The back had been locked up by now. The techs had carried a plastic crate inside, presumably with whatever materials they needed to examine the Pandora Room—maybe even to remove the jar. They’d met Beyza at the entrance to Derveyî, shown their credentials, and been led downstairs.
Sophie didn’t feel like the boss anymore.
She didn’t think she wanted to be the boss of this.
Her eyes grew damp, but she blinked it away. What if? She’d asked herself that question a hundred times in the past couple of days. What if the whole thing were real? What if Pandora and Anesidora had been historical figures instead of creatures of myth? And what if instead of curses, the jar contained blessings? What if it contained cures?
In France, right now, her father deteriorated by the day, Alzheimer’s thieving every memory that made him the man he was. She’d survived her own childhood leukemia, but there were kids dying right that very minute. Sophie felt the breeze and the warmth of the sun, and though her body remembered sickness, she could still run. She could have turned, in that moment, chosen a direction and just started to move. Her body would carry her to the mountains, carry her to Amadiya. If she found a lake or a river, she could swim. She had spent her adult life making herself strong, because she remembered what it had felt like to be weak, and to feel death so near, just over her shoulder, whispering in her ear.
She watched the soldiers at their posts. Watched them walk the perimeter. Watched a Jeep kick up dust as it sped away from Derveyî. Down below, her team continued to dismantle and pack up the dig, prematurely concluding a year’s worth of work. Somewhere, if Kim Seong had done her job, U.N. diplomats would be negotiating possession of the most important archaeological find of the twenty-first century, and Sophie had no say in the matter. What happened to that jar and its contents had ceased to be her concern, even if she wanted it to be.
Maybe that was for the best.
She told herself that. It’s for the best. Your father is dying. What happens to the jar, whether it will ever be opened, is not for you to decide.
For the best.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but for once it didn’t startle her. Sophie had been expecting this call. Not from Alex Jarota or from one of her own contacts at UNESCO or even from her mother. As she slipped the phone from her pocket, the name on its screen only confirmed what she’d somehow already known. How long could she hold Steven at bay? How long before even she thought it was unfair?
Sophie answered. “Hello, Steven. I’m here. I’m alive. I’m sorry.”
A breath. A hesitation. “Jesus, Soph. You couldn’t text me back? Even if you couldn’t call, you could at least have—”
“I know. I do.”
“—texted me.”
“Steven, I promise you, when I tell you the story of the past few days, your jaw will drop. And it’s only going to get more interesting from here.”
The pause that followed went on a second too long and made Sophie wonder if her ex had hung up or if the call had dropped.
“Hello?”
“I’m here,” Steven said, his voice tight as if he’d forgotten all the things he’d meant to say, all the times he had called to talk to Sophie. “Just tell me this. Is it dangerous, this ‘interesting’ thing that’s happening?”
Sophie wanted to lie, but she’d promised herself not to do that anymore. “Probably. That’s the best answer I can give you. Even if what we’ve found isn’t dangerous itself, it’s getting a lot of people with guns very nervous.”
“Marvelous,” Steven said. “I’d tell you to come home, but you don’t live here anymore.”
“That’s true.”
“I guess I should ask what kept you from calling all the other times, before whatever is happening now. Before things turned ‘probably’ dangerous.”
Sophie couldn’t help smiling. Despite the dig and the soldiers and the hazmat suits, despite it all spinning out of her control, Steven’s voice made her happy and made her remember sweet and simple times. The memories let her exhale, and when she took another breath, she no longer felt like the walls of the world were closing in.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ve just been focused on the work here, and I didn’t want to call if I couldn’t commit to a real conversation. No jokes about me and long-term commitment, please. I just mean I didn’t want to get on the phone and then brush you off.”
“Better to do that by not answering at all?”
Sophie’s smile vanished, and yet she still felt she could breathe again. Steven knew her, knew who she really was, and nobody within a thousand miles could have said the same.
“I’m an ass,” Sophie said.
“On that, we agree. But there’s another reason I’ve been calling. Something I need to tell you.”
A chill passed through her. “You’re okay? You’re not … are you sick? Is everything—”
“I’m not sick. Nothing like that. It’s something good, Soph. But I wanted you to hear it from me. I’ve met someone. Her name is Annabeth.”
“Steven, that’s fantastic,” Sophie said, though she felt a twinge of regret. “That’s wonderful.”
“We’re … actually, we’re getting married in the spring. Next May,” Steven said. “I wanted you to know, from me.”
“Wow. That’s … Congratulations, Steven. I guess you really are okay.”
Dead air. That long pause again.
“Steven?”
“You left, Sophie.”
“I know that.”
“I want you to be happy for me.”
Sophie exhaled again. “I can do that. You deserve this, Steven. You deserve someone who makes you happy, who can be there with you. You deserve that kind of love.”
There were other things she wanted to say, but she would only have been repeating herself. Loving Steven had never been a problem. Sophie had never strayed while they were together. When she had left New York, she would have preferred to bring Steven with her, but it wasn’t to be.
“Thank you,” Steven said. And then, very quietly, “So do you, Sophie. You deserve it, too.”
“I’ve got to go, love. When this is all over, I’ll call you and tell you the whole story. If you haven’t seen it on the news first.”
“Stay safe, Sophie.”
Sophie promised that she would. They said good-bye, and when she slid the phone back into her pocket, she breathed deeply. The situation with the jar had already given her a sense of urgency, but now she wanted to get out of Iraq more than ever. Derveyî had been her greatest professional joy, and now she couldn’t wait for it to be a memory, to move on to the next thing and start fresh.
Alex Jarota wasn’t going to allow that, of course. He needed her to be the face of this discovery. Sophie knew she would have to go along with that, at least for a while, but she looked forward to the time when she had a new dig, a new project, a new place to feel like she belonged. For a while, Derveyî had felt like home. Now she felt cast adrift. Whatever Derveyî had been, it didn’t belong to her anymore. It belonged to the world, to the U.N., to the inevitable media dissection.
With a huff, she stood and looked up at the mountains. Afternoon had begun to darken toward evening, and she still had work to do.
A scuff of footsteps made her turn, and she saw Martin trekking across the camp toward her, his own filtration mask firmly in place. Her mood brightened just a bit. With all these new arrivals, she had begun to feel isolated, but seeing Martin reminded her that she still had her own team here, people she liked and trusted. People who were counting on her to get them out of here safely.
“Sophie,” Martin said.
“That’s Dr. Durand to you.”
He blinked, slightly taken aback. That innocence and gullibility was one of the things she liked best about him. Martin was smart and dedicated. Yes, his crush on her remained obvious, but he had a purity of spirit that she admired. It made him an easy target for teasing, but mostly she envied him.
“I’m kidding, Martin.”
He gave her the small, self-conscious laugh that seemed to be his trademark. “I know that,” he lied. “Anyway, you asked for a team meeting. Beyza and Lamar wanted you to know everyone’s going to gather in about twenty minutes in the atrium.”
Sophie studied him, searched his eyes. “Everyone except you and Lamar. I want you with the guards, making sure nobody gets into the Pandora Room who doesn’t belong there.”
Martin stood a bit straighter, visibly heartened by her faith in him. “Of course.”
She had been wearing her own filtration mask down around her neck like a cowl. Now she pulled it up to cover her nose and mouth and started away from him, her boots scuffing on the dusty slope. A Jeep trundled by on the rutted dirt road thirty yards away, and she caught sight of one of her colleagues, a professor from the Sorbonne, in the passenger seat. There would be files in that Jeep—computers and records and photographs, not to mention personal gear. The team would be gathering, but some of them were already departing.
Sophie thought about Steven and felt happy for him. But happiness sometimes had a bitter aftertaste.
She halted. The horizon wavered in the light of the setting sun, and she turned to face Martin.
“Is something wrong?” he asked, worry lines creasing his forehead.
Sophie put a hand on his arm. “You’re a good man, Martin. Scruffy, but good. I’ve got a lot of … turmoil in my head right now. Later on, that may manifest in me snapping and shouting at people, or it may manifest in me getting drunk and taking you to bed.”
His startled expression made her want to either hug him or lead him into the tunnels and seduce him. The dichotomy of the man was attractive, even when she’d lost her patience with his awkwardness. But now they were leaving. The job was over, and she had nowhere to go and no one to go home to, even if she wanted to go home. A door had closed.
“I think the shouting is more likely,” Martin managed, reaching up to tuck his curly hair behind his ears, which also served to break the contact she’d initiated.
“So do I,” she agreed. “But I thought I should warn you, either way.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “It’s appreciated.” Not taking her seriously.
Sophie sought his gaze, made sure he wouldn’t look away. “You’ve been passive-aggressively flirting with me for most of the time we’ve been here.”
“That’s not … Okay, that’s a little true. But I—”
She shrugged. “I just wanted you to know. If anything happens before we leave here, I’d just be using you to drown my sorrows. No different from getting myself wrecked on a bottle of one of Lamar’s fancy whiskeys.”
“So I’d be fancy whiskey, then? Not the crappy stuff.”
“You’re not listening to me.”
Martin slipped his hands into his pockets as if he were afraid of what he might do with them. “I’m listening. But like you said, you’re in turmoil. We’ve all got a lot on our plates right now. On the other hand, I’m an adult. I’ve been someone’s drunken mistake before.”
“You’re sure I wouldn’t break you?” she asked, teasing now. Flirting with him in a way she never had. It felt irresponsible and stupid, but she had to keep her shit together in every other way, so maybe this was harmless. Maybe.
“My heart would be fine,” he assured her.
“Oh, sweet boy,” Sophie said, eyes widening. “I wasn’t talking about your heart.”
With that, she turned and continued down the slope, a grin on her face. It took a few steps before she heard the stunned Martin following, and she liked that. She had no intention of sleeping with him—at least, she didn’t think so—but she’d been so professional and focused for so long, it felt good to be bad.
The whiskey, though … that part had been the truth.
* * *
“Can I ask you a question?”
Walker glanced toward the privacy curtain that hung across the entrance to his quarters and saw Kim standing there, curtain drawn back, filtration mask in place. The room had most recently housed members of the archaeological dig—grad students and professors who had already departed—but the echoes of its ancient residents remained. Carved into the soft yellow stone, the room had no doors or windows. Anyone could come and go as they wished.
Which was how Kim had arrived without him hearing her approach.
Walker studied her. “Of course you can.”
She gave him a sheepish look. “I’d have knocked, but…”
“But there’s no door to knock on.”
“Exactly. Anyway, it seems to me we are overdue for a conversation.”
Walker frowned. To him, their roles in this place seemed clearly defined. Kim had her job to do, and she had already begun to do it. Calls had been made and the United Nations had put plans in motion. In many ways, although this was Sophie’s project and although they were within the jurisdiction of the Iraqi government and the Kurdish autonomous district, Kim had become the de facto authority on the site, and that suited him very well.
“I’m not sure what we need to discuss,” Walker said. His voice sounded muffled behind his mask.
Kim laughed softly. Shaking her head, she let the curtain fall and crossed to one of the empty cots, where she perched on the edge.
“You’re a spy,” she said quietly, her voice a soft rasp.
Walker scoffed. “Seong, come on. You know that’s not what I do.”
“It’s close enough,” she whispered, eyes narrowing. “I am the only person here who knows who you really work for. I’m the only one who knows that you lie about your mission objectives.”
He spread his hands wide. “You know those things because I trust you.”
“I know them because of what we went through together,” Kim replied. “Not because of what happened with us afterward.”
Walker decided to sit after all. He took a spot on the cot across from her and searched her eyes. “You talk about it as if we gave one another some kind of virus.”
“Your job won’t allow me to trust you completely,” Kim said. “And it’s not fair of you to ask or expect it.”
That quieted him.
“Just promise me this,” she went on. “Promise you won’t make a move regarding the jar without telling me about it. If something happens, if you have to act, be honest with me about it.”
Walker regarded her carefully. If he did as she asked, especially if it compromised his goals, he could be fired, even brought up on charges.
“I can do that,” he said.
A moment passed between them. The room grew strangely warm, and he felt her nearness. Only a few feet away, hair framing her face so that her eyes seemed veiled in shadow. He wanted to touch her.
Instead, he laughed quietly. “Can you believe this?”
“Believe what?”
Walker gestured to the walls around them. “This. Underground city. Pandora’s fucking box. Countries ready to kill for it.”
“Jar,” she corrected.
“Pandora’s fucking jar.”
“Yes,” Kim said quietly, glancing at the door, apparently to make sure no one overheard them. “Humans have been digging up terrifying things since the first time we buried something dangerous. We fight over such things the way dogs fight over a bone. This is only the latest bone.”
Walker stood and went to the entrance, glanced out at the empty corridor, and then turned to face her again. “My first responsibility is to make sure the wrong dog doesn’t get that bone.”
Kim opened her hands. “The question then becomes, who is the ‘right’ dog?”
“That’s going to be up to the U.N.”
She stood, smoothing her shirt. “Dr. Tang’s phone calls turned up results faster than mine. Techs are on the premises from USAMRIID.” She spoke the acronym like a word—you-sam-rid—but Walker knew the army institute well. He’d dealt with them before.
“Good to know. I’ll breathe a little easier knowing steps are being tak
en to isolate the jar. Just in case.”
“They’re in hazmat suits,” Kim said. “It’s a little unsettling, to be honest. I wonder if we should be topside with the soldiers instead of down here with the jar.”
Walker smiled, though he knew she couldn’t see it. “I don’t have a choice. I need to stay down here, make sure the jar is safe. My guess is that it’s all for nothing, that there’s nothing but dust in that jar, but better safe than sorry.”
“That’s sort of the motto of both our employers,” Kim said.
Walker nodded. “Speaking of your employer, any word from them on a decision?”
“A day or two before they decide about the disposition of the jar,” she replied. “The sooner the better.”
Walker did not tell her that he had spoken to his own superiors as well or that David Boudreau had told him that he should stand ready to claim the jar should the U.N.’s decision be what DARPA would consider unwise. She would assume it.
“Dr. Durand has called a meeting of all personnel,” Kim went on. “I’m not sure if that includes us, but I thought it would be polite to attend.”
“That’s starting now?”
“A few minutes ago. Probably already under way.”
Walker gestured for her to precede him out of the chamber. The unearthly quality of the city struck him as they made their way down a curved staircase and then along a narrow switchback corridor that descended three levels before opening into a balcony that overlooked the so-called grand foyer.
Perhaps a hundred feet from the entrance into the underground city, reached through a twisting corridor that barely hinted at the space inside, the grand foyer rose into a four-level atrium, the junction of many stairways, ramps, and corridors. It was a marvel of architecture, carved by hand, and as Walker gazed around at the dozens of people gathered to hear what Sophie had to say, the tension with Kim was momentarily forgotten.
“It’s so beautiful,” she said quietly as if reading his mind.
“You don’t think it’s a little creepy?” he whispered.
Kim gave a nod. “Maybe a little.”
They fell silent then, because Sophie had begun to address the personnel gathered below. She thanked them for their efforts and announced the arrival of the techs from USAMRIID, as well as the steps that would be taken over the next twenty-four hours. Walker glanced around at the project staff, identifying the few faces he already knew and wondering about the others. Then he noticed a conspicuous absence and furrowed his brow.
The Pandora Room: A Novel Page 9