The Treasures of Suleiman

by The Treasures of Suleiman (retail) (epub)

  ‘You are a fascinating man, Brandon Walker,’ she thought to herself. For the first time since meeting him, India realised that she found him very attractive and wondered for a few moments what their relationship could be like if circumstances were different. It was a pleasing thought but she dismissed the prospect immediately. Brandon was a man of action and had led a life of adventure. She was a just a plain and boring librarian who probably bored him to death half the time. She sighed and went to stare out of the window.

  In the bathroom, Brandon pondered India’s last comment. She was an attractive woman and they had a professional working relationship, but if he thought there was a possibility of something more, something special…

  He stepped into the shower and deliberately turned the temperature down to force the thoughts away. Ten minutes later he was fully dressed and walked with India to the dining room. The map was still on the table and India spent the next few moments explaining her findings. Finally she turned to him.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked.

  ‘It all looks so simple now you’ve explained it,’ said Brandon. ‘It’s just frustrating we didn’t see it before.’

  ‘Hindsight is a wonderful gift,’ said India. ‘So, what do we do now? Do we tell him or not?’

  ‘I think we have to,’ said Brandon. ‘If he doesn’t have any answers this morning, he could lose patience and have Kosta do something stupid. At least this way it gives us some extra time, and if we can get to land then our chances of escape become a whole lot better.’

  ‘OK,’ said India. ‘Shall we wake him?’

  ‘No, let’s enjoy the quiet while we can. I could do with a coffee though, I suppose we could wake Basil.’

  ‘No,’ said India. ‘Come on, I’ll make us some in my room.’

  They went back to India’s cabin, and ten minutes later were sipping coffee on her balcony, watching the sun rise. Both watched in silence and over the next ten minutes, India enjoyed the quiet company of the man she was falling for. Unbeknownst to her, Brandon was thinking a very similar thing.

  * * *

  At nine o’clock, Brandon and India were summoned to the dining room. Breakfast had been served in their rooms and there was an air of sombreness amongst everyone present. Brandon looked around the room. Helga and Diane were sitting on the settee, sipping coffee and talking quietly between themselves. Abbas leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, while Basil fussed around the side table with the coffee making facilities. India and Brandon sat quietly at the table and they all waited for the arrival of Hundar.

  A few minutes later the door swung open and Hundar entered, closely followed by Kosta.

  ‘Well,’ said Hundar, ‘have you got any news for me?’

  ‘Actually, we have,’ said India, causing everyone to turn their gaze toward them.

  ‘It had better be good,’ said Hundar.

  ‘Oh, it is,’ said India. ‘First of all, you are three hundred miles away from where you should be.’

  Hundar’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘What do you mean, the wrong place? You told me the map shows that the treasure lies here on Hispaniola. Are you now saying you were wrong?’

  ‘No, the map does indeed show the treasure as being here, but we didn’t understand the last verse, and that makes all the difference.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the poem has a twist in the tail.’

  ‘Show me.’

  India approached the map and picked up a copy of the poem.

  ‘So far,’ she said, ‘the rest of the poem has placed the location here. You can see the tiny triangle where the lines do not quite meet, over the centre of Hispaniola. Naturally we assumed that was the exact location, but that meant the whole mystery was solved. If that was the case, why add the last verse? For the last few days we have scoured the map, trying to find where the lines refer to, but then I realised, the next two lines are not a clue to the location but an instruction to any person who may have succeeded in deciphering the poem up to that point.’

  ‘I’m not with you,’ said Hundar.

  ‘The line says, “only his words show the true way”,’ said India, ‘and then goes on to say “Lower your gaze, for such is his word”. We have already established that there is a representation of Selim on the map and he is lowering his gaze, as the poem instructs. We also know that the rhumb line that extends from him across the Atlantic crosses the main compass rose on the map and is the important line that makes the triangulation. However, if we do as the poem asks and lower our gaze to the next rhumb line emanating from the rose, we will see that it goes slightly further south, dissecting a completely different and much smaller island.’

  Hundar stared at the map.

  ‘You are right,’ he said, ‘but there are several islands there and no names.’

  ‘I know,’ said India. ‘They are a chain of islands that make up the Lesser Antilles islands in the Caribbean, but the map is too indistinct to make out the exact one.”

  ‘So how does that help us?’

  ‘Well, that’s where the last line comes in. It was Piri Reis’ last clue to the world as to which island is the correct one. “Seek his tribute on the infidel day of rest” is yet another play on words. It is not a reference to a time but a place.’

  ‘I don’t follow,’ said Hundar.

  ‘Well, this is where it gets clever,’ said India. ‘As we know, Kemal Reis was in possession of one of Christopher Columbus’ maps, correct?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Hundar.

  ‘So for a moment, we will assume Columbus was the infidel in question, and that means the day of rest in question was the Christian one, a Sunday.’

  ‘It still doesn’t make sense,’ said Hundar.

  ‘Stay with me,’ said India. ‘Columbus made four voyages to the new world, landing each time in Hispaniola, but on the first voyage he spotted a small yet mountainous island on the horizon, and though he never landed on that first voyage, he named it after the day of the week on which it was first spied.’

  ‘I have holidayed throughout the Caribbean,’ said Hundar, ‘and have never heard of an island called Sunday.’

  ‘Neither have I,’ said India, ‘but then I realised it wouldn’t be in English but Spanish, and guess what the Spanish for Sunday is?’

  ‘What?’ asked Hundar.

  ‘Domingo,’ said Diane from across the room.

  ‘Exactly,’ said India. ‘The words “Seek his tribute on the infidel day of rest” mean seek his tribute on Domingo. Over the years the name has been adopted all over the world and has changed slightly, but essentially it is the same. The island we are looking for is Dominica.’

  ‘And it’s about three hundred miles in that direction,’ said Brandon, pointing vaguely to his left.

  ‘And the devil’s cup?’

  ‘Is a reference to a small thermal lake in one of Dominica’s national parks,’ said India. ‘A flooded fumarole, or crack in the earth’s crust, that is flooded by water but heated by volcanic activity.’

  ‘And is it accessible?’ asked Hundar.

  ‘Definitely,’ said India. ‘In fact it is one of Dominica’s most popular tourist attractions.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ asked Diane.

  ‘I’d like to say I already knew,’ said India, ‘but in this case, it was down to Brandon.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I am happy to take the credit on this one,’ said Brandon. ‘I visited Dominica once on a cruise holiday. I only spent a day there, so didn’t have time to get up to the lake, but I remember distinctly everyone talking about it. It fits the description perfectly.’

  ‘It all seems feasible,’ said Hundar. ‘Tell me, how big is this lake?’

  ‘Not very,’ said Brandon. ‘If I recall correctly, about a hundred and fifty foot across. It depends on the time of year.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because at certain times of the year, the water virtually disappears before r
eturning a few weeks later.’

  ‘So that means if the treasures are there, they could be accessible?’ said Hundar.

  ‘Possibly,’ said Brandon, ‘but we don’t think the treasure will be under the water.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It wouldn’t make any sense. Back then it would have been impossible to retrieve, and if all he wanted to do was to get rid of his treasure then he may as well have thrown it overboard back in the Mediterranean. No, we think it will be hidden somewhere very close to the Boiling Lake, but not actually in it.’

  Silence fell in the room before Hundar finally turned to Diane.

  ‘Go and tell the captain to set a course for Dominica,’ he said. ‘If we leave now, we can be there by tomorrow morning.’ He turned back to Brandon. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘it seems you have earned yourself a reprieve. We will visit this ‘devil’s cup’, as you call it, and if you are correct, you may just have bought your lives. If not, then we will be returning to Turkey, minus two passengers.’

  * * *

  India and Brandon both walked to the waiting Land Rovers. They had been locked in their cabins aboard the yacht as they docked in Dominica and after Helga had taken care of the paperwork, they had been led off the swing gangway and into the waiting vehicles. Abbas held the arm of India, while Kosta walked immediately behind Brandon.

  A few minutes later, both vehicles wove their way through the busy streets toward the edge of the port. Brandon peered over the shoulder of the driver toward the lead vehicle, where India was being closely guarded by Abbas.

  ‘So, what’s the plan?’ asked Brandon to Helga, sitting in the passenger seat. ‘Or won’t your lord and master allow you to say anything.’

  ‘It is no secret,’ answered Helga. ‘We’ve hired some guides and will be trekking up to the lake as a group. As far as everyone is concerned, we are no more than a group of tourists, eager to see the phenomenon.’

  ‘And when we get there?’

  ‘We will assess the situation and act accordingly.’

  ‘But what about the tourists, the guides and the rangers? That area is a famous tourist attraction and will be swarming with people.’

  ‘We have already arranged for that part of the park to be closed to the public,’ said Helga. ‘It cost Mr Hundar quite a lot, but with immediate effect the roads are being closed and the tourists already up there are being brought down. They are being told there is a suspected smallpox outbreak and the area needs to be quarantined.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Brandon. ‘Why would the Dominican government do this?’

  ‘Because they have been told that there is the possibility of oil in the region, and Mr Hundar is an investor who wants to see the land for himself. Of course, the officials involved have been handsomely rewarded and have been given the promise that should the suspicions be correct, then they will become very, very rich men.’

  ‘More lies,’ said Brandon.

  ‘Unfortunate but necessary,’ said Helga. ‘Anyway, here we are.’

  The Land Rover pulled up alongside the other vehicle and everyone got out. Rucksacks were handed around by the guides.

  ‘What are these for?’ asked India.

  ‘There’s food and water in there,’ said Helga. ‘It’s a three-hour walk and not a tea room in sight.’

  ‘Very funny,’ said India.

  Hundar handed over a wad of cash to the guides before approaching the group.

  ‘Right,’ he said, ‘you are both alive because I am a man of my word. You have brought us this far, and if your reasoning is proved correct, then we may come to an arrangement regarding your continued good health. However, let’s make this as plain as I can.’ He turned to Kosta. ‘Kosta, if either of these two escape, you will immediately kill the one left behind and then hunt down the escapee. If both escape, I will hold you and your people personally responsible. Do I make myself clear?’

  Kosta nodded, and to emphasise the point his hand sought the handle of his curved dagger.

  ‘Good,’ said Hundar. ‘Now, let’s not waste any more time.’ He waved at the two guides leaning against one of the cars and in response they shouldered their rucksacks before leading the group up a well-defined path toward some distant hills.

  ‘Great,’ said India to Brandon, ‘a day’s hiking in a humid jungle, that’s all I need.’

  ‘Don’t stress, India,’ said Brandon. ‘This is good. Trust me, this is very good.’

  Chapter 19

  Ricardo was nervous. Tomorrow was his sixteenth birthday and he was to be initiated into the inner circles of the Kalinago. The Kalinago were the true blood Caribs who had inhabited the eastern part of the island since the government had set aside a large swathe of territory to be designated Carib land. Not every sixteen-year-old would be initiated, as the honour only fell through certain bloodlines, and those lucky enough to be honoured in such a way were feted as the descendants of kings and shamans.

  Most boys of his age were more interested in the bars and bright lights of Roseau city, the capital of the island. There were certainly more job prospects there, especially in the tourist trade, but Ricardo was happy living on the family farm, tending their crops and fishing along the coastline near to Crayfish River. His family were deeply passionate about their cultural heritage and they even lived in a traditional Carib hut, painstakingly built by his father and his uncles. Only a handful of these huts remained as most of the Carib people followed the ways of the rest of the island, but those of the Kalinago followed the old ways as far as was practical and fiercely defended their ancient traditions, which included living off the land, initiating the young men into the tribal ways of the ancestors and the ancient practice of Obeah.

  Obeah was discouraged on the island and the authorities believed it had died out generations earlier, but whilst that was indeed the case for most of the population, there were a few, particularly in the Carib region, who still practised its magical arts in secret. The tradition was a mixture of beliefs taken from a range of religions across the Caribbean. Unlike the more famous Voodoo rituals practised on nearby Haiti, Obeah took its influence from all sides of the religious spectrum and included Christianity amongst its influences. However, by embracing Christian beliefs, by default it also accepted the existence of the devil, and by implication included strong references to the underworld.

  The Day of the Devil was one such ceremony, and though the date was flexible, it always coincided with the coming of age of one of the young men, for it was on these nights that the followers of Obeah carried out the most important ceremony of them all, the interment of Satan.

  Ricardo was excited yet terrified, for it was incumbent upon him to seal again the devil’s tomb. The ceremony was attended by all the Kalinago men and took place over two days. Legend had it that the devil himself once rose from hell and lured the people of the islands into a life of depravity, offering them riches beyond their wildest dreams in return for worship as the true god, but he was stopped in his tracks by an innocent boy from the Kalinago who pierced his black heart with a spear. Satan’s bribe was thus rejected and his body sent back to hell where it belonged, along with his cursed temptations, and since that day, the rejection had been re-enacted by any sixteen-year-old male who wished to become a true Kalinago.

  Ricardo contemplated the two days in front of him. He had to discard all modern clothing and equipment, before venturing into the forest wearing nothing but a traditional Carib grass skirt and carrying a spear and a knife. With only these aids, he had to hunt and kill a forest pig, bringing its head back to the hidden clearing in the forest where the ceremony would take place. If he was successful, the head of the animal would be placed on the devil’s headstone, an inscribed rock at the base of a cliff, thus sealing the devil’s tomb once more. If Ricardo was unsuccessful, he knew that a live cockerel would be sacrificed in its place, and whilst this was acceptable, Ricardo knew that if he managed to catch one of the few feral pigs in their territory, th
en the gods of Obeah would smile on the Carib and bestow bountiful seasons upon them.

  Ricardo had been trained in the art of trail following by his grandfather and had once even seen a wild pig from a distance, but now the time was upon him, he felt that to catch one was beyond his wildest dreams.

  He looked around. The elders of the Kalinago stood in a circle, their eyes glazed by the strong tobacco that was so much part of their culture. Each was wearing traditional dress and each carried their own ceremonial spear. Behind them, the younger men beat a mesmerising rhythm on the drums of their ancestors. Ricardo’s father stood forward and held out the ceremonial spear, said to be the actual one that had struck down the devil, the haft a dirty brown from years of blood and sweat. Ricardo knew that every man present wished him well on his task, but of the group that now encircled him, only four had ever brought back a pig’s head. His father placed his hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Walk softly, son,’ he said, ‘and bring us blood.’

  Ricardo nodded silently, and with the sound of the hardwood drums echoing in his ears, ran into the surrounding jungle.

  * * *

  India opened her rucksack and retrieved one of the four bottles of water within. She cracked the lid and drank deeply, her thirst deepened by the latest steep climb. She and Brandon sat on a large rock, taking a breather from the trail. Though it wasn’t too strenuous, it was certainly tiring and the last two hours had taken its toll.

  The guides were talking to Hundar a few yards away while Abbas and Helga stood together, peering back down the valley they had just climbed. Colourful parrots glided in pairs across the canopy below and in the distance, the clear blue sea beckoned tantalisingly to their tired and sweating bodies. Kosta stood alone at the end of the clearing, eating from a pack he had prepared himself back on the boat.