Rabchen seemed to read Cassie’s unspoken question. “Those are the golden chortens,” he said. “There were originally thirteen and the shrine is still sometimes called the ‘Cave Of The Thirteen Golden Chortens’. There are more than thirteen here now though.”
“What’s a chorten?”
“It’s a Tibetan version of a stupa. Each one of those chortens houses the remains of a Buddhist saint.”
“Pretty colorful cave,” Cassie remarked, pointing to bright pieces of cloth strung from one golden spire to the next as well as what looked like small colorful pennants with writing on them.
“Those are prayer flags,” Rabchen continued. “People attach them to the chortens hoping their prayers will be answered. Supposedly, the wind releases the prayers written on the flags into the atmosphere. That’s more of a Buddhist custom than a Hindu one.”
The cave itself was narrow, no more than ten feet wide and much narrower than that in places. Chortens had been erected all the way from the entrance to the point where the fissure rejoined the mountainside. Beyond that lay a sheer vertical wall of rock.
Cassie and Griffin silently followed the twins about halfway through the cave where the two men stopped abruptly.
Rinchen smiled and pointed to something on the back wall slightly above eye level. “Is this what you were looking for?”
Griffin rubbed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he saw. “It would appear that finding an artifact hidden in a holy mountain isn’t going to prove that difficult after all.”
Cassie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Shortest relic hunt ever!”
Chapter 40—Triple Play
The Arkana group stood clustered together staring at a spot on the back wall of Saptarishi Cave. The familiar lily symbol was carved into the rock but it was the object displayed in a glass-covered niche below it that caused them all consternation.
“It is a magnificent sight, isn’t it?”
They turned in surprise. An Indian man, obviously on pilgrimage, had come up beside them to admire the artifact.
The newcomer continued. “It was only discovered a few decades ago. The story is told of a pilgrim from my country who came to this spot to pray. He was so overcome to be in the dwelling place of the Almighty that he pressed his forehead against the rock and wept with joy. The stone crumbled beneath his touch. When it fell away, this miraculous gift was revealed.”
“So you think this was a present from your god?” Cassie asked suspiciously.
Griffin tugged at her coat sleeve and shook his head slightly. Obviously he didn’t want her skeptical attitude to antagonize their informant.
“What else could it be?” The Indian man appeared baffled by the question. “Shiva is often pictured in this way. In a matter of days, a shrine was built around this precious relic. Of course, it had to be covered with glass. It was too fragile to withstand the harsh climate on the mountaintop.”
“That’s very interesting,” Griffin said encouragingly. “Thank you for telling us.”
The pilgrim nodded and walked off toward the cave entrance, chanting a Hindu prayer as he went.
The Scrivener nudged the group to the opposite end where the fissure terminated. About a dozen people were milling around the chortens but none seemed interested in going all the way to the back of the cave. The Arkana group stood in a little circle debating what to do next.
“Well, this sure complicates things,” Cassie said.
“Indeed,” Griffin agreed.
“Of all places for the Minoans to pick.” The Pythia shook her head in perplexity. “Why here?”
“I’m sure it was ideal in 1000 BCE,” the Scrivener countered. “That was centuries before the Hindus, Buddhists, and Jainists had made any incursions into Tibet. When the Minoans arrived, this cave was the sacred abode of a sky goddess and she didn’t have to share it with an overlord god. People only came here infrequently to perform religious rites. It was isolated and therefore perfect.”
“Guess the Minoans had no way of knowing this mountain would end up becoming the Asian equivalent of Vatican City.” Cassie sighed.
“Not only that,” Griffin added. “By a perverse bit of bad luck, the shape of the artifact placed in this cave happens to correlate with the iconography of the Lord Shiva.”
“It is one of Shiva’s most well-known symbols,” Rinchen agreed.
The Pythia gave an unexpected chuckle. “I’m taking a beat to process the irony. Our obscure little Minoan artifact somehow morphed into the Hindu Shroud Of Turin and now we have to figure out a way to boost it without anybody noticing.”
“We could come back at night,” Rabten suggested. “That piece of glass covering the niche is only held in place by a metal frame.”
“All we need is a couple of screwdrivers and a flashlight,” his brother offered.
“I’m afraid we have a bigger problem than merely removing the artifact,” Griffin observed.
When the twins treated him to a puzzled look, Cassie elaborated. “We need to replace the artifact with a replica right away. Since people visit this place all the time, we can’t take the original out of the case to get it copied. That sort of thing might get noticed.”
The twins seemed nonplussed. “We forgot about that,” Rinchen admitted.
Griffin reached into his backpack. “I don’t know what possessed me to bring a camera along on this trip but I’m certainly glad I did.”
He walked back to the glass-covered niche and began taking pictures of the artifact from every possible angle. He took close-up shots of the inscriptions carved into the front of the relic as well. “Let’s hope there aren’t any glyphs carved on the back,” he murmured.
“Don’t even think that!” Cassie exclaimed in alarm.
“I don’t suppose any of you has brought a tape measure?” he asked the group in general.
“Oh, I might.” Rabten volunteered. He searched his backpack and obligingly produced one.
“Brilliant!” Griffin said approvingly. “Now someone keep watch, please. It’s one thing for tourists to photograph this relic. It’s quite another for us to measure its dimensions. That might appear suspicious to the casual observer.”
His three companions formed a wall blocking the path of any stray pilgrim who might want to venture farther into the cave.
“All clear,” Cassie mumbled over her shoulder.
Furtively glancing toward the entrance, Griffin produced a notebook and quickly copied the dimensions of the piece. “I’ll have to estimate the depth,” he murmured half to himself. After several more minutes, he said, “I’m finished.”
His companions relaxed their vigilance. They clustered once again in front of the shrine.
“How are we supposed to get this thing copied? We’re a thousand miles from nowhere.” Cassie tried to keep a despairing note out of her voice.
“We can get it done for you,” Rabten suggested brightly.
Cassie and Griffin stared at him skeptically.
“We’ve got contacts in Lhasa who could do the work. It’s not the first time we’ve had to handle artifact restoration in this part of the world,” Rinchen explained.
“Lhasa is six hundred miles away,” the Pythia objected.
“We’re already acclimatized. We can fly. Granted, the nearest airport is a two hundred mile drive but we’ve got the Land Rover. There are only two flights per week but I know for a fact there’s a plane leaving tomorrow,” Rabten said.
“We can take your photos and the dimensions and get a copy made. It shouldn’t take more than a week for us to get back here with it.”
“That’s an excellent suggestion.” Griffin smiled with relief. “In the meantime, Cassie and I will stay in contact with Home Office so we’ll know when the Nephilim are on their way. Thank goddess, Darchen actually has phone and internet connections. Otherwise, we couldn’t manage this operation at all.”
“Uh, guys. There’s just one hitch,” Cassie said.
Her com
panions stared at her blankly.
“We don’t need one copy,” she reminded them. “We need two. The first one is for the Nephilim to steal. Then we need to put a second copy back in the shrine so nobody knows there’s been a theft of the original.”
“You’re right, of course,” Griffin agreed. “But this will constitute quite a challenge to orchestrate since the substitutions will need to be made almost simultaneously. We’ll have to conceal ourselves here in the cave during the time the Nephilim are stealing the artifact. As soon as they leave we’ll have to place the second copy so none of the pilgrims are treated to the sight of an empty shrine the following morning.”
Cassie shuddered. “I’m flashing back to the last time we were stuck in a cave with those guys.” She eyed Griffin. “It didn’t turn out so well for you.”
“Yes, I have the scar as a memento,” he patted his abdomen ruefully. “Still, it’s our only option.”
“I guess so,” the Pythia conceded. “Remind me to carry an extra stun gun when we make the switch, just in case things get dicey.”
“Oh, I’m sure everything will go smoothly this time.” Griffin gave an unconvincing smile in an attempt to reassure her.
“Yeah, that’ll happen.”
Chapter 41—Native Son
“Well, that was more fun than a barrel full of cobras,” Hunt remarked sarcastically.
Daniel and the cowboy passed through the revolving doors of their Mumbai hotel. The air-conditioned lobby provided welcome relief from the tropical heat and humidity outdoors.
The pair had spent the day fruitlessly searching Elephanta Island for a trace of the Minoan lily symbol. Daniel found himself overwhelmed not only by the dizzying array of artwork in the caves but by the perplexing nature of the Indian subcontinent itself. It was unlike anything he’d experienced in his earlier travels. The intricacies of the Hindu religion. The colorful saris and the complex spice palate of the food. The teeming streets of Mumbai—a paradoxical combination of modern technology and ancient mysticism. He found it all vaguely intimidating but strangely attractive at the same time. Above all else, he found the culture profoundly confusing. Not for the first time, he whispered a silent prayer of gratitude that Chris was only a phone call away to help him navigate this exotic land. Without his friend’s help, he doubted he would ever find his lily-shaped needle in this mandala-patterned haystack.
“I got a mouth that’s drier than Gandhi’s flip flops,” Hunt announced. The cowboy made a beeline for the hotel bar which was tucked into an alcove at the back of the reception area.
“I may as well join you,” Daniel said diffidently. “It’s been a long day.”
Hunt did a double-take. “Come again?” he asked with elaborate surprise. “I think somethin’ might be cloggin’ my ears cause I coulda swore—”
Daniel cut him off. “I said I’d join you.”
The cowboy removed his hat and fanned his face with it. Then he peered up at the ceiling, searching intently for something.
Noticing the direction of his gaze, Daniel asked, “What are you looking for?”
“Flyin’ pigs, son. Stands to reason if you’re trailin’ me into a tavern, then this is surely the day they done gone airborne.”
Daniel rolled his eyes but offered no reply.
They walked into the cool, dim recess and claimed two seats at the marble bar. It was still too early for happy hour so they had the place to themselves.
“You know they got a law here that says I need a permit to drink?” Hunt confided. “Don’t that beat all? These Injuns are damn near as bad as them Ayyy-rabs with their killjoy ways.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine as long as you buy your liquor inside the hotel,” Daniel countered. “Each state in India has different rules about alcohol consumption.”
“Well, gimme a list of the ones that say it’s alright. I’ll hole up there til you’re finished sniffin’ around for clues.”
The bartender bustled over to take their orders.
“Whiskey,” the cowboy barked, placing his beloved hat on the barstool to his left.
Daniel leaned forward and asked, “Do you have pale ale, by any chance?”
“Yes, sir,” the bartender nodded. “A very good local brand of India pale ale.”
“I’ll try a glass,” the Scion said. Half to himself he murmured, “How ironic. India pale ale was invented by the British. Now they brew it here.”
When the bartender left to fetch their drinks, Hunt swiveled around on his stool and squinted at Daniel.
The Scion glanced at him sideways. “What is it, Mr. Hunt?”
“I never thought I’d live to see the day. You drinkin’ a man’s brew. Well, not exactly a man’s brew. More like a sissy man’s brew but I don’t mean no criticism.” The cowboy raised his hands in protest. “It might lead to better things down the line.”
“Someone recently introduced me to ale. I found I enjoy the taste. It helps me relax.”
Their drinks arrived and each took a sip.
Hunt gave a deep sigh of satisfaction. “Sure enough, a good drink sets a bad day right.” He resumed his appraisal of the Scion. “Just look at you—tossed out your funeral suit and got you some glad rags. In that white shirt and jeans you could almost pass for normal. And now on top of that, sittin’ in a bar and drinkin’ like a person. Ain’t no doubt about it. You gone native, boy.” The cowboy shook his head in amazement. “It beats all I ever seen. I wonder what your daddy would think.”
“He’d die of shock,” Daniel replied caustically. “That is, if someone were so unwise as to tell him. Of course, that someone might risk losing a lucrative source of income if he carried the tale back home.”
Hunt blinked once at Daniel’s veiled threat before he burst out laughing. Then he slapped the Scion on the back.
Daniel winced at the force of the blow.
“Brother Dan’l, you’re alright. You ain’t the sad sack you was when we started chasin’ doodads together.”
“I suppose not,” Daniel conceded. “People can change.”
“Yeah, but in my experience it generally ain’t for the better,” Hunt retorted. “Still and all, I got high hopes for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hunt,” Daniel replied dryly. “Your faith in me is touching.” He took another sip of ale.
The cowboy downed his shot and ordered a second. Turning his attention to business, he asked, “So what you got in mind to do next? Not that I didn’t enjoy all them statues of naked ladies we seen today but that ain’t why we made the trip.”
“It was something of a long shot to think the relic might be hidden in the Elephanta caves,” Daniel admitted. “I believe we’ll have better luck tomorrow. Our destination is an archaeological site in Gujarat.”
“Archaeological site, huh?” Hunt’s tone was wary. “That means miles of sand and nothin’ much else.”
“Most probably,” the Scion agreed.
Hunt downed his second shot in one gulp. “Then I best drink my fill today because the next waterin’ hole is a long ride through a dust storm in the middle of nowhere.”
Chapter 42—Divinest Sense
Abraham paced the oriental carpet in his prayer closet, hands clasped behind his back. Periodically, he would steal a glance at the pale woman seated in one of the hard-bottomed chairs under his ancestor’s portrait. At the moment, she was rocking back and forth in her seat, oblivious to his presence, carrying on a whispered conversation with herself. Her behavior utterly flummoxed him. When the Diviner had given Daniel a promise to counsel Annabeth, he had no idea what an arduous task that would prove to be. His son’s departure for India had accelerated her decline to such a degree that her previously sporadic sleepwalking episodes were now a nightly occurrence. Long after midnight, her repeated cries of “Abel, where are you?” awoke the entire community. Invariably, one of her sister-wives was forced to get out of bed and lead her back to her own room. An hour or two later, she would be wandering about again.
He walked softly back to the table and seated himself in the chair opposite hers. Settling in, he gave his visitor an encouraging smile. He needn’t have bothered. Her eyes were shut tight while her mouth continued to mutter gibberish.
“Annabeth?” He began in a quiet tone. When she gave no sign that she’d heard him, his voice grew more insistent. “Annabeth!” Still no response. Finally, he shook her by the shoulder. “Annabeth, look at me!” he demanded.
That did the trick. Her eyes flew open in surprise. She glanced wildly around the room as if she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. When her attention finally focused on the Diviner, she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Abraham forced an unconvincing grimace of sympathy. “There, that’s better.”
She merely gawked at him.
“How are you feeling today?”
She passed her hand across her eyes. “I’m a little tired.”
“I imagine so,” he agreed. “You’ve been walking around all night long.”
“No. No, I haven’t.” She sounded surprised at the allegation.
“Listen to me, Annabeth.” He fastened his eyes on her face, compelling her to pay attention. “You’ve been sleepwalking. Wandering the corridors at all hours, disturbing the rest of the community.”
Into The Jaws Of The Lion (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 5) Page 23
