Head Archaeologist at the Uni, but nothing quite as death defeating as this.
“Tell me how we ended up in the middle of the Cambodian jungle again, please?” he dryly added as he got up and untied the broken rope that still hung around his waist.
“We’re hired hands, Sam Quinn. I guess this is just another day in the lives of the world’s two top Archaeologists,” wiping her tears and sweeping her hair back.
“Ah yes. Hired hands. You never actually told me how much they’re paying us though. It had better be worth risking our lives for.”
“It will do just fine Sam. Not that it matters much at this stage. Thus far none of the clues are adding up, so there’s no payment until we prove the authenticity of the stolen Golden Urn. So if you’re done lying around, I suggest we head back and go over our intel again.”
Sam watched her put on a brave show but her pale face and trembling hands were a dead giveaway.
“You’re still shaking, Alex. Let’s just rest for a moment,” rubbing his sore shoulder.
“It’s as good as it’s going to get, Sam. No point agonizing over it.”
Sam beamed with pride at her show-must-go-on answer. He had always appreciated her courage and determination. Alex Hunt was a woman who could pretty much get out of any sticky situation and tackled any challenge head-on. Unlike any of the other woman he had ever known. She possessed an inner strength coupled with immense courage. After Tanzania, she had become a changed person. A woman who would stop at nothing until the quest was complete.
Sam dusted off his hat and placed it back on his head only to see Alex had already disappeared into the shoulder high thorny shrubs behind him.
The equatorial sun beat down hard through the dense forest canopy. Alex glanced periodically at her Satellite driven Navigator as they pushed through the thorn-studded shrubs back to their vehicle. The hour-long trek to the Toyota Cruiser felt like an eternity. Neither spoke as they digested the near fatal incident back at the waterfall. It was hot, and maneuvering through the thick leaves took immense effort.
“We better hurry Quinn. The sun is sitting low already, and I don’t know about you, but I’d hate to spend the night here.”
“Right behind you Alex. These pestering red ants have a nasty bite,” whacking one that managed to get to his ankle under his pants.
The Cambodian jungle wasn’t a comfortable place to be in at all. The thorny shrubs ripped their arms and faces and navigating through the ankle height vines across the forest floor was exhausting.
“We should be close. Tomorrow we head back to the Commissioner-General’s office. There must be something we missed.”
“I don’t see how we missed anything, Alex. We went through the map and all the details of the police report with a fine tooth comb. Unless of course — “
“Unless what?”
“Unless they purposefully left something off the report.”
“Why would they do that? They hired us to unearth the legend of an original Urn in the first place. That’s why they flew us out here. It makes no sense, Sam.”
“Indeed, but what if the Buddhist followers are right and the stolen Urn really is a fake? The government would try to cover it up, right? I mean, can you imagine the persecution if
the people found out that the holy Urn they’ve been worshipping at all this time had been a fake? It would start a civil war!”
“Well, what if it wasn’t a fake? What if it was the real relic and you’re barking up the wrong tree here, Sam?”
Sam whacked another mosquito on the back of his neck.
“Hmm, might be but I recall reading the police report wondering how the perpetrators got past the guards outside the shrine in the first place. I might not be a detective, but I certainly picked up some discrepancies in that report.”
Alex stopped and checked the coordinates she wrote in her notebook.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked
“We should be right on the spot where we left the Cruiser. I don’t understand.”
“You sure?”
“Hundred percent. Look. Here are the tracks, and the leaves are flattened where it was parked. There’s the road.”
Sam walked over to the clearing where they had parked the Cruiser earlier that morning. She was right. It was the right spot. The vehicle showed tracks coming in, fresh oil stains on the leaves where it stood and then new tracks up ahead.
“Oh, bollocks.”
“Yup. You can say that again. It looks like we are victims of vehicle theft, Miss Hunt.” Sam commented snickeringly.
“You find this funny Sam? We’re at least six hours on foot from the nearest village, and in case you haven’t noticed, it will be dark soon.”
“Oh, I noticed. But I can hardly cry now, can I? Perhaps you and I should cozy up in a hollow somewhere. Reminds me of our first exploration in Tanzania, come to think of it.”
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