by Tom Wilde
Vanya’s mood shifted again, and now he seemed almost sad as he said, “It’s not just those writings. It’s the uncannily accurate descriptions of events our primitive ancestors could not possibly have known anything about.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Nuclear war.”
Despite the warm, almost heavy night air, laden with the pleasant scent of nearby olive trees, I felt a chill course through me. I reminded myself it’s not a good idea to argue with a fanatic who has his own private army. Vanya leaned back and tented his fingers, regarding me through half-closed eyes. “You don’t believe me?” he asked with apparent gentleness.
“Let’s just say I don’t know what you know.”
Vanya closed his eyes and leaned his head back, and then he began to recite: “An incandescent column of smoke and flame, as bright as a thousand suns, rose in all its splendor. It was an unknown weapon, an iron thunderbolt, a gigantic messenger of death, which reduced to ashes the entire race of the Vrishnis and the Andhakas.” Vanya paused, opened his eyes, and said to me, “Do you know what that is from?”
I shook my head, and Vanya said, “That comes from the translation of the Indian Mahabharata. A story written four thousand years ago.”
While I was trying to wrap my mind around the concept, Vanya continued, “And it doesn’t end there. The ancient texts go on to describe in vivid and perfect detail the results of radiation sickness and contamination, everything from the hair and nails of the surviving victims falling out to the poisoning of the crops and the land. I submit to you, Mr. Blake, that if you read the verses in the Christian Bible regarding Sodom and Gomorrah, you would find them indistinguishable from the historical records of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.”
“Deus vult,” I muttered, but not so softly that Vanya missed it. I saw a scowl gather on his face and figured he was unfamiliar with the Latin slogan of the Crusaders: “God wills it.”
“Proof,” Vanya barked in a contemptuous half-laugh. “Men like you couldn’t see the proof if it fell on them. So you tell me, how do you account for the massive monuments of engineering constructed by our primitive ancestors? There are the Standing Stones in the Nubian Desert, erected a thousand years before Stonehenge. Or the pyramids of Giza that are precisely aligned with the stars in the Belt of Orion. Or the geometric precision of the design of the great Mayan city of Teotihuacán. Do you honestly believe these and all the other fantastic structures that have lasted thousands of years were made with stone chisels and reed ropes?”
“All very fascinating,” I said, trying to keep an edge out of my voice. “But how does all of this relate to Alexander the Great?”
Vanya seemed to relax some, and the firelight softened his features. “How indeed,” he murmured. “Now we find the question at the very heart of the matter: Where do we come from?”
“I’m afraid my study of history didn’t go quite that far back.”
I earned a small bark of a laugh from him. Then he quoted, “‘And God created Man in his own image.’ Only, the gods did not actually create man, rather they found him here among the rest of the beasts of the earth and modified him into a better servant.”
“Modified?” I asked.
“Through genetic engineering,” Vanya answered. “A process that we humans are now beginning to use. We have now almost attained the status of gods ourselves in our ability to modify the very foundation of life, the DNA of living creatures.” Vanya tilted his head and asked slyly, “Have you never considered the ancient symbol of the caduceus? The twin snakes encircling the Staff of Life are a perfect representation of a DNA double helix. Our ancestors were leaving us clues, Mr. Blake.”
“So you’re saying that we humans are the result of some alien meddling with our genes?”
“Exactly,” Vanya said complacently. “When you look at the situation scientifically, there really is no other explanation. Consider our genetic similarity with apes, and then ask yourself: Where is the so-called Missing Link between us and the apes? The answer is simple. We didn’t evolve, Mr. Blake, we were genetically improved by an outside agency, the gods who descended to earth from the heavens of space. And it didn’t end there. Every religious text, every mythological epic includes stories of the gods breeding with humans to create demigods, the Homo sapiens who are superior models. All the ancient heroes of Grecian mythology had divine origins—Achilles, Jason, Heracles.”
Vanya paused, waiting for his words to sink in, then said, “And one of the last of these demigods was Alexander.”
I tried to hold my poker face intact as Vanya said, “Consider the evidence—not tales and legends, but documented writings from true historians such as Arrian and Plutarch. It was Plutarch who wrote that Alexander was not truly the son of Phillip of Macedonia, but rather the son of Zeus Ammon, the son of a god. And Olympius, Alexander’s mother, had promised Alexander that she would reveal to him a great secret about his birth upon his return. Only Alexander died before Olympius would ever see him again.”
“You’re still talking legends,” I said, too caught up in the argument for caution.
But Vanya now seemed to relish my skepticism and his words took on heat of their own. “History has already judged Alexander as one of the greatest men who ever lived. In every aspect of mind and body, Alexander was light-years ahead of any other mortal man of his time.”
“He also had more advantages than any other man,” I countered. “Namely, he was a prince of a successful warrior clan. Not to mention he was educated by Aristotle himself.”
Vanya waved away my observations as inconsequential. “Not even Aristotle could have helped an idiot,” he said. “Alexander’s accomplishments were entirely his own.”
“That makes him a demigod?”
“One of many,” Vanya answered with certainty. “But the only one whose earthly remains are known to still be in existence.”
“Well, up to a point,” I admitted.
Vanya rose from his throne and stretched. The evening air was starting to cool. He turned toward the life-sized statue of Alexander. “Did you know that when Alexander died, his generals did not know what to do without their leader, and they argued amongst themselves for days. When they returned to Alexander’s tent on the sixth day, they were amazed to see that his body had not even begun to decay. More proof, as if any were needed, of Alexander’s superior physicality.”
As Vanya turned back to face me, the torchlight behind him gave his hair a glowing corona. “When Alexander’s body is found, the proof of his unearthly origins will be discovered in his very bones. We now have the technology to read the genetic map, and I will have undeniable, incontrovertible scientific evidence that all the religions of the world that man has killed and died for are nothing but ignorant superstitions.”
“Speaking of bones, there’s a good chance that after all this time, whatever was left of Alexander may be nothing but dust.”
Vanya waved my words aside. “There are writings that state Alexander’s body was entombed in honey, almost as good as preserving him in amber. But regardless of his body’s state, one intact bone will be all that’s required for the truth of the matter to be known.”
I was starting to feel the weight of Vanya’s words as I saw in my mind’s eye all the world’s crusades, jihads, and inquisitions stretched out before me like an endless scroll of the Bayeux tapestry. I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter what proof you have. True Believers will never be swayed from their faith. But they will kill for it,” I added, thinking of Ombra and his men. That’s when it hit me. “It all makes sense now.”
“Go on,” Vanya said softly, regarding me in the same manner as one of my old college professors when I finally got something through my thick skull.
“Ever since Ombra and his men blew up the Napoleonic treasure in the catacombs, it’s been driving me crazy, because it looked like an absolutely senseless act. I kept asking myself who on earth would do such a thing?”
“Religious fanatics,�
�� Vanya assented. I nodded, thinking back to the ugly, empty gouges in the sandstone mountains of Afghanistan where the gigantic images of the Buddha had been blasted to pieces by a band of moronic zealots. I felt a slow, cold fire in my guts as I thought of Ombra and his men utterly destroying all those utterly irreplaceable relics.
Rhea, who’d been as silent as the statues in the garden, surprised me when she spoke. “What are you thinking, Mr. Blake?”
“At the moment, I was thinking about Ombra and his men.”
Rhea tilted her head. “And what would you do if you met up with him again?”
I didn’t reply. I let my expression speak for me, reflecting the anger I felt burning inside me as I recalled the absolute wanton destruction of the treasures in the Parisian catacombs. Rhea just nodded, apparently satisfied. I looked over to Vanya. “Well, for what it’s worth, it looks like Ombra believes you’re on to something.”
“Hence the need for absolute secrecy,” Vanya said. “It’s bad enough I’ve got one group of fanatical terrorists trying to stop me. I can only imagine the storm I’d invite if word got out to the world at large of what I was attempting to do here. My poor little island would be besieged by the armies of almost every religion. So now tell me, Mr. Blake, have I satisfied your curiosity? More importantly, are you now willing to join me on my quest?”
“What?”
“You’re a man of unique talents. I could use someone like you. Moreover, I can offer you a sanctuary away from that prison sentence that the United States government has dangling over your head. So what do you say?”
It was the biggest surprise in a night filled with them. I’d gambled that if I could convince Vanya I was a crook and a thief, that he’d feel more comfortable with me, since I first judged him to be a con man using religion as his dodge. What I didn’t count on was that Vanya was insanely fanatical in his own unique way and that he’d want to recruit me into his personal Holy War.
But on the other hand, if there were a chance in hell that the tomb of Alexander could be found, then to hell I would go. It would be the absolute archeological find of the century. I looked past Vanya to the armored marble figure of Alexander, who was staring down at me with sightless eyes that reflected the firelight. It was to the stone monument that I said: “I’m in. All the way.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At the sound of my assent, Vanya nodded once. “Good,” was all he said, then he bowed his head, hiding his face in shadow. Rhea stole up beside me and took my arm, leading me away. Vanya was oblivious to our departure. Rhea took me along a winding path through the garden toward the central building, and as we approached I saw that over half of the windows on the concrete six-story structure were lit, giving the appearance that we were in the courtyard of a tropical hotel. We passed between a pair of freestanding Corinthian columns on a walkway of flagstones that led to a double-wide set of glass doors and into a lobby area. The overhead fluorescent lighting made me blink after my time in the firelit darkness. The interior was air-conditioned and felt almost chilly in contrast to the balmy atmosphere outside.
Straight ahead I could see a glass wall, and past that was an expanse of sandy beach, sugar colored under a brilliant three-quarter moon that rendered the ocean beyond an oil-black mass, featureless except for a tiny constellation of light coming from a ship out to sea. Rhea gave me no time for sightseeing. She took my arm and drew me into an elevator with stainless steel walls. She pushed the button for the sixth and topmost floor, and I noticed that there was also a level below ground indicated on the control panel. I also observed that the buttons were actually biometric security mechanisms, designed to operate only when they recognized a particular user’s fingerprint and biological signature. The doors closed silently and we began our ascent. “So now what?” I asked.
Rhea didn’t face me as she said, “Now you should rest. In the morning you’ll begin working on finding the location of Alexander.”
“That’s asking a lot. I haven’t the faintest clue where we go from here.”
Rhea smiled, not looking at me. “We may have some new developments for you by tomorrow. Until then, I suggest you try and keep your strength up.”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened to an identical lobby. Rhea took me to a hallway at the intersection, lined with numbered wooden doors on either side. After a short walk, she stopped before one of the doors. “Good night, Mr. Blake. Remember what I said about you needing your rest.” Rhea gave me a smile, one that concealed a secret significance, and then she opened the door and stepped aside.
There was Caitlin, standing in a small room and dressed in a Grecian gown like Rhea’s, with her hair loose and spilling down across her shoulders, looking like an ivory and gold avatar of a goddess.
“Jonathan!” she cried as she ran into my arms, giving me a hug that sent a spear of pain through my injured side. A pain that I forgot completely when she kissed me as a long-lost lover would. Caitlin broke the kiss and the spell of it all at once then stroked my cheek and said with quiet urgency, “Oh, baby, I was afraid I’d never see you again. Are you okay? And what were you doing with that woman?”
I was feeling confused, to say the least; my head was still swimming from Caitlin’s kiss as her large, golden-brown eyes searched my face. I realized belatedly that Rhea must have closed the door behind me while my attention was completely captivated by the woman in my arms. Caitlin had transformed again, and was now portraying a frightened and confused wife who’d been kidnapped and taken away from her husband. Now I had to play the part with her as though our very lives depended upon it. Which, it occurred to me with a chill, they did. “Whoa,” I said, “one thing at a time. But you, are you okay? What happened?”
Caitlin backed up a step and I looked back to the door and saw that there was no doorknob on this side, just a plain bronze plate where the handle would be. I brought my attention back to Caitlin, whose words were coming out all in a rush. “What happened? I woke up somewhere near here; I thought I was in a hospital, only no one would tell me anything. People just came and kept asking me questions about you. I told them everything I knew, about how these horrible people kidnapped me. Were they terrorists? And, oh my God, Jonathan, I didn’t know what had happened to you. I mean, one minute we’re in Paris, and then the bomb exploded, and now I don’t know where we are. I thought I’d never see you again. Who are all these people? Where are we? And why won’t they let us go home?”
While Caitlin’s words washed over me like an ocean wave, I saw that we were in a small apartment that looked like a college dorm room, furnished simply with a single bed and a table with a couple of chairs. Across the way was a sliding glass door that led to a balcony and a view of the sea beyond. “Let’s sit down,” I suggested. Caitlin held on to me as if afraid I would disappear as we sat close together on the edge of the bed.
I took in a breath as Caitlin looked at me, wearing an expression of anxious anticipation. I had to remember that everything I said was going to be relayed to Vanya. “Honey,” I began, “I’m afraid I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.”
Caitlin’s expression shifted from nervousness to suspicion in a flash. “Does it have to do with that Rhea woman?”
“Sort of,” I replied. “But mostly it has to do with why we were in Paris in the first place.”
“What do you mean?”
My next words came out like I was confessing to an affair. “I’m a kind of government agent.”
Caitlin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Government agent? You mean, like a spy or something? Jonathan, what are you talking about? You said you were a research assistant. For the Argo Foundation.”
“I am; primarily, anyway. I just do occasional jobs for the government.”
Caitlin shook her head and stood up, turning her back to me and hugging herself as she said, “Oh my God. And you never told me any of this? Jonathan, I’m your wife!”
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I couldn’t tell you. Beli
eve me, I couldn’t tell anyone.”
Caitlin turned to face me, shaking her head slowly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Jonathan, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what to say. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.”
I stood and went to her, and she melted into my arms. I just held her for a while, taking in her warmth and breathing in the wonderful scent of her hair. “It’s going to be all right, I promise you,” I whispered to her. “You’re just going to have to trust me for a little while longer.”
“Trust you?” she said, her voice muffled in my chest. “I’m not even sure I know you anymore.” She pulled her head back and looked up into my face, her eyes searching. “What’s going to happen to us?”
“These people here, they want my help. And if it turns out like I think it will, then everything will be all right,” I said for the benefit of our unseen audience.
“Your help? Your help with what?”
I shrugged, helplessly. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”
Her head on my chest, Caitlin made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “You can’t tell me,” she said with soft bitterness. “I’m just supposed to go along with this?”
“Yes.”
“How can you ask me to do that?”
“Because I love you.”
Just like that, with words that I had not uttered in years too long to count, it felt like my entire world had stopped in its orbit. The blood beat in my ears and my chest felt too small to contain my heart. Caitlin raised her face up toward mine, and her deep brown eyes were shining like they held a universe of stars. “Do you?”
I didn’t reply, caught up in acting the part of a man in love and suddenly surprised to find a depth of true feeling. But Caitlin answered without words as she took my hand and led me back to the bed. She left me there as she went and turned off the lights, plunging the room into darkness that slowly became etched in silver as my eyes adjusted to the moonlight streaming from the balcony. I heard the slightest of sounds as the robe Caitlin wore slithered to the floor, and then she took my hand again and drew me down beside her. Soon there was no one in the world but her. And then nothing but us.