Conspiracy of Bones (And the Beat Goes On)

by Tracy Krauss

  "Malpractice, substandard working conditions, breach of trust," Sangeruka replied.

  "Although I object to all of those accusations, they are hardly grounds for arrest," Mark stated.

  "How about theft of public property?" Mr. Sangeruka suggested, never changing his expression from one of stony coolness.

  "That’s ridiculous," Mark said quietly. "I did nothing that wasn’t specifically laid out in the agreed upon contract with your government."

  "Really, Dr. Graham? What about the secret shipment of artefacts to the United States without the express permission of the proper authorities?"

  "Sending artefacts out for analysis is standard procedure on most archaeological sites."

  "Without proper paperwork documenting their departure?" Mr. Sangeruka asked.

  "Your government was placing such unrealistic time constraints on us that we couldn’t take the time. Besides, a general release waver was signed at the beginning of the project. It covers any odds and ends that might get missed in the initial shuffle."

  "Artefacts of such importance could hardly be classed as ‘odds and ends’,” Sangeruka replied.

  Mark frowned but remained silent.

  "As I suspected. That type of unethical procedure constitutes a definite breech of contract."

  "I wasn’t going to steal anything," Mark countered. "A find of that - delicacy - requires specialized care and attention during analysis. There’s always a danger of deterioration when dealing with something that ancient."

  "Or that valuable," Sangeruka stated.

  "Are you suggesting that I was out for personal gain from this find?" Mark asked. "My track record speaks for itself. I’m interested in scientific discovery, pure and simple."

  Sangeruka shrugged. ”You wouldn’t be the first. The promise of wealth has turned more than one head."

  “And what have you gained, Sangeruka? Not only have you lost - or at least irreparably damaged - possibly the greatest archaeological find of this century, but you wasted an innocent life doing it."

  "Innocent?" Sangeruka laughed humourlessly. "I hardly think so."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Rocco Cortez had connections to an underground smuggling operation which dealt in rare artefacts. All old, priceless - and stolen."

  This information shook Mark to the core. He had known Rocco for years; considered him a personal friend.

  "I can see that this information shocks you," Sangeruka noted. "That will probably bode well for you. Perhaps you will be given a lighter sentence. In any case, shed no tears for Mr. Cortez. He was a ‘bad apple’, as they say, and needed to be discarded before he tainted the entire barrel."

  They rode the rest of the way to the Police Station in downtown Harare without any more conversation. Mark was still trying to wrap his mind around this new piece of information. If Rocco was involved in an illegal smuggling operation, there may be others. If he couldn’t trust Rocco, whom could he trust? Joey, Anthony… Laura?

  Maybe nothing and nobody was safe anymore.

  "We have arrived at your hotel," Sangeruka said as they pulled up to the police station. It was a large stone building, several stories high with reddish streaks of rust bleeding down onto the stone from the iron bars on every window. Sangeruka disembarked and allowed two armed guards, heavy artillery still intact, to escort Mark into the building. It was muggy, close and dusty grey on the inside.

  Apparently they were expecting him. The uniformed officer at the front counter waved them forward without even a greeting. Another officer joined them, a jangling ring of keys at his waist and with a brisk nod at Sangeruka, he led the way through a door, down a dark hallway, and into a section of the building that housed the jail cells. The man swung one of the iron doors open with a creek and gestured for Mark to enter. He had little choice but to comply.

  "I’m a Canadian citizen," Mark offered. "You can’t just lock me up without specifying the charges against me." The door to the cell had already been firmly shut. "What about legal counsel?" he asked, grasping the cold steel of the bars.

  "All in due time," Sangeruka said, smiling for the first time since the horrific trip had begun.

  "I also have working visas from the US government that provide protection," Mark added for good measure.

  "Need I remind you you’re not in the US or Canada at the moment, Dr. Graham? While in this country you are subject to our law."

  "I have special protection under the International Archaeological Agreement," Mark said desperately. "I stuck to the letter of the law in fulfilling my end of the contract, and I’ve got documentation to back me up."

  Sangeruka waved dismissively. He turned and was about to leave when Mark called out one last time. "Sangeruka! Who’s breaking faith, now? I demand to know who is behind this and what I’m being charged with."

  "You will demand nothing," Sangeruka said calmly. "Enjoy your stay, Dr. Graham. Oh, and dinner is served at… ” He consulted his watch and then looked up pleasantly. "I’m sorry. I guess you’ve missed dinner." With that he turned and retreated down the dark hallway, the click of his shoes resonating on the cement floor.

  Mark rested his head against the bars for a moment, utter dejection seeping through him like poison injected into a vein. With a sigh he turned and surveyed the small cell. It was dimly lit, the only light coming from the single bulb in the hallway, and consisted of crumbling concrete walls, ceiling and floor. The only furniture was a porcelain toilet, a sink and a wooden bench with no mattress. So much for five star amenities, he though glumly. How long he would have to endure it, he did not know.

  Another thought struck him with sickening clarity. His personal belongings had not been deposited with him. There was nothing of great value in the duffle bag, but Jack’s saxophone… It was the only remaining tie he had to his grandfather. He just hoped he’d get it back when all this got straightened out.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  Dreams of Pterodactyls swooping down to capture unsuspecting men, women and children, plagued Marks sleep. Among the victims were various family members including his sister Harmony, his parents, and family friends like Amy Walters. Presiding over the crazed mob was the grizzled face of the ancient king, smiling with the toothy grin of the dead, yet very much alive in his gestures and mannerisms. Hovering over everything was Grandpa Jack, glibly playing his saxophone for all he was worth, oblivious to all the grisly mayhem below.

  What could one expect, sleeping on a hard wooden bench in a musty jail cell? Especially when the only other occupant in another cell, groaned all night long. Mark got to his feet slowly and stretched his aching body. His stomach protested with a loud growl. It had been a long time since he’d eaten and his gut was crying out for some sustenance. Not to mention the fact that he was parched with thirst. He was afraid to drink the tap water for fear of contaminants, but was getting close to taking just a sip anyway.

  A clanging noise brought his attention to the door at the end of the hallway. Someone was opening it. Hopefully it was breakfast. He rubbed his chin absently, a night’s growth of stubble shadowing his face.

  It wasn’t breakfast. "Come with me," the uniformed officer said, opening the cell door.

  "Where are we going?" Mark asked. The officer didn’t answer.

  Mark followed the man down the narrow hallway. At least he was out of the confines of that cell. He squinted slightly when they emerged into the main part of the building.

  They continued through a maze of desks until they reached an office door. Two armed guards, vaguely familiar in appearance, stood guard. The police officer rapped on the door with his knuckles and was answered by a sharp "Enter!" from within. The officer opened the door and held it ajar for Mark’s admittance.

  "Sangeruka," Mark said, nodding to the government official who was sitting in the room, along with a man that Mark assumed to be the chief of police.

  "I trust you slept well," Sangeruka said.

  Mark grunted a noncommittal reply.


  "You may take a seat," the police chief said, gesturing to an empty chair on the other side of his desk. Mark complied just as his stomach growled loudly.

  Sangeruka raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  "So? Have you figured out that you’ve made a big mistake yet?" Mark asked.

  Sangeruka's reply was cool. "Don’t press me," he said, his look one of steel. He stood lazily, sauntering to where Mark sat across from the chief. "You are in no position to negotiate."

  Mark took that statement for what it was worth. There was no arguing one’s rights in this situation. He rubbed the stubble on his chin thoughtfully, waiting for Sangeruka to make the next move.

  "Chief Ganges, here, has offered you police protection during your transport to the State Penitentiary," Sangeruka said, gesturing to his stern and silent cohort. The chief’s expression never changed.

  Mark’s eyebrows rose. ”The State Penitentiary?”

  "I’m not finished, Dr. Graham," Sangeruka said patiently, much as one would speak to an unruly child. “We believe it necessary - for security reasons - to move you to a more secure facility."

  "You’ve got to be kidding," Mark shook his head in disbelief. "If I only knew what the charges against me were, I could -"

  Sangeruka silenced him with a raised hand. "I think I must warn you, however. The accommodations at the State Penitentiary are far less… comfortable than here."

  Mark’s eyes narrowed. "Oh?"

  "Of course, I might be able to find a way to alleviate that situation… shorten your stay, so to speak."

  “What are you getting at, exactly?" Mark studied the other man warily.

  "Absolute silence about your discoveries," Sangeruka replied.

  Mark frowned. “I don’t see how that’s possible."

  "Anything is possible if you choose it to be so," Sangeruka stated.

  "But why? This could be the biggest scientific discovery of -"

  "I know," Sangeruka cut him off. "Of the century. So you said."

  "You can’t expect me to just pretend nothing was discovered. What about all the samples, the artefacts already sent away for analysis? The rest of the crew? You’ve got up to fifty people who have in one way or another been exposed to that information already. You can’t expect to arrest and threaten each one in order to keep them quiet."

  "You are the head of the operation. People will listen to you. Follow your lead." Sangeruka leaned back against the desk, folding his arms.

  "No. It’s unethical. It’s -"

  "It’s a potential disaster.” Sangeruka’s mouth twisted upward. “Come, come, Doctor. We both know what a devastating career move this could turn out to be. You’ll be the laughing stock of the scientific community. Everyone on that crew is probably looking for a way out. You should be thanking me."

  "Hardly."

  "You can do things the easy way or the hard way.” Sangeruka shrugged, turning away from Mark momentarily as he pushed away from the desk. Suddenly, without warning, he swung around and landed a crashing backhand to the side of Mark’s head.

  Mark reeled sideways, almost falling out of his seat. It took a minute for him to regain his equilibrium, and as he did so he caught a glimpse of the police chief. His expression of cold hard steel had not changed. Mark focused instead on Sangeruka, who was continuing his discourse, almost pleasantly.

  "Either way, the site will be shut down and all the evidence confiscated or destroyed. It will be up to you whether your crew - as well as your own name - are discredited."

  "And if I refuse?” Mark tenderly touched his jaw, noting the taste of blood in his mouth.

  "I don’t see that you have much choice. Chief Ganges has men waiting to take you right now to the State Penitentiary." At a nod from Sangeruka, the chief stood up, crossing his arms.

  Mark surveyed the lawman. Sangeruka could throw a punch, no doubt about that, but the police chief was truly gorilla like in proportions, and Mark had no doubt that a blow from him could put him to sleep permanently.

  "This is blackmail," Mark muttered. "Isn’t that against the law or something?”

  The chief was silent. Unwavering.

  "I am the law," Sangeruka said in no uncertain terms.

  Mark sighed heavily, torn between what he knew was right and the possibility of rotting in a prison where they might throw away the key. "But, why?” he asked. "Why cover it up? This is a great find for your country. For all mankind."

  "I don’t expect you to understand," Sangeruka replied.

  "Try me."

  "Those burial grounds are sacred. Tampering with the dead is taboo among my people."

  "So this is about superstition?" Mark asked, trying to understand.

  "Our religious practices are more than just superstition.”

  "If that was the case, why did your government agree to the excavation in the first place?" Mark asked. "You knew right from the get go that we would be digging through a potential burial site."

  "There are some politicians who are not as vigilant at keeping the old ways," Sangeruka said.

  Mark’s eyes narrowed. "Like the president, maybe?"

  Sangeruka just shrugged.

  "So, you’re not really acting on behalf of the government at all. This is elected official Sangeruka acting as solo vigilante."

  "I would watch my mouth, Doctor," Sangeruka warned, raising his hand again as if to strike. Mark tried not to shrink back, waiting, but the second blow never came. "There are many in the government - and out of it - that see things the same way."

  Mark looked at the ceiling, talking more to himself than anyone else. "So, if I took my chances with the truth, I might get an audience with the president himself. I’m sure he’d be interested to know that one of his trusted advisors has resorted to kidnapping, bribery, even murder. Not to mention undermining a very specific directive coming right from his own desk…”

  "Don’t worry," Sangeruka laughed mirthlessly. "You would never get that chance. Many unfortunate things can happen in prison. Especially to a white foreigner seen as a power hungry oppressor. Besides, there is enough evidence of malpractice on your part, that I’m surprised the president didn’t give the order to shut you down himself, long ago. Let’s see… cave-ins, dangerous working conditions, disappearing artefacts, discrepancies left and right. What kind of operation were you running out there, Doctor?"

  "Perhaps the site is cursed," Mark suggested with a shrug. He thought for a minute. "What about the media? They’re sure to get a hold of this and make something out of it."

  "It’s up to you to make sure they don’t."

  "And if I don’t?" Mark asked.

  "Believe me when I say that would not be wise," Sangeruka responded. "Remember, the rest of your crew are still packing up at the site. It would be extremely unfortunate if one or more of them met with an accident similar to your renegade friend, Rocco Cortez, now wouldn’t it?"

  "You wouldn’t dare," Mark breathed, his eyes narrowing.

  Sangeruka laughed, a sharp, mirthless sound. "As I suspected. You have no regard for your own personal safety, but your crew… now that’s another thing, isn’t it?"

  "How would you explain the deaths of innocent scientists who were entrusted to your country’s care?"

  Sangeruka shrugged. “The mountain roads can be treacherous, as you well know.”

  "What if the findings get published anyway?" Mark countered. "Is murder really worth that chance? This discovery can’t be kept secret forever."

  "North America is not that far away. I’m sure your family means as much to you as your friends?”

  Mark let out a sharp gust of air. "That was definitely a threat," he observed tightly, more to himself than to Sangeruka.

  "A friendly warning," Sangeruka corrected. He refused to remove his icy stare from the hold it had over Mark.

  Finally Mark lowered his gaze and sighed. "This is a tough one. You know you’ve got me between a rock and a hard place. But the only way you’ll keep me quie
t is to lock me up." He turned to the chief. "I guess I’ll need that ride after all."

  "A very foolish decision, Doctor," Sangeruka said. "Although, I could have predicted as much. Perhaps you’ll change your mind in a few weeks once you’ve had the benefit of, shall we say, reflection." He smiled cruelly.

  "What about my personal effects?" Mark asked, rising warily. "A duffle bag and a small black case?"

  "Ah, yes," Sangeruka nodded, surprisingly congenial. "They have been thoroughly searched, so I see no reason to retain them. Chief Ganges will see to it that you receive them on your way out. There’s nothing like lost luggage to sour one’s memories of a trip abroad." He walked to the door and opened it.

  Mark took a step forward, but quickly realized his way was blocked by the two guards who had entered the office. Before he could do anything to prevent it, the men had grabbed his arms, holding them back behind him in a vice like grip. He tried to stiffen himself for the blow that he knew was soon to follow, tightening his stomach muscles.

  Instead, a blinding light of pain shot through his core as Sangeruka jerked his knee upward to the groin.

  Mark doubled over, gasping in agony. "I’m not afraid of you," he was finally able to grind out between clenched teeth. "Beat me all you like, but the truth will be told."

  "We’ll see about that," Sangeruka replied. This time his fist connected with the side of Mark’s head. Everything else went black.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mark opened his eyes slowly and allowed the room to come into focus. He was back in his cell - at least he was pretty sure it was the same cell - but had no idea how long he’d been there. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. He had no clue. All he knew was, he had a splitting headache, every muscle ached, and his mouth tasted like crap.

  You’ve really done it this time, he chided himself. The excavation was probably already in ruins. And the crew… he didn’t even want to think about what might have happened to them out there.

  The image of the flatbed truck careening over the cliff edge, Rocco inside, flashed across his mind. He could see the casket - so carefully wrapped for transport - catapulting into the air and down out of sight. There was no way it could have survived intact. He felt suddenly sick and jerked upright in an attempt to get to the open toilet. He didn’t make it, his brain screaming out in pain as a blinding light overtook his senses for a split second.