She also saw a really old drawing that looked like an ancient game of Snakes and Ladders. It was titled: ' Waterfall Entrance— Refortification by Imhotep III in the time of Ptolemy Soter' and it looked like this: .__ —.
Wizard noticed Lily's interest and so he taught her things about the various Imhoteps.
Imhotep III, for instance, lived during the time of Alexander the Great and his friend, Ptolemy I, and he was called 'the Master Moat Builder'—he had been known to divert entire rivers in order to provide his structures with uncrossable moats.
'This waterfall entrance,' Wizard said, 'must have been a beautiful decorative cascade at a palace in ancient Babylon, near modern-day Baghdad in Iraq. The lines dictate the course of the flowing water. Sadly, in all the excavations of Babylon over the years, it has never been found. Such a shame.'
Lily spent the rest of that day curled up behind some boxes in the corner of Wizard's study, reading all manner of parchments, absolutely rapt.
She hardly even noticed when Zoe came in and started chatting with Wizard. It was only when West's name came up that she started listening more closely.
Zoe said, 'It's been good to see him again. Although he seems to have changed since we studied together in Dublin. He's become even quieter than he already was. I also hear he's quit the Army.'
Lily listened, although she never looked up from the parchment she appeared to be reading.
Wizard leaned back. 'Gosh, Dublin. When was that—1989? You two were so young. Jack's been down a long road since then.'
'Tell me.'
'He quit the Army soon after Desert Storm. But to understand why, you have to understand why he joined the Army in the first place: to both please and spite his father.
'Jack's father was a great soldier in his time, but Jack was better. His father had wanted him to join the military straight after high school, but Jack wanted to study, to go to university. But he acquiesced to his father's wishes . . . and quickly became a much more formidable soldier than his father had ever been.
'Jack rose through the ranks, was fast-tracked to the SAS Regiment. He particularly excelled at desert missions; he even set a
new record on the desert survival course, lasting 44 days without being captured.
'But unlike his father, Jack didn't like what they were turning him into: a killing machine, an exceptionally good killing machine. His superiors knew this, and they were worried that he'd quit—that was when they sent him to study with me in Dublin. They hoped it would satisfy his intellectual needs for the time being, and then he'd stay on with the Regiment. And I suppose it did satisfy him, for a time.'
'Hold on a minute,' Zoe said. 'I need to backtrack for a moment. Jack told me once that his father was American. But he joined the Australian Army?'
'That's right,' Wizard said. 'Thing is, Jack's mother is not American. To please his father, he joined the military, but to spite his father, he joined the military of his mother's birth-nation: Australia.'
'Ah . . .' Zoe said. 'Go on.'
Wizard said, 'Anyway, as you know, Jack's always had a sharp mind, and he started to look at Army life critically. Personally, I believe he just enjoyed studying ancient history and archaeology more.
'In any case, things started to go downhill when Jack's superiors sent him to a series of multinational special forces exercises at Coronado in 1990—exercises hosted by the Americans at their SEAL base, where they invited crack teams from all their allies to partake in high-end wargames. It's a huge opportunity for smaller nations, so the Australians sent West. In 1990, the exercises were hosted by none other than Marshall Judah, who instantly saw Jack's potential.
'But something happened at Coronado that I don't know about fully. Jack was injured in a helicopter accident and lay unconscious in the base hospital for four days. The four missing days of Jack West's life. When he woke up, he was sent back home, no serious damage done, and after a few months, he was back on active duty—just in time for Desert Storm in 1991.
'Jack West was one of the first men on the ground in Iraq in
1991, blowing up communications towers. After two weeks, however, he found himself serving under Judah. Seems Judah had personally asked the Pentagon to request that Jack be reassigned to him. Australia—ever loyal to the Americans—complied.
'And so Jack West Jr made his name in Desert Storm. Did some incredible things deep behind enemy lines, including that miraculous escape from the SCUD base in Basra—where, it should be said, Judah and the Americans had left him for dead.
'But when it was all over and he was back home, he walked into the office of his commanding officer, Lieutenant General Peter Cosgrove, and informed him that he would not be renewing his contract with the Regiment.
'Now Cosgrove and I have known each other for a long time. He's a very clever fellow and, through me, he was aware of this upcoming mission and he thought fast, and came up with a way of keeping West happy but also keeping him in the fold: he assigned West to me, as part of a long-term open-ended mission, to take part in archaeological research connected to the discovery of the Capstone.
'That was how West and I came to work together again. That was how we came to be the ones who found the scrolls from the Alexandria Library and, ultimately, Lily and her ill-fated mother. And that's why West is here on this mission.'
After discussing a few more unrelated topics, Zoe left.
Wizard returned to his work ... at which moment, he seemed to remember that Lily was still in the corner, behind the boxes. He turned to face her.
'Why, little one, I'd clean forgotten you were here. You've been as quiet as a mouse over there. I don't know if you heard any of that, but if you did, excellent. It's important that you know about our friend, Huntsman, because he's a good fellow, a very good fellow. And although he doesn't say it, he's incredibly fond of you—in fact, he has been since the moment he first held you in his arms inside that volcano. He cares about you more than anything else in the world.'
That had been a big learning day for Lily.
Infinitely more fun, however, was the day she learned about the origins of West's plane.
The Halicarnassus had long been a source of curiosity to her. From the moment she'd been old enough to comprehend jumbo jets—and how much they cost—it struck her as exceedingly odd that one man could own his very own 747.
'Where did you get your plane?' she asked him at breakfast once.
Others around the table at the time suppressed laughs: Zoe, Stretch and Wizard.
West actually looked a little sheepish. 'Don't tell anyone, but I stole it.'
'You stole it? You stole an entire aeroplane! Isn't it wrong to steal?'
'Yes, it is wrong,' Zoe said. 'But Huntsman stole the Halicarnassus from a very bad man.'
'Who?'
'A man by the name of Saddam Hussein,' Wizard said. 'The former president of Iraq, a very horrible individual. Huntsman stole it from him back in 1991.'
'Why did you steal Mr Hussein's plane?' Lily asked.
West paused before answering, as if he was choosing his words carefully.
'I was near a place called Basra, and I was in a lot of trouble. And Mr Hussein's plane was the only way for me to get out alive. He kept it there in case it ever became necessary for him to escape his country.' West winked. 'I also knew that he had a lot of other planes scattered all over Iraq for the very same purpose, so I didn't think he'd miss this one.'
'Why do you call it the Halicarnassus} Is it named after the Mausoleum that was at Halicarnassus?'
West smiled at her easy grasp of the ancient names. 'I'm not sure, but I think it is. Mr Hussein called it the Halicarnassus and I just kept the name because I liked it. I'm not sure why he called it that, but Mr Hussein was a guy who liked to think he was a great
Persian ruler, like Mausolus or Nebuchadnezzar. Only he wasn't like them at all. He was just a big bully.'
West turned to Wizard. 'Hey, speaking of the Halicarnassus, that reminds me: H
ow is the refit going? Have you attached those Mark 3 retrogrades yet?'
'Almost done,' Wizard answered. 'We've got her weight down by a third, and all eight external retrograde thrusters have been attached and are testing well. As for the Mark 3s, they fit the 747's existing engines beautifully—the balance on the Boeing is really quite exceptional, great for VTOL, if you have the fuel. Sky Monster and I will be doing some testing this Saturday, so wear your earplugs.'
'Will do. Keep me informed.'
Lily didn't know what they were talking about.
Oh, and Lily's interest in ballet continued.
She put on many shows—shows that took place on a little stage with drawable curtains. Each performance was greeted with great applause by the whole team.
At one such show, Lily announced with a flourish that she would attempt to hold a difficult tip-toe pose for a whole minute. She made it to 45 seconds, and was bitterly disappointed.
Everyone applauded anyway.
As families do.
THE BLACK PRIEST OF KABUL
AIRSPACE ABOVE THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
17 MARCH,2006
3 DAYS BEFORE THE ARRIVAL OF TARTARUS
Twelve hours after its brazen assault on Guantanamo Bay, after lying low in a remote Jamaican Air Force hangar outside Kingston— where it had picked up Wizard, Lily and Horus—the Halicarnassus, now refuelled and replenished, soared once again over the Atlantic, heading back toward Europe and Africa, back into the fray.
Once again, everyone sat in the main cabin, arrayed in a wide circle.
The focal point of the circle: Mullah Mustapha Zaeed, the Black Priest of Kabul.
Immediately after their escape from Guantanamo Bay, West had grabbed an AXS-9 digital spectrum analyser—a wand-like device used to sweep a room for bugs—and waved it over Zaeed's body.
Sure enough, at the terrorist's neck, the wand had gone berserk, beeping wildly, indicating that there was indeed a GPS locater microchip buried under Zaeed's skin.
Surgery wasn't necessary. West was able to neutralise the chip with an electromagnetic pulse from a disabling gun, turning the locater chip into a dead piece of plastic.
And so now Zaeed was here, in the main cabin—and while everyone gazed warily at the terrorist, he just stared straight at Lily.
He eyed her the way a hyena eyes an injured baby deer—with hunger, desire, and a kind of stunned disbelief that such a delightful meal could be right here in front of him.
His general appearance was frightening—despite the fact that he had been bathed and was now dressed in clean clothes.
With his shaved head, sharp stubble-covered chin, hollow eyes and wiry physique, he seemed more ghost than man, a walking skeleton. Three years of solitary confinement at Camp Delta will do that to you.
And in the clear light of the cabin, a peculiar feature became apparent: half of Zaeed's left ear, the whole bottom half, the entire lobe, had been cut off.
The spell broke, and he scanned West's multinational team.
'Mmm. How interesting, how very interesting,' he said. 'The mice are roaring. Taking on the two lions of the world: Europe and America.'
He looked at Wizard. 'I see Canada. And Ireland,' he nodded at Zoe. 'Fellow scholars of the ancient texts.'
His voice went low as he saw Stretch: 'And I see Israel. Why Katsa Cohen, the master sniper, nice to see you again. The last time we met was in Kandahar, at 2,000 yards. And it was a rare miss on your part.'
Stretch scowled, showing his extreme distaste for Mustapha Zaeed.
Zaeed pointed at his half-ear. 'You were a few inches wide.'
'I won't be next time,' Stretch growled.
'Now, now, Katsa. I am your guest, and a valuable one at that. After all the trouble you went to to get me, Jew'—Zaeed's eyes turned to ice—'you should be more courteous.'
He spun, aiming his wild eyes at Pooh Bear.
'Ah, a good Muslim. You are Sheik Anzar Abbas's son, are you not? The great Captain Rashid Abbas, commander of the elite UAE First Commando Regiment. . .'
'I fear I am not,' Pooh Bear replied. 'Rashid Abbas is my brother. I am Zahir Abbas, a humble sergeant and the Sheik's second son.'
'The Sheik is a noble servant of Allah,' Zaeed bowed respectfully. 'I honour you as his kin.'
Finally, Zaeed rounded on West, who sat with Horus on his shoulder.
'And you. John West Jr. Captain John West Jr of the Australian SAS. The Huntsman. A name that floats around the Middle East like a wraith. Your feats have become the stuff of legend: your escape from Basra angered Hussein for years, you know. Till the day he was captured, he wanted that plane back. But then you vanished for a very long time. Disappeared off the face of the Earth. Most unusual—'
'Enough,' West said. 'The Wonders: Zeus and Artemis. Where are they?'
'Oh, yes, I am sorry. The Wonders. And Tartarus approaches, too. Mmmm. Forgive me, Captain West, but I haven't yet grasped the basis of your belief that I will even want to help you in this cause.'
'The United States of America already has three pieces of the Capstone,' West said simply. 'They are well-equipped and well-informed, and well on their way to securing the entire Capstone. How's that?'
'Good enough,' Zaeed said. 'Who leads the US force? Marshall Judah?'
'Yes.'
'A formidable foe. Clever and cunning. And murderous. Although did you know he has a curious weakness?'
'What?'
'A fear of heights. But I digress. Brief me on your progress so far. You are using the Callimachus Text, I presume. Which means you found the Colossus first? Was it the rightmost pendant?'
'Yes ... it was,' West said, surprised.
'Mmmm. And then came the Pieces from the Pharos and the Mausoleum, no?'
'How did you know they'd be found in that order?'
Zaeed sighed dramatically. 'This is elementary. The Callimachus Text is written in the Word of Thoth—a most ancient and complicated language. The language itself contains within it seven levels
of increasing complexity, dialects, if you will. Your young reader here'—he indicated Lily—'can only read one entry at a time, can't she? This is because each entry in the Callimachus Text is written in an increasingly difficult dialect of the Word of Thoth. The Colossus entry is written in "Thoth I", the easiest dialect of the Word of Thoth. The Pharos Piece is in "Thoth II", slightly harder. The Oracle will ultimately be able to read all seven dialects, but not instantly.'
'You can read the Word of Thoth?' Wizard asked, incredulous.
'I can decipher its first four dialects, yes.'
'But how?'
'I taught myself,' Zaeed said. 'With discipline and patience. Oh, I forget, in the decadent West, discipline and patience are no longer talents that warrant respect.'
'How did you know the Mausoleum Piece would be entombed with the Pharos Piece?' Zoe asked.
'I have spent the last 30 years acquiring every scroll, carving and document relating to the Benben that I could find. Some are famous, like the Callimachus Text, of which I possess a 9th-century copy, others less so—written by humble men who merely wanted to record the marvellous deeds they had done, like constructing great roofs over entire ocean inlets, or carrying marble pillars into the hearts of dormant volcanoes. My collection is vast.'
'The Callimachus Text is unhelpful on the Zeus and Artemis Pieces,' West said. 'Zeus is lost. And we believe Artemis is somewhere in St Peter's Basilica, but we don't know exactly where. Do you know where they are?'
Zaeed's eyes narrowed. 'The passage of time and many wars have scattered these two Pieces, but yes, I believe I do know their resting places.'
Pooh Bear leaned forwards. 'If you know so much, why have you yourself not gone in search of these Pieces before?'
i would have if only I had been able, my Muslim friend,' Zaeed said smoothly. 'But I fear I was not as nimble then as I am now.' As he said this, Zaeed rolled up his right pants-leg, to reveal hideous scarring and fire-melted skin on his lower leg
.
'A Soviet fragmentation grenade in Afghanistan in 1987. For many years, I was unable to even walk on it. And a man with limited movement is useless in trap-laden quarries and inlets. While I retrained my withered muscles throughout the '90s, building them up again, I researched all I could about the Capstone. I was actually grooming a team of mujahideen in Afghanistan at the time of the attacks on New York and Washington DC to hunt for the Pieces. But then the September 11 attacks happened and Afghanistan was plunged into chaos. And I was captured by the Americans. But now my leg is strong.'
'The Zeus and Artemis Pieces,' West repeated. 'Where are they?'
Zaeed grinned a sly smile. 'Interestingly, these two Pieces that defy your search are neither hidden nor concealed. Both exist in plain sight—if only one knows where to look. The Artemis Piece, yes, it is indeed in St Peter's in Rome, in no less than the most holy place of the Cult of Amun-Ra. As for the Zeus Piece . . .'
Zaeed leaned back in his chair, recited the appropriate verse from memory:
'No thunderbolts did he wield, no wrath did he bear, No victory did he achieve.
Indeed, it was only the Victory in his right hand that made him
great,
Oh, winged woman, whither didst thou fly?'
Zaeed looked at West. 'It was only the Victory in his right hand that made him great.'
West followed his line of reasoning. 'The Statue of Zeus at Olympia was said to hold in his right hand a smaller statue of "Winged Victory": the Greek goddess Nike, a woman with wings coming out of her back, like an angel or the figurehead on the prow of a ship. And since the figure of Zeus was so immense, its statue of Winged Victory was said to be life-sized.'
Zaeed said, 'Correct. And if it was Victory who made him great, we must look not for Zeus's statue, but the statue of Victory. Thus the verse asks: whither did she fly?
'Now, as I'm sure you know, many life-sized statues of Winged Victory have been found around the ancient Greek world. But after a comprehensive study of the works of Pheidias, the sculptor of the statue of Zeus, I have found only one statue of Victory that possesses the features of his superior level of artistry: fine lines, perfect form, and the rare ability to reproduce the appearance of wet garments in marble.
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