Heni Hani and the Magic Pendant: Part 1 (Heni Hani and the fears of the unknown)

by Peter Ness

  ‘I’d die for some water?’ He took a sip from his canteen, and then strung it back on his belt. Robin sat his rock hammer on the rocks, then stepping back a pace he snapped a photo. Slipping the camera strap over his head now, he rubbed the sweat off his dark stubble beard with the back of his hand. Turning, his blue eyes again scanned the weird but exotically beautiful, almost enticing, desert wilderness landscape.

  The haze in the distance danced with the hot summer air to create shimmering lines of mirages that levitated, flittering just above the valley floor in the distance. Steep canyons truncated the rugged ranges on the western flank of Death Valley’s diverse assortment of salt flats, badlands and sand dunes. To the east, deep gouges sliced through the imposing Sierra Nevada mountain ranges. There he stood, in the graben structure sandwiched between these two ancient continents.

  This is a geologist’s paradise. And yet, for those who have never been here, or don’t know where it is, Death Valley is legendary for exactly that: death itself. Robin’s eyes dropped to focus now on the fine particles of sand-drift blowing, flittering over the dry skeletal remains of a dead cow, long since robbed of its flesh. Now only the skull itself remained almost fully intact, a testament to the harshness of the environment. Robin sighed and rubbed yet another sweat bead off his brow. Nothing lived here, and nothing ever wanted to either, if it had a choice.

  His long black hair flicked the top of his sunburnt shoulders. And then, wiping his hand on his blue denim jeans, Robin squatted down on his worn pale-brown geology boots. The sunlight reflected off his gold watch through the glimmering heat of the day. Squinting up at the dark bluish-grey hue, he wished a cloud would pass in front of the sun. The tall, lanky, professor wiped his hand over his forehead again acknowledging the ravaging power still remaining in the rapidly dropping sun. The sun was low in the western sky now, but it was still scorching hot. Robin glanced down at his Seiko watch. They’d have to leave soon.

  ‘What a stupid day to come here,’ he said in a weak, subtle, Irish accent. Robin turned back to his survey tripod. ‘It’s too darn hot to do anything except sweat.’ His eyes focused now at the glints of light reflecting off the front window of a vehicle on the other side of the valley. ‘Where’d I leave my radio? Ah, there it is.’ Unhooking it from the tripod he depressed the button and spoke into the Walkie Talkie. ‘Lisa, if ye can hear me — over. Ye’d better pack it up. Let’s call it a day — over.’

  ‘Roger that. See you in thirty minutes or so — over,’ her voice barked through the speaker.

  ‘Roger—. Out.’ Robin breathed heavily, sucking the warm dry air, absent of any moisture, into his lungs. A whirlwind spun past, dust flickering, rotating over the carcass of the dead cow. He began folding up the equipment now. A reflected flash of light diverted his eyes towards another man, fifty yards or so away walking up the slope towards him. Robin turned, eying off the rather handsome man with the dark brown hair, piercing blue eyes, and thick bushy eye brows. His friend Kirin sure wore those blue denim jeans well.

  ‘Ay, so ye did get my message after all,’ Robin hollered at the athletic-looking man in the blue button up short-sleeved shirt and dark steel-capped miner’s boots. Squinting now, Robin noted the almost unimportant red insignia sewn just above Kirin’s shirt pocket. ‘And, yer still working for Blue-Sky Mining?’ he yelled rhetorically. Those were Kirin’s trademark clothes.

  ‘Yeah, that’s right old friend,’ Kirin glanced up at Robin and waved. ‘I like your rocks,’ he yelled, stopping to analyze and chip a fragment off of the outcrop in front of him. Aware of Robin’s continued gaze, Kirin folded up his compass and placed it into its pouch, clipping it shut. He slung his rock hammer now, dangling from a holster on the other side of his hip. Licking his finger, Kirin held it up to catch the edge of the wafer thin afternoon breeze. He nodded.

  ‘Exactly,’ he said, in a weak Californian accent, shading his eyes from the sun’s ruthless, stinging glare. Kirin retracted a pair of sunglasses dangling from his top shirt button. Deftly putting them on, one-handed, he turned and flashed a second glance across at Robin. The sun was scorching hot. His lips were parched. His eyes roamed across to his vehicle which had an Esky with water in the rear, then back to the bottle hanging from Robin’s waist.

  Robin flicked his hand, in a beckoning gesture. Kirin slowly trundled over, breathing heavily and rubbing his brow. Robin watched him, hands on his hips. Wiping sweat off his beard onto his stained shirt sleeve, his eyes followed Kirin’s gaze downward to his hips. Nodding knowingly now, Robin tossed his canteen of water across. Catching it, Kirin broke the seal, and took a long swig.

  ‘It tastes like shit, but at least it is wet,’ Kirin said, offering it back. ‘Did you pee in it?’

  ‘Now that’s a tot,’ Robin joked, with a slight grin. ‘Good to see ye again too.’

  Kirin dropped his right hand down, to check his belt was properly fastened. Then he leant on his geopick which was dangling, swinging off his hip. Robin admired Kirin for his tenacity. Who else took such care and precision in the way they did things? Even in the friggin’ desert with sweat pouring off his back Kirin was checking that his belt hung at the right angle! Kirin’s fingers moved back up and rubbed his right ear.

  ‘Do you have a student studying these?’ Kirin asked, nodding at the rocks.

  ‘Last time I looked, Lisa was it,’ Robin replied, pointing out the dust whipping up behind an approaching vehicle in the distance. ‘You met her before.’ Kirin nodded. ‘Lisa’s now a Ph.D. doctorate student. She’s mapping the folds and faults to sort out the graben basin structure, plotting the disconformities and unravelling the geologic history. I’m doing a gravity survey and she took the day off to help me out. Amazing, don’t ye think?’ Robin asked. Kirin’s eyes followed Robins gaze.

  ‘What, for rocks to form that way, or for the university to still let you have female students?’ replied Kirin with some sarcasm. He flashed a smile towards Robin showing his white teeth. ‘Given your history, I’m amazed they let even them near you.’

  ‘Ouch! That hurts!’ Robin laughed. He flinched, ducking an invisible punch.

  Kirin glanced at Robin with envy, and then his eyes drifted across to the approaching line of dust. Robin had plenty of charisma. Even sober women struggled to resist Robin’s satanic, magnetic charm and well-preserved good looks.

  ‘I can see ye still feel sore about that, even after all these years,’ Robin said, noticing Kirin’s eyes narrowing as he looked away. ‘What? Are ye still ticked off about it? Ye punched me out at the time. I tot ye moved past that. Even on a cold winter night the ribs are still mighty sore — to this very day,’ he lied, rubbing them.

  Robin enjoyed manipulating the situation, trying to instill some pity into the other man’s soul, especially Kirin whom he knew well.

  ‘Cut the crap. Why did you ask me to come?’ Kirin’s eyes drilled into Robin.

  ‘We can slot ye back into UCLA anytime you want Kirin. Maybe ye can help me run a gravity survey on the UK Stonehenge? — Shit, even NASA would take ye in!’ Robin smiled back at Kirin, who looked away. A thin groove formed in Kirin’s forehead, deepening as he rubbed his ear.

  ‘Sorry Robin. But look, I like my current job,’ Kirin replied. ‘Only last week I was in Africa standing on top of Victoria Falls. Yesterday, I was canoeing down the Grand Canyon. Today I’m here with you, enjoying being dehydrated by Death Valley. Plus, my friend, I don’t have to put up with drunks like you on a daily basis. Toss me that water canteen again?’ Kirin asked Robin, who promptly threw him the water bottle. ‘Thanks,’ Kirin said, taking it. ‘It tastes like sour vomit.’ He spat it out. Taking another swig he passed it back, and then wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve.

  Robin took a mouth full as well, gargled and spat most of it on the ground.

  ‘Agh! That is nasty stuff.’ Robin’s face screwed up. The tangy, astringent flavor bit into his tongue like acid. ‘It tastes something horrid—. Is there any country, other than Ant
arctica, that ye haven’t been?’ Robin enquired, looking across towards Lisa. She stood now, leaning over the vehicle bonnet in the distance, marking points on a geology map.

  ‘No! Been there, done that. Fred Thurman asked me to visit the US Antarctic base at McMurdo via New Zealand several years ago to investigate a strange object they found. They all thought it was the remnant of a crashed flying disc,’ Kirin laughed, waving his hands. ‘Thurman included.’ Robin grinned back, nodding. ‘Before we dug off all the snow and ice I said it would probably just be a circular depression caused by meteorite smashing into the ice. Some people have great imaginations.’ He smiled, revealing his bright white teeth.’

  ‘So, what was it?’ Robin queried, screwing the cap back on the water bottle.

  ‘They were right and I wrong,’ Kirin grimaced rubbing at his earlobe.

  ‘Ye wrong? That’d be a first,’ Robin raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Only partly wrong, though. It was lodged in meteorite fragments. The darn thing exploded, so we’ll never know what it really was,’ Kirin glanced at his Rolex and shrugged. ‘But, hey, work hasn’t taken me to Brazil yet. And, I have some unfinished business in Australia that I need to deal with at some stage.’ He rubbed his right ear and turned to leave. ‘Well, that was a complete waste of a stinking hot day. I guess we should head back to LA now. Are you coming?’

  ‘Just a minute, buddy,’ Robin held up his finger. ‘I might be able to arrange that. Can we meet at the old haunt in Phoenix on Friday?’

  Kirin frowned, intrigued. ‘Yes. Why not?’ he responded, eyes lighting up. ‘Is there any way that you could put me up on your couch tonight? Oh! From that forlorn look — your new conquest — I guess that’d be Lisa — has you sleeping on it? So, you are serious then?’ Kirin eyeballed Robin. Then he moved across and squeezed Robin’s shoulder gently, as a real friend does. ‘Good to see. Look, I’ll find somewhere else to hang my boots tonight. I need to head back to the LA office anyway. Meet you in Phoenix, at 8:00 p.m. Friday evening then.’ Robin shook his head in the negative. ‘No? Earlier than that?’

  ‘Make it 6:00 p.m.,’ was Robin’s reply, his eyes darting away. Kirin eyes narrowed: What was Robin’s ulterior motive? ‘Fred’ll be there. And, he’ll be bringing your friend, Major Tom Fargo, from the US Air Force. And, another fellow called Goto. He’s from the NSA. Goto keeps tabs on any unusual UFO and radar sightings; he’s apparently searching for alien technology. Good luck with that one. But, he has some interesting stories to tell us from South Australia.’

  ‘That figures. I met him at McMurdo. Shady character, but switched on. He knows his stuff. Okay. 6:00 p.m. Friday it is then. If anything changes, you’ve got my number,’ Kirin said. Spinning in his tracks he flicked a wrist at Robin. ‘See you later then, my good friend!’

  ‘Just hold on a minute Kirin,’ Robin said sharply, raising his hand. ‘There’s something in my vehicle that ye might want to see. Here, give me a hand. If ye can help me lug this gear back, I’ll show it to ye. I’ll carry that box; it contains the gravity survey machine.’

  ‘Yes, why not?’ Kirin picked up the tripod and slinging over his shoulder he followed Robin back to the vehicle. They placed the equipment carefully in the back, and then leant against the tray-back catching their breaths. Robin then reached inside the open window and drew out a canvas bag. He placed a broken fragment of a clay tablet on the bonnet.

  ‘Ah. I see yer face light up,’ Robin smiled. ‘It’s the missing piece. Go on take a look see. What do ye make of it?’

  ‘It’s only part of the missing fragment of tablet,’ Kirin replied.

  ‘Part?’ Robin looked shocked. ‘I tot we had it all?’

  ‘No. You’re missing the piece with the coordinates. See,’ Kirin pointed. ‘The first object is some mythical historical necklace buried near a circle of stone: we both assumed that’s at the Megalithic structure near Muduma in India. And, then there’s the artifact hidden in a cave — somewhere.’

  ‘There are a plethora of Indian Megalithic sites,’ Robin replied. ‘I went there with our mutual friend, Ravi from the University of Deli, but at each site we amn’t know where to dig. I guess I should ask Ravi to start at the Muduma village site in Telangana, and then move to Junapani, and just keep following up the geophysical anomalies until we hit the leprechaun with the lampshade?’

  ‘Yes indeed, my friend. That’s precisely the point,’ Kirin said. ‘We don’t know where to dig. As for the cave, it could be any of the millions of caves in India, Pakistan, Afghanistan or even Iran, Syria or Iraq. That’s a heck of a lot of ground to cover to find an object that might not even exist.’

  ‘Yes, even Palestine,’ Robin said. ‘Perhaps it’s the Holy Grail?’

  ‘No. I doubt that.’ Kirin shook his head in the negative, and then tapped the tablet with his finger. ‘And, on this fragment of tablet — see—, right here. It simply refers to a number of paces on the summer solstice. But, how many paces, and — starting from where? And, which Stonehenge is it referring to? We really are pulling straws here. We need one with its structure aligned to the summer solstice. Are you really going to visit them all Robin?’

  ‘Of course not! It’s too time consuming. But, it isn’t my travel arrangements that I wanted to talk about,’ Robin replied. ‘Fred Thurman said he heard that Blue Sky Mining had taken up those Australian tenements you were both looking into. He’s already used his contacts to arrange for you to take over the project. Plus, he needs you to arrange a cover for him again.’

  ‘Australia then it is,’ Kirin turned sharply, and strode back to his pickup truck. It was parked on the rim of the salt flat below. Nodding at the dark-haired woman leaning against a Nissan waiting for Robin, he walked towards her. Lisa raised her large sunglasses and waved.

  ‘Hi, Kirin,’ she said. ‘Good to see you again.’ He nodded back at her.

  Robin Grady followed Kirin to his Toyota Landcruiser, shook hands and said goodbye.

  ‘Well. Adios my good friend,’ Kirin said with a grin, ‘See you round — like a star — Ringo Star.’ Robin didn’t look at all like Ringo, but he took it as a compliment. ‘Friday, 6 p.m.,’ Kirin confirmed. ‘Don’t be late.’

  Robin chuckled, appreciating the joke, tapping the side of the vehicle with his hand as it drove off. He stood for a while watching the vehicle trundling slowly down the valley, dust whipping a long hanging trail up behind. Then he rubbed the sweat from his forehead, turned and ambled back to Lisa.

  ‘How long did you say you’ve known him?’ Lisa asked Robin as she pushed him away gently, and adjusted her expensive sunglasses.

  ‘Oh, Kirin—? I’ve known him for centuries. He’s the type of person ye hope is around each time the leprechauns hit the fan,’ was the reply. ‘And—, he always is. We rib each other a lot, but he’s got my back — like a brother — I tell ye—. He’s the best.’

  Robin squinted down at his watch now. Cumulonimbus clouds were starting to build up in turtle-like stacks over the mountains behind him. The intense heat was subsiding, becoming a bit more bearable now. Hopefully it would rain and that would cool things down. The breeze picked up, flicking at Lisa’s dark hair. Shadows began to form long fingers, stretching out from the foot of the mountain ranges in the distance.

  ‘Well, get in Lisa. Follow me. Let’s go. This place gets rather spooky at night and I don’t want to hang around any longer than necessary. I’ve got a phone call to make.’

  #

  London: July, 2012

  ‘Oh, look!’ Andrea exclaimed excitedly. ‘The next chapter is all about farm animals and rolling in the hay.’

  ‘Okay then,’ Peter grumbled. ‘But, if it gets too scary I wanna stop.’

  ‘Hey! Andrea! Peter! I have to leave for the airport now,’ their mother Jo yelled looking up from the base of the stairs.

  ‘Come on you two or we’ll be late,’ Edward hollered. ‘The taxi’s here now.’

  #

  ‘So, where’s Indya anyways?’ Pe
ter asked as they bundled into the back seat of the taxi. ‘Is it where Small Elk and Little Hawk live?’

  ‘I have no idea who you are talking about,’ Edward said from the front passenger side seat, ‘but India is on the sub-continent.’

  Peter scratched at his head looking perplexed, so Andrea explained things to him.

  ‘Well, you know where Ali Baba comes from?’ Andrea asked him. ‘That’s Persia, where they fly around on carpets?’ Peter nodded, his ears pricked up now. ‘Well, it’s one of the countries right next door, where the Maharaja’s ride around on elephants which are covered in gold and jewels. And where the snake charmers whistle up the snakes, which dance out of the pots. Like this.’ Slap! ‘And, bite little boys that kick everyone! So, how long are you going to be Mom?’

  ‘Two weeks,’ her father Edward replied. ‘So, you’d better not give me any trouble as I am reporting on you every day,’ he warned.

  ‘I have to meet Dr. Ravi Shrivastava. He’s a retired professor from the University of Deli,’ Jo replied thoughtfully. ‘He’s taking me and Dr. Robin Grady to the two Indian sites in Telangana and Junapani. Plus, if we have time we may visit the 5,000 B.C. Zorats Karer Armenia site near Sisian in Southern Armenia. That’s where their current dig is. Robin Grady is originally from UCLA. He’s retired now as well. He should be around eighty five years old by now. I met him back in 1973. He came to our school and gave a lecture about Min Min lights and UFOs. But, he probably doesn’t remember me.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Edward muttered to himself. ‘Once seen, never forgotten.’

  ‘So, why’re you going Mom?’ Andrea asked, ‘to India?’

  ‘Oh. That? After thirty or more years, they’re still looking for an artifact that’s supposed to be buried near a Stonehenge. But, they don’t know which one, and now we finally have accurate translations of the angles and coordinates Robin and Ravi are visiting each Stonehenge and systematically discounting each.’