Glancing up at the man who'd spoken, he said, "Are we still in Baghdad?"
"Not quite."
Lack of power notwithstanding, a steaming cup of black tea was offered, and Daniel sat fully upright and accepted it with gratitude. As soon as the sweetened drink touched his tongue, he recalled the coffee he'd had just before- "Tariq!" he said sharply, almost sloshing the tea over his hand. "He was there when the attack started."
The reply was laden with the burden of loss. "I regret to say that there was little left of him to be found."
And Tariq had been so close to getting out. Would his family still try to leave for Rome now'? Would there even be a place for them there, with so many trying to escape the nightmare that now defined Iraq'? Offering a silent, utterly inadequate apology to his lost friend, Daniel realized a beat late that if these guys recognized Tariq's name, they'd been near the Museum for a reason.
He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "What do you plan to do with me?"
"That is your choice "
Someone made a quiet comment about standing watch-and just then Daniel realized that, without thinking, he'd spoken in the language the men had been using: Egyptian Arabic.
Three of them left through a splintered doorframe. The speaker stayed behind, gesturing toward the chairs across the room. "Please."
Daniel got stiffly to his feet, glad he was still wearing his boots, and carried his tea over to the table, taking in his surroundings as he walked. The walls, he could tell, had once held shelves and been carefully painted. Now they were pitted with bullet marks and shrapnel, the latter most likely from whatever had created the hole. Even in the flickering candlelight, he recognized the pattern of stains and blotches against what few patches of plaster remained. There was nothing to identify the room as part of a home where children might have laughed and friends dropped by to share a coffee. "Not to sound unappreciative, because I really am glad to be alive, but who are you?"
"My name is Baqir Abdel Harim."
"Servant of the wise," Daniel translated, starting to get a familiar vibe from the man. Though he hadn't a clue where they might have previously met, Baqir's pharyngealized consonants identified him as a native of the region around Cairo.
Giving a nod, Baqir took a seat as well. The chair creaked softly against the silence of the night, and Daniel realized that wherever they were, it was far from the bustle of the city.
"This has always been a dangerous area," Baqir said, producing Daniel's sidearm from a bundle of cloth piled on the chair beside him. He handed the weapon to Daniel. "Although the streets are quiet now, militia activity has been increasing. As to Tariq, we had been keeping watch over the Museum in an attempt to guard against events occurring under what your countrymen call the fog of war. Be assured, Dr. Jackson, that we feel Tariq's loss far more keenly than even you can imagine. Although he was a Christian, he dedicated his life to guarding a heritage that will one day save us all from a far greater evil than that which now besets this country."
Now Daniel was well and truly wary. Setting down his tea, he spoke as evenly as possible. "Would you mind telling me how you know my name?"
"I followed much of your early work, as far back as fifteen years ago." Baqir fingered his teacup and smiled. "I attended several of your lectures. I seem to recall one in particular where the entire audience walked out." His smile turned apologetic. "I confess that I left as well, at the urging of my colleagues at the museum, but not before I saw that one person had remained behind. Watching you from the door was an older European woman with a pendant bearing the Eye of Ra."
What were the odds that Baqir had decided by chance to mention that day, the day Catherine Langford had handed Daniel an airline ticket and an offer that would vindicate his work in ways he could never have imagined? Although his host's face revealed nothing, his eyes were knowing. For the moment, Daniel was inclined to keep playing close to the vest.
"You vanished soon after," Baqir added. "Not even a paper to your name. I had often wondered if you had found the proof that you sought. Then some years later I learned that you had chosen to lead a somewhat reclusive existence far from your life's work, in Colorado Springs."
So far, nothing that couldn't have been learned from sixty seconds on the Internet. Daniel chose not to answer directly. "What is it you need from me?"
"I believe this is more a matter of us being able to help each other."
Baqir lifted the urn and poured himself a second cup. Daniel also accepted a refill, not merely to be polite, but because he was incredibly thirsty.
"Four years ago," Baqir continued, "certain artifacts from the Museum were entrusted to my companions and me for protection. Among those artifacts was the original Sumerian King List, along with a set of vellum scrolls that have yet to be officially translated- scrolls written in the original language of the Annunaki, the sky gods who came to Earth through the Gate of Heaven."
With that, what was left of Daniel's belief in coincidences vanished. The King List that he had identified to Tariq had inscribed the names of one hundred and thirty four kings who'd ruled the eleven cities of Mesopotamia. One of the most intriguing aspects of the list was its scope: it recorded over two-hundred and twenty thousand years of leadership and drew no line of demarcation between rulers of fact and rulers of legend-assuming such a line even existed, Daniel reminded himself. The first kings were said to have been the direct descendants of the sky gods and `gatekeepers' known as the Annunaki-or Nifilim, as they were called in Genesis-and each purportedly had ruled for tens of thousands of years. During the period covered by the list, the capital of Mesopotamia had rotated between cities, primarily Kish, Uruk, and Ur-which, Daniel had theorized during the search for Atlantis, had originally been names of Pegasus cities, given namesakes on Earth by the Ancients who'd evacuated here and remained in the region that would become known as the Middle East.
Did Baqir's group subscribe to a faith similar to that of the Lilith cult? Or was his interest merely scholarly? Daniel did his best to maintain his claim of ignorance. "That's nice to know, but what makes you think those items would be of interest to me?"
"Since the time of the Annunaki, we have been charged to hold the secret fast until the Final Days were upon us."
Daniel met Baqir's eyes over the rim of the cup, making an effort to conceal his reaction to that statement. He had absolutely no doubt that the Annunaki were the Ancients, but the chances of any one group of people tracing its lineage back ten thousand years.. even in Iraq, that was a stretch.
Before he could point out that his question hadn't been answered, Baqir continued. "Generations of my…fam- ily have passed down the secret that, eleven years after the Gate of Heaven was secretly revealed to the world, one of the Annunaki would reveal himself, having come from the heavens to take human form. This one would stand beside mankind and direct him in the Final Battle." The man's gaze focused more intensely on Daniel, who recognized in it a level of respect he hadn't noticed earlier.
"Now that these things are coming to pass, your protection will be our worthy task as well. We understand that adopting human form has made you vulnerable."