The Inca Prophecy
Page 32
Hydraulic rams opened the heavy concrete roofs on missile silos buried deep in the Zagros and Alborz mountains, revealing the deadly nose cones of the Shahab-3 ballistic missiles. The missiles were strategically deployed hundreds of kilometres apart, each allotted a different target. Dense clouds of flames and exhaust poured from the vents in the silos in the mountains to the north of Shahrak-e-Moallem, Chashmidar, and a dozen other covert launch sites. The giant missiles thundered unerringly above the carnage, powering out of the earth’s atmosphere at over 5000 kilometres an hour, some headed for Tel Aviv and other Israeli bases, while others headed for American bases in the Middle East, which were vital to the refuelling of the superpower’s warships and aircraft. The huge 5th Fleet Base in Bahrain erupted in a fireball, the twisted wreckage of ships still at their moorings reminiscent of Pearl Harbour. Three supertankers were ablaze in the Straits of Hormuz, closing the choke point and bringing oil supplies to a halt.
The hologram changed, returning to the White House, and a grim-faced President McGovern chairing the National Security Council. The vice president, secretary of state, secretary of defense, secretary of energy and the chairman of the joint chiefs were sitting in the very room in which the prophecy was unfolding. Advisors filled the chairs lining the walls, and video screens beamed live footage of the growing worldwide holocaust.
‘We have to respond, Mr President!’ the chairman of the joint chiefs thundered. ‘This is a declaration of war!’
‘The President of Russia is on the secure line, Mr President,’ the chief of staff announced. McGovern took the call.
‘We must stay out of this, Mr President,’ the President of Russia warned in a low, guttural accent. ‘Israel, and Israel alone, is responsible.’
‘We have no quarrel with Russia,’ the President replied, ‘but we can’t stand by while our own people are being slaughtered.’
‘I am warning you, Mr President, don’t escalate this any further.’
McGovern put down the phone. His jaw set, he briefed the room on Russia’s position.
‘That’s just a bluff, Mr President,’ the chairman of the joint chiefs barked. ‘The Russians won’t risk retaliation. We need to remove Iran, North Korea, Pakistan and Syria from the nuclear equation!’
The humming of high-voltage electricity between the skulls rose to a crescendo as Minuteman intercontinental missiles, carrying their deadly payload of multiple nuclear warheads, roared out of their silos at the Vandenberg Air Force base on the Californian coast.
One after another, the big swing-wing B1-B Lancer strategic nuclear bombers rumbled down the runways at Ellsworth Air Base in South Dakota and Dyess Air Base in Texas, bound for Iran. The nuclear submarines USS Maryland, Nevada and West Virginia launched their Trident II nuclear missiles, and the Mediterranean, the Persian Gulf and the Pacific Ocean boiled as the missiles thundered from the depths into the skies above.
Russian R-36 ballistic missiles from silos near Nalobikha in southern Russia soared into the same skies, as did missiles from Nizh-Tagil in the Urals, and the hologram faded …
The images of total destruction were replaced by one of an icy nuclear winter settling over the planet. Hundreds of millions lay dead, and hundreds of millions more were dying. Huge fires in the cities had lifted millions of cubic metres of smoke into the troposphere, ten kilometres above the earth, where it was heated by the sun, sending it into the stratosphere where it would remain, blocking out the sun for years and sending temperatures on the earth to below zero. Millions of tonnes of soot absorbed solar radiation, heating the surrounding gases and breaking down the stratospheric ozone layer. An ozone hole the size of India had opened, allowing deadly ultraviolet radiation to saturate the planet. The earth’s once warm, grain-growing plains had been reduced to wastelands, and the food bowls of the world lay devastated. The images of people in their hundreds of millions dying of starvation faded from view, and the flashing blue bolts of electricity connecting the crystal skulls slowly subsided. A hollow emptiness enveloped the situation room.
For a long while, no one spoke, but the silence was eventually broken by Carlos Huayta.
‘The dangerous course of history you are charting will take you over the cliff and into the abyss. Just as the Inca accurately forecast their own destruction at the hands of the Spanish, the skulls have forecast your own civilisation’s destruction. Nuclear brinkmanship is the forerunner.’
The old shaman paused to let his words take effect.
‘But there is another way,’ he said, ‘and the key lies in the very first words of the Inca prophecy: “When the Eagle of the North and the Condor of the South fly together, the Earth will awaken. The Eagle of the North is the modern, developed world,”’ Huayta explained. ‘The powerful countries of the world have great material wealth, but many of your people are spiritually and culturally impoverished. The Condor of the South represents the peoples who remain close to the earth. They possess the wisdom that comes from being connected with the natural world. The Eagle of the North will never be free if it does not fly with the condor of the south. If we link them, a great harmony will result.
‘I am from the Q’ero people, the last of the Inca who moved to high altitudes to escape the Spanish conquistadors. For 500 years we have preserved this prophecy. Now we know the pachacuti, the great change, is upon us. The time has come to set things right.’
Huayta looked around the table. ‘The choice is yours, my friends.’
Acknowledgements
In July 2010, I had just descended the torturous switchback road carved out of the mountainside below Machu Picchu and was wandering the steep cobbled streets of Aguas Calientes. Browsing in a local bookshop, I came across Machu Picchu Forever, City of Pilgrims, a fascinating book by Mallku Aribalo. I contacted Mallku, who kindly agreed to see me in Cusco at very short notice. In two hours we could only scratch the surface, but I was grateful for his insights into the shamanic path and the extraordinary depths of the ancient Inca culture. Despite some prophecies heralding the end of the world in December 2012, Mallku does not agree. Rather, he sees this as a time of pachacuti, or great change – pacha meaning earth or time, and cuti meaning to set things right.
The Inca prophecy comes from the Q’ero people. For 500 years, the Q’ero, the last of the Inca, remained hidden high in the Andes. But in 1949, anthropologist Oscar Nunez del Prado was attending the Paucartambo festival when he encountered two Indians who spoke Quechua, the ancient language of the Inca; and the existence of the Q’ero was unmasked. Like Mallku, the Q’ero believe the time of great change is upon us, when the Eagle of the North (the West) and the Condor of the South (the native peoples, who are in tune with pachamama, or Mother Earth) will once again fly together. This will be a spiritual awakening, an awareness of the rhythms of the planet. But in my view, unless we change course, we will miss this last opportunity.
We have already come to the brink of nuclear destruction on no fewer than five occasions, yet still we contemplate an attack on Iran. Regardless of the rare planetary alignment in December 2012, we have already sown the seeds of our own destruction, and if we continue on this path, we won’t need any help from the elements. Far-fetched? Chillingly, it is not.
It is not widely known, but on the morning of 25 January 1995, in conjunction with Norwegian scientists, US scientists launched a Black Brant XII four-stage sounding rocket to study the Aurora Borealis in the Arctic. Thirty countries, including Russia, had been warned of the launch, as the trajectory took it to nearly 1500 kilometres above the Barents Sea at Russia’s northern border. But no one passed the information on to the crew at Russia’s Olenegorsk early warning radar station. As the stages of the rocket separated, they appeared similar on radar to images of multiple warheads from a US submarine-launched Trident missile; and the ‘warheads’ appeared to be headed for Moscow. Russian nuclear forces were put on alert and the Russian president, Boris Yeltsin, was advised of a nuclear strike by the United States. He was urged to retalia
te with nuclear missiles. Fortunately, Yeltsin was sober, and he refused to believe that the US had attacked the Soviet Union. Had he not, the world might look very similar to the horrific scenarios described in The Inca Prophecy. Any nuclear capability, regardless of its origin – whether it be from the US, France, Pakistan, Israel or any of the nine nuclear-armed countries – is extremely dangerous when it falls into the wrong hands, as I hope The Inca Prophecy attests. I have written this novel as a warning.
I’m indebted to my team at Penguin: publisher Ben Ball, editors Belinda Byrne and Arwen Summers, talented designer Adam Laszczuk, the wonderful marketing and PR team, headed by Sally Bateman and Anyez Lindop, and Peg McColl and Kate McCormack of the rights department, who do the hard yards at the world book fairs on my behalf. As usual, Clare Forster, my agent at Curtis Brown, has been much more than an agent: reading various drafts of the manuscript and providing insightful advice and guidance. I’m grateful to Barak Zero One for putting me straight on the finer points of flying an F-16 Falcon. And thanks to Urania, wonderfully fluent in Arabic, French and English, whose advice on the quagmire that is Lebanon was invaluable.
As always, Robyn, who sees me at my worst, has been a tower of strength. To Antoinette and friends, I am continually in your debt. Caroline Ladewig once again provided sage advice – a big thank you. To Tom and Wendy and the staff at Megalong Books, I shudder to think of an online world without bookshops – thank you for being there. Thanks to my two boys, David and Mark, and to Tammy and Catherine, for your humour and camaraderie.
Finally, in writing this novel, I’ve carried out considerable research, travelling to Peru and the Andes to experience that wonderful country at first hand. I’ve also reviewed hundreds of books and documents, but to list them all would be to footnote a novel. To all those authors, I’m in your debt.
MICHAEL JOSEPH
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First published by Penguin Group (Australia), 2012
Text copyright Adrian d’Hagé 2012
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ISBN: 978-1-74253-623-1
ALSO BY ADRIAN D’HAGÉ
THE MAYA CODEX
DECEMBER 2012 – TIME IS RUNNING OUT
Deep in the Guatemalan jungle lies the Maya Codex, an ancient document containing a terrible warning for civilisation. Archaeologist Dr Aleta Weizman is desperately searching for the codex, but powerful forces in Washington and Rome will do anything to stop her. When CIA agent Curtis O’Connor joins Aleta in her dangerous quest, he also becomes a target.
The race is on for Weizman and O’Connor, and the very future of our planet is at stake. From the corridors of power in Nazi Germany to modern-day Washington, from the secret archives of the Vatican to the Temple of the Lost World pyramid in the jungles of Central America, The Maya Codex takes us on a heart-stopping journey to find the codex before it’s too late.
‘Fans of The Da Vinci Code et al will race through it.’
COURIER-MAIL