Jonathan took the rest of the day to modify the tripod, attach the winch, and layout ropes, pulleys, eyebolts, and climbing gear.
Chad worked on the two roughly ten by ten inch pieces of lapis lazuli that Mandl sent. Each cost over five hundred dollars. Money that Chad would have to pay back to his friend, afraid to use his own credit card for the purchase. His alias ID cards were maxed out already. He polished, he inscribed, he obscured, as best he could, any sign of modern tools. Luckily the blue stone was not as hard as granite or quartz. Lapis has a hardness of five, quartz a seven, diamond a ten.
Jonathan looked at Chad’s finished work. “Is there some order to the sides of the two tablets?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Chad answered. Nevertheless, he chiseled single strokes ofl, ll, lll, lV.
“Will it work?” Jonathan asked.
“I’m counting on it. I just need to buy four or five hours.”
“If you don’t?”
“I’ll probably be dead.”
“You or we?” Jonathan asked.
“What are you worried about, Ahote? I thought you are the air, the butterfly, and the grass.”
Chapter 118
Archer grew excited, then nostalgic, and then sad, as he drove to the entrance of the Sedona Dig, the nickname Doc gave it. As with all well-run excavations, the rhythm, the hard work, the camaraderie, and the infusion of youth created a crackle in the air. Chad introduced himself to a student who pointed to the caverns.
He walked up the familiar incline feeling that he actually recognized some of desert scrubs and the tall pines. The landscape at this elevation was a transition from the low desert to the high desert and even to the cool mountain pines. Chad thought it looked like a geography that was confused about who it was. The memories, the solace that it brings, and the clear air made it one of his favorite spots.
The familiarity ended at a new guard shack and a chain link fence that reached from a two-room hut to the rock wall on each side of the cave’s entrance. Chad also saw alarm wires and cameras. Inside the fence was the generator and air pump. A backup generator sat ten yards away. The immediate area to the right was a hinged gate section. It was open at the moment.
Two guards stepped out. One was a United States forest ranger. The other wore a Navajo Reservation Security patch. Chad introduced himself. They checked their list of visitors and asked for his ID. Chad showed his driver’s license. They gave him a visitor’s badge. Chad walked inside the first cavern. He immediately looked for the air supply hose. The lifeline for the workers. The lifeline he and Doc almost did not recover in time. It was housed now under a thick metal sleeve, no doubt able to withstand another small quake and cave-in. The metal casing extended through the tapered passage that led to the second cave.
Next to the passageway were several large wheeled carts, an improvement on the make-do system he had used three years ago. Chad hopped onto one and found an overhead rope to pull himself through.
He emerged into the second cavern. There were three people there, the limit to get any work done. The lighting was subdued.
Begay looked up.
“Chad, it is good to see you,” he said.
Chad thought the cavern walls must have flattened the greeting, leaving it almost cold.
“Elsu. Thanks for having me.”
Elsu introduced Chad to the other two diggers and asked them to take a break so he could give Chad an update on the inner cavern.
“Does it look familiar?” Elsu asked.
“Some of it does. The fence and guards seem out of place. You had told me that the Native American groups and the Department of the Interior reached a compromise.”
“It is working. I admit, as well, that they only reached agreement because I am three quarter Navajo.”
“You deserve it based on your qualifications. Not just because of your heritage,” Chad told him.
Begay was quiet a moment
“I suppose,” he said. Then he quickly added, “Chad, don’t feel obligated to stay and work. I’ll give you a tour and you can look around. Don’t feel you have to stay. You came out here for relaxation and rock climbing.”
Chad was surprised. Elsu’s demeanor perked up as he said this. Was he trying to talk me out of being here?
Elsu showed Chad the deep dig spot and the gridded area where the GPR showed an underground object. The ground was solid. Chad half expected the area to be dug up and the tablets removed. Haskin and Boyer had not yet been here.
“I’ll show you the dating results from the grid at the office. Let’s go take a look.”
“Can you shine a light on the walls for a second?” Chad asked.
“Sure.”
Chad looked at the figures on the wall. He compared these to Jonathan’s description.
“Doc called him the rocking man.”
“I can see why,” Elsu responded. He turned off the flashlight.
“Go ahead,” Chad said to Elsu.
As the dig master disappeared down the tunnel, Chad looked up. He could not see any light from the ceiling. Did Jonathan have the right location? He was counting on it.
In the trailer that they called the office, Elsu showed Chad the layered dating. As the hole became deeper, the organic material was sampled, tested, and dated. The layers were centuries apart.
“We are two thirds of the way down to the object and we are near 1300 to 1400.”
Chad expected that if there were any material around the object that could be dated, it would be close to 1245, the last date on the locator stone.
“Can we take a look at where I’ll stay? I’ll pick up what I need for a few weeks.”
“Sure.”
Again Elsu seemed cold. There were no acoustic issues here, Chad thought. He decided to be direct. “Something bothering you, Elsu?”
“No.”
“You sure its okay to stay?”
“Yeah. I told you so. But it’s up to you,” he snapped.
Something changed from yesterday Chad thought.
Elsu showed Chad a doublewide trailer set up to house three people.
“Chad, this was your last dig wasn’t it?”
“Full time, yes. I still worked summers with Doc.”
“How did you decide it was time to move on?”
Chad felt he would be honest.
“The near miss with the earthquake and cave-in scared me out of confined spaces. After that I tried to stay on excavations with open areas. I have to say when I visit some digs, and even today, there is some trepidation. Mostly, though, the incident made me ask what I wanted to do with my life. I had been digging for six or seven years. Doc had asked me about teaching a couple times. I thought I’d try that. Are you thinking about something like that?”
“Yeah. I have a family now. I’m away from them a lot. I think I am good at what I do, but there is some bigotry or subtle racism in the grants. I don’t think I will ever become top tier in the eyes of grantors because of my heritage. Even this one on my resume will look like my heritage got it for me. It’s true that it helped, but like you said I am qualified.”
“Tough predicament, Elsu. Can I help you in some way?”
“Did you ever feel like you sold out?”
“Sold out how?”
“Took a job, kept a job, took a grant that was in conflict with your ethics.”
So that was it, Chad thought. Haskin and Boyer had reached out to Elsu Begay. They had not only reached out, they had gotten to him. That could change things. A lot. Chad doubted Boyer told Begay what was in the cave. They probably wanted Begay to keep an eye on Chad as they moved their people into the area.
“I’ll pick up some stuff tonight and be back first thing in the morning, Elsu,” Chad said, not intending to return at all.
“I’ll come with you,” Elsu said quickly. “I know the best places to go.”
Chad had no choice.
“Sure. I just need to call my climbing buddies.”
He called Jo
nathan.
Chapter 119
Dinner was in a doublewide that was set up as a meeting room, dining hall, and kitchen. Archer met the other diggers and support team. All through dinner and at the campfire after dark, Chad felt eyes on him. He avoided looking at Begay, not wanting to betray his intentions.
Everyone turned in by eleven. Chad’s excitement kept him awake. The next two hours crept by slowly. He slipped out of the trailer quietly at one o’clock.
Archer started his car and drove off. Unless you were a real sound sleeper, the noise was sure to wake you. He expected that Begay was sleeping lightly, if at all.
-----
Chad walked in the dark toward the path he knew was out there somewhere. The moon was hiding behind some clouds. He directed his flashlight about ten yards ahead. A furry object darted across his path. Chad jumped. The furry thing came back into his beam.
“Pooko?” It was Jonathan’s cat.
Pooko led the way. Chad followed.
“Follow me,” a voice whispered.
Chad jumped. Cats don’t talk.
He followed the tall shadow and the cat up the hill through the trees.
When they could see the tripod and winch, Jonathan asked, “Anything I can do now?”
“This would be a good time to hum the Mission Impossible theme,” Chad quipped.
“I cannot hum. I’ll wait below,” Jonathan said and drifted off into the darkness.
Chad noticed Jonathan had used the evening hours not only to set up the tripod and winch, he also had begun digging, exposing the timbers. Chad had to work quickly. Begay would find him soon. He attached hooks to the three layers of timbers and cranked the winch. The timbers creaked but didn’t lift. Centuries of mud resisted. Chad grabbed a sledgehammer and beat the sides. He cranked the winch again. The timbers rose and fell apart. Some fell to the side of the hole. Some fell into the cavern. Chad knew the noise would help focus Begay on this spot.
Working fast, he replaced the winch with the plate and connected two pulleys. He fed a long rope through one pulley and lowered his backpack. He looped another rope through the second pulley and connected it to his belt and a descender. This was Plan A. He put a stretch band with a small miner’s light on his head. Chad lowered himself below the rim and stopped. The ceiling sloped away from the hole widening quickly to the width of the cave. He’d never climbed or descended in the dark before.
Archer found the cracks he needed. He placed three spring- loaded camming devices into the wall and looped two ropes through a sling and carabiner. The rope was long enough that both ends reached the floor of the cavern. This was Plan B. he hoped he didn’t need it. He lowered himself to the bottom of the cave.
Chad immediately set to work, setting up a low light battery lantern near the gridded dig.
Forgive me he said to no one. The archeologist in him was torn between the find that awaited him a foot away and the careful methodology that he had been trained to use. He compromised scooping up shovelfuls of dirt, stone, and shards of things into bags. He labeled each bag with the depth. He didn’t take time to sift, and inspect. That would take somebody several days.
His hand spade touched something solid. He brushed off the top of what appeared a wooden box. He found the edges of it and dug down freeing its sides. He wiggled the box free and lifted it gently. It was heavy. He estimated it weighed thirty pounds.
He held it near the light. It was a dark wood, treated in some matter - something like a varnish. Perhaps a tree resin or gum. Maybe something from a creosote bush. Chad wondered if this was the way they came from Israel. Or did the Maya store and transport it like this. Or was it the method used by the Hopi to protect the tablets.
The sides of the box were tight dovetail joints. The top and bottom were fitted with dowels. Very effective. Chad placed the box on a linen cloth. The dirt had stuck to the sticky surface. Chad wished there was time for a proper cleaning. He used a thin blade screwdriver to pry open the top. His hands almost trembled as he looked inside.
He saw two bluish stones. They peaked teasingly out from a mass of hair used as packing. He put on white laboratory gloves, withdrew the stones and lay them on clean lint-free cloth. The tablets’ sides and corners were almost square. Their surface was highly polished. The tablets were a uniform thickness about one and a half inches. The chiseled lines and dots were very clean and uniform in depth. Chad had not expected such quality. The two substitutes that he had prepared were not as uniform, nor as smooth. However, they were nearly the same width and height. His tablets were just over an inch thick, a little thinner. He wondered what was used to write on the original tablets. Perhaps the alien pundits were correct - laser technology.
Both sides of the tablets were filled with vertical lines and engraved dots. Just as he had seen on the artifact at Haskin’s home. Just as he had carved them yesterday on his replicas. The stroke heights were shorter on the originals. There were no groups, that is, no spacing that created groups. Chad looked at them in awe. What did they say?
He pushed himself back into work. He wrapped the real tablets in the cloth and then bubble wrap. He placed them carefully in his backpack. He placed his replica tablets into the box, leaving the hair packing there, but putting in bubble wrap to fill the void. He left the lid partially open. Chad wanted to make sure that if anyone were up top they would know he looked at them. It would have been unnatural not to look.
He placed the box in a small cloth bag and tied it to the rope on one of the pulleys. Archer raised the bag to the top of the cavern and out of the hole. He tied off the rope. Quickly, he packed up his tools and reconnected a rope to his belt.
He sensed activity above and directed his light up. The beam was weak that far away, however, he saw the bag with the box pulled away from the hole. Then both ends of both ropes fell to his feet. He heard the sound of the tripod being moved.
Archer sighed relief. The thief was leaving him in the cavern. The alternative was that whoever was up there could have waited for him to come up. Waited and then disposed of him.
Time for Plan B.
Chapter 120
Archer connected his backpack to one of the two ropes attached to his hidden spring-loaded pitons. He ran the other rope through an ascender to his belt. Chad laboriously pulled himself up to the rim. He alternated pulls every ten feet bringing his backpack up as well.
He rested when he reached the top. He was still a foot below the rim. He reached up, took a hold on the edge of the hole, let his body swing into space, and pulled himself through. He pulled the backpack up. Chad looked around for his friend. Jonathan stepped out of the trees holding a rifle. Pooko stood with him.
“Okay, Jonathan. Let’s go.”
Chad took his backpack and left everything else.
“Everything go okay?” Jonathan asked.
“Perfect. Who followed me?”
“A Navajo. Begay?”
“I’d think so. Was he alone?”
“He came alone. Parked next to you. Slashed two of your tires. We’ll have to take my jeep.”
Chad thought through the ramifications. It worked out well. Begay would know his car, not the jeep. There may be others following him. They also would not look for Ahote’s jeep.
Chad expected they would watch all of the airports. Phoenix was close, Flagstaff even closer. He thought about driving to Las Vegas, that was four hours away. He could by-pass Phoenix for Tucson or even drive to Los Angeles or Albuquerque. They would think of all these as well. He even considered the small town of Prescott. So would they.
He shared his thoughts with Jonathan. Chad apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t think through the getaway.”
Jonathan responded. “I might be able to take care of this.”
They rode in silence down the forest roads, both aware this was the only way in and out. If Begay contacted Boyer for help, how soon would it arrive? Did he have hours or just minutes?
They made the turn on to 89A, the main road to
Sedona. A mile later Pooko growled. Jonathan took notice.
He made a sharp left off the road.
“What’s wrong?” Chad asked alarmed.
“I don’t know. Pooko noticed something. There is a car here.”
Chad followed Jonathan’s look. There was a lone auto in the parking lot of the Immaculate Conception Church.
“It’s Begay’s car,” Jonathan said.
“Let’s get out of here. He could be meeting someone.” Chad looked around fearfully. He didn’t see any headlights.
“I think he already met someone. Both car doors are open.”
Chad looked closer. Jonathan was right. The driver’s door and passenger door were open.
“We should look,” Jonathan said.
Chad wanted to keep going, but he trusted his friend’s instincts.
Jonathan parked away from the other car. Both Jonathan and Chad approached. Jonathan with his rifle. Chad took the driver’s side.
“Shit,” Chad said.
Inside, Begay lay slumped in the front seat. Blood spattered on the car windows.
Jonathan checked for a pulse. “He’s dead. This does not look good for you, Chad. The sacred site is violated. You disappear. Your friend chases after you. You kill him.”
“You are right. It doesn’t look good.”
“Worse, yet, you are messing with some serious people, Chad.”
Chad agreed but wondered which people it was. The Guardians? Captain Landau? Aman? Boyer? Lupa?
-----
It was not yet daylight when Jonathan Ahote gave Chad a good-bye hug in Tuba City. The small Navajo town was less than two hours from Sedona. It was also a non-commercial airport owned by the Navajo Nation. Jonathan had arranged a private plane with a Navajo pilot. They landed in Denver.
Chad took a taxi from the airport to a framing shop. They helped him to frame the two tablets. He now had two pieces of art. He had them packed for carryon, but for easy inspection at security. Last minute flights would prompt extra inspection.
Using his false ID he flew to Detroit, drove to Toronto, flew non-stop to Edinburgh, and checked into a hotel to catch up on his sleep. He had to be in York the day after tomorrow, June 21. The summer solstice. It was a four-hour drive.
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