Solomon Key

by David Wood

  “I’ve done it now,” she said, forcing a weak laugh. “I’ve made an enemy of the Tuatha and the Sisterhood.”

  “Sisterhood?” Maddock and Bones said in unison.

  “They’ve joined forces,” Isla said. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of them.”

  “We’ve met them before,” Maddock said. “I thought they were finished.”

  “Not by a long shot.” Isla stared forlornly at the night sky. “What am I going to do?”

  Maddock took a breath, looked at Bones. A small jerk of the head, as if to say, Do what you’ve got to do, was his only reply. Maddock stood, reached out, and took Isla’s hand.

  “You’re coming with us.”

  Chapter 28

  Vohipeno, Madagascar

  Vohipeno sat nestled on the east bank of the Sandrananta River in southeastern Madagascar just a few miles from the Indian Ocean. The small town and commune had a population of less than 20,000, almost all of whom were farmers, who produced rice and coffee. As they wandered along, Maddock couldn’t help but feel he was in another world. Many of the homes were weathered, tin roof shacks set on thick posts to avoid flooding, and virtually all the buildings, even the businesses, were in a similar state. Some looked like they’d been cobbled together from driftwood. The whole town seemed to be graying wood and rust-pitted metal.

  “I still think this is a weird place to look for King Solomon’s Mines,” Bones said. “Is Avery sure she got the code deciphered right?”

  “If not, it would be one heck of a coincidence for her to screw up the code and still get a coherent message out of it,” Maddock said.

  “It’s roughly the proper distance from Israel to fit the legends, and Madagascar is rich in resources,” Isla said.

  Since the incident at Lilly Archer’s grave, Isla had buried herself in research. After relieving Gowan of his wallet and smartphone in order to hopefully make him more difficult for police to identify, they’d fled the country. Fortunately, Avery had decoded the message before their departure, giving them a place to head to.

  Maddock had some idea of what Isla was going through. Taking a life, even justifiably, took a toll on a person. She would need time to deal with it. Her struggle with what she’d done had gone a long way toward smoothing over relations between her, Maddock, and Bones, especially since she’d admitted to placing a tracker on Maddock’s jacket when she’d picked them up outside the cathedral.

  “Also, our research seems to support a possible connection. Rather, Jimmy’s research supports it,” she added.

  Maddock nodded. They’d called upon his old friend, Jimmy Letson, to see if he could find any connection between King Solomon’s Mines and the island of Madagascar. He had uncovered a remarkable, yet little-known legend called the “Malagasy Secret.” Some Malagasies believed that they were of Israelite descent, and that their forebears were seafaring members of Israel’s “lost tribe.” Furthermore, local lore amongst these tiny pockets of Judaism held that Madagascar was, in fact, the biblical land of Ophir, the home of King Solomon’s Mines, and that Madagascar provided many of the building materials for King Solomon’s temple, including gold and rosewood. Curiously, he’d also turned up reports that Madagascar had been considered by France in the late 1700s and the Nazis as a dumping ground for “undesirable” citizens.

  “And then there’s the fact that the translation included one of the bits of scripture found on H. Rider Haggard’s tomb,” Isla said. “The secret lies here. I’m certain of it.”

  “Let’s just hope the people here are willing to talk.” Maddock pointed to a rickety, whitewashed wooden building. The Star of David was painted in blue above the doorway. They entered the makeshift synagogue, where they were greeted by Rakoto, a robust man dressed in traditional Malagasy clothing. He greeted them warmly, shaking each person’s hand in a powerful grip. Maddock was relieved that the man spoke fluent English. He was prepared to converse in French, a language spoken among the educated citizenry of Madagascar, but if the man had only spoken Malagasy, they’d have been stuck trying to make use of an online translation program.

  “You’re not what I expected,” Bones said after introductions had been made.

  “Oh?” Rakoto’s gray eyebrows twitched with amusement. “You thought to meet a skinny white man with silly sideburns?”

  “Something like that,” Bones said, chuckling.

  “For some reason, my hair will not grow that way.” Rakoto laughed, tugging at a patch of close-cropped, curly hair at his graying temple. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “We’re archaeologists,” Maddock said. “We are on the trail of something...unusual.”

  Rakoto looked like a child trying his first taste of Scotch Whisky. “King Solomon’s Mines.”

  “We realize it sounds far-fetched,” Isla interjected, “but some dangerous people are taking this legend seriously. If there is any truth at all to this legend, we need to protect it from them.”

  “Two Americans, one...Irishwoman?” Rakoto asked.

  “Scottish, actually,” Isla said.

  Rakoto nodded. “For whom do you work?”

  “Bones and I are connected with a special CIA task force,” Maddock said. That was technically true, although their connection to the Myrmidons was no longer official. “We’ve engaged Ms. Mulheron’s services for her expertise.”

  “I would prefer not to get involved.”

  Maddock reached into his pocket and took out a heavy iron ring and held it up for Rakoto to see the signet. There, in brass, were two interlocked triangles forming a six-pointed star. A tiny sapphire lay in the space between each point.

  Rakoto gasped. “That is never the ring...” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

  Maddock understood. There was something about the ring. It had a presence, for lack of a better term. You could feel it as if it had a life of its own. The moment he’d touched it, he’d known it was the ring of Solomon.

  “It’s real. Please help us if you can.”

  Rakoto let out a long, tired sigh. “I know very little, save the legends.”

  “We’re interested in anything you can tell us,” Maddock said. “Even if it is not definitive.”

  “Very well. Please have a seat.” They sat down on blankets on the floor and Rakoto began his story.

  “Some Malagasy Jews believe we came to the island on Noah’s Ark. As if the ark landed in Africa.” He let out a rich laugh, while Maddock and Bones exchanged a knowing glance, one that Isla did not miss. She quirked an eyebrow and Maddock shook his head and gestured toward Rakoto, who continued talking. “Among most of our number, the tradition holds that our common ancestor was a man called Alitawarat, or ‘Ali Torah.’ He was originally from Jerusalem and his first language was Hebrew. He served King Solomon, and discovered the bounty of Madagascar. While the specifics might not be precisely accurate, there is reason to believe that we have an ancient Hebrew heritage. The practice of circumcision, for example, has been a tradition long before missionaries visited our island. Many isolated communities called themselves ‘Descendants of Abraham.’ He went on to list other examples of the Madagascar-Hebrew connection. “And then, of course, there is the sacred rock of Alakamisy-Ambohimaha.”

  “What’s that?” Bones asked.

  “It is a boulder upon which Hebrew letters have been engraved. You will pass it on your way to Vatumasina.”

  Isla tilted her head. “Vatumasina.”

  “It is a royal village where the protectors of the Malagasy secret reside. If anyone can tell you more than mere legend, it will be them.”

  “Would they speak with us?” Maddock asked.

  “They will meet with anyone. But you must ask in the proper form, else they will dismiss you out of hand.”

  “What’s the proper form?” Bones asked.

  Rakoto shrugged. “No one in living memory has asked properly. If you manage it, you will be the first.”

  Chapter 29

  Vohipeno, Madagas
car

  Nomi grimaced at the abject poverty all around her. How could people live in such squalor? Nearby, a group of children were busy spreading out rice to dry in the sun. One little girl looked up at her and flashed a shy smile. Nomi ignored her. She hated children.

  Ronald and Cleo flanked her. The cousins were not well pleased with any of them in light of recent events. Nomi was being blamed for Constance’s disappearance. Some in the family had insinuated that Nomi had killed her; a few had even accused her outright. Cleo and Ronald were in disgrace. The family had seen to it that they’d been allowed to leave England, and the charges of breaking and entering dropped. Still, they had failed. All three had been instructed to proceed directly to Uncle’s compound. None had followed the order, knowing what it likely meant for them.

  “You are certain of the decoding?” Ronald asked, looking around at the unlikely surroundings.

  “My professor friend is certain. And he is also certain that this village has a strong connection to the legends of King Solomon’s Mines in Madagascar.”

  “I didn’t know there were any connections,” Cleo said.

  “That is a good thing. It means few, if any, have searched here.”

  “Which would explain why the mines have not been found.” Cleo nodded thoughtfully.

  “It also means the family is unlikely to look for us here,” Ronald added.

  They passed a row of colorfully-dressed people selling produce in the shade of a dilapidated building. A little boy hurried over to them, bearing a basket of apples. They all shook their heads. When he turned away, eyes downcast, Cleo stole an apple out of his basket. He took a bite and grinned. “What?” he asked, seeing Nomi’s frown. “What are they going to do about it?”

  “I’m more concerned about you drawing unnecessary attention. If the family learns we are here, people might remember the foreign bully who steals apples from little children.”

  Cleo considered this for a moment, then nodded.

  “There’s a great deal you haven’t told us,” Ronald said to Nomi.

  “Such as?” she asked, only half-listening.

  “Such as how you plan on getting inside the mines without the ring.”

  “Dane Maddock has the ring.”

  Ronald’s eyes went wide. “How do you know this?”

  “A body was found at the grave of one Mary Elizabeth Archer, and the earth was disturbed as if something had been dug up.”

  “And we care because?” Cleo asked.

  “If you had done even a modicum of research, you would have learned that Archer was Haggard’s one true love, and that she went by the name Lilly.” The two men gaped at her. “The incident at the graveyard happened the same night you were arrested. It is obvious what happened. Maddock learned about Lilly; you did not.”

  “So, we catch up to Maddock, and take the ring from him.” Ronald cracked his knuckles. “I relish the opportunity to pay him back.”

  Nomi nodded. “And if we find the mines first, we simply wait and take the ring from him.”

  “If we recover the ring and find the mines, Uncle will have to forgive us. We will be the first among the cousins.” Cleo stared off into the distance, a faint smile playing across his lips.

  Nomi kept her silence. She wasn’t confident that Uncle would react in that way. She could not recall a single time he had forgiven someone who had failed as badly as they. Of course, none had ever been given the opportunity. They usually ended up being forced to participate in his “games” and those never ended well for anyone but Uncle. If they reached the mines, and found what she expected to find, she would not need Uncle or any of the family. She would be a queen.

  Chapter 30

  Vatumasina, Madagascar

  Maddock saw nothing royal about the village Vatumasina. Located only a short distance from Vohipeno, it looked no different. The same dilapidated shacks and commonly dressed citizens. The people were friendly, to be certain, but nothing felt royal.

  “This is as disappointing as the sacred rock,” Bones said.

  Maddock nodded. They’d stopped at Alakamisy-Ambohimaha. As Rakoto has said, it was a boulder inscribed with Hebrew letters. Three of them to be exact, and no matter how Maddock arranged them and what vowels he tried to insert, he couldn’t come up with a word that seemed to have any significance. Isla planned on continuing to work on it, but he didn’t hold out much hope for success.

  After asking around, Maddock found someone who understood his limited French well enough to guide them to the people he sought: a group of elders the villager called “Les rois et scribes” or “the kings and scribes.”

  The kings and scribes met them outside a squat stone building. The structure was old, but had been fitted with a steel door that was secured with a heavy padlock. The men stood in a line, arms folded, staring daggers at the newcomers. All twelve wore the traditional lamba, a rectangular cloth wrapped around the body, over white robes, and each wore a pillbox hat of red or yellow. Maddock wondered if there was some significance to the color of the hat—perhaps one color denoted a king and another a scribe? Before he could ponder the question further, a wrinkled, bespectacled man spoke.

  “What business have you with the kings and scribes?”

  Maddock had been considering how to approach this ever since their meeting with Rakoto. He had no idea what the “proper form” of addressing the men might be, and internet searches had proved as fruitless as one might expect, considering no one had ever stumbled upon the proper words. He decided to start with scripture.

  “We seek Ophir, from which 420 talents of gold were brought to King Solomon,” he said, paraphrasing 1 Kings 9.28.

  The man’s expression didn’t change.

  “Speak the words.”

  Crap. It had been too much to hope that he’d guess it on the first try. Of course others had probably tried this same scripture. Perhaps they could be persuaded.

  “We seek to protect the mines from dangerous people who would put the wealth to ill use.”

  The man held up a finger. “Speak the words,” he said, and held up two fingers. The implication was clear. Three strikes and you’re out.

  In desperation, Maddock took out the ring and held it up for all to see. An audible gasp rippled through the assembly. A few flinched, while others took an involuntary step forward.

  “We have Solomon’s ring. Help us.”

  The man swallowed hard, put up a third finger, and said, in a choked voice, “Speak the words.” Maddock thought he heard a note of pleading his time, as if the fellow wanted him to succeed.

  Bones took a step forward. For a moment, Maddock worried that his friend was about to do something violent, but instead, Bones spoke in a loud, clear voice.

  “O ye dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Behold, I will cause breath to enter into you and ye shall live.”

  It was the scripture found on Haggard’s grave. The same words that Avery and Corey had translated from the artifact recovered on Caesar’s rock. Could this be the key?

  The faces of the kings and scribes relaxed, and their leader gave a curt nod.

  “It suffices.” He managed a nervous smile. “I am called Princio. You must surrender your weapons.”

  Upon their arrival in Madagascar, they’d managed to acquire pistols through a shady dealer. They handed them over, along with their belt knives, and waited as they were frisked. Isla offered up her pistol but Princio shook his head.

  “The woman must wait outside,” he said.

  “She comes with us,” Maddock protested.

  “It’s fine,” Isla said. “We have bigger battles to fight than one against the patriarchy. My feminism can handle the slight if it’s for a greater cause.”

  Maddock gave a reluctant nod and waited as one of the men unlocked the door and held it open for them.

  “Follow the labyrinth,” Princio said.

  Maddock took the lead and followed the narrow corridor as it spiraled inward toward the center of the bui
lding. Along the way he noticed carvings in the floor—words in Hebrew, the menorah, and finally, at the very end of the labyrinth, a tiny room. A skylight permitted a narrow beam of sunlight to shine down on a familiar symbol etched into the floor—Solomon’s Seal. He and Bones waited expectantly as Princio and another man grasped invisible handholds in the seal and lifted it. It came free like a manhole cover.

  “Inside,” Princio instructed.

  Maddock saw handholds carved into the rough rock. He’d made much more challenging climbs, and if the old men could do it, so could he. He descended quickly, hopping out of the way of Bones, who hit the ground a few seconds after him.

  “Wonder why they took us all the way down here.” Bones said.

  “I guess we’ll find out.” Maddock glanced up, expecting to see the kings and scribes following them down. Instead, he watched as, like a solar eclipse, the light from above vanished as the seal was dragged back into place, sealing them off from the outside world.

  Rakoto couldn’t help but feel shaken by the conversation he’d had with the three foreigners. It wasn’t that they were interested in Solomon’s Mines. That was hardly out of the ordinary in this part of the world, though it wasn’t so common in Madagascar. It was the ring that had him rattled.

  He could tell at a glance that it was ancient, and it fit the description of Solomon’s ring. But what was more, he could feel it. He had never before been in the presence of such a holy object. The spirit of God, he supposed. But it hadn’t made him feel the way he felt in worship. Its presence was...unsettling. He had felt only relief when they finally left.

  Hours later, he sat there in the dim light, staring at the wall. The late afternoon sun cast a beam of golden light through the open doorway. It was getting time to go home. Rakoto stood but before he could take a step, a shadow announced the approach of a visitor.

  A woman stepped inside. She was attractive, with high cheekbones and big eyes, but the sinister expression on her face deprived her of much of her beauty. Two men entered in her wake, closing the door and taking up positions in front of it. Rakoto did not miss the bulges of poorly concealed weapons.