“I know,” Lourds agreed. “The Cherokees had a priesthood called the Ah-ni-ku-ta-ni who invented writing and guarded the knowledge of it zealously. From what I’ve read recently, the Cherokee priests oppressed their people and were finally killed in an uprising.”
“Most of them were killed,” Blackfox agreed. “Several of their descendants, young men who still knew the language of the priests, hid among the people. They kept their society secret and intact. Sequoyah was one of them. The outrage against the priests was so strong that a written language wasn’t allowed for hundreds of years.”
“How does the inscription on the pipe you’ve been protecting compare to the Cherokee language?”
“It’s very similar.”
“May I see it?”
The pipe was a straight barrel of fired blue-gray clay with six holes. It was little over a foot in length. The inscriptions were there as well, but it would take a magnifying glass to make them visible.
Lourds ran his fingers over the instrument’s semi-rough surface. “You’ve read the inscription?”
Blackfox nodded. “It tells the same story that you’re telling. There was an island kingdom, a place where our people came from, that was destroyed by the Great Spirit.”
“But you haven’t been able to translate the other inscription?”
“No.”
Lourds took a quick breath and refused to be disappointed. The other language would fall prey to his skills soon. He was confident of that, but impatient.
“Did Sequoyah know about the pipe?” Lourds asked.
Blackfox hesitated. “He’d never seen it. That wasn’t permitted.”
“But he’d known it existed.”
“Possibly.”
Lourds stood and paced. “I think someone did, and I think that someone was looking for the instruments in the 1820s or 1830s.”
“Why do you think this?” Vang asked. He was always very quiet and conservative in his dialogues since his arrival yesterday.
“Have you ever heard of the Vai people?” Lourds asked.
Vang shook his wizened head.
“They are people who live in Liberia,” Adebayo said.
“Exactly,” Lourds said, smiling. “They didn’t have a written language. But in 1832, a man named Austin Curtis moved to Liberia and married into a Vai tribe. As it turns out, Curtis was just part of a group of Cherokee immigrants that moved into the area.”
“You think they were looking for the pipe?” Diop asked.
“Possibly.”
Diop shook his head. “That may not be so. In 1816, Reverend Robert Finley proposed the American Colonization Society and James Monroe, who had already been elected President of the United States, helped found it. Under this society, freed slaves were returned to West Africa. This man Curtis may have simply been involved with that.”
“Whatever the case,” Lourds said, “we know that Austin inspired the Vai people to adopt their own written language. Which they did. It’s very similar to the Cherokee written language. The actual Vai syllabary is attributed to Momolu Duwalu Bukele.”
Lourds handed the pipe back to Blackfox. The young man put it in its protective case.
“I believe people have been searching for these instruments since they were first made,” Lourds said. “Many thousands of years ago.”
“Who?” Blackfox asked.
“I don’t know. We’ve been discussing it for days now.” Lourds felt the fatigue hovering over him. Only his self-discipline, excitement, and the certainty that he was about to crack the final language kept him going.
“The inscription also says that the instruments are the keys to the Drowned Land,” Blackfox said.
“When I first translated that,” Lourds admitted, “I didn’t believe it. I thought perhaps there might have been a way once, but not when an island has been underwater for thousands of years. Salt water even leeches away silver over time. Turns it into an unrecognizable lump of oxidized metal. I couldn’t imagine doors made of gold. Much less this.”
He turned to the display and tapped the keyboard. Immediately the image of the massive door down in Father Sebastian’s dig in Cádiz filled the screen.
“I don’t know what this door’s made of,” Lourds commented, “but it doesn’t look like gold. However, after being on the sea bottom—or near to it—that door appears to be unblemished.”
“That’s Cádiz, Spain,” Blackfox said. “I’ve been watching this story.”
Lourds nodded. “It is.”
“Do you think that was the Drowned Land?”
Tracing the inscriptions across the vault door, Lourds said, “This is the same writing as the transcription I haven’t—yet—been able to translate. I’d say it’s a safe bet.”
“Do you think we need to go there?”
“No,” Adebayo said. “Our stories tell us that the seeds of man’s final and eternal doom lie in that place. God must have his vengeance, and we must not seek out his wrath again.”
“It’s possible that we need to destroy the instruments,” Vang said.
The idea of that—which had most emphatically not been discussed before—horrified Lourds.
“No,” Adebayo said. “We were given these instruments by our ancestors. We were told to protect them, as they were told by their ancestors before them, and I believe we should do that or anger God again.”
“But,” Blackfox said quietly, “if the inscription is correct, if the Drowned Land—or Atlantis or whatever you want to call it—does hold a temptation that could destroy the world again, shouldn’t we remove that temptation?”
“I think so,” Vang said.
“And what if we incur God’s wrath by destroying those instruments?” Adebayo asked.
Neither Blackfox nor Vang replied.
“Man is shaped by his belief and his resistance to temptation,” Adebayo said. “That is why God has provided the mountains, to make our way hard, and the oceans, to make it look like some journeys are impossible.”
“We could save the world by destroying those instruments,” Vang said. “Even one of them. The ancestors say all five must be used.”
“I don’t think destroying them would be so easy. The cymbal and the bell have been lost to us for thousands of years,” Adebayo said. “How do you account for the fact that even under trying circumstances they still exist?”
No one answered.
“I propose to you,” Adebayo said, “that you’ve already seen God’s will in motion. He has preserved these instruments, and he has sent Professor Lourds our way to bring us together. For the first time, the Keepers are joined.”
Lourds didn’t know how to feel about that. He’d never pictured himself as a divine instrument.
“There’s something else to consider,” Natasha said.
The men looked at her.
“If you destroy the instruments, your enemies—whoever they are—win. You lose. You will have failed the task you had set before you.” Natasha paused. “Not only that, but your chance to strike back against your enemies will be gone.”
Her words hung over the group.
“And one further thing,” Lourds said, not wanting the potential future of the world to hang on a chance at vengeance—which he didn’t personally see as a positive thing. “It’s possible that the people looking for the instruments might know more about them than you do.”
“They have already proved themselves our enemies. They won’t tell us anything.”
“If we get to negotiate with them at some point, we might learn something.”
“We won’t give up the instruments,” Blackfox said quietly.
“No one’s asking you to.” Lourds made his voice stronger. “You won’t have to do that.”
“You could go to Cádiz,” Leslie said.
“No,” Lourds said immediately. Going to Cádiz meant losing the instruments. His chance to translate the language would be stripped from him. He wasn’t afraid of losing the fame—he didn’t believe
in that anyway—but challenge was everything. Besides, the bit about the end of the world worried him, even though he hated to think he was driven by superstition. “That’s a bad idea.”
Leslie frowned in displeasure. She obviously wasn’t happy about that.
“Just give me a little more time,” Lourds said. “I can crack the last inscriptions. I know it. Time. That’s all I’m asking for.” He glanced at the men. “Please.”
“Are you sure about this?” Gary asked.
Leslie almost cursed him out. She would have, too, if she could have been certain she could get another cameraman in five minutes or less.
“Yes,” she snapped. “I’m certain.” She smoothed her blouse to make sure it was wrinkle-free. “Let’s do this. I want to get it to Wynn-Jones as soon as possible.”
She stood out in the street in front of the Hempel Hotel. Night had fallen, and the West End was alive behind her.
Despite her angry words to Gary, she was hesitant about what she was doing. But she figured she was owed it. She’d put her job in jeopardy by believing in Lourds.
Gary stood in front of her with his camcorder over his arm.
“Okay,” Leslie said. She took a deep breath. “Let’s do it. On my mark. Three, two—”
Strident ringing dragged Lourds from sleep. He flailed for the room phone and finally dragged it to the side of his head. Only whoever was speaking—angry and quick—sounded garbled. Then he realized he had the headset to his ear upside down. He reversed it.
“Hello,” Lourds said. He cracked an eye open to read the clock radio. It was 11:41 P.M. locally. The voice on the other end of the phone was American. There was a five-hour time difference between England and the East Coast.
“Professor Lourds,” the crisp, perfectly enunciated voice spat. “This is Dean Wither.”
“Hello, Richard. Good of you to call.”
“Well, maybe you won’t think so in a minute.”
That brought Lourds up short. Dean Wither hadn’t been cross with him for years.
“I thought you were in Alexandria filming a documentary for the BBC,” Wither said.
“I was,” Lourds replied. He swung himself around and sat on the edge of the bed. He was still fully dressed. When he’d gotten up from the computer an hour ago, he went to lie down for just a moment to rest his eyes.
“Now you’re in London?”
That woke Lourds entirely. He hadn’t called anyone connected to the university and let them know where he was.
“How did you know that?” he asked.
“Because you’re on CNN. Right now.”
“What?” Lourds scrambled for the remote control and switched the television on. He flipped through the channels till he reached CNN. He recognized his face immediately. Below him, a text line read:
HARVARD LINGUISTICS PROFESSOR DISCOVERS
ATLANTIS CODE.
“Did you?” Wither demanded.
“Did I what?” Lourds asked.
“Discover an Atlantis code?”
Lourds wasn’t sure how he was going to answer that. He stared at the television and wondered how CNN could possibly have gotten the story.
“Something turned up in Alexandria,” Lourds said weakly. “We’ve been following it.”
“ ‘We’?”
“Miss Crane and I. And some others.” Lourds didn’t know how he was going to explain everything he needed to explain in such a short time. “We found an artifact with a language on it I couldn’t read.”
“You?”
“Yeah. Precisely,” Lourds said.
“Many of you may recognize Professor Lourds’s name,” the young male anchor said. “A short time ago he translated a manuscript that has become known as Bedroom Pursuits.”
The particularly lurid cover that graced—and wasn’t that a poor choice of words?—the trade paperback edition showed on the screen. The pose was straight out of the Kama Sutra.
“Oh, God, not again,” Wither said.
Lourds winced. When he’d done the reading at the dean’s house, it had been something of a sensation. However, once the translation got out into the publishing world—and hit the New York Times extended best-seller list, Dean Wither hadn’t been happy. He’d often said—
“If I was going to have this university remembered for anything,” Wither said, “it wouldn’t be for pornography. How many times have I told you that?”
“I honestly can’t remember,” Lourds responded.
“Now it appears that Professor Lourds has channeled his incredible mind into a new pursuit,” the CNN anchor said. “Here to tell us about the Atlantis Code is Leslie Crane, hostess of Ancient Worlds, Ancient People.”
“So you’re in on this together?” Wither accused. “The BBC may find humor in this, but I assure you that I don’t.”
“I didn’t know about this,” Lourds objected.
The video picked up on a street corner in front of the Hempel Hotel. Leslie stood looking radiant with a microphone in her hand.
“I’m Leslie Crane, hostess of Ancient Worlds, Ancient People,” Leslie said. “Many of you have heard of Professor Thomas Lourds. His bestselling translation of Bedroom Pursuits remains a favorite in bookstores. While we were filming a segment for my show, Ancient Worlds, Ancient People, Professor Lourds discovered an ancient bell that has led us around the world. But it was here, in London, that Professor Lourds finally cracked the code that has hidden the last secrets of Atlantis.”
The television cut back to the anchor. “Miss Crane has promised us further information as it becomes available. But until then, it remains to be seen if Father Sebastian and his team will manage to open the mysterious door to the caverns they claim are linked to Atlantis, or if Professor Lourds’s research will put an entirely new spin on the efforts there.”
Lourds switched the television off. He didn’t need to see any more. His very soul ached.
“You didn’t know about this?” Wither asked.
“No,” Lourds replied. “I didn’t.”
“Did you find an Atlantis code?”
“I believe so.”
“So the story is true?”
“As far as I know, yes.”
“But you didn’t know she was going to talk to CNN.”
“No. If she’d requested it, I would have asked her not to. I think she knew that, though.”
“Then why did she do it?”
“To get back at me.”
“Why would she—?” Wither stopped.
Lourds knew he’d said too much.
“Oh, Thomas,” Wither groaned. “Tell me that you didn’t sleep with her.”
Lourds didn’t say anything.
“My god, man, she looks young enough to be your daughter.”
“Only if I’d started having children really early,” Lourds pointed out in his defense.
“So I’ve got that scandal to look forward to as well?”
“It won’t be a scandal.”
“Of course it will be. How could it not be? You’re the only professor I’ve got that is personable enough to be on Good Morning, America, quick enough to swap barbs with Jon Stewart on The Daily Show, and still manage to plummet to the pits of puerile interests and juvenile shenanigans on The Jerry Springer Show with your sexual indiscretions.”
Personally, Lourds didn’t feel sex had to be discreet. And he believed he’d always been accountable for his part in his dalliances. But the dean’s admonition truly surprised him.
“I wasn’t aware that you watched The Jerry Springer Show,” Lourds said.
Wither took a deep breath and audibly counted to ten. “You need to be very glad you have tenure here, Professor Lourds.”
“I am. And some days I’m amazed.”
“You do realize that this is going to look like you’re trying to horn in on all the media attention the dig site is promoting, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
&nbs
p; “Is this connected to Atlantis?”
“I believe so.”
“Much as I hate to say this, then get out there and prove it. You can’t back off this horse in midstream.”
Lourds was pretty certain Wither had mixed his metaphors in there somewhere, but he was too tired to sort it all out. “All right.”
“Make sure you do this right,” Wither cautioned. “We could swing a lot of enrollment from this, and additional funding.”
Lourds shook his head. That was what most things came down to for the dean. He said good-bye and started looking for his shoes. He had to find Leslie, and then he was going to—
He stopped there because he honestly didn’t know what he was going to do.
Lourds met Natasha in the hall. The Russian woman looked angry enough to kill someone. Lourds had a sinking suspicion he knew who that was.
“You have seen the news, yes?” Natasha demanded in Russian. She strode down the hallway toward Leslie’s door.
“Yes,” Lourds replied. “Maybe I should talk to her.”
“We will both talk to her,” Natasha declared. “By revealing this story now, she could have scared off the people who are responsible for Yuliya’s death.”
Lourds really didn’t think that would be the case. Gallardo and his cronies had proved willing to kill over and over again. He didn’t think a little thing like CNN would worry them at all.
“Those men won’t run from a fight,” Lourds said.
“No, but they will scatter in all directions like cockroaches in the light. They will be harder to find.” Natasha stopped in front of Leslie’s door. She rapped her knuckles hard against the door. “We should have left her in Africa.”
Lourds stood beside her and waited. The whole thing was getting entirely out of hand. He could almost feel his opportunity to translate the inscriptions sliding away from him.
“Or Odessa,” Natasha said. “We could have left her in Odessa.” She rapped again, louder than before. She glared at Lourds. “What could you have ever seen in her?”
That question took Lourds aback. He was certain that no matter how he answered that, it would blow up in his face. He tried to stand there and look wise and experienced.
The Atlantis Code Page 36