The Immortality Curse: A Matt Kearns Novel 3

by Greig Beck

  “Logically, huh?” Matt rubbed his face. “Okay, did it ever really occur?”

  Khaled smiled. “Do you really think that a flood submerged the entire world around 5000 to 4500 years ago?”

  “No, I don’t. That period coincided with one of the last interglacial epochs, but computer extrapolations have shown that even if all of the world’s ice melted today, it still wouldn’t submerge the planetary landmass.” Matt sat back. “So no, I don’t believe there was ever a worldwide deluge.”

  “But there probably was something, yes?” Khaled’s dark eyes gleamed. “The story’s genesis.”

  “I like your thinking.” Matt grinned. “There was a flood, an unprecedented one, but maybe it was more localized.”

  “Yes, this is what I think.” Khaled’s grin widened. “And I also think I know where that might have been.”

  Matt nudged a stony-faced Rachel. “That’s it, I’m hooked.”

  Khaled sat forward. “Unexpectedly finding Shem’s body made me wonder what we really knew about the great man himself. What was real, what was fable and what was nothing more than historical distortion. So I did some research.” He turned to Rachel. “What do you know about Noah, Agent Bromilow? I mean really know?”

  She shook her head slowly. “Matt’s told me a little. But really, just the Sunday School stuff – the guy lived somewhere in the Middle East, was some sort of farmer, built the Ark, animals two by two, and final resting place was Mount Ararat.” She gave him a lopsided grin.

  Eleanor had Greta wheel her chair closer to them. The Saudi man nodded to her, and then turned back to Rachel. “Even in that summary, there is so much wrong. You see, Noah was never a poor man, and further, many people immediately place all biblical references in the Middle East, which is not the case for Noah.”

  “Africa.” Matt pointed, gun-like. “I mean, the Bible says that Abraham’s ancestors came out of Africa. Noah is one of those ancestors, right?”

  “Exactly. Between 5000 and 4500 years ago it was the time of the great ancient kingdoms. Noah was a descendant of a Proto-Saharan ruler and these kings of the wetlands controlled the major water systems of Lake Chad, the Nile, the Tigris and Euphrates. The interconnected waterways were their highways and trade routes. In other words, Noah would have been extremely wealthy, familiar with boats and likely had a large fleet.”

  Rachel scoffed. “So he was already a boat builder? And I suppose he also had herds of animals hanging around.”

  “It’s history that is speaking now, Agent. Let us listen to it.” He waited a few seconds until she sighed and nodded, before he went on. “In answer to your question, the Proto-Saharan rulers such as Noah kept menageries with male and female specimens for breeding purposes. There are your animals.”

  “Shit,” Rachel muttered.

  “I think Africa is a good place to start, but where?” Matt asked. “All I know is it’s somewhere referred to as Bor-Nu, the Land of Noah.”

  “And I believe that’s Lake Chad.” Khaled sat back.

  “Lake Chad? In Chad?” Rachel’s jaw dropped. “Jesus, could you pick a more inhospitable country?”

  “Stop being a little princess.” Eleanor snorted in derision. “I know that area and toured there in the sixties. Lake Chad is shallow and only about 500 square miles. It’s little more than a marsh in some areas.”

  “That’s right, today it is. But hear me out.” Khaled grinned. “Remember what I said – let history guide us. Travel back 5000 years, and what do we now see?”

  “Africa was much wetter, greener,” Matt said eagerly.

  “Exactly. Africa was a paradise and yes, much wetter than today due to the African geological rifts that generated watersheds and rain shadow troughs over the continent. Your own American satellite photographs reveal striations in the geology that tell us that Lake Chad was more than just a huge body of water then, but instead it was a magnificent inland sea. At its peak, it was the largest of four Saharan paleolakes and would have covered an area of nearly 400,000 square miles.” He leaned forward. “That’s larger than the Caspian Sea is today.”

  “And the land in that area is very flat.” Matt nodded. “Perfect for flooding.”

  “Even thousands of years later, during the time of Noah, the lake still had a surface area greater than that of your Lake Superior and with a depth of around 600 feet. And remember, Noah controlled the waterways of the entire Lake Chad Basin.”

  “He would have been like a king,” Matt whispered. “And if there was a surge in rainfall and significant flooding, the inland sea would have become an ocean again – turned back into its prehistoric version of itself – it would have seemed big enough to flood the world, or their at least their world.”

  “Yes, Professor Kearns, yes indeed.” Khaled eased back into his seat. “There’s a reason no one has ever found Noah, his great Ark, or his wellspring of life; it’s because we have all been looking in the wrong place.”

  *

  Khaled looked at the faces of the trio. As he expected, the FBI Agent’s expression held suspicion. Professor Kearns’ was open, interested, and bursting with curiosity, just as he’d hoped from a field-working academic. But the older woman was harder to read. Her eyes were half-lidded, and sometimes when he thought she had dozed off, he realised she had only closed her eyes to slits and was watching them all closely.

  “Sounds like you’re well on top of all this, so why do you need us?” Rachel waved away a sandwich Matt held out to her.

  Khaled shrugged. “My expertise is more that of an enthusiastic amateur, whereas Professor Kearns is at the top of expert level. When we were down in the monastery, I saw ancient writing on the sarcophagus lid and sides. I could read next to none of it. I expect that there will be more clues and we cannot afford to miss or misunderstand a single one.” He held his arms wide. “I’m smart enough to know when I need help and humble enough to ask for it.” He shared his most charming smile. “I need your help.”

  Rachel raised an eyebrow, unmoved by his charm. “So you need our help. But what do you get out of it? Why are you pursuing this… myth?”

  Khaled sighed, deciding to lay more of his cards before them. “The prince is not a well man. He has tried everything, but his body continues to fail him. If this wellspring of life exists, and it has the restorative and healing powers it is supposed to…” He shrugged. “… then please do not blame an old man for wanting to live a little longer.”

  Eleanor van Helling’s eyes had shifted to Matt and seemed to glow with excitement. “And now, we are back where we started; still needing a goddamn map.”

  “Like Khaled said, we need to let history guide us.” Matt hiked his shoulders. “We need a world map: old, but with high detail. They’re very rare, but I do have one in mind.”

  “Go on.” Khaled raised his chin.

  “It’s Roman, the Peutinger Map, or Tabula Peutingeriana. It’s one of the earliest roadmaps of what was called the cursus publicus – the road network of the Roman Empire.”

  “I’m no expert, but the Romans weren’t even around at the time of Noah,” Rachel said.

  “The Peutinger Map; I know it, well.” Khaled chuckled. “It is kept at the Austrian National Library in Vienna. The original map upon which it is based probably dates to the 4th or 5th century and was itself based on a map prepared by Agrippa during the reign of the emperor Augustus.”

  “The very one.” Matt nodded enthusiastically. “We need to examine it and try and line it up with the fragment of map from the Fort Severn window.”

  “Good.” Eleanor smacked her lips. “I think I might be able to get you in there. I have contacts.”

  “Yes.” Matt clapped his hands together.

  “That version is worthless.” Khaled’s gaze was direct.

  “What?” Matt’s eyes widened. “It covers most of Europe, much of the Middle East, and even down to North Africa.”

  “Yes, it does, but just the tip of Africa, which was a Roman province establ
ished after they finally defeated the mighty Carthage nation in the Third Punic War.”

  Rachel tilted her head back. “Close but no cigar; what’s the next option?”

  “No, we’re on the right track.” Khaled stabbed a finger onto the table. “Over the millennia, the Peutinger Map has been copied and changed hands many times. In fact, the map presently held in the museum is a 13th-century copy and covers Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, Persia and India. But when the original was purchased by Prince Eugene of Savoy in the early 1700s for a significant sum, there was another bidder, who offered just as much.”

  Khaled lifted his small coffee cup and sipped, and then carefully replaced it on its saucer. There was breathless silence, and he knew he had them. “The anonymous seller found out something interesting about both the potential buyers – Prince Eugene had never seen the map, and so had no idea what it really contained or what he was potentially buying. And the other buyer was only interested in certain portions.” He smiled.

  Matt tilted his head back to laugh out loud. “Of course – he made both sales. He split it up.”

  “Yes.” Khaled slapped the table. “This crafty seller decided to maximize his profit, and so he removed a portion and sold it separately.”

  “The greater Africa portion.” Matt grinned. “That contained the Chad Lake basin.”

  Khaled nodded.

  “And I’m betting you know where it is,” Rachel added. “And I’m also betting you’ve known about it all along.” She scoffed. “Why were we even playing this game?”

  Khaled lowered his eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up. “Yes, forgive me. I hoped the information might be of assistance. Now I know it will.”

  “I’ve never heard of this African portion.” Eleanor’s tiny brown teeth were clamped. “And where is it now?”

  “The current owner might be persuaded to allow us to take a peek.” Khaled watched their faces. Matt was perched on the edge of his seat, but Rachel looked wary.

  “Who and where?” she asked.

  Khaled sat back, his palms up. “My home.”

  “Saudi Arabia?” Rachel’s nose wrinkled.

  “Of course. My uncle is also a collector of antiquities and bought the Afrik Fragmenta Tabulæ Antiquæ on the black market decades ago. I’ve seen it and believe it might bring us closer to what we seek.”

  “Ship it here under my protection,” Eleanor said softly.

  Khaled pulled in a cheek. “I’m afraid his goodwill would not extend to that type of risk.”

  Matt folded his arms. “I’m not up for a trip to the Middle East.” Agent Bromilow glared at him. “Not exactly a place where—”

  “Ah yes, I’d heard; your recent time in Syria.” Khaled scrutinized Matt. “I know that has colored your perception of our region. But Professor, I assure you, where we will be heading is an oasis of calm, modernity and luxury.”

  Matt didn’t look convinced, so Khaled pressed him harder. “You have my word that you will be protected by a small army and never have to set foot outside the city.” Khaled held his hands out, palms up. “It’ll be little more than a lavish holiday.”

  Rachel glared at him. “In a place where women aren’t even allowed to drive cars.”

  Khaled spun at her. “And you had over 13,000 gun-related murders last year, Agent Bromilow, we had 28.” He shared his most sympathetic smile. “We are slowly moving our population to being more tolerant of sexual equality, but we must be patient and pragmatic with our people. All I ask is you be tolerant of our faults and patient as well?”

  She sighed. “Will I need to cover my head?”

  “It might be wise.” He gave her a half-smile, but Rachel’s nostrils flared in return.

  Matt sat back, and his vision seemed to have turned inward. Khaled could see he was struggling with the decision. He reached out to grip his wrist and was surprised to find the professor trembling.

  “Professor, a few days, and you get to see the oldest map fragment in the world. Saudi royalty will protect you, and, I might add, you will be safer there than you would be here. I know about the attack downstairs.”

  “Arrgh.” Matt threw his head back and grimaced as though in pain. Khaled noticed the FBI woman blanch.

  “Okay, okay…” Matt said finally. “And damn my professional curiosity.”

  “Excellent.” Khaled clapped once.

  “I can be ready,” Eleanor said.

  “You’ll be ready?” Matt squinted at the old woman.

  Khaled held his arms wide. “You see, Agent Bromilow, Professor, it seems the older generation are made of sterner stuff, both physically and mentally, than we fragile persons today.”

  Greta returned and laid a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. Matt noticed that the fingers were long and strong and gently rubbed her blouse. Eleanor looked up and nodded. “And Greta will be accompanying me, of course.”

  “Greta?” Matt straightened in his seat.

  Eleanor looked at Matt from under lowered brows. “My Greta has been with me since she was a little girl. I rescued her from an East German orphanage in the sixties, and, in a way, she is like my daughter.” She looked up at the hulking woman. “And so much more.” Her eyes narrowed. “Greta is coming.”

  “When?” Matt asked the Saudi.

  “Tomorrow morning, first thing,” Khaled said. “I’ll have a private jet waiting for us at Teterboro.”

  “Private jet.” Matt looked at Rachel and raised his eyebrows. “Nice.”

  “What sort of jet?” Greta asked. “Mrs. van Helling has special needs.” Her eyes on Khaled were like pale lasers.

  Khaled smiled. “A Gulfstream G-550; it has four living areas and seating for eighteen people. Also full medical facilities and ramps for your chair, Mrs. van Helling.”

  “The G-550 will be just fine.” Matt grinned.

  “Then we’re done – 6 am, we’ll be on the runway.” Khaled stood up and bowed to Eleanor van Helling, and then to Rachel. He shook Matt’s hand, and then lent in close to his ear and spoke softly in Arabic.

  “Trust no one.”

  *

  “What did he say?” Rachel asked as soon as they were in the back of their car.

  Matt saw the creases between her eyes deepen as she waited for his answer. Khaled couldn’t possibly have meant her, and more likely referred to the people who were tossing grenades into their windows, or maybe even Eleanor, or that frightful female bodyguard of hers.

  And yet, he didn’t say be careful, he said trust no one – there was a difference. Matt shrugged it off. “Nothing important; he just wanted to know if we needed extra security – the bomb blast and all.”

  Rachel studied him for a moment, before settling back into her seat. “You have all the protection you need… me.”

  “Yeah, I can’t thank you enough,” Matt said sarcastically. “I mean, if it wasn’t for you, I’d be frittering my life away on some sandy beach right now. My biggest worry would be sunburn.” Matt sighed, looking away. “You know, I shouldn’t even be involved in this anymore.” He turned back to her. “I think I should sit this one out, so…”

  Rachel looked like she’d been slapped. “Seriously, Matt?” she said, raising her voice. “We both nearly died, you saved my life, and it’s not over yet. Now you want to kick us, me, into the long grass?”

  Matt was silent a moment, not knowing what to say. “Okay,” he said quietly. “It’s just…” He trailed off.

  “Why do you keep trying to leave?” she asked, her blue eyes pinning him.

  Matt looked away first. He rubbed his hand across his face. “I want to help, Rachel, I do. But some of the things I’ve been through… They never leave you, you know?”

  Rachel put her hand to his cheek and turned him back to face her. “When I went to you after the bomb went off, I thought you were dead. Dead.” He stared into her face. Her blue eyes seemed to pulse. “And then when you saved me at the church…” She bit her lip. “I’m not as tough as you think.
I can’t do this without you.”

  “Forget I said what I did.” Matt put his hand on hers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  *

  She pulled him into her room, left the lights off and grabbed his shirtfront, dragging him toward the living room chair, and then pushed him back into it.

  Matt smiled in the dark.

  She kicked off her shoes, and rose up, her hands on the armrests of the chair and leaning forward. He smelled her perfume and was intoxicated by it. Rachel kept coming and her lips just brushed his ear. Matt felt the tiniest flick of her tongue on his lobe. Her voice was just a whispered breath in his ear.

  Rachel moved her face to his and ran the tip of her tongue along his lips, top and bottom. It was the most sensual thing he’d felt in a long while. He reached up to encircle the back of her head and pulled her closer. She came fully onto his lap and their mouths locked. His tongue now fought with hers in their mouths, and she tasted like cinnamon and soda.

  She pulled open his shirt as she moved back and forth on his lap for a moment before it became an urgent race to pull clothing free and fling it to the side.

  *

  Matt crept from Rachel’s hotel room around 4 am. He was tired, and now sore, but in a good way. He smiled; for all her brusque toughness, she had her heart in the right place. He couldn’t help it; he liked her, a lot.

  He had plenty of time now to shower and shave, grab his stuff and meet Rachel and the car downstairs at 5.15. He wasn’t sure exactly what he needed to bring, but Khaled had told him not to worry so much, as he had to only ask for something and it would be obtained within the hour for him.

  He threw a few items of clothing, a shaver and toothbrush into his case, and then went to stuff the folder containing his pictures of the Fort Severn stained glass window in on top. He couldn’t resist one last look, and dragged out the main image – to the untrained eye it was a few contours, different colors, a few dots and squiggly lines. But he knew there was a small piece of coastline, and the geography was distinctive enough that it could be recognized if they just found the broader context. And most importantly, he knew those squiggly lines had to be a trail.