"You think they were historians?" Dr. Thatcher asked incredulously.
"Not necessarily." Obviously I needed to clarify. "I think the men who carried out the murder were mercenaries of some sort, possibly hired to kill Dr. Theoman."
"But why?" Dr. Thatcher asked.
"Well . . . if you cut off the head then the body falls limp." I realized later that it was a crude way of explaining. "Without Dr. Theoman running the show then the whole operation would die."
Dr. Thatcher seemed to contemplate my statement. "But it didn't work. I would have continued the work if it hadn't been for the government shutting us down. They said the whole thing had become a dangerous side show circus and needed to end."
"Either way," I said, seeing my point being made, "the killers stopped production."
"So you think Charles was killed in order to have the excavation shut down?"
Sounded right to me. "Yeah, possibly."
The room seemed to shift a bit after I made that observation.
Simon licked his lips and drew an awkward smile. "There are other ways to shut down an excavation, William. You don't have to murder a man."
I was expecting that reaction from someone. "I agree, but these people obviously wanted to do more than shut down the excavation. They were sending a message."
Iah looked befuddled. "A message?"
Mr. Vermil stirred in his seat and opened his mouth. "Fear," his wispy voice breathed. "They wanted to instill fear."
This revelation troubled everyone.
"But why?" Professor Haggins babbled out. "Why would someone want to cause fear?"
I could think of a dozen reasons why. "I think Dr. Thatcher already mentioned the most obvious one."
Dr. Thatcher looked alarmed by my mentioning of her name. "I did?"
"Yeah. You told me earlier that careers went into jeopardy when Charles made this discovery. For some people, their careers are everything. Without them, they have nothing. When you reduce a man to nothing—anything is possible."
My words fell on a hushed room. Even I was beginning to think I had it right.
Professor Haggins looked more troubled than before. "Didn't someone mention something about a Dracula cult possibly being responsible? Did one of you mention that?"
"Dracula?" I said.
Mr. Vermil stepped forward and said: "Yes, Morlan; I might have mentioned it before." He then looked at me and said: "According to a colleague, Dr. Bertók Horvath, impaling just so happened to be the trademark calling card for one of history's most infamous men, Vlad Dracul III. He was a brutal warrior who took to this unique way of torturing his prisoners and political enemies. Bram Stoker used Vlad as his main inspiration for Dracula."
"Well what is the likelihood that it was a crazed Dracula cult?" Professor Haggins asked nervously.
"Not very likely," I said honestly. "Maybe if we lived in a Hollywood film but how often do these things really happen? And what would be their motive?"
No one protested. Even Mr. Vermil stayed silent. But as right as I might have been, it didn't bring us any closer to the real answer.
"Where do you go from here?" Simon asked suddenly.
I wasn't too sure. Yeah, I now knew something about the history of the Book of Thoth and was given background on the events leading up to the abduction, but beyond that, I didn't have much to work with. This is where good investigative journalists separate themselves from the rest.
"Maybe a trip to Visoko is in order?" Mr. Vermil suggested.
All eyes fell on me.
I had considered that the assignment might lead me there. The question was how much would be gained by going. "I'll be about a month too late."
"Better late than never," Mr. Vermil encouraged.
I humored him with a laugh but deep down I was cringing. As interesting as everything was I still needed to work out my own issues. My thoughts continually drifted back to you, Rebecca. I looked over to Simon, who was looking out the window. I definitely felt like the water had risen too far over my head. There was no stopping that. The only thing I could do was start swimming before I drowned. But just how far the water had risen, I had no idea.
I had hoped that Bosnia would bring me fresh air. Unfortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong. My journey was only beginning.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"Rebecca," Roland said, breaking her focus on the translation. "We need to stop and recharge." Rebecca looked out the side window and across the vast wilderness that seemed to have no end. The sun had climbed high into the blue sky and the only sign of civilization was the lonely charging station far below. Rebecca looked at the map and saw they were more than a few minutes away. "Okay. Do what you have to."
Roland nodded but said nothing. They descended toward the station and gently touched down by a charger. The station had five chargers total and only one other was occupied. Roland disengaged the engine and stepped out in order to plug the charger into the vehicle battery. "This can take ten minutes or so," he called back to Rebecca. She nodded but was already back into the translation.
She read that several days after the meeting with Simon, Morlan, Vermil, Iah, and Thatcher ended, William was on his way to Bosnia—to the place where Theoman went missing.
*******
It was 7:43am in Sarajevo when the plane finally touched down. Usually when I flew I had company—this trip was different. Mr. Vermil had lent me his private jet and personal pilot. He said there was no use in flying commercial when he owned a plane for this kind of need. I could hardly disagree. I had never flown in a private jet before and was kind of excited to see how the other half lived.
*******
William wrote that his airplane landed at a place called Sarajevo International Airport, or Butmir Airport, and that he was to meet a man that Vermil hired to drive him around.
*******
Mr. Vermil had set me up with a local fixer, a guy who worked closely with Dr. Theoman's team when they first arrived, a man named Fejzo Kovacevic. Mr. Vermil figured Fejzo could show me around while I picked his brain for information about what happened. "Killing two birds with one stone," Mr. Vermil had said.
Fejzo was a thin man whom looked relatively young. He walked over to me and I noticed that his face and neck were heavily scarred. I reached out to shake his hand and realized he didn't have one. The young man gave a nervous nod and said: "So—sorry I'm late." His English was heavily accented but pretty good considering.
*******
Fejzo led William to his vehicle and drove him to the hotel Vermil had reserved. On the way, Coulee tried to ask Fejzo a few questions about his involvement with Dr. Theoman's excavation. Fejzo really didn't have much to say. William described him as very nervous. All Fejzo told him was that he drove Theoman and a few others around:
*******
"Nothing more," he said. "I did not get involved beyond driving. I just drive. I ask no questions."
I asked him if he had known of any locals who were unhappy with Dr. Theoman.
"No, no, no. Everyone likes him. He was bringing respect back to the town. No one was unhappy."
I then asked him if he had seen Dr. Theoman on the day of his disappearance.
Fejzo shook his head quickly. "I saw nothing that day."
*******
After checking into the hotel, Fejzo took William to a place called Buregdzinica, which was in the Old City, at Bascarsija Square. Fejzo said they had a vegetarian menu, something rare that he was obviously proud of. It turned out that everyone in Sarajevo ate meat all the time, with every meal—just like us, thought Rebecca.
William wrote that the trip to Visoko only took about twenty minutes and that Fejzo was nervously quiet most of the drive, which William found to be quite leery. He knew something was off with the kid. Fejzo's nervousness made him nervous. He wanted Fejzo to relax, so he tried talking to him again. William asked what university he attended.
*******
"Univerzitet u Sarajev," he sa
id quickly.
"That's great," I said. I then told him my aunt was a college math teacher. He seemed to lighten slightly with our newfound commonality.
"I cherish math," Fejzo said. "It is so important that we learn as much as we can about it. All laws abide to it. It's the word of Allah."
I didn't share his enthusiasm.
Fejzo told me that they were studying the luminosity of a black hole using the Stefan-Boltzmann formula. He said that using the formula one could see the temperature of a black hole. "Pretty neat."
I shrugged and said: "I didn't know black holes gave off heat."
He then turned his attention to outside his driver side window. I could see a low mountain range off in the distance. Upon first glance, I couldn't see anything that looked unordinary, but then my eyes refocused and the shape of one hill took a new form. Fejzo pointed with his only hand and said: "Visočica Hill. We have arrived."
*******
They drove into the small town and Fejzo wanted to know what William's plan was. William wasn't sure what to tell him; he didn't have a plan. William wrote that he couldn't help but to marvel at the Visočica Hill.
*******
There was no mistaking the shape of it. It was no wonder why Dr. Theoman had been so easily convinced that the hill was a pyramid. It was hard to believe that he was the first to take notice of what appeared to be obvious. I literally felt like I had entered a green-sheathed Egypt.
*******
William wrote that on their way closer to the hill he spotted a sign on the side of the road that Fejzo translated. It read: Restoration in Process. Keep Out. It was apparent to William that the government was in the process of undoing what Theoman's team had done. But then he noticed something else. There were machines called backhoes and bulldozers parked off the road and in a field, which was hardly the sight he expected to find at a restoration project.
William wrote that the road they were driving on had come to a sudden end and there were armed police officers directing traffic away from the base of the hill. William and Fejzo were diverted to the left so they went a little further before taking another left and turning up a narrow road. William saw an open area on the side of the street and told Fejzo to pull over.
*******
"What are we doing?" asked Fejzo.
"There's no sense in driving aimlessly. It's obvious we aren't driving up to the hill, so we're going to need to ditch the car anyway." I opened my door to get out. Fejzo joined me on the sidewalk and I pointed up to the base of the hill where there was a barbed wire fence stretching across its perimeter. "Maybe there's a spot where I can get through."
"Why do you need to get through the fence?" asked Fejzo.
"I need to get some pictures of the work Dr. Theoman had done. One of his colleagues told me that they found an opening to whatever is buried there just days before he went missing."
Fejzo nodded blankly.
"Do you know anything about that?"
"They said they found many things. I don't know what is true."
"Well that's why I'm here," I said. "It's time to find out exactly what happened."
I looked back toward the front gate, to where we saw the two armed guards, and wondered how many were positioned along the whole base. "Let's try the north side."
We started walking down the road until it ended into a dirt path that led into the overgrowth along the north side of the hill. At first, I thought the fence wasn't sophisticated, just enough to deter the average person from trying to sneak inside, but then I saw something I hadn't expected. About twenty yards further was a lone pole raised higher into the sky than the rest. It had a slow rotating security camera mounted on the top. "Shit," I hissed, "security cameras."
Fejzo looked to where I was pointing. "Security cameras?"
"So much for this being a restoration project."
"Why do they have cameras?" asked Fejzo.
It was pretty obvious why. "They don't want anyone coming inside." I then pointed at the fence. "This shouldn't be too difficult to cut through. All we need is a pair of wire or bolt cutters."
We walked for about five minutes before turning back. I saw another camera further up, about ninety yards from the last. When we returned to the car, I saw another camera close to the front gate. They seemed to be rotating a full one hundred and eighty degrees and then back. The whole process only took about forty seconds—twenty to one side and then twenty back. "The only thing I can think to do is get a pair of cutters and come back after dark." I then explained how the cameras worked. "They are in sync together so when one reaches its full rotation to the right, the camera to its left watches its left flank. Each camera watches the other until they make a full circle."
"So the fence is always covered," Fejzo concluded.
The only chink that I could figure would be in the timing of the cameras. "There is a chance that I could get a hole cut through the fence when the cameras are looking straight out and wiggle through before they complete their rotation. But I would definitely have to go alone and would only have about ten seconds to act," and I wasn't even sure about that.
Fejzo looked concerned. "What will you do after?"
"No clue. Improvise I guess." I opened the door of the car and sat down while milling over other possibilities. Not liking my odds, I tried to think of another plan. "Let's drive past the front gate again," I suggested. "Maybe we missed something."
We drove back to the front gate and were directed south this time. I had the better view out my window and scoured the place. "It does look like a restoration project," I concluded. Workers were carrying dirt up the hill, not down and others were tending to the trees on the hillside, planting them and hosing the soil. But it didn't make sense. "What's with the cameras and the armed guards?
"Maybe they afraid of vandals?" suggested Fejzo.
It just didn't seem right. My gut was telling me that something was off. "We are on the East side of the hill, is there any way to the West?" The current road we were on was detouring us into a neighborhood and away from the hill. I couldn't see anything beyond a dirt access road that was fenced in.
Fejzo pulled into a drive and then reversed out. "I don't see how."
With a frustrated sigh, I said: "Alright, turn back and let's go into the city. We need to get a pair of bolt cutters anyway. Maybe we can find someone who can tell us what the hell is going on and how to get to the other side of the hill."
*******
William wrote that they drove through the narrow streets of Visoko's downtown, which was really a bunch of tightly packed flats with the towering white mosque in the center. Eventually they found a hardware store. William described the storefront as having saws and hammers dangling like trophies of a big game hunter. Fejzo pulled the car over and parked. William noticed that some of the buildings had bullet holes in their facades, clearly left over damage from a war. Across the street was a woman, William described as in her mid-forties, sitting at a fold out table with a cloth draped over it and a few trinket pyramids sitting on top along with handmade necklaces and a cardboard sign that read something in their native tongue. She was wearing a Muslim headscarf and looked either very tired or severely depressed; either wouldn't have surprised him.
*******
"This town is very poor," Fejzo informed. "Most of these people are out of work. I think a lot of them hoped to make fortunes on tourism—business that the discovery of a pyramid would have—should have brought. Now that is over. These people have nothing. Maybe that's why they have security?"
"They have tight security because they don't want anyone to know what they're doing," I said.
We walked up to the store with the dangling tools and opened the archaic wooden front door. It was dark inside and carried a stale smell. There were shelves of newer and older tools, like hammers, mallets, saws, screwdrivers, clamps, and all sorts of measuring devices. Upon first glance I didn't see anything that resembled what we needed.
Fejzo
walked over to a rustic metal bin that held a cache of pliers. "Will these work?"
I joined him but was disappointed when I saw they were simplistic needle nose and heavier duty adjustable pliers. I shook my head and looked at some of the bins next to it: wrenches of all sorts but no bolt or wire cutters.
A man's voice called out suddenly. I couldn't understand what he was saying or asking.
"Hello?" I called back.
A bald midsize man appeared from around the counter in the back of the store. He had bushy eyebrows and thick lips. He spoke again but it must have been in Bosnian, Slavic, or Croat. Fejzo began talking to the man, who then grunted and looked toward me. "Speak English? What you need?"
I came around a rotating shelf loaded with screws. "Bolt cutters?"
Fejzo repeated in an attempt to help the store clerk understand what I was asking. He just shook his head and began to speak and pointed over toward a corner I hadn't inspected yet.
"There might be something over there," Fejzo translated.
The clerk rubbed his belly. "You need cut? There." He pointed again.
I pointed too and then started walking over. Fejzo stayed and began asking him if he knew how to get to the other side of the Visočica Hill.
"Uhhh . . . Visočica . . . other side?" he stammered. "You tourists? Here to see Pyramid?"
"Yes, tourists. Can we see other side?" I reached the destination the clerk was directing me and saw scissors, weed trimmers and then caught sight of something that might work.
The clerk began speaking rapid broken English. "No pyramid, they say. We say there is. Been seen. They close pyramid. No allowed to walk no more. They say they fix, but no one fix. They still dig."
"They still dig?" I said back.
He nodded his head. "Dig! They still dig." He then seemed to be struggling with a word.
Fejzo tried to help him and then spoke up. "They are still digging."
The man nodded. "They say they pay for supplies, but no buy."
I found a heavy-duty hand weed cutter and walked back to the counter. It had a crescent shaped blade that looked like it could cut through bone. "They told you they would buy their supplies from you?"
The Sinner King: Book of Fire Page 19