‘Okay, go!’ he hissed, pointing across the tracks to a ditch. Stooping, Nina hurried to it. Chase followed more slowly, backing over the tracks and sweeping the branch to cover their footprints. Even though he was trying to match the marks as closely as possible, if the riders slowed to look they would immediately notice the lack of any tread patterns, an erased line pointing at the intruders.
He just had to hope they didn’t slow down.
Another headlight, the other bike coming round the circuit.
‘Eddie, come on!’ Nina called. He was almost across, only the last few footsteps to remove.
Engine noise getting louder—
‘Come on!’
Done. He dropped the branch and leapt backwards to land beside Nina. The quad bike was almost on them. Its headlight swept across the path of their footprints, the hastily scrubbed patches standing out clearly . . .
The quad rasped past in a spray of sand, wiping out the evidence of their passage with a new set of tracks from its fat, knobbly tyres.
Nina blew dust from her face. ‘Jesus! Could you possibly have cut it any closer?’
‘I dunno. Want me to try again? Just run back across . . .’
She huffed. ‘Come on.’
They moved down the shadowed side of the ditch, heading for the thrum of a diesel generator ahead. Signalling for Nina to stay still, Chase crept up the stony slope for a look, then slid back down to her. ‘Looks like they’re taking a break - most of the men are over by the tents. There’s still a few hanging around, though, so we’ll need to be careful.’
‘You know which way to go?’
‘Yeah. There’s a trench - if we drop into it, we can go almost all the way round.’
They crawled up and took shelter behind the generator, checking there was nobody nearby before moving along behind a loose line of parked vehicles. One of them was Ribbsley’s Winnebago, a top-of-the-range model the size of a small bus. Chase hesitated as they reached it. ‘What?’ Nina asked.
‘We should help that woman. Even if she’s Ribbsley’s girlfriend, the rest of them weren’t big fans.’
‘Eddie, I know you always want to be the white knight and help damsels in distress,’ said Nina, ‘but you can’t right now. If we help her escape, what happens when they find out she’s missing? We can’t do anything - not yet, anyway. Maybe after we’ve found what we’re looking for.’
‘You’re all heart,’ Chase said, unimpressed. Nina gave him a dirty look, then continued onwards.
They reached the trench. Chase took another look at the surrounding area. A couple of men were working on an excavator’s engine, but their backs were to them. He looked past the machine at the tents. The rest of the men were eating, which would hopefully keep them occupied for a while. He also noticed that they appeared to be divided into three groups, seemingly on ethnic lines, and that each group favoured a different type of assault rifle - Belgian FN SCARs, Israeli TAR-21s and Swiss SIG SG-551s - although all shared the same 5.56mm ammo.
Before he could think about that any further, Nina nudged him. ‘Is it safe?’
‘Yeah, looks like it’s teatime. Think they’d mind if I blagged a sandwich?’
‘Let’s not find out.’ She climbed into the trench. Chase checked that the mechanics were still occupied, then followed.
Staying close to the wall, they advanced. The broken remains of buildings protruded from the trench floor, tracks from the excavators’ caterpillar treads running right through them. ‘I can’t believe this,’ Nina said, anger rising as they passed another smashed wall. ‘This isn’t archaeology, this is just vandalism. If it’s not what you’re looking for, destroy it.’
They reached the end of the trench. Chase climbed up first, then pulled Nina after him. They were close to the spot where the discovery had been made. Hiding behind a pile of sand, they crawled to the edge of the next trench and peered down.
A man stood outside the curved wall marking the trench’s end. Another two men were carrying a wooden reel of electrical cable, laying the line behind them as they reached the broken hole in the wall. They climbed through, unreeling more cable as they disappeared from view. Other lights were visible inside the buried structure: torch beams.
Nina could make out voices, but not clearly enough to hear what was being said. She was sure one of them was Ribbsley’s, though; the arrogant, affected English accent was quite distinctive. ‘Sounds like Ribbsley’s giving a lecture,’ she whispered to Chase.
‘About what?’
‘The translation, I guess. God, I hope he hasn’t figured it all out already.’
They moved back as the two men emerged from the hole and retreated up the trench. A short time later they returned, one carrying a pair of metal stands, the other two heavy-duty electric lamps. After another minute, the flitting torchlight was replaced by a constant, even glow. The men re-emerged and went back up the trench, the third man going with them.
Nina and Chase exchanged looks. If the occupants of the ruin left it as well, the way would be clear for them to climb down and go inside . . .
Ribbsley’s muffled voice kept talking, pausing occasionally as the others asked questions. After several minutes, there was movement. Vogler climbed out of the hole, followed by the two other Covenant leaders, then Ribbsley. He made a show of brushing dust off his suit as the white-haired man emerged behind him. ‘So you can translate the full thing, right?’ he asked Ribbsley. His accent was American.
‘Of course I can,’ Ribbsley replied sniffily, adjusting his hat. ‘I recognised most of the symbols on sight, and once I check my notes on my laptop I’ll be able to identify the others quickly enough. The numbers will be a nuisance, but now that I know they follow the Atlantean system it’s just a matter of converting them to base ten.’
‘Could this lead us to the origin of the Veteres?’ asked Vogler. Nina frowned at the odd word.
‘Possibly. But it won’t be as straightforward as finding this place. There are no bearings, no directions - it’s not a chart, like the object you obtained in Indonesia. It seems to be more of a record, a historical account left by the Veteres.’ Now dust-free, Ribbsley tugged imperiously at his lapels. ‘But I’ll crack it, I assure you. Now, I suggest a recess for supper; then I’ll get my laptop from the camper and return to work.’
‘Why waste time?’ demanded the bearded Arab. ‘Get it now.’
Ribbsley looked down his nose at him - an expression Nina remembered. She wasn’t the only person to whom he considered himself superior. ‘You may be willing to work all night on an empty stomach, Mr Zamal, but I’m certainly not.’ He set off along the trench, Vogler and the second of the Covenant members flanking him. Zamal and the white-haired man exchanged looks that made it clear they shared the same low opinion of the professor, then followed.
‘The bloke with white hair,’ said Chase once they were out of earshot, ‘I know him from somewhere.’
‘You too?’ Nina asked. ‘Any idea where?’
‘No. But I definitely recognise him.’ He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t matter for now. Soon as they’re out of sight, we’ll climb down.’
‘How long do you think we’ll have?’
‘Could be half an hour, could be five minutes. Depends how fast they eat.’
‘Somehow, I don’t think Ribbsley’s the kind of man who rushes his food,’ said Nina. She looked after the retreating men, puzzled. ‘Veteres . . . why would they use that as a name?’
‘You know what it means?’
‘Yes, it’s Latin - “Ancients” would probably be the closest translation. But the context it’s used in usually relates to family, like distant ancestors. I’ve never heard it in an archaeological sense.’
The group passed from view along the trench. Chase stood. ‘Maybe you’ll be able to figure it out once we’re inside. Come on.’
He lowered her down, then jumped to the bottom of the trench. Nina moved to the hole in the wall and glanced warily into it. It seemed empty -
of life, at least.
But the answers to many questions waited within. She stepped inside.
14
The buried structure’s interior was dome-shaped, the design and construction practically identical to the ruin at the bottom of the Java Sea. But this was intact; apart from the section broken open by the excavator, the only damage was at the far side of the room, where a tall doorway was blocked by rubble.
The contents of the room had fared less well, though. From the dust covering everything, Nina knew it hadn’t been the result of the Covenant’s work. Whatever had caused everything to tumble and scatter across the floor had happened centuries ago, even millennia. It appeared more like the result of an earthquake than deliberate destruction.
The chamber seemed to have been a storage area, shelves of brick and long-corroded wood toppled and broken, contents smashed on the ground. Stark shadows radiated outwards from the two lamps at the chamber’s centre, bringing the debris into sharp relief. As Chase kept watch on the trench, Nina knelt to examine the dusty artefacts. ‘This is like the one we found underwater,’ she said, holding up a broken clay cylinder. This too had a closely wound groove spiralling up its length. There were others nearby, most also damaged, but she spotted one that was intact and picked it up. One end had a hole at its centre, while the other had a short inscription in the unknown language running around it.
‘What is it?’ Chase asked.
‘No idea.’ A perusal of other cylinders showed that each inscription was different. She put down the object, then moved to the lamps . . . and saw what they had been brought to illuminate. ‘Oh, my God. Eddie, look at this.’
Chase crossed the room, debris crunching under his boots. ‘Okay, so now we know what that lot were looking for.’
A section of the wall had been covered with a layer of plaster, creating a smooth surface. Parts were cracked, and some sections had broken off . . . but most of it was still intact, revealing line after line of ancient writing.
Nina recognised numbers within the text, and a handful of symbolic characters, but the rest of it was as impenetrable as the words on the clay tablet. Excited, she took out her camera.
‘Careful with the flash,’ Chase warned. ‘We don’t want anyone to see it.’
She switched off the flash, then started taking pictures. ‘This is amazing,’ she said. ‘A record of an unknown race . . .’
‘If there’s a little picture of a UFO in there,’ said Chase, stepping past her to look more closely, ‘then I’m right, and they’re aliens.’
‘They’re not aliens.’ She used the zoom to capture images in more detail. ‘Eddie, your shadow’s in the shot.’
‘Sorry.’ He backed away, the rubble filling the doorway catching his attention. ‘Hey, check this out. This didn’t collapse. Somebody blocked it off.’
Chase was right, Nina saw; the large bricks in the opening were too regularly aligned to have been tumbled there by any natural means. She turned in place, examining the rest of the chamber. ‘There’s no sign of any bodies. It must have been sealed from outside.’ A thought occurred, and she went to the inscription on the wall. ‘This might be a final record, a sort of time capsule. Something they left for others to find after they moved on.’
‘Question is, does it say where they went?’ Something caught Chase’s eye, a glint of metal across the room, and he went to pick it up. ‘Oh, ’ello. This look familiar?’
‘It does.’ It was a cone of copper sheet, scratched and dented, but unlike the flattened one they had found in Indonesia this one still had its shape. ‘Any sign of what it might have been used for?’
He prodded at the shattered objects on the floor. ‘No. Everything’s wrecked.’
‘See if there’s any more of them.’ Nina ran a fingertip along the ancient plaster, surprised at its even application and smoothness. Like the building itself, it had been made with a precision and care that was rare in early civilisations - and unknown in the era of pre-history from which it seemed to have come. Who had built it? Who were these people . . . and why was the mysterious Covenant of Genesis so determined to conceal them?
‘I don’t see anything,’ Chase said from the other side of the room. ‘There’s more of those cylinders, and some clay tablets, but they’re all broken.’ He picked his way back to the hole, glancing out at the trench - then retreated sharply. ‘Shit! They’re coming back! Hide, hide!’
‘Where?’ Nina gasped, looking round in panic as Chase vaulted a pile of bricks and hunched down in the deep shadows behind it. Pinned in the light from both lamps, there was no way she could cross the chamber to join him without being seen by the approaching men, and none of the fallen shelf stacks appeared to offer enough cover to hide behind.
No choice—
She hopped over the closest and flattened herself along the length of its shadowed side - and clapped both hands over her mouth to hold in a yelp of pain as something stabbed into her left buttock.
Vogler entered the chamber first, Ribbsley following - and complaining. ‘This is ridiculous. For the supposed guardians of civilisation, you’re remarkably lacking in it. How’s a man supposed to work without getting a decent meal?’
The others came in behind him. ‘The Triumvirate voted to continue with the work as quickly as possible,’ said Zamal.
‘Two out of three,’ Ribbsley said irritably. ‘At least Vogler here showed some courtesy. Not like you and Hammerstein. And you wouldn’t even have voted at all if he hadn’t opened his mouth.’ He glared at the white-haired American. ‘He’s not even a member of the Covenant, so why he gets any say I have no idea. There’s no reason even for him to be here.’
‘You know that was part of the deal, Professor,’ said Vogler. ‘But please, the sooner we start, the sooner we will be finished.’
‘Oh, very well.’ Still annoyed, Ribbsley crossed the room, pausing to pick up a couple of the clay cylinders - including the one Nina had examined earlier. ‘“Wind sea” - no, “sea of wind, seasons, wind,”’ he read from the inscription on the first. ‘“Winds of the seasons of the sea of wind”, I suppose.’ He checked the other. ‘And “fish of the sea of wind”. The usual gibberish. Why did they make so many of these things just to hold one line of meaningless text?’ He put them back down and continued across the chamber to stand before the text on the wall - barely four feet from Nina. Another step, and he would see her . . .
Instead, he opened up his laptop computer, cradling it in one arm as he peered at the text on the wall, then brought up a list of words written in the ancient language. ‘Let’s see . . . ah, I was right - the first line is a title of sorts. I was only missing a couple of words. Something along the lines of “The account of the final days of the people of the one great tree”, although the syntactic structure is different. It’s a very logically constructed language, actually - reminds me of Esperanto—’
‘Is that what the Veteres called themselves?’ Zamal interrupted. He moved forward for a closer look. Nina held her breath, tears in her eyes from the stabbing pain, hearing his footsteps getting nearer—
‘Don’t block the light,’ Ribbsley snapped, waving him back. Zamal scowled, but obeyed. ‘They seem to have a great deal of reverence for trees - it’s a word that’s appeared a lot in the texts you’ve brought me over the years. Perhaps they worshipped them.’
‘Pagans,’ Zamal sneered.
‘Maybe, but their beliefs certainly lasted for much longer than Islam’s been around, hmm?’ Smirking at the frowning Arab, he returned to the translation. ‘Ah! Now this is interesting. It says they left here a long time before to . . . to “escape the beasts”.’
‘Beasts?’ asked Hammerstein, glancing round the room and fingering his holstered gun as if expecting some animal to jump out. Chase, watching through a small gap in the pile of rubble, tensed.
‘That’s the closest translation. Although I can’t imagine what kind of beasts would be terrorising them in Australia. Giant wombats, perhaps!’ He l
aughed, then looked back at the wall. ‘But these beasts, whatever they were, were dangerous enough to drive them out of this settlement. They sailed for many days, probably weeks, to . . . to “the land of wind and sand”.’ They all exchanged puzzled looks.
‘Are you sure that’s what it says?’ the white-haired man demanded.
‘Yes, I’m positive,’ said Ribbsley testily. He jabbed a finger at the inscription, Nina just able to see him indicate particular symbols from her awkward position. ‘Wind, sand, land. Absolutely unmistakable.’
Zamal scratched his beard thoughtfully. ‘Wind and sand. A desert.’
‘But that could be anywhere,’ Vogler said. ‘A journey of weeks by sea could have taken them to Asia, Arabia, even Africa.’
‘Let’s hope the rest of the text is more enlightening.’ Ribbsley read on. ‘They built a new home, a “great city” in a valley near the sea with “tiny mountains of fire” - well, that’s the symbol for a volcano, although I don’t know how one could be tiny.’ He scanned through several more lines. ‘I think you will definitely find this part fascinating. It says they lived in peace in their city for many years - until their god drove them out.’
‘Their god?’ asked Hammerstein.
‘It’s actually a concatenation of several words and symbols - literally, it reads “the one great tree”. I misunderstood the context in the title, but there’s nothing else it can mean here. A supreme being, one that punished them for . . . “giving the gift of God to the beasts”.’
As Ribbsley had expected, that aroused considerable interest in the other men. ‘What gift?’ said Zamal.
Ribbsley gave him a patronising sigh. ‘Perhaps if you’d let me finish, I might be able to tell you. Now, it says their god punished them by “taking the sea”, which I assume means a fall in sea level, so we should be able to match the date to the onset of an ice age, and sending wind and sand to kill the trees . . . and they had to leave the city before the wind and sand killed them too.’ A pause as he checked his laptop. ‘They tried to . . . “preserve”, I suppose, to preserve the city by closing . . . no, “sealing” the valley so the river would grow and be covered by . . . oh, what a surprise. Wind and sand. I must say, they did have the most banal and repetitive prose style.’
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