The Exfiltrator

by Garner Simmons

  “Less than two seconds…” Corbett calculated. “I’d say we’re looking at somewhere between 20 and 25 meters, give or take.”

  Selecting the proper ropes, Hector secured them to the anchor and handed the loose ends to Corbett who began to thread them through the rappelling harness. Turning, he flung the first rope out into the darkness, then the backup. As the ropes snaked out and down, somewhere below the soft rose-colored glow of the flare continued to burn.

  Stepping into the harness, Corbett secured the ropes then turned to both interns. “I’ll go first.” He nodded to Hector. “Drop the tape measure.”

  Securing one end of a thirty-meter tape measure to the anchor, Hector tossed the tape into the gaping hole.

  “Once I reach the cavern floor, I’ll shout ‘off rappel,’ so you can retrieve the harness and join me. Roberto, you go next, then Ella. We straight?”

  Roberto managed an apprehensive nod.

  “Ever do this before?” Corbett asked.

  “First time for everything,” the young man grinned.

  “When I was in college,” Ella said, “we used to go spelunking in Indiana during spring break. Not quite what we have here, but doesn’t seem too bad.”

  “Good,” Corbett said, impressed. “You’re game. See you at the bottom,” he said, turning on his LED helmet light. Then taking up the slack and turning his back to the cave itself, he kicked off into space and began to descend, his legs perpendicular to his body as he rappelled down the sheer rock face.

  *****

  In the small overgrown yard beside the deserted farmhouse, Jarral stared up at the mountain above where the university team had pitched their archeological encampment. From the map they had taken from the petrol station the day before, Jarral knew the infidels had come here to explore some ancient cave, though he did not understand why. What possible significance could such a place hold for them? Was it a holy place? And to whom was it sacred? Surely if the American was involved, it must be profane.

  He thought of the cavern called Hira on the mountain known as Jabal an-Nour near Mecca where Mohammed had been embraced by the Archangel Gabriel and impelled to recite the sacred verse:

  “Proclaim…! In the name of thy Lord and Cherisher

  Who

  Created man, out of a clot of congealed blood:

  Proclaim…! And thy Lord Most Bountiful –

  Who taught by the pen –

  Taught man that which he knew not…”

  But here in this cave high in the Pyrenees, there had been no such holy visitation. Of this, Jarral was certain. For God did not speak to infidels. Only those willing to die for the true religion would be saved at the Day of Reckoning, a day soon to fall upon the world. After would come the cleansing when all the impurities that now polluted the earth would be washed away in a river of blood. This was their oath, the solemn promise they had pledged to each other – the mujahideen al-Battar, the brotherhood of the sword.

  *****

  There was something about descending into darkness that had always felt disorienting to Corbett, as though he had somehow become lost in the void – that indefinable sense of dread lying just beyond the torchlight. Too many bad movies as a kid, he thought with a grim smile. The chance of alien beings lurking there among the stalactites and stalagmites just waiting to eviscerate the unsuspecting was the stuff of fiction not science. Having dealt with such feelings before, he pushed them into the far recesses of his mind.

  The flare continued to burn a few feet away with an otherworldly glow as he reached the floor of the cave and stepped out of the rappelling harness. Calling back up to Hector, he watched as the harness disappeared into the blackness above. Turning, Corbett located the end of the tape measure and noted the distance from the top: just under twenty-four meters. Given the maximum cable length of the winch ran 30 meters, they should just about make it. Corbett looked around, his helmet light revealing the enormity of the cave. The cavern before him was extensive, much larger than anything he experienced before. No telling what they might find deeper down. The prospect excited him.

  Within minutes, he watched as Roberto tentatively lowered himself from above. But several feet above the floor of the cave, he abruptly started to lose his balance. Instinctively attempting to save himself, he struck out with both boots against the rock wall sending a shower of stones cascading downward.

  “Watch yourself,” Corbett cautioned, grabbing him by the arm and guiding him the rest of the way. With both feet planted firmly beneath him at last, Roberto stepped out of the harness. Calling out to Hector once more, Corbett watched as the rappelling harness rose out of sight.

  “Dios mio, esta caverna es enorme…” the younger man whispered as he stood beside him. “It is just so…” Though his English failed him, Roberto’s reaction left no doubt. The cave was clearly more than either of them had expected. Corbett found himself remembering the first time he had visited Rome as an undergraduate and climbed to the top of the Dome of St. Peter’s. Up stone steps through the claustrophobic interior passageway, sense deprived and wholly unprepared for what awaited him. A kind of out of body experience as he suddenly emerged, stepping out onto the marble gallery overlooking the altar 300 feet below and realizing the dome still stood half again as high above. Designed by Michelangelo more than 500 years before, it was meant to humble man in the sight of God. And as much as he had wanted to deny it, the experience had moved him. Strange that this place should have a similar effect.

  Turning back, Corbett reacted as the light from his headlamp reflected off an odd shaped, somewhat discolored rock apparently dislodged by Roberto’s near fall. Kneeling for a closer look, he picked up the rock and turned it over in his hands just as Ella reached the cave floor beside them.

  “Found something already…?” she asked as Roberto assisted her out of the harness.

  As the two interns joined him, Corbett ran his fingers over the surface of the rock and shook his head. “Actually, it’s a partially fossilized brachiopod.” He held it out so that the surface of the artifact caught the light.

  “Brachiopod…?” Ella asked. “You mean a sea shell… down here?”

  “And it’s been painted,” he traced the dark violet ridges with his forefinger. “Manganese by the look of it. Probably part of a necklace or talisman. See the way it’s been punctured here so that it could be suspended, probably from the wrist or neck.”

  “Neanderthal…?” Ella ventured.

  “That would be my guess,” Corbett confirmed. “Late Pleistocene. Maybe thirty to forty thousand years ago. There was a study published in the journal Nature a few years back on similar shells discovered in caves to the south along the coast. I’ll have to show this to Sebastian when we get back.”

  “Then you think there might be more… shells, I mean?” Roberto asked looking more closely at the cavern floor.

  “It’s worth a look. Make a note of the spot – on a direct line below the entrance. Once you and Karim finish mapping the cave, we’ll see what we can find. Meantime, let’s have a look around.”

  Slipping the shell into the zippered pocket of his jumpsuit, Corbett unslung his gear bag, removing a ten-meter length of nylon cord. Using carabiner clips, he attached it to his belt, then to each of the others, placing Ella between himself and Roberto. “It’s easy to become disoriented down here. We don’t want anybody wandering off in the dark.”

  Taking the lead, Corbett led the way deeper into the darkness, using the beam from his helmet lamp to pick his way along the uneven rock floor. “Watch yourselves,” Corbett cautioned. “Be sure your footing is secure before placing any weight on it. We’ll move together.”

  “It’s like the ocean.” Ella said, a slight quaver in her voice. “The sense that something’s lurking out there, we just don’t know what.”

  “If we did, there’d be no point to being here,” Corbett said, attempting to quell her fears. “Think of it this way: we’re the first humans to have set foot in this cave in
probably the last 30,000 years.”

  “It’s not humans I’m worried about,” she replied with a nervous laugh.

  “Si,” Roberto teased. “One never knows when some Great White Land Shark is going to come swimming out of the darkness and grab you.”

  “Very funny,” she said, following Corbett into the darkness.

  *****

  Having rechecked the calibrations on the 3-D Laser Scanner, Karim glanced at his watch. He quickly estimated that it would easily take Corbett and the others several more hours to actually complete their initial exploration and emerge from the cave. More than enough time to return to the base camp without being missed.

  As he made his way back down the slope from the cave’s entrance, he caught sight of Antonio working on the engine of one of the two-and-a-half-ton trucks parked to one side. Shirtless in the afternoon sun, his muscular frame strained as he attempted to loosen a spark plug with a wrench. Completely consumed with the task at hand, he failed to hear Karim approach.

  “Looks like hard work…” Karim began, his voice nonchalant.

  Antonio glanced up. Seeing him, he smiled. “Si… Just routine. Old trucks are like old ladies. They take special attention and constant maintenance.”

  “Si…” Karim managed a nod as they shared a laugh.

  “How about you?”

  “Just killing time until Dr. Corbett and the others return from the cave. An initial recon. Thought I’d stop down for a cup of tea. Care to join me?”

  Antonio considered it, then shook his head. “Gracias… Too much to do.”

  “Not to worry. You keep working. I’ll go over to the cook tent and get us a couple of cups. How do you take it? Milk and sugar?”

  “No. Just black. Muy bien. You’re sure it is no problema.”

  “No. No problem. Be right back.”

  Antonio watched Karim jog off toward the cook tent, then returned his attention to the engine once more. He had just freed the burned out spark plug and replaced it with a new one when Karim returned carrying two paper cups, each containing hot water, a tea bag and a wooden stirrer.

  “Here we go,” he smiled, handing the Spaniard one of the cups. “As promised.”

  “Gracias…” Antonio accepted the steaming brew with a smile.

  “Hot day,” Karim said with an awkward glance. Turning, he nodded toward the canvas-covered truck behind them. “What do you say we climb in back? Get out of the sun.”

  “Si,” Antonio smiled. “Bueno.”

  Moving around behind the truck, they came to a set of wooden stairs that had been placed beneath the tailgate to allow easy access. Antonio went first, then reached back to give Karim a hand. The truck was old and the canvas smelled of mold and engine oil. A pair of bench seats extended along each side. They sat together on the left-hand side, sipping their tea in near silence for a several minutes while making awkward conversation. Antonio finished his first and placed his cup on the floor.

  “Very nice,” he said quietly, then dropping his eyes he hesitated. For a long moment, neither spoke.

  Then placing his empty cup on the bench beside him, Karim tentatively reached out with his left hand, caressing Antonio’s cheek. “So…” he said at last. “Is this allowed?” His voice had become a thick whisper filled with uncertainty.

  Antonio stared at him without speaking. Then making no effort to remove the hand, he slowly reached down framing the smaller man’s face with his palms and drawing him into a kiss. Trembling, Karim slipped to the floor and laid back allowing Antonio to move with him. Covering Karim’s body with his own, his tongue and hands now probing, Antonio began to undress him. Frightened and exhilarated both at once, Karim made a token effort to resist. But as their embrace deepened, he felt his resolve slip away as the rest of the afternoon became lost in desire.

  *****

  With Corbett in the lead, they made their way down into the depths of the cave with Ella following him and Roberto bringing up the rear. The irregular outcroppings coupled with older sedimentary deposits worn smooth over time made progress slow and precarious. Leaving the main chamber behind, they continued their descent. The shafts of light emanating from their helmet lamps barely penetrated the blackness. From somewhere deep in the cavernous void, a subtle new sound intruded on the silence. Recognizing it as the whisper of water methodically wearing away the layers of strata, Corbett made a mental note to investigate it later as they kept moving.

  But as they made their way around a particularly imposing limestone outcropping, they abruptly found themselves facing a smooth granite wall covered in striking prehistoric drawings – antelope… sabre tooth cats… horses… bison – all rendered with an economy of line and color. In contrast, a group of figures possibly intended to represent a Neanderthal hunting party were reduced to simple stick figures, primitively drawn and without detail. The creation of some nameless artist obsessed with leaving a record of what he had known of the sun-drenched world above. Caught completely unprepared by such virtuosity, the three stood momentarily mute as they stared up at the breathtaking mural in silence.

  “Incredible…,” Ella half-whispered at last. Openly excited by the shear size and scope of the paintings, she involuntarily gripped Corbett by the arm without thinking. Placing his hand over hers to steady her, Corbett felt the same sense of wonder and awe.

  “This more like what you were hoping for?” he asked.

  “More… so much… Look at the way the figures have been rendered. The minimal use of line… so simple and direct. It’s brilliant”

  “Picasso de los Pirineos.” Roberto marveled.

  “Picasso, indeed,” Corbett found himself unable to look away. “Back in the nineteen-forties when they first discovered the cave paintings at Lascaux, Picasso was among the first to visit. He came despite the war and Hitler’s condemnation of his work. He simply had to see for himself.”

  “Really… Picasso?” Ella found herself entranced by the sound of his voice. There was something about the undercurrent of excitement as Corbett spoke that reminded her of that first lecture back in college. It was infectious. “I wonder what he must’ve thought.”

  “According to legend,” Corbett continued, “he was supposedly so overwhelmed by what he saw that he exclaimed: ‘But they have invented everything…!’ Completely intimidated, he couldn’t bring himself to paint for a month.”

  “I’m not surprised. Look at them. And these were created how many millennia ago?” Ella asked still marveling to the majesty of the wall before them.

  “Maybe thirty, thirty-five,” Corbett replied. “More or less.”

  “All this by torchlight…?” Roberto shook his head. “Amazing.”

  “Actually, they were more sophisticated than most people think.” Corbett crossed to a large, round hollowed out stone and knelt beside it, its basin crusted black with carbon. “For example, in all probability this would have been a lamp.”

  “A lamp?” Roberto smiled.

  “Current theory suggests that they would have placed animal fat in something like this and inserted a reed wick. Once lit, it could burn for hours. Better than a torch. Pretty ingenious when you think about it.” Rising, Corbett stared up at the paintings once more. “Look at the fluid way in which the figures interact. The antelope overtaking the bison. The horses running free. Almost as if the artist was attempting to capture motion. Whoever he was, that is, assuming this is all the work of single man, what’s truly remarkable is that his art transcends the ages and still speaks to us today.”

  “What makes you so sure it was a man?” Ella’s question caught both men by surprise causing them to turn. “It seems to me that while the males were off hunting or foraging or whatever they did all day, it could just as easily have been a female, stuck here in the cave day after day who decided to spend at least some of her time painting the world she remembered.”

  Roberto stared at her in disbelief. “Es ridículo,” he exclaimed. “How can you impose twenty-first century fe
minism on what we know to be a primitive, male dominated culture that existed thirty thousand years ago?”

  “Just because that’s always been the conventional wisdom doesn’t make it true. It’s all just educated guesswork. And I’d say my interpretation is as valid as yours,” Ella replied, refusing to back down.

  “Good point,” Corbett nodded, impressed by her willingness to challenge the status quo. “Could have been a woman… or women. You’re absolutely right.”

  Roberto rolled his eyes. “You must be joking. Between cooking, caring for children, preparing hides, and just generally seeing to the needs of her clan, what woman would have had the time to paint?”

  “Obviously a talented one,” Ella replied. Stung, Roberto shook his head but decided to let it drop as she turned to Corbett.

  “How soon can I get my cameras down here?”

  “As soon as the winch is up and running and we’ve set up the lift, we’ll run some lights and get you started,” Corbett answered, checking his watch. “It’s getting late. Better start heading back.”

  But as they began to retrace their steps, Ella hesitated. “What’s that sound?” she asked, cocking her head to one side to listen. The others stopped to listen as well.

  “Water… an underground river, no?” Roberto looked to Corbett.

  “Probably the source of the stream near base camp,” he replied. “Once we’re set up down here, we can check it out.”

  Moving back the way they had come, they could see the late afternoon light high above sifting through the entrance to the cave. Having rappelled down, they now had to climb back up. Using the harness and the rope attached to the anchor bolt above, one at a time, they managed to make their way to the surface once more.