Is that it? Caleb glanced at Montross and saw the left eye give him a wink.
“Good-bye,” Renée called. She hefted the briefcase. “Thoth has failed, and the vengeance of Ra-Marduk is at hand, although you won’t live to see it.”
She descended the stairs, and as soon as she was out of sight, Orlando ran for it. Halfway to the door, Phoebe caught him about the waist and pulled him back.
“No!” he shouted. “We’ve got to stop her!”
An explosion rocked the mausoleum. Rock and debris hurtled up and out through the doorway. The remaining portion of the tower, including the reclining body of Temujin, trembled, but held.
The smoke cleared. Flashlight beams found the doorway and delved inside.
“No chance,” Orlando said, watching the water spill over the doorway and splash onto the rocks and slabs that had blown out sideways. Below them, the stairs ended in an avalanche of exploded debris blocking the way. They all turned, Caleb first, and shined their lights on Xavier Montross.
He got up, brushing himself off, wringing the water from his pants legs.
“Now,” he said, “let’s get to work on finding the real way out of here.”
15
Robert Gregory took his keycard from the slot and strode through the elevator doors as soon as they parted. Down in the library’s sub-level, a level unavailable to the public and absent from any maps or designs apart from the one a select few Keepers had drawn up, he headed down a corridor that was dimly lit from edge lights that sensed his presence, glowed, and then turned off after his passing. There was a time when he had been thrilled with the effect, feeling as if his appearance symbolically illuminated the darkness and banished ignorance. There was a time when he had thought like his sister. Like Lydia. And even to some extent, like Caleb.
But that was before he had learned his true purpose. Before he had discovered certain scrolls and ancient cuneiform texts retrieved from the storehouse under the Pharos. Babylonian in origin, drawing from even more ancient sources, long lost, these scrolls spoke of the true nature of the universe, and how to become its master. Robert had his own opinions as to whether the ancient ones had been truly “gods” or only appeared as such to those whom they controlled, but the scrolls were clear that the knowledge was sacred and bound up in a single tablet, legible only to one with the keys to decipher it.
He continued walking, feeling the lights alternately bathe and then shade his face, soothing the raw skin which had begun to heal. And as he approached the end of the long hallway and the glimmering golden door at its terminus, he replayed the tales in his mind. The battle for supremacy between chaos and order, between Tiamat and Marduk. And with every step he felt he was becoming like the god of storms himself, ready to don his armor and claim the tablet — and its power — for himself. The power to restore balance.
What he had discovered, through the translation of five thousand-year-old Babylonian epics never before seen by historians, was that the cult of Marduk had been established in those olden days, much as the Keepers themselves had been initiated, for the purpose of reacquiring those ancient artifacts and ultimately to bring about the return of the ancient god of war. And when he learned that the cult still existed today, he began his search. Subtly at first, putting out feelers, describing himself as a collector, then a believer. And soon, he had discovered how powerful the cult still was, even though it had been relegated to a secretive ceremonial membership involving the usual initiation rites and sexual domination. As such, Robert had soon ingratiated himself into their upper echelons, discovering at the top of the cult’s membership powerful members that included United States political and military leaders.
Senator Mason Calderon had especially latched onto Robert’s revelation that he was close to fulfilling the prophecy, to acquiring the very artifact that had once been their master’s rightful possession, until it had been rudely snatched away and given to an inferior for safekeeping. Calderon and his colleagues had chomped at the bit, mobilizing their members, providing Robert everything he needed to fuel his search, including the dangerous gambit of seeking out and working with Xavier Montross. But Robert knew more than enough about the workings of remote viewers like Montross and the Crowes. Knew them to be easily affected with tunnel vision, unable to see the big picture, much less the manipulative strings over their heads.
Montross had served his purpose, and according to the latest text from Agent Wagner, she had succeeded. The tablet, and now the keys — whose location the agents of Thoth had tried so desperately to hide — would soon be in his possession.
He smiled, the motion cracking open fresh skin along his cheeks. But he didn’t flinch. His muscles, exhausted from the healing process yet fueled with newfound energy at being so close to the prize, moved faster, and soon, after a retina scan and a fingerprint match, he was inside the vault. The Keepers’ Sanctum.
Two other Keepers, at their stations inside, worked at translating bits of scanned parchments, line by line, decoding the most esoteric texts, while behind them in hermetically sealed alcoves, thousands of manuscripts, scrolls and tomes remained unread, catalogued but waiting in the queue for attention.
“Sir.” One of the Keepers, an older woman with sandy hair and a large racoonish face, looked up from her screen. “We received your message. I’ve transferred the translation program to your station. It’s ready, and loaded with First Dynasty and early Egyptian variations. You need only feed the scanned portions of the texts showing both hieroglyphic and the unknown script, and once it has enough of a sample, a cipher will be created.”
“Perfect,” Robert said. “Keep your channels open. Within the hour, I’ll be leaving for Cairo.” He closed his eyes, took a breath, and then sat at the head of the table and lowered his head. “Soon after that, I will have the Books of Thoth. I’ll scan the side-by-side scripts and upload the data to you here.”
“Then, the program will produce the translation, but then what?” The woman leaned forward expectedly. “This is it, isn’t it? What you’ve been searching for?”
He smiled again and wiped the seeping splits on his skin with a red handkerchief. But he wasn’t about to answer her. Being a Keeper was nothing, preparation only for his true mission. He had been in the right place at the right time. But really, if he hadn’t been the one to discover the Babylonian documents, someone else would have. And someone would have made the connection to the Emerald Tablet.
Someone would have seen that Caleb was the enemy. The thief who sought to deprive humanity of its just rewards.
Some, like Renée, might call what he was about to do vengeance.
Robert called it destiny.
And as the other Keepers returned to their menial but crucial work, Robert used his terminal to set up a live conference call with the station in Gacona, Alaska.
The screen flickered and the view of a laboratory-like interior filled three quarters of his screen. Out the window behind an empty desk could be seen a snowy expanse, broken up by a series of giant antennae-like structures.
A face suddenly appeared: bald, paunchy, with pale grey eyes that Robert imagined hadn’t seen the light of day for months.
“Is it ready?” he asked.
The scientist nodded, and as he did so he rubbed the ring on his index finger — a black gem inscribed with a familiar dragon impaled on a lance. “I have everything in hand, just awaiting your specifications.”
Robert smiled. “You won’t have long to wait.”