Whether or not Roche’s theory about skull binding being a defense against the Changelings was true, there was some kind of connective tissue, stretching around the world to cultures separated by time and distance. Maybe there was a reason for subterranean vaults and skull deformation that no one had ever considered. Not even Roche.
This too, she kept to herself.
“There is a wrinkle though,” she said. “Another locked door that might be an even bigger problem. The Hypogeum is a UNESCO World Heritage site, and access is limited to no more than ten people per hour — sixty visitors per day — and you have to purchase your tickets months in advance.”
“You want to break in?” Kellogg’s tone was apprehensive but not surprised.
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Maybe there’s another way. Let me try to get us permission. Money talks, and whether or not you put any stock in what he wrote, Roche’s books made a lot of it. Maybe we can unlock that door without doing anything that might get us arrested.”
Jade weighed the offer. Breaking and entering, while risky, would keep their interest in the Hypogeum a secret. If Kellogg tried and failed to bribe their way in, it would alert the authorities to their intention, making it that much harder to sneak in. Even if he was successful, they would be on the radar of a corruptible public official. Still, Jade was no cat burglar. “Okay, give it your best shot, but be discreet.”
“Fear not. Negotiations are what I do.”
While Kellogg conducted his “negotiations,” Jade took the opportunity to visit an Internet café in Valletta — evidently the advent of smart phones had not completely eliminated the need for such establishments — and dug deeper into the mysteries of the Hypogeum.
There was, as she had expected, a great deal of misinformation, ranging from unsubstantiated stories to wild speculation to outright fabrication — the kind of stuff Roche had built his fortune on — but there was a surprising amount of reliable science as well.
One article detailed the most recent research into the acoustics of the Oracle Room, which was shaped like a bell, amplifying sound so that the voice of a priest speaking from the center of the room would be magnified to thunderous and no doubt terrifying proportions, and vibrating not only the air in the room, but the very bones and tissue of the people in it.
Sound in the Oracle Room resonated at 110 Hertz, a design feature found in many other ancient chambers and temples in the world, and a frequency believed to induce altered states of consciousness. That this technology was understood and exploited by a Neolithic culture centuries before the pyramids, and millennia before Archimedes, was nothing short of astounding, but as she delved deeper into the physical effects of acoustic resonance waves, Jade discovered something even more amazing.
Because acoustic waves could partially cancel each other out, it was possible to combine two or more moderately high frequency waves to produce a low frequency wave — called infrasound — in underground spaces like the Hypogeum and, Jade now realized, the chamber in Paracas.
There were many ways to produce such sounds. Musical instruments and chanting. The movement of wind and wave action, both of which were abundant in Malta. The rotation of the earth and friction with the atmosphere produced a resonance frequency of approximately 7.83 Hertz, well below the audible range for humans, but even an inaudible sound could have a profound effect on the human body and brain. Frequencies of about 10 Hz could induce a state of awe or fear. A 17 Hz waveform could produce extreme anxiety, revulsion, and even tightness in the chest and chills down the spine. At 19 Hz, visual hallucinations were reported. Researchers were increasingly convinced that infrasound might be the cause of ghost sightings and other supernatural encounters. It was believed that the frequency disturbed regions in the brain or perhaps in the ocular fluid of the eyeball, producing indistinct figures glimpsed in the peripheral vision, exactly like the ghosts she had seen in Paracas.
“One mystery solved,” Jade mused, “And I didn’t even need Professor to explain it to me.”
The thought made her feel his absence all the more acutely, but assigning a rational explanation to her experiences in Peru not only greatly improved her disposition, it also provided the basis for a hypothesis that might explain how the Hypogeum had become conflated with the Archimedes Vault.
Kellogg returned a few moments later with good news. “We’re in.” he declared. “I’ve arranged special permission from Mr. Eco, a local official of some sort, for us to visit the site this evening. Now it’s up to you to figure out how to open the vault door. If it’s really there, that is.”
“On that subject, I think I may have this figured out.” She recounted her findings about the Oracle Room and infrasound. “So picture this. You’re Archimedes, on your way back from Alexandria, head full of information. You stop off at Malta, visit this crazy temple, and suddenly your head is bursting with new ideas and connections.”
“So the ‘Vault’…” Kellogg made air quotes with his fingers, “is the place where Archimedes was inspired to become a genius, and not some a repository of secret knowledge.”
“That’s what I think.”
“If that’s all it is, then what about Phantom Time?”
“It’s not real,” Jade said. “Never was. Roche was trying to connect dots that just don’t exist.”
“It was real enough to the people that killed him. And who are, I might add, trying to kill us.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help what they believe. But if we can prove there’s no Vault, it should get them off our backs.”
Kellogg did not appear completely convinced. “People have been visiting the Hypogeum for almost a century. Why have there been no similar reports of such…divine inspiration.”
“The natural state of the Hypogeum has changed from what it once was. It’s covered over, surrounded by concrete walls. Maybe those block the production of natural infrasound. If we could get down there and experiment with different frequencies, maybe we could produce a similar effect.”
“You can prove this with a visit to the Hypogeum?”
“I think so. The real question is, are you willing to publish our findings?” She held his stare. “Even if it means debunking Roche’s pet theory?”
“Ah, I see your point.” He managed a tight smile. “Well, let’s see what we find first, shall we?”
The entrance to the legendary Hypogeum of Hal Saflieni was a depressingly prosaic yellow cinder block building occupying almost half a city block in the middle of a neighborhood in the small southeastern town of Paola. There were no windows on the wind1scoured exterior, no ornamentation to speak of. Raised metal letters reading simply “HYPOGEUM” marked the recessed entrance. Because of the limited numbers of visitors allowed into the site, there was little need for additional publicity. The door was closed, blocked by a sandwich board displaying the message “SOLD OUT” in English which was, Jade had learned, one of the two official languages of the former British Commonwealth state. Kellogg stepped to the intercom mounted beside the entrance and pushed the button to announce their arrival. A few minutes later, an older man wearing a rumpled, sweat-stained linen suit appeared to greet them.
“Ah, Dr. Ihara, the renowned archaeologist. Welcome, welcome. I am Roberto Eco.”
Jade accepted the proffered hand and did not resist when Eco pressed it to his lips. She had no idea that she was “renowned” but if Eco believed it, who was she to disabuse him of the notion? Kellogg had greased the wheels, the last thing she wanted to do was derail things on the doorstep. Almost as an afterthought, she checked to see if he was wearing a Masonic signet ring; he was not. “A pleasure, Mr. Eco. I can’t thank you enough for allowing us to visit the Hypogeum after hours.”