Sylvia leaned over the gunwale for a better view to show Murph the scenery, and Parsons tapped her on the shoulder.
“I wouldn’t be doing that if I were you,” he said.
“Taking video?”
“Putting yourself out over the water. You make a tempting meal.”
He pointed at the river. What looked at first like drifting logs were actually massive crocodiles.
Sylvia leaped back from the edge, nearly dropping the camera. Eric reached out to steady her and then self-consciously pulled his hands away when he saw that Juan noticed his protective gesture.
Sylvia gave a quick “Thanks” to Eric and gazed all around her. The river was infested with crocodiles.
“They’re everywhere,” she said breathlessly. “That is horrifying. Mark, are you seeing this?”
“For once I’m glad I couldn’t go along with you,” Murph replied over the comms that everyone was linked to.
“Saltwater crocs are common in every tropical river and swamp in Australia,” Parsons said. “Nasty buggers. They can grow up to six meters long and a thousand kilograms.”
“They also have the strongest bite force of any animal on earth,” Murph chimed in. Eric had rigged his finger joystick so that he could type into his computer as well as speak, using a predictive keyboard like the ones found on satellite phones. Drawing on his skills as a video game wizard, Murph had become adept at typing with one finger at lightning speed.
“It says on this website that their bite is three times as strong as that of a Bengal tiger,” Murph continued, “and may be equivalent to the bite of a great white shark, though that’s never been measured in a lab for some odd reason.”
“I’d like to see them try that test,” Eric said.
“The crazy thing is that their jaws only are strong in one direction,” Parsons said. “You can hold them closed with duct tape. I’ve seen them transported that way.”
“Let’s not test out what their bites can do,” Julia said. “I don’t want to figure out how to patch you up with a chunk taken out of any of you.”
“We’ve got a couple of M4s in case the crocs get frisky,” Juan said. He didn’t mention his doubts about how well the assault rifle ammo would penetrate the reptiles’ rhino-like hides.
All of them kept a watch on the water as the boat snaked up the desolate river until they were as close as they could get to the coordinates. Juan beached the RHIB on the shore and kept guard with one of the M4s as everyone got out.
Eric led the way up an embankment and through the greenery. The moist air smelled of fragrant flowers and rotting vegetation, and birds of all types chirped and cawed in a variety of distinct rhythms.
As they got farther from the river and climbed higher, the shrubbery thinned out, and picturesque sandstone formations abutted their path. Finally, two hundred yards from the Ord River, Eric stopped.
“This should be it,” he said.
Juan looked around but saw nothing obvious that would indicate there had been an archaeological expedition here. No ruins, no uncovered pottery or tools, no structure of any kind. Only an expansive view of the river below.
“Spread out and look around,” Juan said. He was already worried they’d come all this way for nothing.
They spent nearly an hour combing the area for any signs that someone had been there when Parsons called out to the group.
“I think I’ve got something.”
They all converged to an outcropping where a rockfall had covered the slope. Parsons pointed to a dark hole in the middle of the rock pile just big enough for a cat to squeeze through.
“I think there’s something in there,” he said. “Feel it.”
Juan put his hand over the opening. Cool air streamed from the hole.
“It’s a cave,” he said. He stepped back and looked farther up the hill. There was a deep scar in the sandstone along with some charring.
“The rockfall happened deliberately. Someone set off explosives to cover this up.”
“What do you think is inside?” Sylvia asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Eric said.
“Then I guess we need to start moving some stones,” Juan said.
They began moving whatever rocks were small enough to pick up or leverage away from the others. The work in the awful humidity was backbreaking and required frequent rests for water. Two hours later, they finally had a hole big enough to squeeze through.
Juan went first after making sure the Oregon knew where they were in case a new rockslide trapped them in. He shimmied through the opening and stood up once he got inside. The cave had to be huge since his light couldn’t penetrate far enough to see the back wall.
He waited until everyone was inside. Then he led the way into a wide chamber with a domed ceiling.
Juan heard a gasp and turned to see a frightened Sylvia standing over seven skeletons lined up side by side. Their clothes were torn and bloody, as if they’d been savaged by animals.
“How many archaeologists were presumed killed in that plane crash?” Juan asked.
“Seven,” Eric said. “Five men and two women.”
Julia bent over to examine the remains.
“Based on the body size, clothes, and jewelry,” she said, “I’d say there are five men and two women here.”
“Were they eaten?” Sylvia asked as she filmed them for Murph to see.
Julia nodded. “Picked clean by dingos or other scavengers that got into the cave after they were already dead.” She pointed at several broken rib bones. “These people were shot.”
Juan picked up a spent rifle shell that was among the clothes of one of the victims.
“More like executed,” he said.
“It makes me sick to think I worked for anyone involved in this,” Parsons said, turning away from the carnage.
“What does this all have to do with the poison gas?” Julia asked.
“Maybe it’s related to this writing.” Parsons pointed at the cave wall.
Juan turned his light on the stony surface, and deep etchings came into view. He’d been expecting some aboriginal art or primitive drawings. Instead, it was lettering.
He stepped closer. Not only was the writing made up of letters, they were recognizable as the Latin alphabet. There were rows and rows of the letters, carved neatly into the rock.
Juan traced the writing to its starting point and saw a single line at the beginning set apart from the others.
AUC DCCII.
“Murph, are you getting this?” Juan asked as he motioned for Sylvia to focus her camera on it.
“I’m looking up the translation now.”
“If these are Latin letters,” Eric said, “the last part could be a number.”
“Seven hundred and two?” Julia asked. “Seven hundred and two what?”
“I found something for AUC,” Murph said. “It stands for ab urbe condita. That’s Latin for ‘from the founding of the city.’”
“What city?” Parsons asked.
“Rome,” Murph said. “It’s how they wrote years.”
“The number of years since the founding of Rome?” Julia said in astonishment. “You mean this is Roman writing?”
“What is AUC 702 in our years, Murph?” Juan asked.
“Rome was founded in 753 B.C. If that date on the wall is to be believed, the conversion means that the writing dates from 51 B.C. You’re looking at evidence of a Roman settlement in Australia older than the Colosseum.”
FORTY
Translating the writing was a tedious process because the letters were strung together without gaps in the tradition of ancient Roman writing. Normally, it would take mere seconds for the computer to give the English interpretation, but it wasn’t programmed to tell where words began and ended. With Sylvia and Eric’s help, Murph i
nput the letters manually, segmenting them into words that were translated one at a time.
In the meantime, Juan, Julia, and Parsons conducted a thorough search of the cave for any other information or relics. They came up empty-handed.
“How could these archaeologists know that the etchings are authentic?” Julia wondered as she ate one of the sandwiches they’d brought along with them. “Someone could have been playing a prank. It’s happened before.”
“They wouldn’t be dead over a prank,” Parsons said.
“I think she means that the writings wouldn’t have been enough to convince them,” Juan said.
“Right,” Julia said. “There must be actual ruins somewhere around here that they were excavating that proved Romans really came to Australia.”
“And I think we might have some insight into that now,” Murph said. “The translation is complete. Sending it to Sylvia now.”
“Got it,” she said.
“So how did Romans get all the way to the other side of the world two thousand years ago?” Julia asked.
“This was written by a man named Flavius,” Sylvia said. “He wrote it as a record for his son. I won’t go through it word for word, but it says Flavius was captured by the Parthians and enslaved by them.”
“Who are they?” Parsons asked.
Eric was on his own tablet, which was linked to the Oregon’s computer system.
“Parthia was an empire in Persia, now modern-day Iran. The Romans lost twenty thousand men killed and a whole legion of ten thousand soldiers taken captive. It was the greatest Roman defeat up to that time. The losing commander was Marcus Licinius Crassus.”
“Crassus?” Juan said. “Why do I know that name?”
“He was the general who defeated Spartacus.”
“And crucified him,” Murph added.
“Lovely,” Julia said. “Sounds like a wonderful guy.”
“He was also the richest man in the Roman Empire,” Eric continued. “After the Parthians killed him, they poured molten gold down his throat as a symbol of his greed.”
“So our friend Flavius here was in the Army and got captured with this lost legion,” Juan said. “I seem to remember a story that they were brought to northwest China and settled there.”
“Flavius claims that only half of the captives went with him to a southern port city called Charax,” Sylvia said. “Maybe the other half went to China.”
“Does it say how they escaped the Parthians?”
“Flavius stole ships the Romans were forced to build for the Parthians. They sailed across the unknown ocean, finally settling on an island far from here. It seemed like a paradise until a storm arrived. Then a sickness struck.”
“What kind of sickness?” Julia asked.
“They couldn’t move,” Sylvia said. “He used the word ‘Enervum.’”
“That’s the name Polk and Jin used for the nerve gas,” Juan said.
“The situation matches the story about the fishermen who were found on an island a few years ago,” Julia said. “Does he mention jellyfish?”
“Not by that word,” Sylvia said. “But he does say that there were poisonous sea creatures that washed up. He says the survivors fled on the only ship they had left and eventually landed here.”
“What does this have to do with an antidote?” Parsons asked.
“There’s a love story in here, too,” Sylvia said. “His wife was one of the people who was paralyzed. She was with child at the time, and Flavius wanted to cure her. He was convinced that the answer lay in why only the soldiers were unaffected by the illness.”
“Smart guy,” Julia said. “Most people at the time would have just chalked it up to the will of the gods.”
“He realized that the soldiers were the only ones who drank a bitter liquid as part of their regular rituals. It was infused with the oil of a particular nut found on their island.”
“Did he save his wife?” Eric asked.
“Yes,” Sylvia said. “They had brought a supply of the nuts with them. Flavius made the drink for her, and she eventually could move again in time to give birth to their son. That’s where the story ends.”
“No,” Julia gasped. “Does it give the name of the nut?”
“It’s called nux viridi lucus. It means ‘green-eyed nut.’”
“Eric, can you find any nut with that name?”
“I’m looking but don’t see anything.”
“It’s probably called something else now,” Julia said. “Without a picture of it, the nut may be impossible to find.”
“We don’t even know what island they were on,” Murph said. “It could be any one of thousands in the Indian Ocean. It’s not looking good. Maybe I should get used to this chair.”
Sylvia sniffled, and Eric put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t give up yet,” Juan said. “We’ll try out every single nut in existence if we have to. I know we’ll find the antidote.”
Julia didn’t look as confident about his reassurances because of the time pressure, but she didn’t say anything to Sylvia. They would never be able to replicate the antidote in a week if they didn’t know the key ingredient.
“Let’s get back to the ship and see what we can come up with,” Juan said.
“Before we go, I want to get photos of the dental work on these skeletons,” Julia said. “It will help their families get closure if we can identify the bodies for the authorities.”
She knelt beside the bones and gently lifted each skull one by one to take the pictures.
On the fourth person, something fell to the ground when she picked up the skull.
“What’s that?”
Juan bent over and focused his light on a blue plastic object the shape of a piece of gum.
It was a USB thumb drive.
“How did that get there?” he wondered as he picked it up. The case was still intact and unharmed.
“This man must have had it in his mouth when he died,” Julia said. “There must be something on it that he didn’t want the killers to find.”
FORTY-ONE
Eric plugged the USB drive into his tablet.
“There are a lot of files on here,” he said. “Here’s one that’s a translation of all this text on the wall.”
Murph cut in. “That would have saved us some time.”
“Do a search for ‘nux viridi lucus’ and ‘green-eyed nut,’” Julia said.
“Searching. It looks there are several mentions of them.”
“Any pictures?”
“No images that I see. Just text files. Here’s one called Daily Log. It looks like this thumb drive was the property of the expedition leader, a guy named Victor Ormond.”
“He knew that his team was in danger and hid the files,” Juan said. “Too bad it didn’t help him, but it might help us. What do the references to the nut say?”
“Here’s a file where he talks about researching the nut’s origin, but there are no conclusions.”
“What about the daily log?” Julia asked.
“It says they found amphorae sealed with beeswax. Three of them were marked ‘N V L,’ etched in the wax. It looks like they brought one of them back to their headquarters here, but the log ends before it mentions what they found inside.”
“Sounds like there’s more to this site than this cave,” Parsons said.
“Where did they find the amphorae?” Juan asked.
“They were stowed on a ship, a Roman bireme called the Salacia that ran aground. The archaeologists were in the process of excavating it from the mud.”
“That’s incredible,” Sylvia said. “A Roman vessel came to Australia eighteen hundred years before the first European settlers. This would have been the discovery of a lifetime for any archaeologist.”
“I bet we fin
d out that Lu Yang had something to do with this expedition,” Juan said. “Maybe he even funded it. And when his lead archaeologist reported back what he’d discovered, Lu sent a hit team to cover it up.”
“The big question is, where’s the ship?” Julia said. “If there are two more amphorae on board with nuts inside, we might be able to use them to make the antidote.”
“Even if they’re two thousand years old?” Sylvia asked.
“It depends how well the ceramic and beeswax preserved them. I’ve read about butter thousands of years old found in barrels recovered from Irish peat bogs that is still edible. Maybe we’ll get lucky. At the very least, we can identify the exact type of nut it is and secure a fresh supply.”
“There’s a lot of mentions of the bireme,” Eric said. “I’m looking to see if they have a map to its location.”
“I know new ships, not old ones,” Parsons said. “What’s a bireme?”
“It’s a Roman single-masted galley with two rows of oars on either side for propulsion to supplement the wind,” Juan said. “They were used both as warships and to transport cargo.”
“Here it is,” Eric said triumphantly. “The one they found is thirty meters in length. About a hundred feet long. They’ve even included a helpful layout of the ship.”
Eric turned the tablet around so everyone could see it. A drawing showed a diagram of the bireme with notations for each of the sections. One outlined a weapons room. Another showed where tools were stored.
In the middle of the ship, there was an area marked “Ceramics.”
“That has to be where all the amphorae are,” Juan said. “It sounds like there might be hundreds of them. Does it give any more detail about where the two we’re looking for are?”
Eric took the tablet back and after a few moments of typing, shook his head.
“We’ll just have to search through them until we find the ones that have the nut label.”
“Does it give the location of the wreck?”
“There is a GPS coordinate.” Eric sent it back to Murph on the Oregon.
“Got it,” Murph replied. “It’s two hundred yards from your current position, right along the riverbank.”
Marauder Page 19
