The Hunters Box Set, page 68
part #1 of The Hunters Series
“But why?” Manjani asked. “I don’t mean to sound indelicate, but why would they take her when they were so intent on killing my team? Why would they save her and then kill hundreds on the streets above?”
Cobb shrugged. He had asked himself the same questions over and over again and had yet to think of a reasonable answer. “I don’t know why she was taken. Even worse, I don’t know where to find her. All I know for sure is that we came a long way to find you. With your knowledge of the map, we were hoping you could help us.”
Manjani glanced at him. “With what?”
“The map made note of ‘the gift of Neptune’. Our historian believed this referred to a well that Caesar had dug to ensure that his drinking water couldn’t be poisoned.”
Manjani nodded approvingly. “Ptolemy Theos Philopator and the Battle of the Nile. I’m familiar with the tale. Please, continue.”
“She believed the fortress that was built to protect the well eventually became a Roman temple. She also believed that the priests used the temple to hide evidence of Alexander’s tomb when the emperor demanded that the records be destroyed.”
Manjani smiled. “That’s actually quite brilliant.”
Sarah took the compliment on Jasmine’s behalf. “We’d like to think so. That’s why we thoroughly explored the cisterns and the temple. Unfortunately, we didn’t find any evidence of the tomb’s location. All we found were the symbols on the wall and the secret grotto. We were hoping you could shed some light on their significance.”
“I’d love to,” he admitted, “but I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. What symbols? And what grotto?”
Until that moment, Sarah had been confident that Manjani was a guilt-ridden victim who would do whatever he could to help save Jasmine. But now, she wasn’t so sure.
“You know,” she said angrily, “there are few things in life that I hate more than a liar. So we’ll give you one more chance to change your story before we start to get mean. What can you tell us about the grotto?”
“Nothing!” he assured her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! I swear to God, I’m telling you the truth! I haven’t lied about anything!”
“Bullshit!” she growled. “We know you were there. I found a glow stick in the grotto, and we traced it back to you. You bought it in Piraeus before your expedition!”
“A glow stick?” he stuttered, completely confused. “Yes, I bought a case of them in Piraeus, but we only used a few in the desert. I left the rest of them with my equipment at the campsite. For all I know, the whole box is still there!”
Sarah stared at him, searching for any glance or twitch that might indicate deceit on his part, but she saw nothing of the sort. That meant the men who slaughtered Manjani’s team most likely raided the equipment before they disposed of the bodies and used the glow sticks in the cisterns. “You’re telling me that you know nothing about a grotto?”
“No!” Manjani shouted.
“Or a pictograph?”
“A pictograph? You found a pictograph? Where?”
“Inside the temple. It was written in ancient symbols.”
“Wait,” blurted Manjani, who was trying to make sense of things. “You found an ancient pictograph inside of a Roman temple next to a hidden grotto?”
Cobb nodded. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”
Manjani suddenly smiled. “Please show me everything!”
Chapter Sixty-Two
After discussing it with Sarah, Cobb decided to show Manjani the images of their underground adventure. The viewing wasn’t only for his benefit, it was also meant for theirs. Despite his glowing reputation, Manjani still needed to prove his worth. The more insight he could provide, the more they would show him. And if at any point he appeared to be deceitful, they would shut down his access completely.
But first, they needed to go somewhere private.
Since his arrival in Amorgos, Manjani had been living in a small cottage near the harbor. Aside from Internet access, the location gave him everything he needed. The neighborhood was clean and safe, and it was within walking distance to the café, the marketplace, and the port. In less than fifteen minutes, he could be surfing the web, buying groceries, or making a quick getaway to a neighboring island.
And the view was simply breathtaking.
As much as they envied the panorama from Manjani’s porch, Cobb and Sarah were taken aback by the lack of décor inside the bungalow. Thanks to their former careers, both of them were familiar with the never-in-one-place-for-long lifestyle, but Manjani’s place took that notion to the extreme. His only furniture was a battered table, some mismatched chairs, and a threadbare mattress.
One end of the table served as his office—with a mouse, keyboard, and external monitor for his laptop—while the nearer end was reserved for meals. There was a lone cast-iron skillet on the stove in the kitchen and a single set of tableware in the drying rack next to the sink. It was clear that he had no intention of entertaining guests.
Cobb noted the lack of creature comforts in Manjani’s cottage and wondered if it was done out of guilt, as if any enjoyment would somehow disrespect the memory of the students who had died under his command.
As if he viewed their deaths as the end of his life.
As an ex-soldier, Cobb was quite familiar with the syndrome.
Sympathy wouldn’t help. Neither would pity.
The best remedy was to give him a reason to live.
At that moment, the merits of interior design were the furthest thing from Manjani’s mind. The only things he cared about were the pictograph and the grotto that they had discovered under Alexandria. He walked to the far end of the table and connected his laptop to the peripheral devices. Once he was done, he powered up the system.
“All yours,” Manjani said.
Cobb had rightly assumed that Manjani wouldn’t have access to the Internet at his place—he checked his e-mail at the café, after all—which meant they wouldn’t have access to the images and footage on Garcia’s website. Not wanting to drag an iPad with him to Greece, Cobb made do with what they had. He connected his smartphone to the computer via a small adapter and then, using software that Garcia had stored on the device, accessed the files that had been uploaded to his phone’s hard drive.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing.
Cobb had his choice of dozens of files but started with a video clip of Sarah and Jasmine entering the hole in the wall of the far side of the chasm. Instead of watching the screen, Sarah watched Manjani as he viewed the footage for the first time. She noticed a familiar gleam in his eyes, one that she had seen before. It was the same reaction as Jasmine’s when they had reached the concrete pillars.
Manjani practically glowed. “There’s your Roman temple.”
The news wasn’t unexpected. Cobb had always been confident with Jasmine’s assessment of the underground architecture. Still, it was nice to hear a prominent expert like Manjani support her theory without being prompted.
“Tell me,” Manjani said, “are you familiar with assimilation?”
“The word, yes. How it applies to the video, no.”
“The Romans,” he said as he studied the video, “were masters of assimilation. So much so that the concept is often referred to as Romanization.”
“Sorry. Still drawing a blank.”
“What about Latinization?”
Cobb held up his hands. “Speak to me like I’ve never read the dictionary cover to cover—because I haven’t.”
“Me, neither,” Sarah admitted.
Manjani smiled apologetically. “It means that the Romans adopted the best things from the cultures before them and passed them off as their own. For instance, the Romans took the Grecian tale of Zeus and created the Roman god Jove. It’s basically the same story—they just changed the name of the main character to suit their needs.”
“I did that once in high school: they called it plagiarism.”
“Touché,” Manjani said with a laugh.
Cobb pointed at the screen. “How does that apply to the temple?”
“To understand the temple, you have to understand the historical climate of Alexandria. Although the city is located in Egypt, it was founded by a Macedonian king who encouraged assimilation long before the Romans. In fact, many believe they took the concept from him. I know that America is often called the ‘world’s melting pot’, but Alexandria earned that title long before—particularly when it came to religion.”
“How so?”
Manjani glanced at Cobb. “Long before the arrival of the Romans, the high priests of Amun-Ra—the almighty sun god in the Egyptian pantheon—wielded great influence in Egypt. Not surprisingly, they used their connection to the god for much more than spiritual growth. The priesthood controlled vast tracks of land, as well as nearly all of the country’s ships. For a time, they were as powerful as the pharaohs, if not more so.”
“And yet they adopted the Roman way of life?”
“They did,” Manjani replied, “but only as a means to an end. Their ‘conversion’ was a ruse that allowed them to continue their worship of Amun-Ra in a Roman city despite the wishes of the emperor and the growing popularity of Christianity. They believed the only way to survive was to conform to the Roman standards of priesthood. And yet they never lost their true identity. When Severus ordered the tomb to be hidden from public view, they took it as a personal affront. To the emperor, Alexander was nothing more than a conqueror. To the high priests of Amun, he was the actual son of god.”
“Jesus,” Sarah murmured. She caught herself before the others could mistake her words for blasphemy. “I mean literally. The high priests thought of Alexander in the same way that Christians think of Jesus Christ.”
“That might be oversimplifying it a bit,” Manjani said, “but the parallels are there. Unfortunately, the emperor’s decision to hide Alexander’s tomb meant that followers of their faith could no longer worship him properly. This, of course, put the priests in a very difficult position. For decades, they had been hiding in plain sight, dressed in the priestly robes of the Empire while worshipping Amun behind closed doors. But now they were forced to take a stand for the preservation of their religion. They were forced to do something desperate.”
“Like what?” Cobb wondered.
“They decided to steal his body.”
Chapter Sixty-Three
Based on the revelation about Alexander’s body, Cobb decided to play additional footage for Manjani, starting with the video of the pictograph.
Needless to say, it left him speechless. He simply stared at the screen as the camera moved down the length of wall. An occasional gasp escaped his lips as he studied the symbols. This continued until they reached the end of the clip.
Manjani glanced at Cobb. “Please show me again.”
“Only if you speak this time.”
“Yes, of course.”
The second time through, Manjani couldn’t contain his glee—or his words—as he watched the footage. “Do you know what this is?”
Sarah nodded. “It’s a timeline of the city, from its creation until Alexander’s body was smuggled out to sea. Our historian told me that before she was taken.”
Manjani shook his head. “Close, but not quite right. I understand her interpretation, I really do, but I’m sorry to say that she was mistaken.”
“Mistaken how?” Cobb demanded.
“The symbols were meant to resemble the traditional markings of the era, but there were subtle alterations that changed the translation. It’s like an embedded code—a form of communication meant only for those who were familiar with it. The high priests did this frequently, just in case an outsider stumbled across one of their messages. The outsider would interpret it one way, and the priests would view it another.”
“But you can read it?”
“Yes,” he assured them, “I am quite familiar with the basics. I studied the language for many months in preparation for my last expedition. Ultimately, it was a message like this that led us to the discovery of the settlement.”
“Really?” Cobb grunted, somewhat surprised. “I guess we got that wrong. We were under the impression that you were looking for Alexander’s tomb.”
“That’s correct. We were searching for his tomb.”
“Hold on just a second.” Cobb was starting to get confused. He hit the pause button so Manjani would concentrate on his questions instead of the footage. “Let’s back up and start over. When you assembled your team, what were you looking for?”
“We were looking for Alexander’s tomb.”
“But you found the settlement instead.”
“Exactly!” Manjani said. “On its own, the settlement was a very nice discovery. Not nearly as glamorous as Alexander’s tomb, but still a solid find. My students, most of whom were light in fieldwork, were absolutely elated.”
“But not you.”
He shook his head. “When you’re hunting for Moby Dick, a shark won’t suffice.”
Cobb smiled. “Good point.”
Sarah used the moment to reenter the conversation. “Out of curiosity, what led you to believe that the tomb was where you were digging?”
Manjani glanced at her. “Are you familiar with the Bahariya Oasis in the Western Desert? It is home to a modern archaeological site known as the Valley of the Golden Mummies. Since its discovery in 1996, hundreds of bodies have been uncovered there, and I believe thousands more will be discovered—all followers of Alexander.”
Cobb connected the dots. “You thought the body was moved to Bahariya?”
“It was a working theory,” Manjani said with a shrug. “You see, the Temple of Alexander is located in Bahariya. It is the only such temple in all of Egypt to honor him. Although there is no tomb inside, we found several records of travelers who asked to be buried near the temple in the belief that it would bring them closer to Alexander. That might not seem like much, but these messages weren’t the scribbled notes of commoners. They were written by the personal scribes of noblemen from Egypt, Greece, Rome, and beyond. These people left their homelands to be buried in the middle of the desert, and we thought the reason was Alexander.”
“What about now?” Sarah wondered.
“Now?” he asked, confused.
“You said the tomb’s presence in Bahariya was a working theory. I noticed that you used the past tense, was. Does that mean you’ve changed your mind?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I have.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Pardon the pun, but I saw the writing on the wall.”
The look on her face said that she wasn’t amused.
“Just hear me out,” Manjani said as he pointed at the image frozen on the screen. “These three symbols—the spindle, the scroll, and the shears—represent the Fates. It means that a prophecy was foretold by the oracle. This square, here, is Pandora’s box. Whatever the prophecy was, it wasn’t good news. And look here—the horned man inside the block that these people are carrying? That’s Alexander. They’re moving his tomb.”
Sarah had heard all of this before from Jasmine. “Right. They evacuated Alexander to a waiting ship. Isn’t that what the ram’s head on the boat means?”
Manjani shook his head. “In the language of the priests, the ram’s head on a man refers to Alexander. The ram’s head by itself refers to his father, Amun. The boat with the symbol of Amun simply tells us that he was directing their attention to the water. You have to understand the context to appreciate what he was trying to convey.”
She was getting impatient. “What did he say?”
“It’s a warning, telling the priests to fear the water. It implores them to remove Alexander’s body from the city, because something terrible was coming from the sea. If I had to guess, I’d say it refers to the tsunami in 365 that nearly wiped out the city. Unfortunately for me, the accounts that led us to Bahariya were all written at least a hundred and fifty years before the tsunami. That means we were wrong about the Valley of the Golden Mummies because Alexander’s tomb was still in Alexandria for more than a century after the noblemen asked to be buried near the oasis.”
“Good,” Cobb said. “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but that’s one less place that we have to check. What else does the wall say? Does it give us a location?”
“None that I saw, but let me check again.”
Manjani fast-forwarded the video and studied the final frame of the pictograph, searching for the smallest of clues. In his excitement, he realized it would have been easy to neglect a crucial detail in the coded message about the tomb. He scanned the image slowly, and methodically, looking for a symbol that would point them in the right direction, but he found nothing.
“You’re sure this is everything? There were no other carvings on the wall?”
“I’m positive,” she answered. “I looked over every inch of the wall. And Jasmine examined it, too. That’s everything we found.”
Manjani cursed in Greek, obviously frustrated.
“What’s missing?” Cobb asked.
“I don’t know—I really don’t—but something. There has to be more. There just has to be. Because this doesn’t make any sense!”
Chapter Sixty-Four
Manjani leaped to his feet and began to pace around the room. “If the priests were abandoning the city, they wouldn’t have left their message so open-ended. They would have been explicit about where they were headed next.”
“Why?” Sarah asked.
“Because they didn’t have cell phones and they didn’t have e-mail, and they were expecting the city to be swallowed by the sea. This was their one and only chance to get a coded message to their followers, whether it was a priest who was stationed in Thebes or a pilgrim from a faraway land who would read the message ten years later. Keep in mind only those fluent in the priestly language would know how to read the actual message. Everyone else would look at the symbols and think that Amun had spared the priests by warning them about the flood. That alone would have kept the priests safe from harm. No one—not even the Romans—would have risked the wrath of their god by chasing after the priests. This wall bought their freedom.”
