Dr. Tang pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Walker wondered if she was being paranoid or if he simply wasn’t worried enough. The thought made the back of his neck prickle with heat, but he slid on the mask, adjusted the strap, and wondered what it was supposed to keep out.
Behind him, he heard Kim and Dr. Tang introducing themselves to Dr. Durand. “Sophie is fine,” she told them, and he smiled to himself. Sophie hadn’t been so informal with him, but he wasn’t bothered. This dig belonged to her, as did the project. Her staff might not be able to keep whatever they had found, but she didn’t want any government, not even her own, to hijack her work.
Two other people were in the small chamber. They were working in tomb-like silence, and neither looked up to greet him as Sophie led Kim and Dr. Tang into the room. With the lighting rigs and six of them now crowded inside, Walker fought a sense of claustrophobia he had combatted in the past, fought the memories of Guatemala and the cave on Mount Ararat.
“Dr. Walker, Ms. Kim, Dr. Tang,” Sophie said, “meet Lamar Curtis and Professor Beyza Solak. Sometimes I think they’re the only people on this dig who know what they’re doing, myself included. Lamar and Beyza, meet our new arrivals.”
Lamar wore dusty spectacles. When he gripped Walker’s hand, he held on firmly and gave a sharp nod of acknowledgment.
“Welcome to the land of conjecture and disbelief,” he said.
Beyza had been shifting a light fixture, presumably to better illuminate the writing on the wall. A camera hung from a strap around her neck, and Walker put two and two together. They were making a full record of what was written here, in case they had to leave faster than they hoped. Now she lifted the camera and took a photo of the new arrivals.
“Tight quarters, I know,” Beyza said, seeming to sense their discomfort. Then she glanced at Sophie. “How much have you told them?”
“Getting to that,” Sophie replied.
She gestured to Lamar, who shifted out of the way, and for the first time, Walker caught sight of the small altar engraved with a tight scrawl of writing quite like what they’d seen upstairs. And upon the altar, a squat jar covered with dusty paint and ancient scribbling. The whole chamber seemed to pulse, as if this underground city had taken a breath and held it.
“You know the story of Pandora’s box?” Sophie asked.
For a moment, Walker felt the temptation to turn on his heel and leave that place—to take Kim with him and exit as quickly as possible. Whatever proceeded from this moment, it felt to him that it could only bring them misery. The instinct made him feel foolish, and he would never have abandoned his duties, but a fresh ripple of anxiety went through him.
“Of course,” Kim said. “It’s central to Greek mythology. Zeus gave it to Pandora. It contained all the evils of the world—”
“Actually, no,” Beyza put in. “It’s come into pop culture that way, but as usual, it’s all about the men.”
Sophie tapped her nose and pointed to Beyza as if to say she’d gotten the point just right. “According to the tale as recounted by Hesiod in the eighth century B.C.E., the gods created Pandora themselves, built her up from earth and clay—”
“The original Wonder Woman,” Walker suggested.
“If you like,” Sophie replied. “According to the myth, Hephaestus and Athena made her, and all the gods contributed some element of her nature. She was presented to Prometheus’s brother to be his wife. Zeus was angry that Prometheus had stolen fire from the gods, and this was his scheme. He knew that Pandora’s curiosity would be too great and that she would open the box.”
She glanced around to make sure they were following her, then forged ahead. “The word box was a mistranslation. You see, the original text referred to a ceremonial jar.”
Sophie shot Walker a meaningful look, then glanced at the altar.
He scoffed, but then he saw the grave expressions on the faces of Dr. Durand and her team and remembered that he had been summoned here in the first place.
“You’re telling us Pandora’s box was a jar,” he said. “And it’s sitting on that altar right now?”
Dr. Tang approached the altar the way Walker had seen soldiers approach roadside bombs. A chill went through him, watching her, and suddenly he didn’t feel like scoffing anymore. A haunted look had touched her eyes, which were all he could see of her face above the filtration mask. She seemed more jittery than ever, glancing toward the corners of the room as if afraid they were not alone. When Walker followed her gaze, for half a moment he almost thought he caught a glimpse of something himself, the suggestion of a figure in the dark between two lighting rigs, but then he blinked and knew it had just been the power of suggestion.
Kim took a step nearer to the altar, but not too near. “In the myth of Pandora, the box—the jar—is emptied. But this appears to be sealed.”
Walker understood. He and Kim had experienced outrageous claims before. They would hold off on judgment for now but weren’t inclined to immediately disbelieve the way most people would.
Sophie went down on one knee beside the altar, startling Dr. Tang.
“The story is written here and on the walls and on the altar itself, but it’s not the same as in Hesiod’s Theogony and Works and Days. There are numerous other versions as well—”
“But none of them like this,” Lamar added.
Sophie seemed almost entranced by the jar now. “Some mention Anesidora. Historians translate this as an alternative name for Pandora, but what’s written in this room corrects that assumption. Pandora had a sister.”
Walker studied the altar. “Anesidora.”
“Pandora’s jar contained all the evils that might plague mankind, including pain and disease and monstrosity,” Sophie said. “But only in some versions. In others, the jar contained not evils but all the goodness and blessings of the earth. As written here in this room, the story suggests a reason for this confusion.”
“Two jars,” Kim said.
“Two sisters,” Sophie replied. “A jar for each.”
“But there’s only one here,” Dr. Tang said, glancing up sharply. “So which one is it?”
Sophie rose to her feet. For the first time, Walker noticed the gray circles beneath her eyes and wondered how little sleep she had been getting in recent days.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” she said.
Lamar crossed his arms. “We’re not suggesting the gods of Olympus existed or that they made women out of clay. That only happens in comic books.”
“Whether they were forged by gods or just the daughters of some minor king,” Sophie went on, gesturing around the room, “if all of this is true, we have a dilemma in front of us. Or a mystery, if you want to approach it that way.”
She let the words hang in the room, lingering like the smell of age and the ancient dust that floated beneath the glow of the electric lights. Walker let out a long breath and moved past Kim, then slid between Beyza and Lamar. He stared at the scrawl of abandoned language on the altar and the jar, wishing he could read it.
“I know it sounds like just a legend,” Beyza said.
“We’ve encountered legends before,” Kim replied, her voice quiet and as dry as those swirling motes. “A lot of people died. So trust me when I say we will take this seriously until there is evidence that such caution is unnecessary.”
Walker bent toward the jar, staring not at the scrawl now but at the seal between lid and lip.
“Please don’t touch it,” Lamar said.
Walker rested on his haunches and glanced up at him. “I have no interest in touching this thing without proper containment protocol.”
Dr. Tang nodded slowly. “A good choice.” She turned to Sophie. “In fact, Dr. Durand, I’m surprised you’re taking the risks that you’re already taking. Keeping exposure limited to a handful of the dig’s staff is smart, but you need—”
Sophie held up one finger to halt her. “Let me stop you there. Regardless of what’s in the jar, the Pandora Room, as w
e’re calling it, is a massively important discovery that will echo across many disciplines. From what we’ve already translated, these writings will help establish a tangible measure to begin to gauge the veracity of Greek mythology, to disentangle metaphor from reality in early Greek culture. My boss is thrilled. As soon as we evacuate this space, he wants me as his show pony. He wants to go public with conclusions about this site that my team and I are not ready to make. Not without a hell of a lot more research.”
Beyza leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “We have more imminent concerns, however.”
“You certainly do,” Dr. Tang said. “I honestly doubt there’s anything dangerous inside that jar, but I can’t promise you that, and I absolutely disagree with any action moving forward until this room can be sealed and the jar properly contained or removed.”
“Sealed?” Lamar asked. “You can’t do that.”
Walker stepped in. “Can we focus on the story for a second? It sounds like some kind of ancient conspiracy theory. How are we supposed to believe any of this?”
“Let’s proceed from the assumption that there were no gods on Olympus,” Sophie said.
“Define ‘gods,’” Walker replied.
“Fair enough,” Sophie said, “but humor me. We may determine all of this is just a story, but given the potential for truth, let’s examine it. Picture the scientists of the era deciding to create microcosms of their research, or what they knew of their world, either for future study or for posterity, or in case something happened to whatever space they used as their de facto laboratories.”
“A data backup,” Lamar added.
“Or something like a miniature version of the Svalbard Global Seed Vault,” Dr. Tang said. “It might contain seeds and grains to plant the best crops from that era. Cures for a hundred diseases.”
Walker studied the jar again. “One jar with blessings, the other with curses. If one had seeds and medicines, the other could be full of samples of the diseases and viruses of the ancient world.”
“Sealed for study at a later time, when people of the future—meaning us—would have a better chance of learning how to treat them,” Dr. Tang replied. “But we’ve cured most of the ills of the ancient world.”
“The ones we’re familiar with, yes,” Beyza replied. “This is your field, Dr. Tang. If there are influenza strains the population hasn’t encountered in thousands of years, or ever encountered on a wide scale, isn’t that a problem? The Plague of Athens hit in the fifth century B.C.E., during the second year of the Peloponnesian War. There are dozens of theories about what caused it, including a hemorrhagic fever like Ebola, but nobody really knows what caused it. So you tell me. Should we be afraid?”
Walker shuddered. He’d just come from Greenland, where the melting permafrost had already uncovered eleven potentially deadly prehistoric bacteria. There was no telling what might be in this jar.
They all stared at Dr. Tang, who shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t speak for the rest of you, but I’m absolutely terrified.”
Dr. Tang dug back into her backpack and pulled out three more filtration masks, handing them to Sophie, Beyza, and Lamar. “I don’t intend to prevent those who have already been in the room from entering, only to reinforce the rule you already have in place. Nobody else should enter, and everyone who has spent time in this room needs to be masked from now on. That includes the sentries who’ve been guarding the room.”
“When you say ‘from now on…,’” Beyza began.
“I mean from now on. At all times, until the jar has been removed from the premises and we can all undergo a thorough medical examination under quarantine. Most, if not all, of the staff will have to do the same.”
Lamar put the mask on with no further questions.
Beyza turned to Sophie. “Is this really necessary? It’s a four- thousand–year-old jar.”
“Maybe older than that,” Sophie replied, slipping her own mask on. “But this is the reason Dr. Tang is here, so we’ll follow her lead.”
“If we’ve been exposed to something in here, it’s already too late,” Beyza argued.
“For you, maybe,” Dr. Tang replied. “But on the off chance you have been exposed to something, do you really want to share it with your coworkers?”
Beyza glanced back and forth between Sophie and Lamar and then reluctantly put on her own mask. “I feel ridiculous.”
“Let’s talk about the next step. There are already too many people who have at least an inkling of what’s going on here. How do we get the jar out of here safely, and how soon can it be done?”
Sophie Durand thought Kim and her team had come to help them, and Walker would contribute to that if he could. But regardless of what might really be in the jar, his mission was very clear—his superiors at DARPA would expect him to acquire it.
“Actually,” Kim said, studying him as if reading his mind. “The most important question isn’t how you get the jar out. It’s whose hands the jar will end up in. The United Nations will have an opinion on the subject.”
Walker kept his expression neutral. Kim understood his dilemma and had made her position clear, though nobody else in that tiny room would have understood the undercurrent of her words, but Walker figured they had to feel the tension.
“My boss wants us to extract the jar ourselves and film the whole thing,” Sophie said. “The Iraqis and the Kurds also have opinions. As will the Turks, if they don’t already know about it.”
“They do,” Kim replied, taking a step toward the jar. “I’m sure the whisperers are at work everywhere. It will take time for them to determine how much of what we’re discussing is true.”
“You think they’ll wait to verify any of this?” Sophie asked.
“No,” Kim replied, her voice muffled behind the mask. “Of course they won’t. Which is why I’m here.”
Walker nodded. “If you can persuade the U.N. to step in as more than observers, that may be the only way to untangle this.”
“Agreed,” Sophie said. “If the U.N. will mediate, I’m confident we’ll find a resolution to the question of custody. Until then, nobody enters this room without my permission.”
“You said you were preparing to evacuate,” Walker said, glancing from her to Lamar, to Beyza, and back again. “Which means you’re expecting someone to try to enter this room without your permission, and probably with guns.”
Dr. Tang made a low humming sound, unsettled and perhaps unaware they could hear her. She rocked slightly on her feet.
Sophie shot Walker an appraising glance. “Lamar and Martin and I were followed by Turkish spies the other day. Those men may have meant us harm or just been curious, but either way, coalition soldiers stopped them. A drone had been following us as well. A lot of people were interested in laying claim to whatever we found here even before they knew about the jar. If people who think they have a claim learn what we’ve found, they’re going to come for it.”
Not just people who think they have a claim, Walker thought. Anyone who suspected there might be ancient diseases in that jar that could be used as biological weapons—or long-forgotten cures—would want to get their hands on it, including his own employers. Some who wanted those ancient diseases would have monstrous intentions, and those people would do absolutely anything to see them through.
“Consider us part of the team,” Kim said, with a warning glance at Walker.
Of those in Derveyî, only she knew who he really worked for, and she would have known it was a risk to bring him into this if there was any truth to what Sophie suspected about the jar. He told himself Kim had wanted him here in spite of his loyalties because they had survived trouble together before and she trusted his priorities if danger arose. But he had to wonder if it was a test. She hadn’t asked the Americans to send him because she missed his face. Unless it seemed clear the jar was a fake or that there was nothing of potential use to DARPA inside it, he and Kim would definitely be at odds over its possession eventually.
> He wished he’d stayed in Greenland.
“We’ll do whatever we can to help,” Walker said. “But whatever it is, let’s do it fast.”
Sophie glanced at Beyza and Lamar. “You two get back to work. Ms. Kim and I have some phone calls to make.”
Walker watched as Sophie and Kim struck up a conversation and quickly left the room together, focused entirely on the task ahead. He took no offense at being ignored. After all, he had his own phone calls to make, and he didn’t want anyone else around to hear them.
He hesitated, not wanting to abandon Dr. Tang. She stood between two lighting rigs, staring at the jar from as much distance as she could manage in the small room. Beyza had gone back to photographing the writing on the walls. Lamar picked up a thick journal-style notebook, studying the jar, and began to make notations on a page already filled with ink.
“Dr. Tang, why don’t we rejoin Sergeant Dunlap and see if we can figure out where we’re supposed to bunk?” Walker suggested.
She cocked her head again, tilted it left, and then upright, but all the while her gaze remained on the jar. With the mask obscuring her facial expression, her eyes were impossible to read.
“Dr. Tang? Are you all right?”
She turned her head so swiftly that Walker flinched. Her eyes reflected the industrial lighting, giving them an unnatural gleam.
“All right?” she said. “No, Dr. Walker. I’m not the slightest bit all right.”
Dr. Tang turned and hurried from the Pandora Room so swiftly that he wondered if she might actually be fleeing from the jar. Walker thought of canaries in coal mines and wished he were anywhere but Derveyî. Anywhere but down there with the curses of the ancients.
Or the blessings, he reminded himself as he left the Pandora Room.
But the room carried silent echoes of age within it, resonated with the potential of that jar and the warnings of Alexander. The walls seemed almost to whisper the stories that were written there, although Walker couldn’t read them. All he knew was that whatever power breathed inside that room, it sure as hell didn’t feel like a blessing.
The Pandora Room: A Novel Page 7
