THE MAHABHARATA QUEST:THE ALEXANDER SECRET (2 page)

Thinking swiftly, he made up his mind. He had one advantage over the caller. No one knew about the two journals he had found along with the papyri. He hadn’t told Dunn or anyone else about it. Both journals were in English and one was a translation of the contents of the papyri, a fact that had been emblazoned across the first page of the journal in Fuller’s handwriting. If the translation had surprised him, the second journal had left him dumbfounded. Dazed.

If the two journals together meant what he thought they did, then this discovery was more than just unearthing meaningless documents that were thousands of years old.

The future of the world could be at stake.

The copier spat out the last copy. Ashford hurriedly gathered up the papers and stapled them together. Gathering the two sets of photocopies, he stuffed them into an envelope and scrawled the recipient’s address with shaking hands that revealed his state of mind. For a few moments he stared at the sealed envelope as if reconsidering his course of action.

He called his colleague, from the architecture department, who had offered to drop off the package at the FedEx office downtown. Five minutes later, the package was safely on its way to its destination.

After his colleague left with the package, Ashford slumped in his chair. He had done everything he could to ensure that he was not the only one who knew what the journals contained. He was a simple man with a strong sense of duty. Even in this situation, the thought that the journals themselves could have been despatched to his friend had not crossed his mind. They were the property of the college and had to stay here. Like the papyrus texts. His solution had been to photocopy the journals and send them off instead.

Ashford knew what was in store for him. His mysterious caller didn’t sound like the kind of person who liked being trifled with. He had no idea what to do next to protect himself. He had thought of making a run for it, but where could he go? This college had been his life for the last thirty-five years and he had not stepped out of the campus in all that time, except for the one occasion when he had attended a conference in Washington DC, in 1983. That was the time he had made his only friend outside the college, a historian from India who was speaking at the conference on the subject of preserving ancient documents. They had hit it off, surprisingly, and stayed in touch over the years. It was this friend whom he had now sent the photocopies to.

Resigned to what was to come, he closed his eyes and began praying. A devout Catholic, this was his only succour when he had problems.

The sound of footsteps approaching his office made him open his eyes. Five men entered and fanned out along the walls. He could see the bulge in their jackets indicating shoulder holsters. They were armed. Except for the one in the centre, a tall man with coal-black eyes and an intense look on his face as if he was perpetually in deep philosophical thought. He was clearly the leader of this pack.

The unarmed man’s eyes alighted on the papyrus documents on Ashford’s desk. ‘Ah, I see you’ve kept them ready for me.’ He made it sound as if he was appreciative, but the menacing look on his face never changed. At a gesture, one of his men picked up the papyri and carefully eased them into a leather briefcase he was carrying.

Ashford stared at them defiantly. He still had an ace up his sleeve. The two journals he had photocopied, which were now safely in a drawer in his desk.

‘You have something more for me, don’t you?’ the
leader said.

‘What do you mean? I’ve given you the papyrus documents.’ Ashford hoped he could carry this off without betraying himself. He had always been useless at lying.

‘The two journals in Englis
h that you found with these documents.’ His voice was hard, ‘You weren’t meaning to tell me about them, were you? You thought we didn’t know.’

Ashford’s jaw dropped open.
How did they know?
He hadn’t told anyone about them.

The leader of the pack nodded and one of the men lashed out with a clenched fist. Ashford cried out in pain, as the goon’s fist connected with his nose, breaking it. Blood streamed down his face.

‘Search his desk.’ The leader commanded. Three men swiftly rifled through the drawers. One of them found the journals and held them aloft before slipping them into the briefcase with the papyri.

The leader then leaned forward and fixed Ashford with a stare. ‘You know, I was going to kill you after taking the documents. But you’ve just made me change my mind. I’m going to take you with us. You’re going to disappear. Like old Fuller. And you’re going to wish I had killed you instead.’

1

PRESENT DAY

DAY ONE

North of Korinos and south of Markigialos, Greece

Alice held her cellphone to her ear as she listened to the endless ring at the other end of the line. Her face betrayed her frustration and hinted at the seeds of anger being sowed as a result of multiple calls all ending with the same result.

No response.

She clicked her tongue in exasperation as the call disconnected yet again. She knew by now that she wouldn’t get a call back.

Why do I even bother calling?

She stared glumly at her phone for a few moments before stuffing it into her pocket. It wasn’t easy managing a relationship long distance. She had been camping here for the better part of the last twelve months as part of an international team put together by the Greek-American Archaeological Mission of Pydna. The mission was on the cusp of revealing to the world one of ancient Greece’s most puzzling secrets. The long months apart had taken a toll on her relationship, culminating in an acrimonious slanging match that had taken place two weeks ago. Her boyfriend hadn’t called back since then. And he hadn’t picked up any of her calls either.

Bloody idiot.
If he didn’t have the courtesy to apologise, the least he could do was take her call so she could try and patch the relationship back together again. Unless…she pushed the unpleasant thought away with a shake of her head.

Her brooding was interrupted by an excited student, breathless from his dash through the tunnel that led to what was expected to be the discovery of the century – a tomb that had not been opened for over 2000 years. A tomb that had been the subject of much speculation for the last 150 years. The excavation team had been assisted by a contingent of over fifty students and an army of local workers, while the two co-directors of the project, a Greek and an American, were based in Thessaloniki, around 50 kilometres away via the E75 toll road.

‘Alice, we’ve broken through to the tomb entrance!’ The excitement in his voice was palpable and infectious. ‘C’mon, hurry up!’ The words were hardly out of his mouth than he was retracing his steps to the opening of the shaft that led to the tunnel deep below the earth.

All concerns of her boyfriend banished from her mind, Alice adjusted her backpack and turned to follow the student, her thoughts flitting back to the moment, eighteen months ago, when she had been approached to join the team.

It was ironic that she had just met her boyfriend at the time the invitation came. She had been wallowing in the wake of the incident which she never spoke of anymore. At that time, she was struggling to put it behind her, and she had finally managed to bury it deep in the recesses of her mind like a centuries-old secret. He had been such a support to her then, and she had been grateful to him for it. After dating for a couple of months, she had moved in with him – until she had been called away for this excavation. And today, when she was about to unveil one of the last great secrets of ancient Greece, it looked like he wasn’t there for her anymore.

As she followed the student to the tomb, she recalled her meeting with Kurt Wallace, the billionaire philanthropist. Wallace was funding this excavation through his Wallace Archaeological Trust, an organization devoted to archaeology and the study of ancient civilisations. He was also the man behind the “Forgotten Roots” movement: a counter-evolutionary initiative of the Trust based on the five books he had authored. The common theme of the books was the hypothesis that humanity had forgotten its roots and turned to an erroneous theory based on the concept of evolution, when the true origins of humankind were hidden deep in the ancient myths of cultures across the world.

Alice had heard and read about Wallace but had never really given much thought to what her opinion was about him and his theories. But she had been blown away by the man’s intellectual capacity and his genteel, refined manner. And, of course, by the ornate trappings of his stately mansion where she had been summoned to meet him.

The meeting had lasted precisely ten minutes, and Wallace had opened the conversation by getting to the point.

‘The reason I have requested your presence on the team is because of your rich expertise, among other things, concerning the era of Alexander the Great and the years prior to and after his death,’ he began, after the formalities of greetings and asking her if she wished to be served any refreshments.

This opening remark had ignited her curiosity and she stared back at the tall figure of Wallace, standing by the window of his study, the portrait of an aristocrat with his finely cut suit, silk tie, rugged face and salt and pepper hair.

Wallace smiled at her, knowing that she’d taken the bait. ‘You see, my research team at the Trust has unearthed a clue to one of ancient Greece’s most enduring mysteries. And it has everything to do with Alexander the Great.’

He had gone on to explain the nature and purpose of the mission and the composition of the team. By the time he finished, she would have paid to sign on for this project.

‘Watch your step here,’ the voice of the student intruded once more on her thoughts. ‘The roof of the tunnel is lower from here on.’ They had scrambled down the shaft and made their way through the tunnel, aiming for the light from the portable lamps that grew stronger as they advanced.

They hurried through the tunnel as fast as they could in the beam of the student’s torchlight and finally emerged in a cube shaped chamber with smooth stone walls.

Two portable LED pole lights stood in diagonally opposite corners, lighting up the little space.

‘Thank you, Marco,’ Alice smiled at the student, as he switched off his flashlight.

‘The mother-lode, quite literally.’ Damon, the other archaeologist on the team, a pudgy, black-haired man in his late forties, pointed to the entrance to the tomb that they had painstakingly excavated over the last twelve months.

Alice saw stacks of containers in the chamber. These were padded containers used to gather artefacts from excavation sites to transport them safely to labs where they could be tested, dated and examined more thoroughly. ‘We’re picking up stuff from here?’ She was a bit taken aback. This was against standard archaeological procedure, where every artefact has to be photographed, tagged, mapped and measured to the last detail before being removed from the site.

‘Orders from HQ. Our directors gave me specific instructions to remove every moveable artefact and secure them all in the dig hut,’ Damon replied, studying her curiously. ‘Where have you been?’

Alice shook her head, trying to keep her emotions at bay. ‘I noticed that you sent everyone else away.’ On their way to the shaft entrance, they had passed the other students and workers heading the other way and she had realised that Damon was planning a private preview of the tomb.

‘I sent them off,’ he replied, grinning at her. ‘I thought you and I should have the privilege of opening this tomb by ourselves.’ He glanced at the student. ‘With a little help from Marco, of course. Lucky guy.’ He winked at Marco, who grinned back.

‘There’s no door here,’ Alice frowned. ‘All the Hellenistic tombs have doors.’

Damon shrugged. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’ His face betrayed his anxiety. Had they laboured so hard for so many months only to be disappointed?

Alice took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. She nodded to Damon who beckoned to Marco. The student hefted one of the pole lights and carried it through the open doorway, into the tomb. As Alice and Damon entered the tomb, he returned for the other lamp, his eyes glistening with excitement.

‘There are two chambers,’ Damon whispered. ‘Just like the other Macedonian tombs. Barrel vaulted. It’s Hellenistic alright.’

Alice found herself standing in a small antechamber, the walls covered with murals of a woman in colourful robes, commanding armies, instructing men and generally assuming the pose of a leader in charge.

She looked at Damon and saw the excitement on his face as well. They had been right about this.

‘The tomb of a queen,’ Damon breathed. ‘At last the world will see her resting place.’

Alice moved through the doorway separating the antechamber from the burial chamber within, Damon following her.

As she entered the chamber, Alice gasped. She had been prepared to find a sarcophagus, a larnax, or even a mummy. But the sight that greeted her eyes was something that made her hair stand on end.
 

2

R.K. Puram, New Delhi

Imran Kidwai, Special Director at the Indian Intelligence Bureau, contemplated the day’s events as he was being driven home.

Six months ago, after the dust raised by a terror threat to the G20 nations and the discovery of an ancient secret from the Mahabharata had died down, the governments of the US and India had decided to set up a joint task force to monitor and investigate leads to technology based terrorism. The idea had stemmed from the attempt by a shadowy global group to partner with terrorists to use cutting edge technology based on the secret from the Mahabharata with the objective of global political and economic domination. The plot had been foiled but the enemy still existed. And the entire episode had demonstrated that there were enough people out there who would not have any scruples about using technology to achieve their ends.

Imran had willingly embraced the idea of a task force that was supported politically and had the authority and responsibility to investigate potential leads for techno-terrorism. But he had met the leader of the task force for the first time only today. And he didn’t like what he saw. What was worse was, having backed the idea to the hilt initially, there was no way for him to withdraw from the task force. It was a difficult situation.

The email alert from his Blackberry intruded on his thoughts.
Not tonight.
Normally, he welcomed the challenge of an after office hours email. It usually meant there was a problem to be solved. And Imran was nothing if not a problem solver. A true Gemini, he loved nothing more than the novelty of a new crisis rearing its ugly head. It gave him the variety his nature sought as a natural diversion from his routine work.

He glanced at his email inbox. What he saw there made him sit up immediately. It was an email from a ghost.

The tomb of a Queen

As Damon and Alice entered the inner chamber an eerie sight greeted them in the diffused light that filtered through the doorway from the lone lamp in the outer chamber.

In the centre of the room lay a stone larnax, plain and unadorned. There was no other object in the room. But it was not the emptiness of the chamber or the simplicity of the larnax that stood out.

On the wall of the chamber facing the doorway, an immense stone snake seemed to emerge from the floor of the tomb. The massive coils of the snake’s body wound from the floor, across the length of the far wall, up to the roof of the chamber, terminating in a massive five-headed hood, which protruded from the wall for around three feet over the stone larnax on the floor below. Its enormous jaws gaped open and its fangs were bared, as if expressing displeasure at an unwelcome intrusion.

Like a protective
shelter
for the larnax.
Alice couldn’t help the thought flashing through her head. As it was in life, so it was in death for this queen.

Adding to this surreal vision were the carvings on the remaining walls of the chamber. There were serpents carved in bold relief, coiled, hissing, and stretched out. In the dim light, they looked like stone shadows about to leap off the wall.

Marco staggered in with both the pole lights and stopped short as he saw the strange decoration in the tomb.

‘What on earth is this?’ he whispered, overawed.

Alice looked at her two companions excitedly. ‘It
is
her tomb!’ Her voice trembled with the thrill of the discovery. For the last twelve months they had been hoping that their guess about the occupant of the tomb had been correct. Now, all doubts were laid to rest.

‘Um… you’ll want to see this.’ Marco had been walking around the chamber, studying the carvings. The chamber was fairly large, at least fifty feet in length. Marco was now standing in the far corner of the chamber opposite the entrance, just below one of the massive coils of the snake that towered over them.

Alice and Damon hurried up to see what he had found. Hidden behind the bulk of the snake, as it reared off the wall, was an opening. They looked at each other. Was there a third chamber? This was unusual for a Hellenistic tomb.

Marco didn’t need to be told. He was already carrying one of the lamps to illuminate the hidden doorway, revealing a small chamber lined with two rows of shelves which bore stone statues and stone slabs of different sizes.

Alice and Damon proceeded to examine the contents of the shelves.

‘She certainly had a fascination for snakes,’ Damon remarked, studying a five-inch-tall statuette carved from stone which depicted a beautiful, young woman trapped in the coils of an enormous serpent which was wrapped around her from head to toe.

Alice nodded. ‘Remember that Alexander III was said to have been fathered by a serpent. I guess the stories about her fascination for snakes were true after all.’

‘This is amazing,’ Damon remarked as he read the inscriptions on a square tablet, which was around ten inches long. ‘These texts can fill in many of the gaps about what actually happened after Alexander the Great died.’

Alice nodded, as she studied the tablets and statuettes on the shelves.

Damon looked at his watch. ‘We should inform HQ. They’re waiting for us. They’ll want to leave right away to see this for themselves.’

‘Mmm. Why don’t you carry on to the hotel and wait for them? I’ll finish photographing the tomb.’ Alice was already pulling out the camera from her bag. ‘I’ll also tag the artefacts and pack them in the containers.’

‘Thanks. I’ll send Marco back for you.’ Damon smiled at her and left, followed by Marco.

Alice looked around as an enormous sigh escaped her. This was the high point of her career as an archaeologist. She busied herself clicking photographs of the chambers, the larnax and the murals.

After she had finished, she turned her attention to the artefacts in the hidden chamber, carefully photographing each one before she packed them in the padded containers.

‘Hey, what’s this?’ she muttered to herself as she picked up the final artefact, a yellowing cube with inscriptions on five sides. It had been hidden until now behind the statuettes and clay tablets. At first she thought it was made from ancient bone which had discoloured over the centuries. But, as she turned it over in her hands and studied it in the light of the lamps, she realised that it was actually carved from ivory. The “cross-hatch” or wavy pattern that is so distinctive in ivory was clearly visible in the strong light of the lamps.

‘Ivory in Madeconia two thousand four hundred years ago?’ she muttered to herself. ‘That’s strange. There weren’t elephants in these parts.’

‘You done?’

Alice jumped and almost dropped the cube. She turned to see Marco grinning at her.

‘You startled me,’ she complained light-heartedly. ‘Don’t go doing that to folks who are alone in dark ancient tombs.’

‘Sorry,’ Marco grinned back, his voice betraying his excitement. It wasn’t every day that a student got to be a part of a discovery like this. ‘But you were talking to yourself, so I couldn’t resist it. Damon’s spoken to HQ. They’re on their way. Oh, by the way, Damon asked you to get the cube with you. Apparently the directors want to see it.’ He indicated the ivory cube that Alice was still holding.

‘Sure. I just need to photograph and tag it.’ She photographed all the sides of the cube, placed it in a container like the other artefacts and then dumped the container in her backpack along with the camera.

‘Great. I’m done here. Let’s get these to the dig hut.’ Alice led the way out of the tomb. Together, they lugged the containers containing the artefacts to the dig hut, and carefully laid them out on the central table. Alice was sure the two directors would want to see these immediately, since they had specifically asked for them to be removed from the tomb.

‘Done.’ Marco slipped off his white gloves and looked at her expectantly.

Alice nodded. ‘Let’s go.’ They locked the door of the dig hut. There were two guards posted at the site and it was miles from anywhere, so it was unlikely that anyone would steal the artefacts. But this was the discovery of the millennium, so one couldn’t take chances.

Back at the hotel, which was little more than a cluster of rustic villas, Alice made her way to her room while Marco parked the car and left to find Damon. ‘I’ll join you guys in five minutes,’ she told Marco. She knew that she was just trying to postpone the inevitable. All through the excavations, she had avoided interacting with the two directors as far as possible, leaving Damon to brief them, report to them and take instructions where required. But tonight there was no escape. She would have to accompany Stavros and Peter, the two co-directors of the mission, to the tomb. She wasn’t very fond of either of them and she was aware that the sentiment was reciprocated by both of them. But, as one of the lead archaeologists on this mission, there was no getting away from them tonight. And, as the team’s expert on the period in which the tomb had been built, she knew the two directors would want to hear her views on the bizarre discoveries within the tomb.

As she contemplated this unwelcome thought, a staccato chopping sound filled the night. A helicopter, passing by overhead, very low. The sound of the chopper continued for a while and then suddenly died down, almost as if the machine had landed somewhere nearby.

Alice was still focused on the unpleasant task ahead of her. Sighing, she took out her laptop and camera and placed them on the desk in the room. She slipped her mobile phone and the memory stick from the camera into her waist pouch and rose to make her way to Damon’s villa.

As she placed her hand on the doorknob, an insistent tap came from the window that overlooked the garden. It was unbarred and the shade was up, so she could see Marco’s frightened face pressed against the window pane very
clearly.
It was white with fear, as if the blood had all been drained away from his face. He tapped again, with greater urgency, indicating that she should open the window.

Alice retraced her steps and let Marco in through the window. ‘What…’ she began, wondering what had terrified Marco, but stopped short as Marco burst into tears.