The site was intended as an open air museum, where visitors could move about freely. There were a handful of modern structures — trailers and cottages for the archaeologists and other workers — and a small building that housed some of the artifacts discovered at the site that doubled as the administrative center. Pierce headed there first and approached one of the guides, a young man wearing a red T-shirt emblazoned with Cyrillic characters.
The babelfish also had a visual component for translating text, and a quick glance at the phone’s display informed Pierce that the image on the shirt was the logo of ‘The Museum of Man and Nature.’
Pierce introduced himself. “My associates and I are representatives of the World Heritage Committee. We’re here to begin the preliminary evaluation of the nomination.”
It was a cover story, but only partially untrue. Pierce was still a credentialed agent for UNESCO’s World Heritage Committee, the international body dedicated to preserving ancient cultures and combating the illegal trade of antiquities. Arkaim had not been nominated for World Heritage preservation status, but it was a plausible fiction, and more than enough to afford them unrestricted access to the site.
The young man’s look of confusion only deepened when the babelfish device began uttering words in his own language, but as the awkwardness passed he began nodding.
“Follow me,” Pierce heard, as the young man led them from the building.
So far, so good.
The young man led them out across the site, past groups of visitors and toward two structures that resembled Mongolian yurts made out of mud bricks. Although the buildings looked like dwellings preserved from antiquity, they were the most recent additions to the site — replicas of Sintashta houses — and the first step toward a proposed full-scale reproduction of ancient Arkaim. Nearby, a group of young men and women, a few wearing the same T-shirt as their guide, were removing dirt from a shallow trench with garden trowels. Pierce, recalling his own time as an undergrad digging in the dirt, felt a twinge of nostalgia, but his musings were interrupted when a middle-aged man climbed out of the excavation to meet them.
Pierce repeated the introduction he had used with the young guide but before the translation could be supplied, the man spoke in halting English. “World Heritage Committee? United Nations? I did not know we had been nominated.”
The man’s expression was guarded, but it was evident that he considered the nomination of Arkaim a great professional honor. He smiled. “Forgive. I am Sergei Zdanovich. I am… How do you say? The boss, here.”
So much for technology, Pierce thought, tapping a button on the babelfish to mute the feed. He extended his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Zdanovich. We’re in the early stages of the nomination. Nothing formal yet. That’s why we’re here.”
“Excellent. Yes. I will give you tour.”
Pierce smiled. “That’s not necessary. In fact, if it’s all the same to you, we’d prefer to just wander around for a while. Take a few pictures. Nothing intrusive, of course.”
Zdanovich registered mild irritation at the suggestion, but then spread his hands in a gesture of accommodation. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” Pierce started to turn away, but then stopped himself as if remembering something. “Oh, I heard that you discovered the entrance to a series of subterranean passages. Could you point me in the right direction?”
The Russian’s frown deepened. “What is name again?”
Pierce sensed the cracks appearing in his cover story, but he answered truthfully. “Professor George Pierce. University of Athens.”
Zdanovich gave a little nod and turned to the young man who had led them to the excavation. He mumbled something in Russian, prompting Pierce to reactivate the babelfish a little too late, then added, “Gennaidy will show you.”
The young man in the red shirt gestured for them to follow and struck out across the site. After a few steps, Pierce glanced back and saw Zdanovich heading toward the administrative center.
“Is that going to be a problem?” Lazarus asked in a low voice.
“Maybe,” Pierce admitted. “Depends on how hard he shakes it.”
“We should have just snuck in after dark,” Fiona whispered.
Although it had been his decision to make the initial survey in the open, Pierce wondered if his young protégé wasn’t right about that. He had considered but rejected a clandestine approach, for the simple reason that the potential risk outweighed the potential reward. They didn’t even know what they were looking for, or if there was anything to be found at all. What they needed more than anything else was time. Unfortunately, Zdanovich was turning out to be Pierce’s worst nightmare come true: a Russian bureaucrat, protecting his little fiefdom.
He tapped the Bluetooth device again to open a direct line to Dourado. “Cintia, can you monitor the site for outgoing phone calls?”
“Piece of cake,” Dourado promised.
“We stick to the plan,” he told the others. “If we find something, we can always try Fiona’s plan.”
Gennaidy, ignorant of his superior’s suspicions, led them across the site, which consisted of bare earth, pock-marked with exploratory trenches. Pierce’s practiced eye spotted the curving foundation of the old city. It wasn’t hard to imagine moving through the city as it had once been, a massive walled citadel rising from the steppe, with streets and channels to supply fresh water. At the outer edge of the circle, on the western side, near what had once been the main entrance, a rope barrier had been erected around a sheet of plywood lying flat on the ground. Gennaidy held the ropes down for them and then pointed to the plywood.
Under there.
Pierce thanked the young man and dismissed him. “We can take it from here.”
Gennaidy appeared confused and uncertain about what to do next, so Lazarus placed a hand on his shoulder and made a gesture that, while not threatening, conveyed the message: Get lost.
As the young man slunk away, Dourado’s voice chirped in Pierce’s ear. “You were right. Zdanovich is calling it in.”
Pierce grimaced. “Keep me posted.” He turned to the others. “The clock is ticking. Let’s get to work.”
TWO
Beneath the plywood, they found a square vertical shaft cut into the stone. The bottom, glistening with seepage, was eight feet down, but there was an opening and a wooden ladder on the east wall of the pit that looked promising. Lazarus opened his backpack and took out four small LED headlamps, which he distributed to the others. He also produced and began snapping together the disassembled pieces of what looked like a metal detector. The device — a Nitek Groundshark — was a portable, ground-penetrating radar unit.
Unlike a metal detector, which could, with varying degrees of success, locate metallic objects buried a foot or so below the surface, the Groundshark’s GPR could detect non-metallic objects, density changes, and void spaces. Any of those might indicate sealed chambers and passages, and the Groundshark could detect them through several feet of solid ground. While ground penetrating radar could not plumb all the secrets of Arkaim, a quick sweep of the site could point the way to those secrets, or confirm that there were none to be found. Once the GPR unit was assembled, they descended the ladder and headed into the passage.
As they moved forward, Pierce moved the Groundshark back and forth, not only across the floor, but also up and down the walls. Although the uniform dimensions of the tunnel bore witness to the labor of the ancient artisans, the meandering course of the tunnel suggested that the workers had enlarged naturally occurring fissures in the limestone, which the GPR revealed to be solid.