Evil in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 2)

by Gary Williams

  “I would agree.”

  Curt and Scott showed him the piece of the wooden box or crate, which suggested Union occupation of the cave in the 1860s during the Civil War. Then they walked him down the angled, connecting shaft and through the jagged opening into the inner cave. Curt could always recognize someone who was fascinated with history and archaeological discoveries, and as faint as it was, he could read the heightened interest on Samuel Tolen’s face. The CIA agent examined the old kerosene lantern, the stream, the low, craggy roof, and the pile of rocks thoroughly. Again, he agreed when they mentioned this cave appeared natural.

  “This is where we found the UNF baseball cap,” Curt said, pointing to the back side of the mound of stones just across the narrow stream. Tolen surveyed every inch of the floor and walls. When finished, they left the natural cave and returned to the upper, manmade cave.

  As they were passing through, Curt again looked at the piece of wood bearing the label of the Connecticut Union unit. He suddenly had an epiphany. Curt dropped to his hands and knees and examined the base of the wall. There was a thin line of dust running along the bottom of the wall. He checked all four sides and found evidence of the same beige-and-black dust. “How could I be so stupid?” Curt remarked.

  He rose smartly, turning to Scott.

  “This is burnt wood dust at the base of the walls. It’s from an explosion.” Curt retrieved the piece of wood with the script. “This Civil War box didn’t hold food or supplies. It contained dynamite that became unstable over the years and detonated. That’s why the walls are blotched. It’s also why Ed said ‘I knew not to mess with it’ when he mentioned the wooden box.”

  Tolen looked on quietly as Scott and Curt went about wiping areas of the wall off with their hands. Having no success in the natural cave, they progressed down the angled, connecting shaft that led to the second cave.

  Halfway down, Scott called out, “Look at this.”

  The three men crowded close to look at Scott’s discovery. Curt could barely believe the image before them: a pair of vertical ellipses, side by side, mirroring each other but not touching. The ellipse on the left contained a series of painted pictures that seemed to be segregated into three rows; the ellipse on the right was less cluttered, containing three distinct images stacked one over the other.

  Curt was flabbergasted. “Is this…Egyptian?” He couldn’t help but connect this to the information Tolen had shared last night about the obelisk.

  “Yes,” Tolen replied.

  Something about the picture was wrong, just as Ed had said. Then Curt realized what the conglomerate of images within the twin ellipses represented. “It’s a...cartouche!”

  “Yes, upside down, but a cartouche nevertheless,” Tolen said.

  “This has to be a joke,” Curt said.

  “Normally, I’d agree, but the paint looks genuine. It appears to be the result of aging, similar to portraits in the tomb of Horemheb in the Valley of the Kings. These cracks, this kind of wear, only occurs after thousands of years.”

  “Do you recognize it?” Scott asked Tolen, tilting his head.

  “Yes, it’s just like the upside down one I found on the obelisk on the riverbed. It’s the cartouche of Egyptian Queen Hatshepsut.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Kay was terrified, and her wrists ached as she sat on the plastic tarp. She had no idea where they were other than in a tent. She had been warned not to scream by the men who had abducted them at the house last night. Fearful of retribution against the children, she had complied.

  Nearby, lying on the ground with their hands and feet also bound were Cody and Tina, sleeping soundly. Fear had kept them awake most of the night, but they had eventually succumbed to exhaustion. It was muggy inside the tent, but at least they were out of direct sunlight. Kay wished she could fall sleep and awaken from this nightmare.

  A fit, bald man entered the tent followed by a massive man. Kay cringed when she saw a huge knife tucked into a large sheath on the bigger man’s belt.

  “What do you want with us?” Kay shouted, welling up her courage.

  “Lower your voice. We only need information,” the bald man said casually, pulling up a folding chair and taking a seat before Kay. For a moment, Cody roused but then fell back to sleep. The larger man stared at Kay with a crazed look that sent fear creeping up her back, causing her to shudder.

  “Please don’t hurt the children. Let them go,” Kay found herself pleading. All defiance had suddenly been lost.

  “Well,” the bald man began, “that’s up to you.”

  The larger man continued to stand, hovering nearby as if waiting to do evil. Kay did not want to make eye contact with him, so she focused on the man in the chair.

  “I’ll give you anything,” Kay begged. “Just don’t hurt them.”

  “Well, then,” the bald man smiled, “I see we have achieved clarity of understanding.” His eyes narrowed, and the smile disappeared. “Where is your husband?” he asked sternly.

  The question caught Kay by surprise. She choked on her response, “Wh…why? What do you want…with Scott?”

  “See? You said you understood, yet you obviously don’t,” the bald man’s voice deepened. “I’m the one asking questions. Your role is to respond truthfully…nothing more. Let’s try this again, shall we?” He spoke slowly but with gritted teeth, “Where is your husband?”

  Kay’s mind was a fog of terror. What could they possibly want with Scott? If I tell them where he is, what will they do to him? Tears pooled in her eyes. This all had to be a bad dream. “He…” she started then stopped.

  “Well, it’s obvious we need to show you how this really works,” the bald man said, motioning to the bigger man.

  The bigger man quickly removed the large hunting knife from the sheath. It came out with a ghastly scrape. Before Kay could say a word, the man dropped to his knees and placed the flat part of the blade on Cody’s neck, angling it agonizingly close to the underside of his chin. Cody stirred.

  Kay was about to scream, but her instincts kicked in, and she suppressed it. If she woke Cody with a start, he would jump and the blade would slice his neck.

  With his eyes still shut, her little boy moved again, shifting his head slightly.

  Oh, God, no! She gasped audibly.

  The bald man raised a finger to his lips. “Shhhh,” he said to Kay, “I think we all better be quiet.”

  Kay could barely breathe. Air compressed in her chest. She looked at the bigger man as tears streamed down her face. “Please don’t,” she whispered in a shaking voice.

  The bigger man only smiled. It was the cruelest smile she had ever seen. Kay’s blood ran cold as terror filled her soul. “Please…” the tears continued to fall.

  For the moment, Cody had fallen back to sleep, his little body lay quietly, the blade of the knife still tucked underneath his chin. The lecherous smile on the bigger man’s face would not leave.

  Then, to Kay’s horror, the bald man reached forward and shook Tina.

  “No, God, please don’t,” Kay whispered hoarsely. “If she sees the knife on Cody she might—”

  The bald man’s face hardened. He locked eyes on Kay as he shook Tina aggressively.

  Tina Falco slowly roused. She pushed up. Upon seeing the larger man beside Cody holding a knife to his neck, she let out a blood curdling scream.

  Cody jumped up.

  CHAPTER 37

  “So when were you going to share with us that you found the cartouche of Queen Hatshepsut on the obelisk, Tolen?” Curt asked candidly once outside as they made their way down the rise. His resentment of Tolen had returned with a vengeance.

  Tolen, who was ahead of Curt, turned and stopped, blocking Curt’s way. “I just did.”

  “You know what I mean, Tolen.” Curt drew close to Tolen, looking up at the larger man.

  Tole
n turned and continued downhill, leaving Curt standing in place. In frustration, he took off after Tolen and Scott.

  “Let’s assume the cartouche is original,” said Scott. “What purpose does it serve?”

  Tolen replied, “Four months ago, I was to meet a man, Monty Jackson, in Nebraska, who had a stone tablet. The man had family here in Florida, downriver at Palatka. The stone tablet had been found there in the 1800s and had remained in the family for generations. Mr. Jackson had it stored in his attic when he came across it and realized it contained Egyptian hieroglyphics on both sides. Believing it had some value, he contacted the Smithsonian Institute, and I was dispatched to examine it firsthand. Before I got there, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson were brutally murdered and the tablet stolen.”

  “Murdered? That’s not good,” Scott said.

  “Do you have any idea what the tablet said?” Curt asked, his anger toward Tolen momentarily waylaid by his archaeological curiosity.

  “I never got a look at the text on the back side, but we do have a photograph of the front. It tells of the tomb for an Egyptian Pharoah whose mummified remains were brought here from across the ocean. While never mentioned by name, it was Queen Hatshepsut.”

  Curt shook his head as they walked. “Tolen, I’m no Egyptologist, but I know Queen Hatshepsut’s mummy was identified in 2007.”

  “Identified? Don’t you mean discovered?” Scott remarked.

  “No, he’s right,” Tolen said. “In the early 1900s, an unidentified mummy found by British archaeologist Howard Carter in a tomb catalogued KV60, was left in the Valley of the Kings because it wasn’t considered royalty. In 2007, the CT scan of a box found among a cache of royal mummies that bore the seal of Hatshepsut revealed a tooth. The tooth was a perfect match to the mummy, known as KV60a, which had been left in the tomb. Archaeologists were convinced they had conclusive proof and announced to the world in 2007 that Queen Hatshepsut had been identified.”

  “So then the information—the stone tablet, the writing on the downed obelisk—alluding to Queen Hatshepsut being entombed here has to be a ruse,” Scott commented.

  “Not necessarily,” Tolen said.

  “Do you know something that Egyptian archaeologists don’t?” Curt asked.

  “Monty Jackson’s tablet was authored by Senenmut, which is how we know he’s referring to Hatshepsut.”

  “Senenmut? Sounds like the name of a bad dog,” Scott remarked.

  “I’ve heard of Senenmut through Lila,” Curt said as they made their way back toward the boat. “Queen Hatshepsut came to power in the 15th century BCE in an unusual manner. After the death of her husband, Tuthmose II, Tuthmose III, the son of a secondary wife, became king. As he was too young to assume control, Hatshepsut, his stepmother, ruled as his regent. After a few years, Hatshepsut ascended to the throne as Pharoah. Senenmut was her advisor and rumored lover during her reign.”

  Tolen added, “Historians have long speculated that the queen’s stepson, Tuthmose III, begrudged Hatshepsut and the manner in which she had taken control of the throne when he was a child. So after he came to power upon her death, he tried to destroy every trace of her and her reign. Interestingly, no one knows exactly how Hatshepsut died in her early fifties, although many scholars speculated that Tuthmose III had a hand in her death and the death of other viziers to the Queen, including Senenmut. The story on Monty Jackson’s tablet, and now the writing on the obelisk, supports this notion. Specifically, the tablet said:

  I Senenmut, document these events. When my queen was entombed at Deir el-Bahri, I feared what Tuthmose III might do to her. To satisfy the people she was laid with treasures befitting a queen but I know of his hatred for his step-mother. And it lived and boiled even greater as her body lay still.

  “Did you seriously memorize the text?” Curt asked.

  “I have 100% audible recall. I had someone read it to me.” Tolen continued:

  Then I learned of a disturbing plan by Pharaoh to send the Queen’s body to a distant land, where she would be entombed with an evil object. It was an expedition of great magnitude in size and effort. Preparations were completed under the cloak of secrecy as Tuthmose III feared the backlash from the people of Egypt if they learned of his scheme. I made plans to stow away on the journey that was rumored to be going far across the water. Pharaoh has been quite extravagant in his plan, even mummifying a large slave woman and putting her in place of the Queen at Deir el-Bahri to complete the deception that the Queen’s body was still there.

  “What evil object?” Scott asked.

  “He doesn’t specify.” Tolen continued:

  The journey took many days and I had to remain hidden onboard ship. I hid in the sarcophagus with Hatshepsut’s mummy. It was the place I would ultimately spend eternity when the time came. Finally one day I heard someone shout of land ahead. I was able to leave my bedding beside my queen and secretly hide in a spot in the hold where I could see outside. By the grace of Amon, it was land. As we entered a channel, lush trees and vegetation bordered either side of the river.

  “Since Monty Jackson said his ancestor found the tablet at Palatka, it makes sense that the river mentioned was the St. Johns River. Coincidently, I noticed that as I was marking the GPS coordinates of the entrance to the tunnel, it’s on the identical latitude as Queen Hatshepsut’s original tomb, Deir el-Bahri, in Egypt.”

  “The bones, the woman’s face that Ed Leedskalnin saw, it may have been Queen Hatshepsut’s mummy,” Scott said.

  “It’s possible,” Tolen said. “Notice he didn’t say skull, but drawn up face, the way a mummified face would appear.”

  “But you said she was entombed in a pyramid on the point above. How would she have come to rest in the cave?” Scott asked Tolen.

  “Based on the tablet that Mr. Jackson had, Senenmut was Tuthmose III’s ‘fly in the anointment.’ Maybe there was once a pyramid Queen Hatshepsut was laid to rest in and at some point, Senenmut moved her.”

  “We’re overlooking some very important facts,” Curt said. “One, why was her mummy in pieces, as Ed described? Two, where is it now?”

  “Physical evidence, notably Kira Compton’s baseball cap, is proof people have been in the cave recently. I suggest someone has pilfered Queen Hatshepsut’s remains. As to why it was in pieces, we can only speculate,” Tolen said.

  Scott added, “Also, what happened to the long stick with the one remaining red stone that Ed said he tossed near the pile of rocks?”

  “If you recall, I told you that the tablet authored by Senenmut said that Queen Hatshepsut’s mummy was to be entombed with an evil object. I believe the long stick that once held a green and red stone is that object.”

  “Then where is it now?” Scott asked.

  “It’s probable that whoever took Queen Hatshepsut’s mummy also took the stick.”

  “None of this explains what happened to my ex-wife,” Curt remarked somberly, slogging through the water.

  CHAPTER 38

  Fawn pulled into the Second Coming Presbyterian Church parking lot. She shut off the engine and yawned, still tired after a fitful night of sleep. Two horrific memories over consecutive days haunted her. First, there was the image of Jack Turner’s organs on the video monitor. If that wasn’t enough to give her nightmares, she had witnessed Reggie Tinney’s smoldering organs landing on the dock where she was standing.

  Images of what she had seen yesterday remained agonizingly clear in her mind. The gruesome still-beating heart simmering on the wooden dock was indelibly etched into her memory.

  Fawn had driven straight to the Green Cove Springs police station and spent hours with them after the horrific incident with the Tinney brothers. Needless to say, Fawn’s account describing something in the water tossing Rufus Tinney’s organs onto the dock was met with skepticism. When she was forced to return to the Tinneys’ cabin by Trout Creek and walk them through everything
that had happened, investigators began to give her story some credibility when forensic technicians and police investigators found the withered human organs baking in the hot sun on the small dock just as she had described. Yet, inside the house, no trace of Reggie Tinney was found. Even with Fawn’s statement that Rufus had called Reggie’s name and that she had heard a man yelling, the police could not confirm his death. The investigation was ongoing, but it was clear to Fawn the police were troubled by the events, as well they should be, given the other people who had disappeared or whose remains had been discovered in the vicinity of the small town over the last couple days.

  One thing was certain: numerous people who were at the church last Friday for the food drive were either dead or missing. The church was the key, and she had returned this morning to chat once again with Reverend Reed to try and find a common link.

  Unlike yesterday, the church grounds were empty save for one car. The rescue crews, reporters, and crowds were gone. Yellow police tape still hung across the sanctuary doors, where one door remained opened. Fawn found Reverend Reed in his office in the small structure across from the main church. She went inside where the reverend had his head down reading at his desk. She knocked on his opened door. “Reverend Reed, could I please have another minute of your time?”

  He looked up. “Fawn, right?”

  “Yes,” she forced a smile.

  “Have a seat,” he motioned. “There’s been no new news. As you can see, rescue crews have given up. Like the man who disappeared in the sinkhole in Tampa last spring, the odds of finding Tonya or the rest of Jack Turner’s body are slim, God rest their souls.” He momentarily bowed his head before continuing, “The sanctuary is closed. I’ve been told state engineers will be out by tomorrow to inspect the structural integrity of the building. Interestingly, the cavern underground doesn’t have the normal characteristics of a sinkhole, and it appears the earth beneath the sanctuary has stabilized. The geological expert on site was, frankly, quite baffled with what happened here.”