by D J Mcintosh
Yersan’s weapon was tucked into the holster attached to his belt, but I’d lost any inclination to fight him. “Last night,” I said. “Tell me what happened.”
“First, I want to know: What do you think of immortality?”
“I’m not sure I would call it that. How long was I unconscious?”
“You were not unconscious, you were more conscious.”
“How long was I out for?” I persisted. I looked at the strong morning sun again. “Must have been all night.”
“You’ve been gone from us for two and a half days.”
“No! That’s impossible.”
He gave me a quick look of rebuke. “Check your phone.”
I was shocked when I glanced at my cell screen.
Yersan smiled. “Did time not vanish for you? Surely that is a kind of immortality. What is immortality but an absence of time, a state of being in the present? The potion helped you suspend your day-to-day perceptions and introduced you to knowledge of the world as it really is. Knowledge that the gods possess and do not part with easily. The priest chose to become your guide; you were open to him and so he put his faith in you. Even if he’d taken the drug, Helmstetter would not have been capable of that. He’d been searching for what turned out to be a simple answer but was too blinded by his perverse beliefs in magic to comprehend it.”
Still feeling the afterglow of my journey, I sat quietly and thought about his explanation. “It was an incredible experience. Thank you.”
“I promised to tell you about your birth but I will leave that to my friend.” Yersan swept his hand toward Alaz.
“I can tell it,” Alaz said, “but before I begin, are you certain you want to know?”
Fifty
“Yes.”
“Very well then. Many years ago, a man came to Kandovan. A sorcerer who sought immortality. He’d learned about the beliefs of our people and wished to use them for his own benefit. He wanted fame and fortune for himself and would stop at nothing to get it. This is the man you call George Helmstetter.
“He was your father.”
My breath stopped. The peacefulness I’d felt vanished like the sun suddenly blocked by a storm cloud. “I thought you said Yeva bore a child out of wedlock from an Iranian, a man who came from Tabriz.”
He shrugged. “I made no mention of Iranian heritage. You assumed that. Helmstetter did come to our region by way of Tabriz.”
Evelyn was my mother and Helmstetter, my father. I wished I hadn’t heard it. Wished I’d left well enough alone. The man was loathsome and the thought of him putting his hands on Evelyn repulsed me. And Samuel, who I’d always known as my half brother, the person I’d looked up to most in the world, hadn’t shared a drop of blood with me at all.
“What happened to Helmstetter? Why did he abandon your sister?”
“I’ve told you he captivated the minds of many of the villagers and that I fell under his spell when I was a young boy. Your mother did too. As Yersan said, for millennia a small circle of Kandovan men have served as caretakers for this temple sanctuary. Helmstetter managed to persuade one of the old caretakers to bring him here— the place where he believed he’d find the power to grant him immortality. Entering the temple and defiling your mother were both a great sacrilege. When his treachery was discovered he was seized, staked to the ground on a high rocky slope, cut with knives. The men let the vultures do the rest. They picked the skeleton clean. That, they burned to a crisp. The ashes were mixed with oil and burned again until nothing was left. This is an old remedy we use against sorcerers.”
My astonishment upon learning I was Helmstetter’s son was matched by a repugnance at how he’d died. An awful thought passed through my mind. Did I take after him? Had I inherited his casual cruelty toward people?
Yersan and Alaz led me back through the underground hallway to the house. I followed in a daze of shock mixed with an overwhelming despondency.
Nick and Bennet, along with their guard, were waiting for me in the front room.
Yersan touched my arm. “I tried in every way I could to turn you back from knowledge of this place. By the threats in America, in Turkey, in the salt cave … and then by subterfuge. It seemed only to encourage you. Like your father, you are persistent no matter what the consequences. We have lost a dear friend, the man you shot. We wish to mourn him now and the other who has been gravely injured. We have nothing to fear from you and I want no more death. You are free to go.” Yersan ordered Nick’s and Bennet’s bonds removed.
Bennet threw her arms around me and I buried my face in her curls. “I never thought I’d see you again,” she murmured.
Nick rubbed his red and swollen wrists. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Madison. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I gently released myself from Bennet’s embrace but kept my arm around her. I eyed Yersan. “One thing. I’d like the artifacts I found in the salt caves back. I went through pure torture to get them.”
“They belong to the Iranian people.”
“And you’re going to give them up to the government? I doubt that.”
“For God’s sake, Madison,” Nick interjected.
Yersan smiled. Neither he nor Alaz seemed bothered. “They’ll be kept in the temple. Still on Iranian soil. And if you speak of what you have seen here, no one will believe you. You have no evidence. You were in no condition to remember where you emerged from the caves and we’ve blocked that opening now. All traces of it have been erased. I do have a parting gift for you, though. Something we don’t wish to keep. It doesn’t belong here.” He rummaged in the drawer of a little table and then held out Trithemius’s Steganographia.
I turned to Alaz. “I thought you said your father burned this.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to discourage you from seeking it and go home. My father was given a fake. My sister Yeva cleverly hid the real book at the root of an ancient cypress tree when she fled the country with you.” His eyes softened a little. “Please tell Yeva how glad we are to have news of her.”
His words touched me. He didn’t need to return the book—I’d believed his story about his father burning it—but he did anyway. I chose to think that in a corner of his heart, Alaz, my uncle, had some sympathy for me and still cared about Evelyn.
I took the book in my hands. Inside its faded, badly scarred brown leather covers the pages were held together with lead clips. “Thank you.”
“You are free to go.” Yersan held up his hand to indicate he had more to say. “Under good conditions, from here, it will take you eight hours to reach the Turkish border. That is all the time you have before we report the murder of my friend to the Iranian police. I wish you good speed.”
Fifty-One
March 17, 2005
Turkey
Nick was in no shape to drive, so I took the wheel. After we hit the highway leading back to Turkey, I asked what had happened in the salt cave.
“We heard the crash of the salt shelf breaking off and I was pretty sure I heard you yell,” Nick said. “We knew something bad had happened. I got the second length of rope to rappel down, and while Bennet and I tried to fix it around the anchor Alaz pulled a gun on us. He couldn’t have planned the accident but he sure as hell took advantage of it. He marched us back to the entrance where Yersan and some other men were waiting. I almost got free after they’d taken us to the house where you found us. But there were too many of them. They beat the shit outta me.”
“What I don’t understand is why they didn’t kill you right there.”
“I don’t know either, except it was you they really wanted to get rid of. And until they were sure you were dead, they didn’t want to take any chances with us.”
We stopped at a village to get cleaned up and change clothes before we reached the border. By the time we pulled up to the checkpoint Nick had rested up enough to take the wheel. I still had the medallion and the bowl and was sweating bricks. But Nick laid on the charm and finessed it again. We sail
ed through.
“Where do you want to go, my friends?” Nick asked.
“Straight to the Van airport,” Bennet said wearily. “I want to get out of this godforsaken place as fast as possible.”
Nick shook his head. “Still can’t believe they let us go. I wouldn’t have if the shoe was on the other foot.”
“Maybe Alaz had trouble with the idea of killing his own nephew,” I said.
Nick and Bennet gaped at me.
“I found out that Evelyn is my mother and Helmstetter was my father.”
“Oh my God! Who told you that?” Bennet’s voice quaked.
“Alaz. Evelyn had to flee Kandovan because she became pregnant by Helmstetter. Even if he’d been free to wed, marrying a man from outside the community would have been forbidden and having a baby out of wedlock, a grievous sin.”
They listened quietly as I related the story about Helmstetter’s grim fate and my experiences in the garden.
It was late afternoon by the time Nick dropped us off at the airport.
“You’ll get in touch when you’re back in the States?” I asked him. “I owe you a lot. I’ll do whatever I can to help you get set up over there.”
“Count on it.” He grinned. “Always suspected you were a bad seed. That’s how come we make such a good team.” He gave me a pretend punch on the arm and Bennet, a quick kiss on the cheek. Then he climbed back in the Jeep and roared off.
Bennet and I headed to the booking desks to arrange our flights. We’d recovered Strauss’s rare book and made an incredible archaeological find in the process. Her article would be a sensation. Yet despite all that, she seemed in uncharacteristically dark spirits.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said at the ticket counter. “I’m not going back to the U.S. right now. I can stay with a friend in London. After all, who knows how long it’ll be before I get to see Europe again?” I heard the false note in her voice. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. She’d been through a grueling experience. Maybe she just needed some time to herself, to let the bad memories fade.
“Hey, Bennet. Everything okay?”
She nodded absentmindedly. “It will be when I get to the U.K.” She scored her flight to London with a quick transfer in Istanbul. I’d have to stay in Istanbul overnight before flying back to America. She slept most of the way on the plane from Van to Istanbul. I shook her awake about twenty minutes before we landed.
Bennet was quiet as we collected our baggage and walked to the gate for her connecting flight. When we reached it, she twisted off the fake wedding band and tossed it in a refuse container. “No more need for that,” she said, a tinge of bitterness in her voice. “I’ve decided not to write the article after all. I just want to forget all this happened. There was nothing good about it. I’ll email you the draft I started and all my notes and pictures. You can do whatever you want with them.”
I put my arm around her. “Maybe you should give it a little more time. Leave it for a few weeks and see whether you still feel that way.”
She almost cringed from my touch and backed away. “No. I won’t change my mind.”
“What about Strauss’s advance?”
“I’ll send him whatever money I have left. If he wants the rest he can sue me.” There was an edge to her laugh.
“When you say you just want to forget it all, you’re not referring to us, are you?”
She looked away, not willing to meet my eyes. “Yes, I do mean that. We’re not a good match, John. You’re a dangerous man in more ways than one. We should say our goodbyes now. Let’s not prolong the inevitable.”
A pang of hurt contracted my chest. I felt stunned. It must have showed.
“Take care of yourself, John.” Bennet grabbed her bag and started to walk off. Then she stopped and turned, aware of how brusque her words must have seemed. “I didn’t know it would turn out this way. Remember that.”
I started after her but she waved me away.
Soon after Bennet’s plane left the ground, I got a text message from Diane Chen. Loki was missing. She’d run through the entrance in the dog park and across the street, heavy with traffic, before Diane could stop her. Two days ago.
Fifty-Two
March 18, 2005
New York
I came home to a sad, empty apartment and stared defeat in the eye. My place felt like a tomb without Bennet and Loki. Diane had left me a long note explaining which animal rescue centers she’d canvassed but I tried them all over again. You never know. I didn’t have the guts to speak to Dr. Jefferson in person, figuring he’d tear my head off for carelessly losing the dog. I sent him an email instead and got a terse reply back that no one had brought her in or contacted them. Loki, it seemed, was gone for good. I prayed she hadn’t been hit by another car.
And I hoped Bennet would change her mind about me. Despite the short time she spent here, she’d filled the place with life. I missed her more than I’d thought possible.
Detective Shea sent a formal note saying I could pick up the contents of my treasure chest from FBI headquarters. I was glad for that at least.
I jumped in the shower and let hot water run over me for a long while. Then, after I’d changed into something comfortable, I poured myself a stiff bourbon. I stretched out on the couch, swirled the amber liquid around in my glass, and took a healthy swallow. Pain started to hammer at my knee again.
The mission had succeeded beyond my wildest expectations. At least Strauss would be a happy man. Yet learning the truth about my birth had plunged me into the blackest of moods. Evelyn’s attempt to hide the truth had sheltered me from that dark story, and I found myself wanting those phantom, died-in-an-earthquake Turkish parents back. But it was too late for that. The price we pay for knowledge.
By rights I should go to see Evelyn right away. I told myself she’d be tired, that it was after dinner already. In truth I needed to think more carefully about how to broach the subject. I knew the news would upset her.
My night terrors had all but disappeared since entering the salt caves. I wondered if it might be the result of physical exhaustion. Whatever the reason, I hoped they were finished for good. Time would tell.
My mind went back to the first time I’d seen Strauss’s artifacts, the ones taken by Helmstetter from the cart I found in the salt caves. Tricia Ross claimed they dated back 5500 years to preliterate times. It seemed to confirm that the travelers—clearly Sumerian, judging by their dress and the pottery found with them—had indeed migrated from their founding settlements in the mountains of Iran. Signs that a flourishing trade was already well established between the young Sumerian city-states in southern Iraq and their original home in Eden.
I got out the bowl I’d found in the caves and turned it in my hand. Simple geometric shapes superimposed on a grayish green background. As Rohl had pointed out, this type of pottery first appeared in northwestern Iran and Anatolia. It showed up later in the early Mesopotamian cities of southern Iraq. More evidence that the Sumerians may have originated in the mountains near Lakes Urmia and Van.
On the long plane trip home I’d read through the latter pages of Samuel’s journal. The revelations they contained amazed me. In the early twentieth century a professor, George A. Barton, translated from Sumerian tablets something he called the Kharsag Epic, which recounted the earliest settlements of the Sumerian people. Samuel had transcribed some of its original words—concrete descriptions of a mountain fortress called Ed-in under the protection of a snake goddess. And that fortress encompassed a magnificent red-walled garden with granaries, a water reservoir, and a tree plantation.
The Serpent Lady … spoke of creating a watered garden—with tall trees …
She spoke of the sunny, watered settlement—of the future for it; …
The mountainside with much overflowing water— all was brightness
The inscriptions even hinted at a reason the people were driven out from this Eden—storm water, flooding, sickness. Had the original mountain settlem
ent of Eden been damaged by floods and its people overcome by some form of plague? Did the travelers I’d found in the salt cave come from this mountain paradise? None of this could be considered hard proof of Sumerian origins or the Garden of Eden’s location, but they had convinced me.
As Yersan and I had walked away from the temple I’d remarked on the oddity of there being only one cart rather than a whole caravan.
“The area around Tabriz is situated on a main artery of the Silk Road,” Yersan had said. “But that’s only its more recent name. These trade routes stretch far back in time. Over thousands of years, the landscape has changed dramatically. The cart may have been part of a larger company, perhaps in the lead of a caravan as it moved along the plain. The cave roof at that time was perhaps only a thin crust and the heavily laden lead cart fell through. Over thousands of years, erosion of rock from the higher elevations and sediments blown by the wind covered that section of the plain to become the series of foothills there now.” He shrugged. “Who really knows? It’s my guess, only.”
My phone rang and broke into my thoughts.
“Madison? It’s Lucas Strauss.”
“I just got back. Haven’t had time to call you.”
“That’s quite all right.” His voice came through the phone like a tinny cackle. “Our mutual friend tells me you’ve been quite successful.”
“You’ve been talking to Bennet?” That didn’t please me; the news wasn’t hers to offer. “I thought she’d washed her hands of the whole thing.”
“Yes, well …” He cleared his throat. “She’s reluctant to continue with the article. Not a very reliable young lady, as it turns out.”
“She had a very bad experience. I don’t blame her.”
“When may I expect to see you?”
