Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2

by N. S. Wikarski

  Once the party broke up, Elle made their complicated travel arrangements as Cassie and Griffin packed. They left early the next morning to catch the first bus back to Lijiang. The ride itself took seven hours over hazardous mountain roads. Once in Lijiang, they headed for the airport and a two-and-a-half-hour flight to Guangzhou on China’s southeast coast. The following day they boarded a five-hour flight to Jakarta in Indonesia. This stop included an overnight stay. Given their grueling travel schedule, the layover was not unwelcome. The next morning, they boarded a plane for their final destination—Padang City—the provincial capital of West Sumatra.

  Cassie’s musings ended abruptly when she felt the plane jolt into motion as it taxied to the runway. She opened her eyes and sat up to watch the takeoff through her tiny window.

  Once they were airborne, Griffin turned toward Elle with a quizzical expression on his face. “You still haven’t explained your choice of hiding place for the artifact. I’m sure Cassie is as curious as I am to know why you selected Sumatra.”

  The pythia immediately switched her attention from the scenery to the sentinel. “He’s right. I am. Why Sumatra?”

  “I suppose you’ve both noticed that Asia isn’t the most female-friendly of continents.” Elle grimaced. “In these parts, women are treated like second class citizens when they aren’t being treated like annoyingly verbal livestock. My Mosuo mother grew up in a completely different atmosphere where women were respected and had a lot of self-esteem. She raised me that way too. Life in the Big Apple isn’t so different from life around Lugu Lake. Pushy New Yorkers respect anybody who can shove back, so my mom and I fit in pretty easily there. My life would have been a lot simpler if your artifact was hidden in a cave in the States or even Europe. But no. I was stuck guarding a goddess artifact hidden in the global epicenter of patriarchy. Since I didn’t want to take the relic out of Asia, I had to find a pocket of matriarchy somewhere other than Lugu Lake.”

  She paused in her explanation while the stewardess came through with refreshments. During their travels, Elle’s frosty attitude had thawed considerably. It must have dawned on her that Griffin and Cassie were rescuing her from the irksome duties of sentinel. In consequence, she became as cordial toward them as her abrasive nature would allow.

  Once the attendant was out of earshot, the sentinel continued. “At first I considered Taiwan as a possible location.”

  “Taiwan?” Cassie asked in surprise. “Why there?”

  “Because it’s an island and islands seem pretty good at resisting the march of ‘progress.’” Elle made air quotes to emphasize her point. “Even after the Han Chinese took over, most of the local tribes remained matriarchal. To this day, some of the aborigines still follow the old ways.”

  “Sounds ideal,” Griffin observed. “And yet we aren’t flying there today.”

  “That’s because it belongs to patriarchal China,” Elle countered. “Who knows when some crazy new government program is going to mess with Taiwanese culture on a local level? I mean, look what happened to the Buddhists when China first invaded Tibet. I figured I was better off taking the artifact out of the country entirely.”

  She paused for a sip of bottled water. “So, I had to broaden my search. At first, I struck out. The farther north I looked, the more male-dominated the culture seemed to get.”

  “That’s because the overlords infiltrated China from the northwest,” Cassie informed her.

  “Overlords?”

  Griffin intercepted the question. “The less you know about our overall mission, the better. Suffice it to say that patriarchy was transmitted to Asia from the northwestern corner of the country to the southeast.”

  “Hmm.” Elle pondered the comment. “You know that actually might explain a lot. Once I changed course and focused on the south, my luck improved. Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, and Vietnam were once completely matriarchal.”

  “We’ve been throwing the term ‘matriarchy’ around quite freely today,” the scrivener remarked. “Yet there are scholars who will adamantly insist that such a form of social organization doesn’t exist. Of course, they’ve defined the term so narrowly that it allows them to dismiss the phenomenon as a myth. They wish to classify matriarchy as the mirror image of patriarchy—a society in which women dominate and oppress men. Of course, that has never been the case. Female-centric societies tend to practice gender equality.

  “Mainstream anthropologists have parsed the social structure of such cultures using a variety of terms to describe separate practices. When inheritance is traced through the female line, they call it ‘matrilineal.’ In cultures where the husband moves in with the wife’s family, they call it ‘matrilocal.’ If women in a particular culture are given more rights than men, it’s called ‘matrifocal.’ However, these same anthropologists would never use the dreaded word ‘matriarchy’ to describe a culture which might possess all the features I’ve just discussed.”

  Elle glanced at the scrivener dispassionately. “Scholars can slice and dice it any way they want, but if the key decision-maker in a family is the mother, then I say it’s a matriarchy.”

  “I’m with her,” Cassie agreed.

  The sentinel continued. “I found matriarchies everywhere I looked south of China. Among the traditional cultures of southeast Asia, the ladies were in charge. In some places they still are. In Thailand, there are more female construction workers than male.”

  “Then why are we flying over Thailand rather than landing there?” Griffin asked impishly.

  Elle shrugged. “For the same reason that I rejected Taiwan as a possible hidey-hole. All the countries I mentioned are too close to the Chinese border. In the bad old days, imperial China invaded Vietnam and Burma on a regular basis. Even the countries next door had their cultural values warped by those conflicts.”

  “So, you wanted to put a big body of water between our artifact and Han China,” the pythia concluded. “That’s why we’re going to Indonesia?”

  “Only partly.” Elle gave a mysterious smile. “We’re also going to Indonesia because it contains the largest remaining matriarchal society on the planet. Four million women walking around like they own the place because they do. We’re going to visit the Minangkabau.”

  “Of course!” Griffin exclaimed. “It’s an obvious choice.”

  Cassie leaned over and squinted at him. “To you maybe. Care to fill me in?”

  The scrivener apologized. “I’m sorry for not mentioning them sooner, but the thought didn’t occur to me. It’s no secret that I’ve had very little active involvement with the Asian troves. The only reason I have any knowledge of the Minangkabau at all is because we are in the early stages of setting up a trove there.”

  Elle interrupted. “What’s a trove?”

  Griffin hesitated.

  Cassie cut in. “That also falls into the category of things we shouldn’t talk about. If you know too much about our operation, it might put you at risk.”

  The sentinel eyed her skeptically. “And here I thought you guys were just on a scavenger hunt.”

  “More like a scavenger hunt with flying bullets.” The pythia grinned ruefully. “There are some very bad people who want to get their hands on the Minoan relics. Let’s just say it would be better for the world if they didn’t.”

  “Relics plural?” Elle’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean there’s more than one?”

  “Like I said, the less you know—”

  Elle put up her hands in resignation. “Forget I asked. The last thing I want is to be caught in the middle of your private war.” She shifted slightly in her seat, turning her attention back to Griffin. “You were saying something about the Minangkabau people?”

  Griffin hastened to elaborate. “Yes, the Minangkabau hold the distinction of being the largest remaining matriarchy in the world. Even the most dyed-in-wool mainstream anthropologists can’t deny it since the people describe their own society as a matriarchy.”

&nb
sp; “I’ve never heard of them,” Cassie murmured.

  “They are quite a fascinating culture,” Griffin continued. “As you might expect, property is passed to female descendants under the rationale that women need a home to provide for their offspring while men have the luxury of living anywhere. When a woman marries, her husband moves in with her family and is guided by their decisions.”

  The sentinel chimed in. “The Minangkabau believe that undirected male energy is chaotic. It disrupts the harmony of the family if left unchecked by the wisdom of the elders, both male and female.” She smiled wryly. “Given the guys I’ve dated over the past decade, I’d say the Minangkabau got it right—at least about men under fifty anyway.”

  Griffin forged ahead, trying to ignore the unintended insult. “Though their village headmen are male, they are elected by the property owners.”

  “Who all happen to be female,” Cassie stated.

  “Correct.”

  “That’s exactly like the Iroquois,” she added.

  “It’s like most other matriarchal societies around the world,” Griffin countered. “Women control the resources and men manage political affairs with their consent. Even if that division hadn’t originally been part of their culture, the patriarchal societies surrounding the Minangkabau would have eventually pressured them to appoint a male authority to represent them in the outside world. The most curious trait of these people is that they are all staunch Muslims.”

  “What?” Cassie registered disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

  Elle laughed at her reaction. “Islam in Sumatra is an entirely different animal than in Saudi Arabia. Just to give you an example, a lot of women in Sumatra wear the hijab. That’s the traditional headscarf worn by Muslim women. To people who live in the West, the hijab is a symbol of Islamic male oppression. But that isn’t how the Minangkabau view it. The women have managed to hang onto their power, headscarves and all.”

  “I suspect that many of the traits which we define as Islamic are merely Arabic,” Griffin said. “Culture frequently shapes religion rather than the other way round. The Minangkabau have a fluid and adaptive way of dealing with the outside world. Assimilation and compromise are excellent strategies to guarantee social stability. Of course, it also helps that Indonesian Muslims weren’t converted at the point of a sword. The spread of the religion was entirely peaceful. Islamic traders from India first began to appear in the area in the 14th century. Their beliefs became fashionable with the rulers of various principalities and some converted. Over time, the rest of the population followed suit. However, the Minangkabau appear to have adopted some Islamic ideas and discarded those which were at odds with their culture, such as the notion of male superiority.”

  “They have this thing called adat,” said Elle. “It’s hard to translate, but it means something like ‘custom’ or ‘tradition’ or even ‘cosmic balance.’ They live their lives by it. It’s just as important to them as Islam. Maybe more so since it’s been around longer.”

  “Still I have to wonder.” Cassie frowned as a new thought struck her. “If they are Islamic then I don’t think they would take kindly to graven goddess images of any kind. How did you manage to convince them to protect the relic for you?”

  “I had to find some common ground. After a little digging, I learned that the Minangkabau believe in a semi-mythical queen mother who founded their culture along with her sons. They think they’re all descended from her, and she’s still venerated in songs and stories. All I had to do was tap into that.”

  Given the puzzled reaction of her listeners, Elle elaborated. “I asked around until I found the most influential matriarch in one of the hill villages outside Padang. I explained to her that I had a cherished relic which had belonged to the queen mother of my own people. I told her that it was no longer safe to keep it in my homeland because the men there had forgotten how to respect their mothers and they might destroy it. I asked her to hide the artifact for me until I came back to claim it and she agreed.”

  “Very clever.” Griffin nodded his approval.

  “I didn’t build a career in marketing for nothing,” Elle retorted. “It also helped that I took the time to learn their language. Let me tell you, there aren’t any Rosetta Stone courses in Baso Padang.”

  The pilot came on the intercom at that moment to announce their descent. They all dutifully adjusted their seats and refolded their tray tables.

  “When we land, we’re going straight to the hotel to check in,” Elle informed them. “After that, we’re off to a little village in the highlands where you’ll get your precious artifact, and I can be on my merry way.”

  Griffin studied her for a moment. “I must say, despite your personal objections to the role, you’ve proven yourself to be an able custodian of our priceless relic. I’m sure your sentinel ancestors would be very proud of you.”

  “Sentinel,” Elle echoed. “Yet another word I don’t like.” She folded her arms decisively. “After today, nobody better call me that again. Ever!”

  Chapter 30—Dead Zone

  Leroy killed his van’s lights and turned onto a dirt lane that ran next to the back fence of the farmhouse property. His surveillance had shown that nobody used this road, so it was the perfect place to lay low for a couple of hours. He wanted to wait til everybody in the neighborhood had turned in for the night before he made his move. Yup, tonight was the night. He’d been staking out the place for nearly two weeks now. That was longer than he’d originally intended but he wanted to make absolutely sure he knew the schedule of everything that happened in that house.

  The additional time spent in surveillance contradicted his pet theory that the farmhouse was a front for Mr. Big’s operation. Even though the trio and Mr. Big were somehow connected to the place, Hunt figured that both Hannah and the old lady were in the dark about the doodads. Nothing in their monotonous daily routine betrayed anything remotely shady.

  After little Hannah left for school, the old lady would pile into her station wagon and do errands. She’d be gone for hours during the middle of the day, but Leroy didn’t trouble himself about what she was up to. Probably stocking up on more flowered housedresses. Once the gal got back from school in the afternoon, she helped the old lady with cooking and chores, did her homework, and went to sleep. On weekends, her boyfriend showed up to take her out to dinner or a movie and always got her home before curfew. Everything was as humdrum as could be. Of course, after tonight nobody in the neighborhood would ever be able to say that again.

  The cowboy had thought long and hard about how he wanted to play this scene. His main objective was to eliminate Hannah. He couldn’t have her ratting out Daniel and gumming up the works for him with the old man. Teenage girls generally had a tendency to blab too much. They couldn’t help themselves. It was in their natures. Unfortunately, killing Hannah outright might rile the preacher, so Hunt had to make it look like an accident.

  For starters, Leroy planned to break into the back of the house around 3 AM. He’d go upstairs to the old lady’s room and smother her with a pillow before she knew what hit her. A nice quiet way to take her out. Then he’d tiptoe down the hall to the little gal’s room. She was maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, so she wouldn’t put up much of a fight. Leroy could snap her neck like a dried twig. Then he’d drag the two bodies to the top of the stairs and roll the old lady down first. The body would get banged up enough to make it seem she’d died from the fall. Then he’d drop the gal from the railing. Same result.

  Of course, he planned to tell the grief-stricken preacher a whole different version of how things went down. With a catch in his voice, he’d explain that his plan had gone horribly wrong. He’d broken in with the intention of grabbing Hannah, but the old lady woke up and got in the way. While he was struggling with her, Hannah lunged at him, missed and went over the railing, breaking her neck. The old lady squirmed free and tried to run down the stairs but tripped and took a tumble he
rself. Before Leroy could do any damage-control, somebody had called 911, and the sirens told him he needed to high tail it out of there. With no fingerprints at the scene of the crime and a pane of broken glass in the kitchen door, the cops would naturally assume it was a burglary gone wrong.

  Leroy leaned back against the headrest and took a minute to admire the elegance of his plan. With Hannah gone, the treasure hunt could stay on track. And, as an added bonus, tonight’s raid might send a message to Mr. Big. He would know that Leroy was on his trail. Maybe that would rattle him enough to call the trio off for good, leaving the field clear for Daniel to collect the rest of the doodads. No doubt about it. Everything was coming up roses for a change. The cowboy consulted his watch. Plenty of time to get some shut-eye. He had a late night ahead of him. Tipping the brim of his baseball cap over his eyes, he nodded off to sleep.

  ***

  Hunt snorted into wakefulness. The alarm on his wrist watch was chirping at him. He checked the time. It was 3 AM. He yawned, stretched and then scanned the backs of the houses in the subdivision. Not a single light was on. Clearly, nobody in the neighborhood suffered from insomnia. It was show time. He grabbed a pair of black leather gloves sitting on the passenger seat. When he lifted them up, he noticed a cell phone lying beneath. It was the tapped line that he used for calls to the preacher. Leroy made it a rule never to turn that phone on while he was conducting his private surveillance operation because whoever was monitoring his calls to old Abe might also be tracking his physical location. If Mr. Big’s flunkies were to pinpoint his coordinates a hundred feet from the farmhouse, all kinds of bells and whistles would go off. He stared at the phone with a sense of foreboding. The cowboy already knew whenever that phone had been shut off for long periods the preacher would find a reason to call him. He couldn’t help feeling that his wise precaution of staying off the grid was just about to jump up and bite him in the ass.