Staring back at her was the head of Adam.
“Apparently he had enough presence of mind to take the head as I was jumping into the hole to escape,” he said.
She reached in and grabbed the head with such care; Savage thought she was paying homage to it. And perhaps she was, he considered, and rightfully so as she placed the head down onto the sparse area of the desktop.
The skin was brown and waxy, the orbital area of the eyes were malformed with its lids having sunk into the orbital sockets, covering them like a blanket. The area where the head had been lifted from the body by Hall was a clean cut. “Hall should have let it be,” she said softly.
“I agree. But it would have been far worse if he was allowed to keep it under display.”
She traced her fingers gently across the skull with an adoring touch. And then: “Alyssa, don’t you at least want to know the truth?”
“I already know the truth,” she said.
“One DNA test,” he said. “That’s all it will take to find his true origin. Our true origin.”
“I already know the truth,” she repeated.
“Alyssa, come on — so many questions. The truth is literally at your fingertips.” She remained quiet, her fingers running along the malformed curvatures of the skull. “How do you explain the creation of a temple created entirely of black silica, a substance found halfway around the planet?”
“Eden was at the head of four major waterways,” she said. “It was the first true hub of an advanced civilization where the waterways became the center of a shipping trade. The silica was a mineral of trade for cultural goods that eventually spanned the globe from the ports of Egypt to Mesoamerica, where some of these cultures share similar aspects of architecture and text.”
“Even you have doubts, Alyssa. I know you do, which is why I brought this to you. Just one test.” He could tell that she was warring with herself. “What would your father have done?”
She turned on him fiercely. “I’m not my father!”
He held his hands up in surrender and backed away. “That wasn’t fair, I know. But still,” he pointed to the skull, “the truth lies in front of us.”
She reached out, grabbed him by the shirt, and pulled him close. “I’m sorry,” she told him contritely. “I’ll never be like my father. He was a special man.”
He stroked her hair gently. “And you’re a special woman, Alyssa, so don’t sell yourself short. If you want to seek the truth, then the opportunity lies before you. I won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t want to. This is your call.”
Yeah, she thought. This is my call.
She sighed.
Alyssa Moore had driven to an area that was abysmally barren and about four miles away from the Göbekli Tepe site. She was alone, having taken the Jeep.
As she parked and exited the driver’s side, the wind jumpstarted dust devils, little funnel clouds, to gyrate across the landscape, kicking up dust. She hobbled to the Jeep’s rear, grabbed a shovel and backpack, and made her way to a spot where she stabbed the spade of the shovel into the desert sand. From there she dug a deep hole, about four feet down, such labor coming easy to her from years of working diligently at sites.
When she was finished, she looked skyward and wiped a hand across her brow. The sun was behind a series of scudding clouds, the temperature not as hot as it could be — a blessing. She then got her GPS unit, found her exact location, and logged it into the unit’s memory banks. Some things were never meant to be understood, she thought. And then she carefully laid the backpack into the hole with reverence along with the Photostat pages taken from her father’s journal.
After filling in the hole, after tapping the earth hard against the surface with the flat of the blade, she tossed the shovel in the Jeep, started it up, and made her way back to Göbekli Tepe; the only person who knew the whereabouts of Adam’s remains.
EPILOGUE
Alyssa looked stunningly beautiful dressed up in a gown that embraced and accentuated her lithe frame. Her hair was flowing with wreaths of light dancing along her crown from the reflection of the overhead lamp that shined down onto their dinner table.
John Savage was equally charismatic in dress wearing a tux. His hair was conservatively cut, not a fiber out of place, and the features of his eyes held a certain glow to them. They were reaching across the table, their hands cupped, waiting for the first course of a Turkish dinner.
“You didn’t do it, did you?”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t.”
“Well, I guess there are more important issues.”
“Like what?”
He couldn’t think of any.
“I’m a scientist,” she told him. “I search for facts. But by doing what I did… I let the entire scientific community down.”
But he heard something riding the wave of her voice, so he led her on. “But?”
“But some things were never meant to be found as Montario said. I really believe that.”
“Are you happy with what you did?”
“I think so, yes.”
“You think so?”
She reconsidered. “I know so.”
“Then if you believe what you did was right and no one was hurt by this, then that’s all that matters.”
She nodded. “And what about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“You’re unemployed.”
“There’re jobs. I’m not totally without skills, you know.”
“Really?”
He smiled “Really.”
“Well, I know of an archeological institute looking to hire someone. But he needs to be skilled in certain labors.”
“Such as?”
“Are you open for an interview, John Savage?”
“It all depends. Are there perks?”
She smiled. “Good ones,” she said.
“Then interview away.”
She leaned back and squared her shoulders, then giggled after she realized how silly she was acting. “Mr. Savage, have you ever used a pickaxe?”
“No. But I’ve seen one before.”
“Have you ever worked at an archeological site?”
“Never.”
“What does ‘stratigraphy’ mean?”
“I haven’t a clue.”
“Where is the ‘Valley of the Kings’ located?”
“Are we talking about the Sacramento Kings?”
She smiled. “You know something, John Savage?”
“What?”
They leaned across the table and kissed each other, the two finally breaking away with reluctance.
“You’re hired.”