Arkana Archaeology Mystery Box Set 2

by N. S. Wikarski

  “This isn’t a joke, dammit!” Maddie slapped her palm on the desk for emphasis. “I’m serious!”

  “So am I!” he shot back angrily. Then in a calmer tone, he added, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this. To plan a strategy that will keep me from winding up on the wrong end of a bullet.” He gave a timeout signal. “So unruffle your feathers, chief, and listen up.”

  She glowered at him, unconvinced.

  He sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. “We’ve been looking at this problem all wrong. Everybody assumed that to get the scoop on the Nephilim, we’d have to plant somebody inside the organization as a convert.”

  “Agreed.”

  “That’s a tough sell,” Erik observed. “I don’t think anybody in the Arkana is a good enough actor to go full-on fundamentalist crazy and make it look convincing.”

  The chatelaine cocked an amused eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “But there are other ways to squeeze intel out of the compound without it necessarily being fatal. We caught a lucky break when Hannah told you about Abe’s building projects.”

  “You mean the secret lab and the weapons training facility?”

  “Yup.” He nodded. “It’s pretty unlikely that the Nephilim had the necessary in-house talent to finish those jobs. They must have hired outside help.”

  Maddie smiled broadly. She could finally see where he was heading. “Of course. Carpenters, electricians, plumbers, material suppliers. Those guys must have seen or heard something useful, even if they didn’t know it.”

  “I can find out which contractors the Nephilim used and question them. That’s step one. I’m guessing that the basic construction is already finished but there’s always spec modification, repair, maintenance, and the list goes on. It shouldn’t be too hard for me to tag along with one of the work crews and actually get onsite.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Maddie conceded in shock. “Why didn’t I think of it?”

  “Because you were too busy bleeding red ink over those budget reports of yours. That is, when you weren’t scaring the stuffing out of the tyros.” He gave a sly wink. “I’d say you had your hands full.”

  She chuckled good-humoredly. “I suppose.”

  The paladin rose to go. “After I find out which companies the Nephilim used, I’ll be able to talk specifics with you about the best way to infiltrate.”

  “OK. This actually might work,” she agreed in surprise. “Go for it.”

  He paused in the doorway. “Maddie?” He sounded uncharacteristically earnest.

  She was already sorting through the stack of documents Zach had brought. “Hmmm?” she inquired absently.

  “I promise I’ll be careful...” He paused. “And I’m not just saying that. I really will this time.”

  “Thanks, kiddo,” she replied gently. “That means a lot.”

  As a further reassurance, he added, “I like being among the living.”

  “I like you among the living too,” the chatelaine concurred, fixing him with an intent stare. “Considering the number of gray hairs you’ve given me over the years, if anybody is gonna take you out of this world, it should be me.”

  Chapter 32—Three Little Words

  Daniel pressed his cell phone to his ear, listening intently. “Pick up! Please pick up!” he whispered. After five rings, his prayer was answered.

  “Hello?” The voice on the other end sounded groggy and disoriented.

  “Oh, Chris! Thank the Lord you’re there.”

  “Where else would I be?” the librarian protested grumpily. “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s eight o’clock in the morning.”

  “What morning?” his friend countered.

  “Saturday.”

  “Saturday!” Chris moaned. “It’s my day off. Do you understand the concept of DAY OFF? It means I was out partying til the crack of ‘Why-the-frak-am-I-still-up?’ and I was planning to sleep past noon.”

  “I... uh... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I need to see you right away. It’s urgent.”

  “OK, Danny Boy. OK. Calm down.” A wide yawn could be heard over the line. “What’s this about?”

  “The relic clue. I made a mistake. It’s a catastrophe. I need your help to figure it out.”

  “The relic?” Chris perked up, alert now. “Alright. Meet me at the coffeehouse around the corner from my apartment.”

  The librarian gave him an address in the Lakeview District on the north side of the city. “Do you know how to get there?”

  “I finally figured out how to use a GPS device,” Daniel murmured ruefully. “I’ll find it. Give me an hour to make the drive.”

  “See you there in an hour. I’ll be the guy with bloodshot eyes slumped in the back corner wishing he was dead.”

  “Thank you, Chris.”

  “You owe me bigtime.”

  ***

  Daniel had never been to Chris’s neighborhood before. It was an older section of the city. By the looks of them, many of the houses had been built at the turn of the twentieth century. Despite their age, all the buildings were kept in good repair and their gardens lovingly tended. Because the streets were much narrower than the ones downtown, traffic moved at a slow crawl when it moved at all. The delay allowed Daniel to observe the pedestrians swarming in and out of the small boutiques that lined the major avenues of the district. The scion noticed that the neighborhood was populated by a disproportionate number of young males—in their twenties or thirties and most were dressed very stylishly. Daniel was fascinated by everything he saw. The neighborhood appealed to him on a level he couldn’t quite explain. In some alternate dimension where the Nephilim didn’t exist, and he had the luxury of choice, he could easily see himself living here.

  He spent the next ten minutes trying to find parking on one of the congested side streets, eventually claiming a space four blocks away from the coffeehouse. Glancing apprehensively at his watch, he jogged the remaining distance in order to meet Chris on time.

  Daniel was surprised when he arrived at his destination. It wasn’t, as he’d expected, one of the green mermaid coffee shops which dotted the downtown area. This establishment must once have been a neighborhood grocery store given its huge rolled glass windows and tin ceiling tiles. When he entered, the smell of roasted coffee beans assailed his nostrils. The scent was vaguely pungent, and he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not. A dozen people stood crowded around the front counter waiting to be served.

  Fortunately, Chris had arrived ahead of him and staked out a small table in a dim back corner. The librarian motioned him over. He wore a fedora dipped low over his forehead. “The light hurts my eyes,” he complained when Daniel came to stand before him. Glancing up through half-closed lids, Chris scanned the scion’s appearance. A look of displeasure clouded his handsome features. “You decided to wear that today?”

  Daniel glanced down at his distressed leather bomber jacket. He’d just bought it and was quite proud of the purchase. Then he noticed that Chris was wearing an almost identical jacket himself.

  The librarian sighed. “Danny Boy, I know that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but you’ve got to stop copying my look. People at work are asking me if we call each other up to decide what to wear every day.”

  Daniel blushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize....” He trailed off helplessly.

  Chris patted the empty chair next to his. “I think it’s great that you ditched your mortuary chic ensemble but it’s important for you to develop your own style. It has to fit your personality. Let it be an expression of who you are.”

  “I don’t know who I am,” the scion observed mournfully.

  The librarian darted him a wry glance. “In more ways than you can possibly imagine.” He gave a comforting smile. “I suppose it just takes time. You’ll figure it out. I’m sorry if I’m being a beast this morning. I g
ot two hours’ sleep last night, woke up with the mother of all hangovers and I’m still caffeine-deprived.” He lifted a tiny cup of dark brown liquid to his lips. “This is my third, and it won’t be my last.”

  Daniel noticed an identical cup sitting on the table between them. Chris slid it toward him.

  “I ordered you a shot too. It’s time to broaden your horizons.”

  Daniel peered into the little cup. “What is it?” he asked warily.

  “Espresso. Try it.”

  “Caffeine?” Daniel asked in shock. “My father forbids—” He cut himself off when he noticed Chris rolling his eyes.

  “Really? We’re going to have this conversation again after the Great Ale Debate last month?”

  “Alright,” the scion agreed hesitantly.

  “Don’t sip it. Just swallow it in one gulp,” Chris advised.

  Daniel did as instructed and immediately wished he hadn’t. He coughed and spluttered. “Good God in heaven! It tastes like dirt! Very bitter dirt!”

  A few other patrons turned to stare at him.

  In a lower voice, he asked, “How can you stand to drink that?”

  Chris laughed. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist making you down it straight. Consider that as payback for waking me up so early. Or if you prefer, call it a sadistic hazing ritual to initiate you into the mysterious Saturday morning customs of the urban Fallen. You can doctor espresso up with cream and sugar to make it taste better. It’s not about the taste anyway. It’s about what it does to amp up your brain cells. Nothing beats it for problem-solving.”

  “This substance is supposed to help my thought process?” Daniel asked, unconvinced.

  “Wait for the buzz. You’ll see.” Abruptly changing the subject, Chris asked, “So is this your first visit to Boystown?”

  “Boys Town?” Daniel enunciated the name carefully.

  “One word—Boystown,” Chris corrected. “That’s the name of this neighborhood.”

  The scion felt puzzled. “Why on earth is it called that?”

  The librarian gave a cryptic smile. “Because a lot of boys live here.”

  “That makes sense.” Daniel nodded. “I did see an unusual number of good-looking, well-dressed young men in this neighborhood.”

  Chris’s gaze narrowed. “You noticed that, did you?”

  “I was struck by how they seem to take care of their appearance. Nobody was wearing the sloppy attire I’ve observed in men elsewhere. This is just the sort of place I’d like to live myself if I ever had the chance.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes,” the librarian observed softly. Then he seemed to catch himself and switched topics yet again. “Now what’s this urgent problem you’ve got?”

  “Oh, yes.” Daniel reached for the laptop which he’d placed on the floor next to his chair. As it powered up, he rifled through his folder of notes. “Yesterday evening I was reviewing my translation file and realized I’d made a terrible error.”

  “Define terrible.”

  Daniel leaned over the small table so as not to be overheard. He needn’t have bothered. The agitated rumble of conversation from the caffeine-soaked patrons of the coffeehouse drowned out every other sound. “I mistranslated a line of the clue. Originally, I thought it read: ‘The stones behind, on an island tower she alights to drink.’ But it wasn’t ‘the stones behind.’ It was actually ‘the sands behind.’”

  Chris shrugged. “Stones, sands, what’s the difference?”

  “It makes all the difference in the world. Don’t you see?” Daniel noticed he was talking more quickly than usual and his heart seemed to be beating a bit faster. He also felt an unusual sense of mental clarity. Could this be the buzz Chris had mentioned? What an exhilarating sensation. Perhaps coffee wasn’t so bad after all. “If the stones are behind, then we would be searching in Africa and Arabia. If the sands are behind...” He trailed off.

  For the first time that morning, Chris sat up straight in his chair. “Well, color me surprised. That does put a whole new spin on things!”

  “You see it now, don’t you?” Daniel asked excitedly.

  “I sure do. We haven’t been searching far enough east.”

  “It seems to me that the first geographical area east of Napata which wouldn’t be a desert is India. Is that correct?”

  Chris nodded. “Why don’t you pull up a map and we’ll take a look.”

  Daniel complied. His monitor displayed a map of Africa, the Arabian Peninsula, and India.

  Chris leaned over to study it. “So, if we were to draw a straight line...” He traced the latitude directly east from Napata. “Once you cross the Indian Ocean, Mumbai would be the first landfall.”

  “The rest of the clue says the dove alights on an island tower which would mean the location can’t be very far inland. Let me run a search on islands in the vicinity of Mumbai.”

  Chris watched as the results popped up onscreen. “The whole damn city is built on a bunch of islands. Let’s see if we can’t narrow that down a bit.”

  The two men took turns refining search results for another half hour with only limited success.

  Finally, Chris shook his head. “This is getting us nowhere. We’ll have to pick up the trail at the library on Monday. I can pull all the reference books we have on ancient Mumbai and narrow down possible island locations that way.”

  “Very well,” Daniel conceded. “At least we’ve made some progress this morning.”

  “Hang on a minute.” Chris was squinting at the computer monitor intently. He typed in another search string and flipped back to the map of the area. “I just had a thought. Do you have a copy of the riddle that led you to Napata in the first place?”

  “Yes, I should have it with me.” Daniel spent several minutes combing through his notes. “Ah, here it is.” He handed the page to Chris.

  The librarian read the riddle aloud. “One dove flies to wake the helmsman. The course he sets reveals his fate.” He scowled at the paper. “The first line refers to the dove and the second line to the helmsman. There’s nothing in this riddle that says the dove filed a flight plan from Napata.”

  “What do you mean?” Daniel looked at him askance.

  “I mean there’s some ambiguity about where she was positioned before she started her trip east. It’s possible she flew directly from Nabta Playa which would mean the latitude we’re trying to find is farther north.”

  Daniel scrutinized the earlier clue. “Oh, dear.” He gave Chris a stricken look. “I was so sure we had it figured out.”

  “Take your finger off the panic button. It’s no big deal. Instead of one place in India, you end up with two spots to search. That still narrows the sub-continent down considerably. All we have to do is figure out what’s east of Nabta Playa that might have caught the interest of the Minoans.”

  Daniel dived for the keyboard once more.

  Chris unexpectedly rose from the table. “I need more rocket fuel to get through this. I don’t suppose you want anything while I’m up?”

  Daniel ducked his head guiltily. “Maybe another one of those espresso drinks but this time with lots of cream and sugar added.”

  Chris tousled the scion’s hair. “I knew you’d see the light.”

  While the librarian was getting their order, Daniel continued to experiment with various search strings. What he found surprised him. When Chris returned, he said, “I’d forgotten how important the Tropic of Cancer was to ancient peoples. They frequently built religious sites along that line of latitude because the sun casts no shadow there at noon on the longest day of the year. Some of those religious sites even contained astronomical markers for all the solstices and equinoxes.”

  “Is there a place like that on the west coast of India?” Chris asked, resuming his seat.

  “Yes. A ruined city in the northwest corner of the country located precisely on the Tropic of Cancer. It’s called Dholavira, and you could draw a straight line to it
from Nabta Playa.”

  The librarian cocked an amused eyebrow. “So much for today’s translation crisis, Danny Boy. Between us, we managed to crack that unsolvable clue of yours in just over an hour.”

  The scion blushed with embarrassment. “When I called you this morning, I was flustered, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Chris handed him his cup of espresso. “Hence the need for copious quantities of caffeine—in your case, liberally diluted with cream and sugar. After a few more cups of this, you and I might even be able to figure out where Jimmy Hoffa is buried.”

  “Jimmy who?”

  “Never mind. Just drink up.”

  Chapter 33—Silent Night

  Annabeth rolled over in bed and consulted the digital display on her alarm clock. 3:30 AM. Thank goodness, the baby had taken his 2 AM feeding and gone straight back to sleep. She might get at least two hours of rest herself. He’d become increasingly fussy during the past few weeks, especially in the middle of the night. She slid out from under the covers and tiptoed toward the bathroom to answer the call of nature, luxuriating in the fact that it was HER bathroom. No more late-night trips down a drafty hallway to visit the shared facilities.

  She paused next to the crib to gaze down tenderly at the little miracle that had been responsible for her elevation in status and its ensuing privileges. A blue nightlight glowed softly on the wall beside his tiny bed. It cast a gentle indigo radiance over his features. Annabeth fancied that his lips were tinged a deeper shade of blue than the rest of his face. She laid her hand gently on his abdomen as she adjusted his coverlet. A shock wave traveled up her fingers when she could feel no movement of breath in his chest. He remained perfectly still. Panic constricted her throat. She shook him roughly, not caring if he woke up crying so long as he woke up. But he still didn’t stir. Fumbling for his wrist, she couldn’t find a pulse. Annabeth gripped the rail of the crib, staring stupidly at the motionless baby—postponing the inevitable moment when the sickening truth would hit her full-force.

  ***

  Daniel found himself immersed in a surprisingly pleasant dream. He sat next to the banks of a slow-moving river, reveling in its tranquility as he watched the current flow by. He was waiting for Chris to arrive to share the picnic they’d planned for that afternoon. From out of nowhere, a strange sound interrupted his reverie. In the midst of this green paradise, he thought he detected the persistent wail of an ambulance. Where could it be coming from? He turned his head this way and that to catch its direction, but it seemed to be echoing from all sides at once—he could even feel the clamor reverberate inside his head. It eventually jarred him out of his dream and into consciousness.