The Cotten Stone Omnibus: It started with The Grail Conspiracy... (The Cotten Stone Mysteries)

by Lynn Sholes

  “Just a year ago,” Cotten said, “here in the rocky, inhospitable terrain, not far from where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered more than half a century ago, famed archaeologist John Tyler unearthed an ancient Essene repository of historical and religious documents, one of which is the fascinating scroll you just saw on your screen. The Essenes were a Jewish religious sect that flourished from the second century BC to the first century AD. This document however, unlike others found in the region, was not inscribed by the Essenes, but was protected and handed down by them through generations. And why would that be? Why would the Essenes believe this scroll to be so valuable that they guarded and preserved it along with their own most precious documents? That’s what we’ll try to answer as we follow the journey of the Essene Scroll and reveal its secret, coming up right after this.”

  During the commercial break, Ted smiled at how Cotten had introduced John—famed archaeologist John Tyler—not former priest John Tyler. He was sure that many viewers recognized John from the news accounts of the former Roman Catholic cardinal who gave up the priesthood to pursue his calling in the secular world. But what had never been made public was that as a cardinal, John had come to the threshold of the papacy. Just a year and a half ago, he stood before the College of Cardinals inside the secrecy of the Sistine Chapel conclave and declined to be considered a candidate. He stated that at last he understood God’s plan for him, and the restrictions of the papacy were not part of it.

  As the commercial ended and Relics returned, Ted’s attention was drawn back to the rotating scroll.

  Wide angle of Cotten with mountainous desert landscape behind.

  “The inscription on the leather scroll appeared to be in pro-Elamite,” she said, “the oldest known writing system of Iran. It was used briefly around three thousand years ago, and previous samples have never been deciphered. Dr. Tyler has been conservative regarding this discovery, not publicizing it or making speculations on the information in the text. That is until now. With the aid and cooperation of the National Security Agency and their highly sophisticated decryption tools, the script of this amazing artifact has finally been translated. And what it says may change all of us forever.

  “Dr. Tyler tells us that even at first glance he thought he had something fantastic. And after a closer look, he was sure of it. So, what is it about this particular scroll, besides its age, that makes it such a treasure?”

  Close-up on John coming to stand beside Cotten.

  “Let’s begin with the prophet Enoch,” John said, “who lived around three thousand BC. Enoch is mentioned several times in Genesis, and his genealogy can also be found in the Old Testament. Enoch was the son of Jared, father of Methuselah, and great-grandfather of Noah. In the Qur’an, Enoch is called Idris, to the Greeks he is the same as Mercury, or Hermes Trismegistus who wrote the Emerald Tablets of Thoth. The Talmud tells of how when people on Earth went astray, Enoch lived a pious life, and by his sermons and speeches made the people give up idolatry and obey God’s commands.

  “Amazingly, Enoch is said to have lived for 365 years, a relatively short time compared to other patriarchs of the period before the Great Flood. But even that is not what makes Enoch so extraordinary. You see, God was so pleased with Enoch that he was taken up by God to Heaven, not once, but twice. The first time Enoch ascended to Heaven, he spent sixty days there and was shown all the secrets of Paradise. Before returning to Earth, it is said he wrote 366 books that he passed on to his sons. He was also made the guardian of the treasures of Heaven. A year later, God took him up again. Enoch never experienced death. Genesis five, verse twenty-four: And Enoch walked with God: and he was not seen again, for God took him.”

  Close-up of the scroll with Cotten’s voiceover.

  “So again, we are asking what is so exceptional about this scroll, and what does it have to do with the prophet Enoch? Realizing the possible importance of this ancient document, Dr. Tyler worked with the NSA to have it deciphered. Though previous pro-Elamite texts had failed to be decoded, miraculously, this time there was success and the script was interpreted. Everyone was stunned by its staggering contents. You are now looking at a document scribed by Enoch on his return to Earth after his first ascension to Paradise.”

  Two-shot of John and Cotten.

  John said, “The prophet Enoch writes that God permitted him to take three unique treasures of Heaven back to Earth. Once here, he hid the treasures away, and this scroll, scribed in Enoch’s hand, tells the secret location of those treasures.”

  Close-up of John.

  “Could it be that in the very near future we will be looking at undeniable proof of Heaven?”

  Close-up of Cotten.

  “Reporting for Satellite News Network from the remote banks of the Dead Sea, this is Cotten Stone Tyler.”

  [contents]

  Also by Lyne Sholes and Joe Moore

  The Phoenix Apostles

  A Seneca Hunt Mystery

  Magazine journalist Seneca Hunt is reporting on the opening of Montezuma’s tomb in Mexico City when the dig team learns that the remains of the Aztec emperor are missing. Within moments of the discovery, an apparent terrorist attack kills everyone at the site except Seneca, who barely escapes the carnage.

  Determined to get answers, Seneca starts investigating. She finds out that someone is stealing the remains of the most infamous mass murderers in history-and plotting to slaughter millions in the name of an ancient cult. Seneca needs to prove the threat really exists while trying to stay one step ahead of those who want her dead. With time running out, she must follow a deadly 2,000-year-old trail that leads back to the death of Jesus Christ.

  9-7807-3872-666-3, 480 pp., 5 3/16 x 8

  To order, call 1-877-NEW-WRLD

  Prices subject to change without notice

  Order at MidnightInkBooks.com 24 hours a day, 7 days a week

  Read on for an excerpt from

  The Phoenix Apostles!

  authors’ note

  the doomsday prophecy

  Almost every culture and religion throughout history has had a doomsday prophecy. Probably the most well-known predictor of such an apocalypse is the ancient Mayan calendar. Archaeology has revealed that most Mayan locations had astronomical observatories that enabled them to predict events based on equinoxes and Venus cycles. They possessed such advanced knowledge of time and space that their calendar was more precise than any in use today.

  The Mayan calendar is three calendars in one: a solar calendar based on 365 days which is ten-thousandths of a day more accurate than the currently accepted Gregorian calendar; a ceremonial calendar based on 260 days, the same as human gestation; and the combination of the two where the number of days and months only repeat every fifty-two years. The ancient Maya and other Mesoamericans used this same fifty-two-year pattern, or a cycle called the Calendar Round. The Maya also had what they called the Long Count that began measuring time elapsed since their beginning—August 13, 3114 BC—and ending 5,121 years later. December 21, 2012. The Aztec calendar had a date very close to the Mayan. The same date can also be calculated using the ancient classic Chinese text, I Ching. And there have been other similar prophecies and predictions of doomsday from the Hopi, Nostradamus, Mother Shipton, and Cumaean Sibyl, along with many interpretations of various legends, scriptures, and numerological constructions.

  So what might occur on the predicted doomsday? A rare cosmic alignment that happens every 26,000 years when, on the winter solstice, the sun lines up with the center of the Milky Way. At the same time, the Earth completes a wobble on its axis and a pole-shift takes place—the North and South Poles reverse. The resulting cataclysmic effect on life as we know it could be beyond imagination.

  The next time this galactic phenomenon will come together is exactly on the date predicted by the ancients.

  December 21, 2012.

  resurrection


  1876, northern sonora, mexico

  Billy Groves didn’t know if he was dead or alive. His lungs were starving. He attempted to draw in a breath like it was the first in a long time, but the dirt choked him.

  He clawed at his face and suddenly realized what was wrong.

  He was buried.

  Panicked, he scuffed away clods of soil and debris, fighting to breathe, to take a single life-saving breath.

  Which way was up? Was he digging in the wrong direction?

  Scratching and plowing, he pushed with his legs, trying to squirm free of the blackness. The panic grew and his body convulsed. He would have cried out but there was no air to power his lungs.

  Finally, his fist broke through. He pushed at the heavy layer of gravel and earth until he saw light. The heat from the sun struck his skin as he opened his mouth and gulped in the air.

  Spitting grit, he crawled out of his would-be grave and collapsed beside it. Groves brushed the dirt from his eyes and looked around. He saw what was left of the valley floor and suddenly started to remember everything—the cave, the gold, the Apaches, the earthquake.

  And the arrow.

  Groves forced his gaze to his torso. The arrow was there, it had run him through nearly to the fletching, entering his chest at an angle and exiting from his side. He twisted and looked at it in fearful anticipation of what he would find at the end of the shaft. But there was no arrowhead. It had broken off.

  Gripping the arrow protruding from his chest, he grimaced and yanked. The shaft tore free of his flesh.

  The arrow should have killed him. He inspected the hole in his chest. It was there but it wasn’t bleeding—

  What the hell is going on?

  The wound seemed to be already healing as he watched.

  Some kinda miracle?

  He’d been shot with an arrow and buried by an earthquake.

  And he just rose from the dead.

  the reliquary

  2012, mexico city

  “What doesn’t make sense?” Seneca Hunt stood under the protective tent covering the archaeological dig site and watched the images appear on the video monitor.

  Daniel Bernal, the dig master, who was also Seneca’s fiancé, wrapped his arm around her waist as he called to the video tech, “Mueva la cámara a la izquierda.”

  “Si.” The tech adjusted the joystick, panning the probe to the left. Mounted on a flexible neck, the tiny camera was fed down a hole drilled through the stone floor. The LED collar on the camera bathed the sealed tomb below their feet with light.

  Seneca leaned into Daniel. “What do you see?”

  He pointed to the monitor. “There’s the altar where the remains should be. But there’s no funerary jar.”

  A few other members of the Mexican dig team crowded around for a better look.

  “Grave robbers?” Seneca raked her russet hair away from her face, missing one highlighted coppery strand that fell across her cheek. She pulled away and stepped back, immediately missing the feel of him next to her. “Let me get a couple of shots.” Raising the Nikon D3 hanging around her neck, she snapped off several pictures, trying to capture the look of concentration on Daniel’s face.

  Seneca was a staff writer working on assignment for Planet Discovery Magazine and making double use of her time in Mexico. Tomorrow morning she and Daniel would fly to Playa del Carmen to marry and spend their honeymoon on the white sands at The Tides Riviera Maya. Soon, she would be Mrs. Daniel Bernal, wife of the noted archaeologist and professor of Mesoamerican Studies at the University of Miami.

  “No,” Daniel said. “Pot hunters wouldn’t take the ashes and leave behind all those valuable grave goods. It would have been the other way around. Just look at all the artifacts and jewelry, the gold, the jade …”

  His slightly accented words, which Seneca found quite sexy, died off to a whisper as his finger tapped the monitor.

  She moved behind him to frame the video screen over his shoulder and purred next to his ear. “I adore the way you roll your Rs.”

  “You’re shameless.” He spoke low enough that only she could hear.

  Seneca steadied the camera on his shoulder. She had written articles on other archaeological digs, and like always, she felt the flutter of excitement in anticipation of what was about to take place—a glimpse into an ancient world and all its grandeur.

  “The tomb appears dry and undisturbed. If the Aztecs built this city in the middle of a lake, why isn’t it flooded?” She paused from taking pictures.

  “The burial chamber was never under water. At one time it was level with the base of the temple, but like everything else, the Spanish built over it.” Daniel motioned to the monitor. “Now that’s interesting. See that small chest resting on what appears to be a wooden table to the right of the altar? The silver one about the size of a cigar box?”

  Seneca strained to see, then nodded.

  “Definitely not Aztec. I would guess European—very ornate surface design. Maybe a reliquary.”

  “A container used to hold religious relics, correct?”

  He nodded.

  “How would a European reliquary get inside the tomb?” She started snapping pictures again.

  “Most likely a gift from the Spanish, and something the emperor wanted to take with him into the afterlife.” He turned to the video technician and instructed him to zoom in on the object.

  The man manipulated the remote controls.

  As the object grew larger on the screen, Daniel said, “There’s an inscription. It’s in Latin.”

  “Can you read it?”

  He concentrated on the image. “I can make out the word sudarium which means sweat-cloth. And the word facies which is face. The lighting is just too weak to read the rest.”

  “Do you think Cortés might have given it to the emperor?”

  With a shrug, Daniel said, “Maybe. Obviously, it was something Montezuma treasured enough to want it in his tomb. Compared to the condition of the other objects, it’s aged especially well. I’d have expected much more tarnishing. It looks as if it were placed there in more recent times.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Doubtful. The tomb was probably sealed right after the burial. Judging from the video so far, it hasn’t been touched in five hundred years.”

  Daniel leaned back and stretched, dropping into what she called his classroom voice. “These people lived surrounded in opulence beyond what most of the world had ever seen before. And then, within a blink of time, the Spaniards destroyed it all. Except for a chance discovery like this—one that appears to be in such pristine condition—all we ever see is the rubble of crumbling ruins. It’s a shame how so much has been obliterated throughout history because of what I think of as the double-G factor—gold and God.”

  Seneca continued snapping pictures as she listened to Daniel express his fascination with what he and his team had discovered. He was so passionate about his work. When he talked about it, she loved how his face seemed to grow even more handsome. His dark eyes became sparkling black diamonds surrounded by thick black lashes. His tan skin glowed. It was all so magical to him. It brought out the boy-child, a part of him that always charmed her.

  The previous afternoon she had conducted her formal interview with Daniel on the history and culture of the Aztecs, and particularly the significance of his discovery. But today was the money shot—the actual look inside the tomb, even if it was only by video. This was the first finding of an Aztec leader’s burial site, but not just any Aztec leader’s tomb. Daniel had discovered the resting place of the infamous Montezuma II, the man whom some historical records accused of killing more than eighty thousand people in the span of four days.

  Whenever Seneca made a proposal to the editor at Planet Discovery, often his response was, “That’s not enough for a story, yet. Keep digging.�
� This was going to surpass even his expectations.

  To her excitement, not only was she going to get an intriguing story, but there appeared to be a bonus—an additional mystery unfolding.

  “So, what do you think happened?” she asked Daniel. “Where are Montezuma’s ashes?”

  “My guess is that maybe there is no funerary jar because there was no cremation.”

  “But I thought you said it was their custom.”

  “Yes.” He stared back at the monitor. “Wait! See that?” He turned to the video tech sitting nearby. “Pare ahora mismo. ¡Mira!”

  The technician froze the image.

  “That’s very strange.” Daniel tapped the screen.

  Seneca lowered her Nikon.

  Flattening his hands together as if to pray, Daniel touched his forefingers to his lips. “Mi dios, no puedo creer lo que veo.” He kept staring at the monitor, a pallor chalking his face.

  Seneca’s flesh prickled. “What is it?” She only caught the Spanish Mi dios—My God.

  “Sorry, sorry. I can’t believe what I see. Look.” He used his fingertip to zero in on an object on the screen. “There’s the funeral shroud.”

  Seneca saw what appeared to be a large piece of material lying on the floor. “What does it mean?”

  “The Aztecs bundled their dead in a burial shroud before cremation. But look at this one. It’s untied and crumpled on the ground. Like he shed it as if there was no need.”

  Seneca leaned in closer. “Almost as if Montezuma got up and walked away.”

  treasure trove

  1876, northern sonora, mexico