Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2

by N. S. Wikarski

  Hannah sat forward slightly in her armchair and stared at her visitor, trying to fathom the logic behind her last statement.

  “Before you were brought here, Abraham was a robust, vital man. He was decisive, and he led the congregation with a sure hand. We were bound for glory under his guidance. But now look at him.”

  The question was rhetorical, but Hannah began to understand Mother Rachel’s drift. The girl herself was aware of the shocking deterioration in the diviner’s physical appearance since her escape.

  “When you abandoned our husband, he began to change. His health suffered. He could no longer sleep at night. He has resorted to taking strong medicines which leave him vague and uncertain the following day. There are whispers that he has made secret plans which will lead the Nephilim away from the path of righteousness. If this is true, God’s judgment will fall heavily upon him. He will suffer eternal punishment, and we will share that horrible fate. Every one of his wives and children will be damned because of you!”

  So, there it was. Hannah finally understood Mother Rachel’s vested interest in bringing the girl back in line. It wasn’t simple jealousy of a rival as Hannah had initially suspected. The matron obviously believed that if Abraham’s favorite wife was restored to him in a state of docile submission, all would be well. Mother Rachel would be guaranteed a prime seat in the afterlife if she pandered to her husband’s lust for Hannah. The girl kept her face from exhibiting the disgust she felt. Instead, she turned her head aside.

  The matron rose and laid the Bible on her empty chair. She slipped her glasses back into her apron pocket, signaling that she had labored long enough in the Lord’s vineyard for one day. “Think about all I’ve told you, Sister Hannah. Read what the Lord says about disobedient wives and take his words to heart. I will visit you every few days and pray that God will open your eyes to the truth.”

  She let herself out and locked the door.

  Hannah picked up the Bible and stared at it for a long moment. So many words scribbled in its pages to tell her she was a lesser being than a man. Why waste all that ink and restate the obvious if female inferiority was an immutable law of creation? Nobody needed to forbid a bird to rule a country. Birds only knew how to fly. Nobody needed to prohibit a fish from leading an army. Fish only knew how to swim. Yet women were told repeatedly that they were incapable of ruling countries or leading armies. Was it really necessary to ban them from doing something that was beyond their ability to accomplish? Unless, of course, it wasn’t beyond them. What if all those scriptural admonitions were based on fear? Fear that women might realize their inborn power.

  “For women, beauty is power.” Hannah flashed back to a conversation she’d had with Faye while picking out her prom dress. The old woman had told her that in civilizations where men made all the rules, women could wreak havoc simply by being desirable. At the time, Hannah had dismissed the idea, but the girl was certainly living the truth of that statement now. Hannah had done nothing to encourage the diviner’s obsession, yet she was exerting an influence over his behavior just the same. Her sway was potent enough to threaten both Mother Rachel and Brother Joshua. How ironic. Hannah hadn’t spoken a word of defiance since her return yet her very presence among them seemed to destabilize the tightly-regimented world of the Blessed Nephilim.

  She eyed the Bible in her hand with newfound understanding. For all their condemnation of the female sex, maybe the writers of this book felt the same as the Nephilim. In cultures where men craved absolute control, a female with a pretty face and a will of her own was the greatest threat of all. Hannah shrugged, dropped the Bible inside her nightstand, and decisively slammed the drawer on it. Then she retrieved her ebook reader and resumed her novel.

  Chapter 11—Special Effects

  A cloud of dust rose behind Daniel’s tires as he turned his rental car off the highway and onto a gravel access road. He’d decided, while in Australia, to conduct a private investigation of his own. Once he and his colleagues had returned from Injalak Hill and were preparing to depart for the States, he announced that he needed to fly to Melbourne because the diviner wanted him to inspect the Nephilim compound there. His associates seemed mildly suspicious, but he assured them that his business at the compound bore no connection whatsoever to the relic quest. When the three parted ways at the airport. Cassie and Griffin returned to Chicago while Daniel embarked on a spurious inspection trip which the diviner had never authorized him to make.

  The scion wanted to find out if the rumors back home were true. Had his father secretly armed all the satellite outposts? Admittedly, security had been tightened at the main compound, but Daniel had no way of knowing if the same was true of the other locations. The rumored underground lab might be just that—a rumor. His friend Chris seemed to think the diviner was covertly planning a war. A few weeks earlier when emotions were running high, Daniel had been swept up in the wake of the librarian’s suspicions. Now that he’d had time to consider the matter further, the scion was prepared to apply a healthy dose of skepticism to his friend’s assumptions.

  It was absurd to conclude that the diviner was plotting to harm the entire Fallen World. There was no hard evidence to prove such a scheme existed. The scion needed to separate fact from fantasy and his visit to the compound in the Yarra Valley ought to help him do just that. What he discovered there would settle the matter once and for all.

  After bumping along a rutted gravel road for half a mile, Daniel came to a stop in front of an iron gate. That, in itself, wasn’t entirely surprising. The Nephilim liked to keep prying eyes out of their affairs. More troubling was the fact that a sentry armed with an assault rifle emerged from behind the fence to intercept him.

  The scion lowered his window.

  In a monotone, the sentry said, “Please state your business here.”

  With memories of his father’s blustery demeanor to inspire him, Daniel stared at the sentry in dour disapproval. “Do you know who I am?” he demanded.

  The guard blinked in surprise. “No, sir.”

  “I am the son of Abraham Metcalf, your diviner. I am also the scion of the Blessed Nephilim which makes me your future leader. Open these gates at once!”

  The guard saluted. “Yes, sir.” He then trotted hastily back to his post.

  The iron gates swung open, and Daniel drove up to a building that appeared to be a miniature version of the compound in Illinois. It was a square, white, two-story structure devoid of architectural embellishment. All its windows were covered by iron bars.

  Daniel exited the car and advanced up the front stairs. A portly blond man dressed in a black suit and tie scurried out to greet him.

  “I’ve just been informed of your arrival, sir.” The man clasped and unclasped his hands nervously. “I’m the archwarden of this community. Oliver Duckworth is the name.” The archwarden’s palms must have been sweating because he rubbed his hand against his pants leg before extending it to Daniel.

  “Daniel Metcalf, scion of the Blessed Nephilim.”

  “Such an honor to have you here.” Duckworth spoke with a thick Australian accent.

  Daniel gave a cold smile and scanned the grounds. He noted the chain link fence which extended from the front gates. “Is your property entirely fenced?”

  “Yes, sir. Per the diviner’s orders last year. Fenced and topped with razor wire.”

  Daniel flinched. At least one of the rumors had just been confirmed. He decided to venture a step further. “And what is the status of your security?”

  “Round the clock surveillance, sir.” Duckworth made the announcement proudly. “We have cameras placed at strategic locations along the fence line and throughout the common areas of the compound. Would you like to see?”

  “Yes, I would.” The scion uttered the words with a sense of foreboding.

  “Please step this way.”

  The archwarden ushered him through the marble foyer and along a corridor, pointing out cameras as t
hey went.

  Daniel noticed that a deathlike stillness pervaded this compound the same as in Illinois. “Very impressive. You must have had outside assistance to set this up.”

  “Mr. Bowdeen was very helpful, sir. He mapped out the locations for us and supervised the installation of all the cameras.”

  Bowdeen? Daniel racked his brain trying to figure out why that name was familiar. A chill ran down his spine when he remembered. Wasn’t Bowdeen a friend of Leroy Hunt’s? Wasn’t he the man who had tried to kill the diviner only a month before? Hadn’t Joshua shot him?

  Duckworth was still talking and pointing as they turned down another hallway and entered a common room, now vacant.

  When they paused, Daniel asked, “And how large is your security force?”

  “Twenty men. The best of them were hand-picked for special security work and received instruction from Brother Joshua.”

  “Br... Br... Brother Joshua?” Daniel stammered. “You mean my brother Joshua?”

  The archwarden looked briefly puzzled. “Yes, I see. That’s funny, isn’t it? He is one of the brethren, but he’s also your sibling. His last name is Metcalf after all. A very wise young man.”

  “How long ago was he here?”

  Duckworth paused to calculate on his fingers. “One, two. I’d say less than three months. He arrived just as Mr. Bowdeen was finishing up with weapons training for our guards.”

  “So, they knew each other,” the scion asked cautiously.

  “Oh, I should say so. Thick as thieves they were. Spent hours conferring together. Very hush-hush. I got the impression they had worked together often. That would make perfect sense since they were both tasked with setting up security at all the other compounds around the world. I think—” Duckworth stopped abruptly as another idea crossed his mind. “That reminds me. Would you please step into my office for a moment?”

  Daniel nodded and allowed himself to be led down another series of corridors until they came to a door at the end of a hall.

  Duckworth unlocked it and gestured through the open door. “Please have a seat.”

  The scion dropped into a chair and watched as the archwarden bustled around peeping into corners, rummaging through cabinets and murmuring to himself. “Ah, yes. Here it is.” He produced a leather portfolio stamped with the name “Bowdeen” in gold leaf.

  Duckworth handed the portfolio to Daniel. “Shortly after Mr. Bowdeen returned to the United States, one of the sentries found this. He’d accidentally left it at the shooting range during the final days of training. Can you see that this is returned to him?”

  Daniel simply nodded, not wishing to inform the archwarden that Bowdeen had been shot during an abortive attempt to murder the diviner. “I’ll see that he gets it.”

  ***

  Two hours later, the scion steered his car back through the compound gates and onto the gravel road which led to the highway. He’d been forced to endure a grand tour of all the security features of the compound, including a visit to the surveillance command center, an inspection of the weapons training facility, and a demonstration of marksmanship by the security team. He made complimentary remarks along the way to alleviate Duckworth’s anxiety about the surprise inspection. Then he pleaded an evening appointment in Melbourne in order to avoid sharing a meal with the archwarden and his wives.

  Daniel sped up once he made the turn onto the blacktop highway. He drove about five miles away from the compound and then pulled over to the side of the road to think about what he’d learned. His worst fears had been confirmed. The rumors were true. The satellite compounds were all fitted out with the same surveillance equipment as the compound in Illinois. They were staffed with guards adept at using firearms. The worst piece of news was that his brother Joshua was deeply involved in turning these Nephilim outposts into military fortresses.

  He switched off the ignition and reached over to the passenger seat to retrieve Bowdeen’s effects. Zipping open the case, he idly leafed through the papers it contained. At first, he scowled at what he found. Then he gasped outright. He couldn’t quite put it all together, but an ominous theory began to take shape in his mind. Chris had once told him he had no talent for connecting the dots. That was certainly true in this instance. As soon as he got back to the States, he would get help figuring this out. Ironically, it wouldn’t be a librarian who held the answers he sought. It would be a hired killer. Only Leroy Hunt could aid him now.

  Chapter 12—Island Time

  Cassie and Griffin sauntered into Faye’s parlor at the vault. They’d come directly from the airport, not even stopping to drop off their luggage in their respective offices.

  “Looks like you both made it back in one piece,” Maddie observed.

  “That’s a lot easier to do now that we aren’t being dogged by Nephilim assassins,” the pythia retorted, parking her suitcase next to the door and dropping onto the couch.

  Griffin stowed his bag in a corner and took up a position by one of the faux-windows. “It all felt rather anti-climactic,” he mused. “Like a stroll in the park.”

  Cassie gave him a skeptical glance. “I hear there’s an org called Thrill Seekers Anonymous. You should check it out.” Focusing her full attention on Maddie, she asked, “Did you dig up anything that might point us to the real location of the Sage Stone?”

  “I’ll let Zach tell you. It makes him feel useful.” The chatelaine glanced at her watch. “He ought to be here by now.”

  As if on cue, the tyro skidded to a stop in the doorway. He was out of breath when he entered, a laptop computer hooked under one arm. “Sorry.” He bobbed his head apologetically. “I needed to check some emails on Griffin’s computer.”

  “You were in my office?” The scrivener sounded shocked.

  “I’ve been letting him use it to coordinate the research team while you were gone,” Maddie explained.

  “Did you move anything?” Griffin asked Zach suspiciously.

  “I dunno.” The tyro shrugged helplessly. “Maybe.”

  The scrivener gave an exasperated sigh. “I do have a system, you know. It may not be obvious to anyone else, but I maintain my records in a certain order. I only hope I’ll be able to find things in their proper place once I resume my regular duties.”

  Cassie interrupted his tirade. “Griffin, you can’t do two jobs on opposite sides of the planet at the same time. You’re either king of the card catalog or a dashing international artifact hunter. Take your pick.”

  “Well, when you put it that way.” Her comment brought him up short. “You really think I’m dashing?”

  The pythia rolled her eyes.

  Maddie intervened. “If the kid messed anything up in your office, he’ll fix it. Right?” she glanced at Zach menacingly.

  The tyro gulped and gave a vigorous nod. “Absolutely.”

  Griffin folded his arms across his chest, unconvinced.

  The pythia decided it was time to change the subject. “Zach, did you manage to crack any part of our riddle while we were gone?”

  The boy brightened. “Yeah. I worked with Griffin’s research team, and we came up with a really good possibility.” He hesitated. “Can I sit down?”

  Cassie was about to slide to the middle of the couch when Maddie forestalled her.

  “Take the chair.” The chatelaine gestured toward the purple armchair in the corner.

  “That’s Gamma’s seat,” the boy protested softly.

  “It’s just a piece of furniture,” Maddie countered. “We all need to stop tiptoeing around Faye’s absence and get on with business as usual. You know that’s what she’d say if she was here.”

  Zach crossed the room and sat gingerly on the very edge of the chair. Balancing the computer on his lap, he powered it up.

  “I assume we’ll be heading in a northerly direction now,” Griffin hinted.

  “Yup, way north from Australia.” Zach murmured, his attention focused on his computer. He
tapped several keys and waited for the screen to refresh. Then he rose and placed the laptop on the coffee table, so they could all see the result.

  Leaning forward, Cassie read the caption on the map which the screen displayed. “Sakhalin Island?”

  “Sakhalin Island,” Zach repeated. “Six hundred miles long and only sixteen miles wide at its narrowest point. With the Sea of Japan to the southwest and the Sea of Okhotsk to the northeast, it’s been the center of a tug of war between Russia and Japan for centuries. The Russians claimed the northern half of the island and the Japanese claimed the south. That set-up continued until the end of World War Two when Russia saw a chance to take over. Stalin’s troops invaded the southern part of the island and kicked the Japanese out altogether. Given the oil and gas reserves that were discovered there, Sakhalin has turned into a prime piece of real estate.”

  Griffin moved forward to peer down at the screen. He turned to Zach with puzzlement. “While it may hold great economic value, why did you think it would hold any value for the purposes of our artifact quest?”

  “There are a couple of reasons,” the tyro explained. “For starters, some of the island’s natives are Ainu. That’s a tribe descended from Jomon Culture.”

  “Which was matristic,” Griffin said.

  “Exactly,” Zach agreed. “Jomon Culture flourished mainly in neolithic Japan between 16000 BCE and 300 BCE. After that, the overlords from China moved in, and it was goodbye golden age, hello patriarchy.”

  “Look at you,” Cassie remarked. “All grown up and spouting factoids.”

  Zach blushed self-consciously. “Everybody around here has started calling me ‘Griffin Junior.’”

  “I fail to note any resemblance,” the scrivener remarked dryly.

  “Anyway,” Zach forged ahead. “The Ainu are descended from the Jomon and still hold onto some matristic customs. It seems pretty logical that the Minoans would look for a female-friendly culture in the north to help stash their most precious relic.”