by Tom Hunter
When the dust settled, the only entrance was buried beneath a mountain of rubble.
Forty-Four
Pin ran his hands over the headdress, trembling with excitement. “Such a simple thing, yet so important. This will change the world for the better.”
“It doesn’t look like it could change the world,” Gord remarked.
“To the casual observer, it wouldn’t,” Pin informed him. “But, trust me. This is what we’ve been looking for, the final piece in the puzzle that will make all our dreams come true. Now, we need to get back to the aircraft as quickly as possible. The sooner I can present this to the Bruard, the sooner I will receive the recognition I so justly deserve.”
Pin and his men hurried through the catacombs, their progress much faster now they knew where they were going and how to avoid the traps. At last, they reached the waiting craft. Its outboard cargo pods had been filled by the soldiers, with the contents of the crates from the desert striders.
Pin looked at Gord quizzically.
“Waste not, want not,” the guard shrugged. “While I’m sure your hat is very valuable, I thought it best if we took things with a more obvious worth, just in case.”
“Yes, well, I want to get out of this desert and away from the miscreants I’ve been forced to deal with. Samuel McCarthy may be an educated peasant, but he is still a peasant nevertheless. It’s a pity, really. He could have been so useful to the Bruard had he only been willing to see the light. Now he will rot away in that cave, soon to be forgotten.”
“Fetch my soap,” he ordered the nearest soldier. Immediately, he put down the crate he was carrying and rushed to retrieve Pin’s anti-bac soap. Pin held his hands out so that the soldier could pour soap liberally all over them, visibly relaxing as he wiped away any trace of contamination from interactions with non-Bruard.
The sound of a helicopter high overhead caught Pin’s attention. He looked up to see the craft, just before it disappeared from view.
“Do you want me to send a team to see if the helicopter is landing anywhere nearby?” Gord offered.
“No need.” Pin shook his head. “The cloaking field will have concealed our position. They’ll be long gone before we head out. Keep your focus on getting St. Augustine’s secret to its rightful home.”
“I still don’t get it,” Gord told him. “How can something that only affects minds one at a time be of any help? Even if that headdress does everything it’s supposed to do, it’s still not going to be much use when it comes to controlling billions of people.”
“I can see how you might think that we’ve gone to a lot of trouble for nothing,” Pin agreed, “but I have no doubt that there will be a way to enhance the relic’s abilities, expanding its control over déjà vu and memory. It might seem like a long shot to you, but we took a big risk in stealing this device and I’m going to make sure it was worth all our while.”
“So what exactly is the secret to this device?” asked Gord. “It just looks like a hat to me.”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Pin confessed. “But, as you say, it’s just a hat and it was designed by backward people of long ago. It won’t be difficult to decipher.”
“So you’re going to take it straight to Korea to present to the Bruard leaders?”
“Not yet,” Pin said. “I want to figure out how to activate the secret to confirm that it was worth all the trouble we’ve gone to. This headdress has cost me a cover identity, not to mention time and resources. Right now, I’ll take it to my living quarters to experiment with it.” He raised his voice to address the troops. “Wrap it up! We’re leaving. Now!”
He shuddered as one of the soldiers brushed past him. Pin was in desperate need of a bath to purify himself after so long surrounded by the unclean.
Soldiers fired shots into the engines of the desert striders, rendering them unusable in case Samuel managed to break free, before piling into the VTOL. Its engines whined to life, and it rose up out of a sandstorm of its own making, leaving Samuel and Basile to rot in the catacombs.
Forty-Five
Akhenaton lay comatose in the middle of the floor as Basile frantically rushed around the room, ignoring archaeological protocol as he dug through scrolls and other artifacts in search of a way out. By contrast, Samuel sat cross legged in the middle of the room, calmly reading through the pile of scrolls surrounding him.
“Aidez moi, Samuel,” urged Basile. “Help me and stop wasting time! Reading isn’t going to get us out of this place. There must be another exit in this room. We have to find it.”
“Au contraire, my hot headed friend,” smiled Samuel. “Reading is exactly how we’re going to get out of here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen to this.” He picked up a scroll and started reading. “The traitor who is not quite a traitor approached the leader with a small metal rod in hand. He meant to smite the leader, but he underestimated the man’s power. Soon, the hunter was the prey, in a reversal of fortune, as it has ever been through the ages. Yet, the traitor learned that true victory does not come from the physical realm. His head contained information that he attempted to use to barter for his freedom. The leader faced a terrible dilemma, so he left the traitor under guard while he determined the best way forward.”
“I don’t understand.” Basile frowned. “Reminds me of a Biblical parable. What does it mean?”
“Don’t you see?” said Samuel excitedly. “That’s a perfect description of what happened with Waleed.”
“It’s a coincidence.” Basile’s voice wavered.
“I don’t think so,” Samuel said. “Think about it. Remember what Akhenaton told us about his order and their beliefs? Then think about what Pin said about using the headdress to control the world. I think St. Augustine’s secret is the ability to predict the future or tap into future knowledge somehow. Who knows? Maybe it even influences the future, somehow allowing the wearer to come up with visions like this one and write it to change what will happen. They say that the simple act of observation changes that which is being watched. Perhaps in seeing what’s supposed to happen, the device actually enables you to change it. I haven’t yet figured out the details, but the more I read, the more it makes sense.”
“None of this makes sense,” Basile sighed, temporarily giving up his search for an escape and flopping to the ground next to Samuel. “How could a headdress do any of that?”
“I don’t know the science behind it,” Samuel confessed. “Without the headdress, I don’t think I’d be able to figure it out. But I do think it has something to do with dreams. Maybe the dream state enables some form of time travel?”
“So the headdress controls dreams?” theorized Basile.
“That’s one possibility,” Samuel agreed. “I’m even wondering if the headdress can take that control a step further to reprogram thoughts. It could be a way to force people to your way of thinking against their will, which would be just the kind of thing the Bruard would want. It’d explain why they’re so desperate to get their hands on it. At the same time, I can’t imagine that a government would care that much about an object that could only affect one person at a time.”
“Oh, Samuel. So close and yet so far.”
Samuel and Basile whirled round as Akhenaton groaned, clutching his head as he pulled himself up to a seated position.
“You might as well tell us everything you know,” Samuel said, indicating the blocked exit. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
“Very well,” sighed Akhenaton. “According to my order, St. Augustine’s secret is a conduit that allows the mind to heighten its memory abilities, allowing it to influence other people’s memories. In effect, it proves Pythagoras’ deathless soul theory by enabling a user to temporarily leave their mind and enter the minds of others. Ordinarily, this could only be done to one person at a time, but we believe that someone ‘of the blood’ is attuned to the artifact, which could potentially allow them to use it on a wider s
cale. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you how dangerous that would be if the Bruard figure out how to use it.”
“Of the blood?” Basile frowned. “What do you mean? An ancestor?”
“That is the most likely translation,” Akhenaton confirmed. “However, we have been unsuccessful in determining whether the blood in question refers to St. Augustine’s bloodline, the bloodline of one of the artisans involved in building the catacombs, those constructing the device, or even the gods themselves.”
“Gods?” scoffed Basile.
“All our Pharaohs were gods.” Akhenaton glared at him. “Since we have lost the device, we should consider tracing those of the blood, so we can forestall its widespread use.”
“It’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Samuel pointed out. “Given how many generations have been born since the creation of St. Augustine’s secret, there could be millions of people who can trace their ancestry to whoever your order is referring to. The Bruard will stop at nothing to find someone who can utilize the device to its full potential.” Samuel’s heart dropped. “I am so sorry, Akhenaton. You were right. We should have destroyed it rather than let Pin take it. If the Bruard manage to master its power, it really could be the end of the world.”
“You can’t seriously believe that all this superstitious nonsense is true?” exclaimed Basile. “I thought better of you, Samuel. I thought you were a man of science.”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Samuel pointed out. “Pin clearly thought it was true. It was important enough for him to bury us rather than risk losing the device.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” moped Basile. “There’s no way out. We can wax philosophical for as long as you like. It won’t get us out of here.”
“Wait a moment…” Samuel pawed through the scrolls, looking for one he’d read earlier. “Listen to this. In order to receive words from angels, a specific ritual needs to be carried out. The petitioner must first prepare himself for communication with the metal rod that can increase the power of the mind, allowing the petitioner to give and speak thought over distance.”
“This is nonsense,” Basile sneered, as Samuel skimmed through the rest of the text. “We should be looking for a way out, dig our way out if need be. I’m sure that if I had enough time, I could find a way to tunnel through the rock fall.” He started to move towards the door, but Samuel told him to stop.
“Think about it,” he said. “I’m wearing the metal rod.” Samuel tapped at his Bluetooth V. “It isn’t as crazy as it sounds. I reckon that if I perform the ritual, it might show us a way out of here.” He held up a hand to stop Basile interrupting. “It was a ritual that opened up the cave in the first place, remember? The ritual detailed in this scroll is very straightforward. What harm could it do to try? If it doesn’t work, then we can attempt to dig our way out, okay?”
Basile paused for a moment. “Okay,” he finally agreed.
Samuel stood up, scroll in hand. “All right. It says that I need to stand under Moneta’s gaze.” He went to take up position beneath the statue of Moneta on one side of the room. “First I must walk away, signifying that I am unafraid of my thoughts and am willing to share them.” He moved forward three paces. “Next I must turn and face the dais and performance obeisance on each of the three steps.” Awkwardly, he moved from step to step, bowing as he did so. “Now follow the stars.” He frowned. “What does that mean? We can’t see the sky in here.”
“There.” Akhenaton pointed to one of the paintings depicting an airplane. “There are stars in that picture. The Big Dipper. Follow the direction it’s facing.”
Samuel did as Akhenaton suggested, coming to a stop in front of the wall.
“Now what?” he asked, as nothing happened.
“I told you this was a waste of time,” Basile grumbled.
Suddenly a burst of static came through Samuel’s Bluetooth. “Samuel McCarthy? Are you there? Come in, Samuel McCarthy.” Shafira’s voice came through the earpiece.
“This is Samuel,” he whooped in reply. “And you must be an angel!”
“What do you mean?” asked Shafira.
“Never mind,” Samuel laughed. “Let’s just say that I’m very pleased to hear from you.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re trapped underground. We faced off with some bad guys, and they blew up the entrance to the chamber we’re in. I don’t think we’re very deep below the earth. We didn’t have to go down any major slopes to reach this point.”
“Are the bad guys still around? I’m guessing you don’t know from in there…”
“We don’t, but that’s not the immediate problem. It’s a largish chamber, but the air in here is finite.”
“Are you injured?”
“Thankfully, no. We got off lightly that way. If you can track my location from my signal, you should find we’re no more than fifty yards beneath the earth. There may be some way to get us out.”
“We’ll do whatever we can,” Shafira promised.
“Thank you–I’m sorry. I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Shafira Khouri,” came the reply. “From the Ministry of State for Antiquities.”
“Well, Shafira, today you’re my guardian angel.”
Forty-Six
Shafira could barely contain her excitement, as she hung up the comms device.
“I’ve made contact with McCarthy,” she announced, as Josh swung round, looking for a place to land that was out of sight of Pin and his men. “He’s alive and he’s somewhere near the surface. He’s going to stay where he is so we can track him using our equipment. Although from what he told me, he doesn’t have much choice: he’s trapped in a cave.”
“Do you think that has anything to do with the soldiers we saw gathering around the cave entrance?” asked Waleed.
“Most likely,” Shafira agreed. “Thank goodness Josh knew where the cloaking device ended. We’d never have known they were there if he hadn’t flown low enough to get inside its range. Do you think they spotted us?”
“Yes,” Josh confirmed. “That’s the downside with getting close enough to penetrate the camouflage.”
“If they did, they don’t seem to care,” Waleed told them. “Look. They’re leaving.”
Josh and Shafira looked out in the direction Waleed was facing. The VTOL began to rise vertically on a column of engine thrust, and then gain forward speed, away from the helicopter.
“Good,” Shafira nodded. “Josh, are you any good with the onboard tracking equipment? We’ll need to trace Samuel’s signal if we’re going to dig them out.”
“Not my department.” Josh shook his head. “I can use a radio and repair one if it’s not too far gone, but tracking was always my passenger’s department. I wasn’t expecting this to be a rescue mission.”
“Don’t worry, my friends,” Waleed broke in. “Thanks to a checkered career, I have a particular set of skills…”
Josh and Shafira rolled their eyes at each other.
“No, no,” Waleed assured them. “There’ve been occasion where I’ve needed to splice through signals in order to obtain vital information. I am sure that I can find Samuel.”
“Is there anything you can’t do, Waleed?” asked Shafira.
“Not a lot,” he grinned. “I’ve never stayed in jail for more than a week at a time, but I always learned a lot with every visit.”
The rolling desert sands came up to meet the helicopter, as Josh brought them in to land. Once the swirling sand from the rotor wash began to fall back to earth, Josh climbed out and went to retrieve the tracking equipment from an external storage locker toward the rear of the aircraft.
“Anything I can do to help?” Josh asked as he brought the equipment over to Waleed.
“Yes,” came the reply. “You can take this handset and walk in that direction.” He pointed towards the cave entrance. “When I give the word, switch it on. I’ll send a signal to your device and Samuel’s. I should be able
to triangulate the responses to tell us where he is, give or take a couple hundred feet.”
Josh did as he was told, heading towards the cave opening.
“Turn it on,” called Waleed.
Josh twisted the knob on the top of the handset, which crackled until Waleed sent out a high frequency signal.
“All right. Move over there,” Waleed instructed, waving to the west.
Josh strode in that direction, as Waleed sent out another signal.
“That way now,” Waleed ordered, making Josh move again.
“I’ve got him!” Waleed crowed. “He’s here.” He walked around the hillside, coming to a halt at a nondescript slope. “He was right. He’s not too far below ground. The only problem is that I’m not sure if we can get to him. So near and yet so far.”
“Samuel, can you hear me?” Shafira spoke into her comms device.
“Loud and clear,” came the reply.
“We’ve pinpointed your location,” she told him. “We’re going to mark the site, and then figure out a way to get you out. Don’t go anywhere!”
“Not much chance of that,” laughed Samuel. “We’re well and truly trapped. We haven’t got any supplies, and I can’t remember the last time I had a drink. Much as it goes against my archaeologist’s soul to risk the artifacts and gems down here, I’d much rather you blew a hole in the hillside and dropped down a ladder.”
“Samuel, we’re going to do our best to save you and the relics. Stay online. We need to figure out how we’re going to get to you. We’ll be with you soon, I promise.”
“Only precise drilling will preserve whatever’s left down here, and there isn’t time to get that kind of gear out here,” Samuel said.
Shafira turned to Josh and Waleed. “Any ideas about how to blast through a mountain?”
“What about if we used some of the helicopter fuel?” suggested Waleed. “We can use that to create an explosion.”