“And then there’s the fact that the translation included one of the bits of scripture found on H. Rider Haggard’s tomb,” Isla said. “The secret lies here. I’m certain of it.”
“Let’s just hope the people here are willing to talk.” Maddock pointed to a rickety, whitewashed wooden building. The Star of David was painted in blue above the doorway. They entered the makeshift synagogue, where they were greeted by Rakoto, a robust man dressed in traditional Malagasy clothing. He greeted them warmly, shaking each person’s hand in a powerful grip. Maddock was relieved that the man spoke fluent English. He was prepared to converse in French, a language spoken among the educated citizenry of Madagascar, but if the man had only spoken Malagasy, they’d have been stuck trying to make use of an online translation program.
“You’re not what I expected,” Bones said after introductions had been made.
“Oh?” Rakoto’s gray eyebrows twitched with amusement. “You thought to meet a skinny white man with silly sideburns?”
“Something like that,” Bones said, chuckling.
“For some reason, my hair will not grow that way.” Rakoto laughed, tugging at a patch of close-cropped, curly hair at his graying temple. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“We’re archaeologists,” Maddock said. “We are on the trail of something…unusual.”
Rakoto looked like a child trying his first taste of Scotch Whisky. “King Solomon’s Mines.”
“We realize it sounds far-fetched,” Isla interjected, “but some dangerous people are taking this legend seriously. If there is any truth at all to this legend, we need to protect it from them.”
“Two Americans, one…Irishwoman?” Rakoto asked.
“Scottish, actually,” Isla said.
Rakoto nodded. “For whom do you work?”
“Bones and I are connected with a special CIA task force,” Maddock said. That was technically true, although their connection to the Myrmidons was no longer official. “We’ve engaged Ms. Mulheron’s services for her expertise.”
“I would prefer not to get involved.”
Maddock reached into his pocket and took out a heavy iron ring and held it up for Rakoto to see the signet. There, in brass, were two interlocked triangles forming a six-pointed star. A tiny sapphire lay in the space between each point.
Rakoto gasped. “That is never the ring…” He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.
Maddock understood. There was something about the ring. It had a presence, for lack of a better term. You could feel it as if it had a life of its own. The moment he’d touched it, he’d known it was the ring of Solomon.
“It’s real. Please help us if you can.”
Rakoto let out a long, tired sigh. “I know very little, save the legends.”
“We’re interested in anything you can tell us,” Maddock said. “Even if it is not definitive.”
“Very well. Please have a seat.” They sat down on blankets on the floor and Rakoto began his story.
“Some Malagasy Jews believe we came to the island on Noah’s Ark. As if the ark landed in Africa.” He let out a rich laugh, while Maddock and Bones exchanged a knowing glance, one that Isla did not miss. She quirked an eyebrow and Maddock shook his head and gestured toward Rakoto, who continued talking. “Among most of our number, the tradition holds that our common ancestor was a man called Alitawarat, or ‘Ali Torah.’ He was originally from Jerusalem and his first language was Hebrew. He served King Solomon, and discovered the bounty of Madagascar. While the specifics might not be precisely accurate, there is reason to believe that we have an ancient Hebrew heritage. The practice of circumcision, for example, has been a tradition long before missionaries visited our island. Many isolated communities called themselves ‘Descendants of Abraham.’ He went on to list other examples of the Madagascar-Hebrew connection. “And then, of course, there is the sacred rock of Alakamisy-Ambohimaha.”
“What’s that?” Bones asked.
“It is a boulder upon which Hebrew letters have been engraved. You will pass it on your way to Vatumasina.”
Isla tilted her head. “Vatumasina.”
“It is a royal village where the protectors of the Malagasy secret reside. If anyone can tell you more than mere legend, it will be them.”
“Would they speak with us?” Maddock asked.
“They will meet with anyone. But you must ask in the proper form, else they will dismiss you out of hand.”
“What’s the proper form?” Bones asked.
Rakoto shrugged. “No one in living memory has asked properly. If you manage it, you will be the first.”
Chapter 29
Nomi grimaced at the abject poverty all around her. How could people live in such squalor? Nearby, a group of children were busy spreading out rice to dry in the sun. One little girl looked up at her and flashed a shy smile. Nomi ignored her. She hated children.
Ronald and Cleo flanked her. The cousins were not well pleased with any of them in light of recent events. Nomi was being blamed for Constance’s disappearance. Some in the family had insinuated that Nomi had killed her; a few had even accused her outright. Cleo and Ronald were in disgrace. The family had seen to it that they’d been allowed to leave England, and the charges of breaking and entering dropped. Still, they had failed. All three had been instructed to proceed directly to Uncle’s compound. None had followed the order, knowing what it likely meant for them.
“You are certain of the decoding?” Ronald asked, looking around at the unlikely surroundings.
“My professor friend is certain. And he is also certain that this village has a strong connection to the legends of King Solomon’s Mines in Madagascar.”
“I didn’t know there were any connections,” Cleo said.
“That is a good thing. It means few, if any, have searched here.”
“Which would explain why the mines have not been found.” Cleo nodded thoughtfully.
“It also means the family is unlikely to look for us here,” Ronald added.
They passed a row of colorfully-dressed people selling produce in the shade of a dilapidated building. A little boy hurried over to them, bearing a basket of apples. They all shook their heads. When he turned away, eyes downcast, Cleo stole an apple out of his basket. He took a bite and grinned. “What?” he asked, seeing Nomi’s frown. “What are they going to do about it?”
“I’m more concerned about you drawing unnecessary attention. If the family learns we are here, people might remember the foreign bully who steals apples from little children.”
Cleo considered this for a moment, then nodded.
“There’s a great deal you haven’t told us,” Ronald said to Nomi.
“Such as?” she asked, only half-listening.
“Such as how you plan on getting inside the mines without the ring.”
“Dane Maddock has the ring.”
Ronald’s eyes went wide. “How do you know this?”
“A body was found at the grave of one Mary Elizabeth Archer, and the earth was disturbed as if something had been dug up.”
“And we care because?” Cleo asked.
“If you had done even a modicum of research, you would have learned that Archer was Haggard’s one true love, and that she went by the name Lilly.” The two men gaped at her. “The incident at the graveyard happened the same night you were arrested. It is obvious what happened. Maddock learned about Lilly; you did not.”