Billie looked at him and swore. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Afraid so.”
“Why didn’t you just land over there?”
“Because over there was full of thick sand, steep slopes, and we would have never gotten to take off again – assuming I didn’t kill us in the landing.” Sam shrugged. “If you want, I can give it a try?”
Billie clipped the strap on her backpack. “Come on, let’s get it over with.”
Chapter Forty-Four
It took nearly two hours to reach the entrance to the buried temple of the Kalahari Desert. Billie had let Sam set the pace. Once it was established, she matched him with a constant speed until the third dune, when his endurance wavered, and she passed him, setting a new pace. She was tall and lissome, climbing the huge sand dunes with the assertive gait of an athlete. Even wearing the shapeless, loose flowing Indigo blue Alasho and traditional robes worn by the Saharan Tuareg Nomads, she had a willowy elegance about her as she climbed.
Billie glanced at her own hand-held GPS, which indicated they were right upon the entrance. Her eyes scanned the rolling hills of sand around them. She cursed, and then waited for Sam to catch up. As he slowly made his way down the sand dune, she said, “The GPS says we’re here. Any idea where the entrance is?”
Sam pulled out his GPS and placed it next to hers. They were identical, and showed the entrance about five feet into the sand dune.
He removed a black folding shovel, the sort of thing soldiers used to dig trenches and latrines. “It looks like we have some digging ahead of us.”
“You knew it would be buried?”
“Of course. Nothing stays out in the open for very long in the Kalahari Desert.”
It took three hours of digging to clear away enough sand to reach the opening to the buried temple.
Billie stepped back and looked at the entrance.
It looked more like a mine shaft than a pyramid buried in sand. Three old railway sleepers formed the framework for the adit. It ran at a gradual decline. Inside, the makeshift timber set - used to support the roof - mingled with a series of posts, jacks and roof bolts used to prop up the sandy ceiling. They had been placed haphazardly, giving her the impression of an old gold mine built during the American gold rush era.
She glanced at Sam. “You think the tunnel’s still safe?”
“It doesn’t really matter if it’s not. We don’t have time to strengthen its foundations.”
“That’s the best you’ve got?”
Sam shrugged, and ducked under the crude adit, into the main tunnel. “Come on.”
Thirty feet inside, the angle of the tunnel changed from nearly horizontal to a steep decline. Another four hundred feet, and the tunnel separated into two directions. The original tunnel continued to descend at the same angle, while the second tunnel ran at the exact same angle, only at an incline instead.
Sam said, “It’s the same anatomy as the Pyramid of Giza.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“No. The Atlantis pyramid was different.”
“Good point. Come to think of it, so was Tunguska.” Sam brushed the beam of his flashlight down and up the main passages. “So where do you want to go?”
“Take the ascending passage. Let’s head to the king’s chamber.”
They moved quickly, climbing for another four hundred feet before the tunnel split in two again. This time the main tunnel remained at the constant thirty-degree angle toward the grand gallery, while the second one turned horizontally deeper into the pyramid’s core.
Billie shined her flashlight into the horizontal tunnel. “The queen’s chamber. Let’s keep heading upward.”
“Okay.”
At the top of the grand gallery, the passageway leveled out and they stepped into the king’s chamber.
The room was rectangular with a ceiling just short of twenty feet. It was nearly identical to the king’s chamber inside the rest of the temples, but with one exception – at the center of the room where Billie would have expected the sarcophagus to be, a single limestone pedestal stood.
She stared at the pedestal. “What’s that?”
“That’s where they stored the Death Mask – the strange golden skull through which the ancient Master Builders burned their black hallucinogen to control their laborers.”
The comment reminded Billie of her time spent as a captive under the same drug. “So, where’s the sarcophagus?”
“There isn’t one.”
“You’re kidding. I assumed the sacred stones would be positioned inside the sarcophagus or something.”
“Guess we’re going to have to find a new location.”
Billie shined his flashlight around the rest of the room, in slow, focused swaths. Two pictograms lined the east and west walls. One was a series of calculations in ancient Egyptian, and the other depicted the twin volcanic peaks of Mount Ararat.
She searched specifically for any indents or openings in the stonework where the sacred stone may be placed. After twenty minutes, she found nothing.
“You see anything?” Sam asked.
“Nothing.”
“Have you got another plan?”
She opened her backpack and removed the black light wand. “Yeah, let’s try this.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Billie ran the black light across the eastern wall. It showed nothing but darkness. She then tried the northern side. This time, it revealed a series of texts, written in the script of the ancient Master Builders.
There was a lot about their history. Many of the words regarding time were indecipherable to her, but the last sentence struck her.
She read it out loud. “The great kings may strive to maintain power with far reaching eyes. Ultimately it is only the queens who hold the key to salvation.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Sam asked.
“I have no idea.”
Sam repeated the words. “Okay, the great kings may strive to maintain power with far reaching eyes… must refer to the looking glasses found inside the king’s chamber of every temple we’ve been in.”
Billie thought about it for a second and agreed. “Using such devices to see over great distances and communicate with neighboring and far away temples must have given the ancient kings tremendous power.”
“But what about the queens?”
“We never found anything inside the queen’s sarcophagi. They were always empty, most likely waiting for the death of the kings.”
“Sure. But what if they were never intended to house the remains of ancient queens?”
Billie grinned. “I don’t believe it!”
“What?”
Billie cursed loudly. “I don’t believe it. The answer’s been staring us in the face all this time.”
“Are you just going to keep celebrating your intelligence or are you going to tell me what you think’s happened.”
She smiled. “The great kings may strive to maintain power with far reaching eyes. Ultimately it is only the queens who hold the key to salvation.”
“I’m reading the same thing you are…” Sam said. “But I’m not getting anything.”
“What about the queen’s chambers?”
“What about them? They were always empty.”
“That’s it!”
“What the hell are you talking about? We’ve been through the queen’s chambers. There’s nothing inside. The sarcophagi are empty, awaiting the king’s death for the queen to follow.”
“The queen’s sarcophagi. They’re empty. But they’re not waiting for the queen. They’re waiting for the stones.”
Sam swore. “You’re right, let’s go.”
They raced down the grand gallery.
Billie stared at the queen’s sarcophagus. Compared to the king’s, which was covered in pictographs and intricate stone carvings, this one appeared insipid and mundane.
Sam asked, “What do you think?”
She removed her backpack and took out
the small iron pry bar. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Together they pried the stone lid off, sliding itonly a few inches to the side. Billie flashed her light inside. The final resting place was empty. If she’d uncovered it previously she would have assumed it was nothing more than an empty sarcophagus, waiting for a king or queen to die. But at its center was a single indent, slightly smaller than a typical house brick.
Sam passed her the black light wand. Billie took it and shined it into the narrow recess. It revealed the image of the Greek letter Theta and a single horse.
“Got you!” Her eyes widened. “Now what?”
“Insert the stone and see what happens.”
Billie looked at the small metallic casing that housed the sacred stone in a complete vacuum. She ran her fingers along the airtight latches.
Her eyes met Sam’s. “Are you ready?”
“Go for it.”
Billie removed the safety latches. A small gush of air rushed into the casing. She quickly removed the stone. It felt lighter than air. She carefully placed it into the recess at the bottom of the queen’s sarcophagus.
The sacred stone seemed to lock in place.
She tried to jiggle the stone and make sure it fit properly, but it was now locked permanently. Sam had a try at removing it afterward, and agreed the stone had now become permanently fixed to the recess at the base of the sarcophagus.
“Now what?” she asked.
Sam shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Nothing happens?”
“It’s like Professor Capel suspected. Something needs to trigger the stones to start gaining mass.”
She considered what she saw when she watched Sam pick up the stone back inside the lab at Arizona University. It started to immediately gain mass the second it was removed from the Death Stone.
“You think they’re aligned, don’t you?”
“I’m hoping so.”
“Once all four of the sacred stones are joined, it will trigger the response – and all the stones will start gaining mass?”
“Yes.”
Billie looked at the sacred stone one last time and then heaved the sarcophagus lid back into place. “Come on, let’s not waste any more time. One down, three to go.”
They moved with determined and purposeful strides, racing to reach the outside of the temple. Once there, they quickly climbed the first sand dune. From the crest, Billie spotted the little Cessna 172 still parked where they’d left it. On the horizon, a strange cloud formation approached. It was like a heavy rain, but darker – and completely out of place for a region that normally receives less than ten inches of rain annually.
“What is that?” she asked.
Sam stared at it for a minute. “That looks to me like icy sleet!”
“In the Kalahari Desert?” she asked, incredulously.
Sam swallowed, hard. “Looks like it, and that means we’re going to have to pick up our pace if we want the human race to survive.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Ilya Yezhov picked up his cell phone and made the call he was dreading.
“What have you found?” came the response from Leo Botkin on the other end.
“We just got a hit on our traveler’s database. Sam Reilly’s passport was just used to leave Hosea Kutako International Airport in Namibia.”
“Leaving?” Botkin’s voice took a dark tone. “When did he arrive? Why didn’t you inform me when he arrived?”
“It has to do with their reporting system. They’re an older airport, and sometimes their internet connections go down. When that happens, all documents relating to incoming and outgoing passengers are entered into the database afterward.”
“Then how long has he been there, for Christ’s sake!”
“Twelve hours and fifteen minutes. He hired a light aircraft. Took it for a short flight and then returned.”
Botkin swore again.
Ilya said, “I don’t understand. He knows the world’s about to go to hell, so what’s he doing hiring a light aircraft from an out of the way airport?”
“He’s gone to visit an ancient ruin in the Kalahari Desert,” Leo said without hesitation.
“Really? Why would he possibly do that?”
Botkin paused. “I have no idea. Find someone to locate him, and work out where he’s going.”
Ilya was certain his boss knew a lot more than he was letting on, but he’d learned long ago not to try questioning Botkin about anything he hadn’t revealed. If Leo was going to let him know something, he would have already done so. If not, there was nothing Ilya could do to pry the information out of him.
Instead, he said, “There’s something else.”
“Yes?”
“Sam Reilly’s friend, Tom Bower, and his girlfriend are in Orvieto, Italy. I’m overseeing a team who’s shadowing them both now.”
“Good. Do you know what they’re doing there?”
“Right now, it appears they’re doing nothing more than having a romantic vacation in a medieval city.”
“That seems unlikely, given what they know is coming.”
“Maybe they’re making the most of their last few days together?”
Botkin didn’t laugh. “Whatever you do, don’t fucking lose them.”
“Okay. Do you want me to bring them in and see if we can get some answers?”
“No. Just watch them. If they try to leave before you have those answers, bring them in.”
“Very well, sir. Anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes. See if you can track down where the rest of his crew are currently.”
“Reilly keeps his business on board the Maria Helena highly secure. His overshadowing company, Global Salvages, doesn’t even keep records of his staff.”
“I know. Lucky for me I happen to have a secret list of those who are under his regular employ. There’s just two names on it that are almost certainly fake. One is named Elise. She used to work for the CIA as a child prodigy, before she apparently lost interest, set up a new passport and name for herself, and disappeared. I have a fair idea who she really is and why the Secretary of Defense lets her hide in plain sight, despite never using the same passport twice.”
“And the second name on the list?”
“Genevieve – no surname – she’s the brunette hanging out with Tom currently in Orvieto.”
“Her passport says her name’s…”
“It’s fake. Trust me. She’s been living a lie since she arrived onboard the Maria Helena two years ago.”
Ilya stared at the photo of Tom and Genevieve. “She’s cute. Tom’s a lucky guy. Maybe I should personally pay her a visit?”
“Forget it. There’s something familiar about this girl. I recognize something about her face from somewhere, but I can’t place it. From what my sources at the Office of the Secretary of Defense tell me, she’s dangerous – an ex-assassin or something – very professional. Trained overseas for covert sanctions. Don’t confuse her soft smile, blue eyes and coquettish good looks for vulnerability – fuck with her, and she’ll chew you up and spit you out before you know what hit you.”
“So, what do you want me to do with them?”
“Nothing. Have your man observe and report back. Nothing more – and find out what the hell Sam Reilly’s searching for.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Orvieto
Tom paid for the meal and stepped out the door.
They walked three hundred feet up Via Ripa Serancia and into a ceramicarte – or what appeared to Tom as a boutique pottery shop. There, they waited. But no one came.
“Are you sure it was him?” Genevieve asked.
“I’m telling you, it was the man from the Great Blue Hole in Belize. I’m not sure about the rest of him. I didn’t really get a good look at him before, but his eyes were definitely the same. Gray-blue eyes, almost silvery. I’ve seen plenty of blue eyes over the years, but never like that. It would be pretty unusual to find a second person with the s
ame color.”
“But not impossible.”
“No,” Tom agreed.
He stared out the window. No one left the restaurant.
Genevieve stepped back from the window. “They’re not following, and there’s no one else on the street. Maybe you’re wrong?”
“I don’t know. I was sure it was him. Even so, no reason to wait around here all day. Let’s make a start.
They cut through Malcorini Ripa Serancia and onto Via Del Caccia, before heading north-east to the Necropoli del Crocifisso del Tufo. The path took them along the top of the fortified defensive walls built above the dramatic near-vertical cliff-face of volcanic tuff. From there, they descended into the necropolis through an impressive pedestrian path that dropped down from Porta Maggiore.
The Necropolis del Crocefisso del Tufo was an Etruscan necropolis located at the base of the cliff of Orvieto. Tom and Genevieve casually studied the tombs. There were about seventy, all made of tuff bricks to form individual chambers. They were arranged orthogonally, with small trenches in between.
Fifteen minutes later, Tom’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and spoke to Sam for a couple minutes, before hanging up.
“What did he say?” Genevieve asked.
“He said that he and Billie placed the first of the sacred stones and not to bother with the necropolis. We need to find a specific tomb.”
She smiled. “There’s plenty of tombs here.”
“I know, but Sam says the one we’re after is going to be buried underground. He recommends the Orvieto Underground.”
“Sure, that makes sense.”
It was a forty-minute walk, climbing the steep stairs up into Orvieto. At the main entrance to the Orvieto Underground, Tom met many guides offering their services. He found one, an older man who’d been guiding the tunnel system for more than a quarter of a century, and agreed upon a price for a private tour.
“Is there something that you’d particularly like to see?” the guide asked.
Tom said, “Yes. We’re looking for a particular tomb or sarcophagus.”
Code to Extinction Page 20