‘What, did they teleport or something?’
‘No idea.’ Nina flicked through the translation. ‘But yeah, Talonor decided to stay, and a day later they came back with some stone tablets - which were written in Vedic Sanskrit.’ She indicated the text inscribed on the orichalcum sheet. ‘This section here is a copy of part of Poseidon’s knowledge . . . wait a minute!’ She snapped her fingers as disparate elements suddenly meshed together perfectly in her mind. ‘I’m a dumbass. Why didn’t I realise it before? It’s not Poseidon at all. It’s Shiva. He’s often depicted using a trident as a weapon.’
‘Shiva?’ Eddie asked.
‘One of the Hindu gods.’
‘I know that. I meant, which one? What’s his gig?’
‘Oh, nothing much,’ said Nina. ‘Just the Destroyer of Worlds.’
He frowned. ‘So he’s a bad guy?’
‘No, not at all. Hinduism’s based around the idea of cycles, everything going through a never-ending process of birth, life, death, rebirth - even the entire universe. Shiva’s the god who ends each cycle through an act of destruction . . . but by doing that, he enables the next cycle to be created. He’s one of the most important figures in Hindu mythology. We translated it as Poseidon because Talonor was imposing his own beliefs on another culture - typical Atlantean arrogance. So when he described the priest talking about the knowledge of Poseidon, what he really meant was the knowledge of Shiva. And in Vedic Sanskrit, the word for knowledge is veda - but veda has another meaning. The Vedas are some of the oldest Hindu sacred texts, dating back to at least fifteen hundred BC - but these . . . Shiva-Vedas would be much older. And they were kept in this vault . . . the Vault of Shiva.’
Eddie turned to the next page of the Codex, on which was scribed more Vedic Sanskrit text, before it reverted to the Atlantean language. ‘What does the rest of this say?’
Nina checked another sheet. ‘It’s mostly about the cycles of existence. Destruction and creation. Talonor must have liked the idea.’ She went back to the transcript of the Atlantean text. ‘The priest also showed him the key to the Vault of Shiva - which is this thing, right here.’ Closing the Codex, she indicated the impression in the orichalcum cover.
Eddie looked closely at the indentation. The width of a spread hand, it had at its centre an ornate relief of a man’s face, lips curled in an enigmatic smile. Five smaller faces encircled him, all female. ‘The priests must’ve been pretty trusting to let him stamp a copy of their key. What if he’d decided to rob the place?’
‘According to the text, they said that even if he found the vault, he’d never get in, because “only those who know the love of Shiva” can use the key,’ Nina told him. ‘They seemed very sure of that.’
‘They’d have been a bit less cocky if dynamite had been invented back then. Who are the women?’
‘Goddesses. Shiva’s wives, I suppose.’
‘He had five wives? Thought he was a Hindu, not a Mormon.’
‘He didn’t have them all at the same time.’ Nina indicated two of the faces. ‘I don’t know off the top of my head who they all are, but these are Shakti, the goddess of feminine power, and Kali, goddess of death.’
‘Oh, I know who Kali is,’ said Eddie, grinning. ‘From Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, right?’
Nina winced. ‘Yes, but if you’re ever talking to a devout Hindu, please don’t say that! I was once talking to an Indian scholar about the portrayal of archaeology in the media and mentioned Indiana Jones, and he wasn’t happy. Kali’s not a goddess you’d want to get on the wrong side of, but she’s definitely not evil either, and he was kinda pissed that the first things a lot of Americans think of in regard to his religion are human sacrifice and chilled monkey brains.’ The phone rang.
It was Lola. ‘Dr Wilde? The Interpol officer you were expecting is here.’
‘Oh, good. Show him through, please.’
Lola entered, followed by a tall man in a pale blue suit. ‘Dr Wilde? This is Mr Jindal.’
‘Hi, come in,’ said Nina, standing to greet him. As she had expected from his surname, the international police agent was Indian; mid-thirties, with angular yet handsome features and black hair styled almost into a quiff. ‘I’m Nina Wilde; this is my husband, Eddie Chase.’
‘Ankit Jindal, Interpol senior investigator,’ said the new arrival, shaking their hands and giving them a beaming white smile. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Unlike that of the respectively robotic and uptight Pramesh and Vanita Khoil they had met two days earlier, his accent, while still distinctly Indian, was relaxed and warm.
‘I won’t mention Indiana Jones,’ Eddie whispered to Nina, who held in a faint grin.
Jindal looked at the artefact on Nina’s desk. ‘The Talonor Codex?’
‘That’s it,’ she said.
He nodded appreciatively. ‘I’m glad it survived unharmed. I can’t say that about all the treasures the Cultural Property Crime Unit recovers.’
‘So how can we help you, Mr Jindal?’
‘The first thing I wanted to do was give you some good news in person: we’ve identified the leader of the raiders. Urbano Luis Fernandez, Spanish, former member of the Grupo Especial de Operaciones - the Spanish police’s special operations unit.’
‘Pretty big career change,’ said Eddie.
‘It’s how he evaded capture for so long - he knows all the tricks. But we have him now, thanks to you.’
‘So what’s going to happen to the son of a bitch?’ Nina asked. An uncharacteristic hardness crossed her face. ‘He can fry as far as I’m concerned.’
‘He might. Although we don’t know where. A lot of diplomacy was needed to persuade the US government to turn him over to Interpol. He’s wanted in at least twelve countries, and they all want to put him on trial for the theft of their cultural treasures - and the murders of the people they killed taking them.’
‘I can imagine. Michelangelo’s David versus the terracotta warriors? The Italians and Chinese must be practically at daggers drawn over who gets their hands on him first, for a start.’
‘More than that. This has to remain classified,’ Jindal said, giving them both warning looks, ‘but there have been other robberies that haven’t been revealed to the public - either because it would be politically embarrassing, or because it could actually be dangerous. One of the stolen items is the Black Stone from Mecca. The Saudis have replaced it with a replica, but if that is discovered there’ll be chaos.’
‘You’re not kidding,’ said Nina, shocked.
‘The what?’ Eddie asked.
‘The Black Stone was supposedly put in place in the Kaaba Temple by Muhammad himself,’ she explained. ‘It’s a key part of the hajj, the Islamic pilgrimage - if it’s revealed as a fake, the entire country will explode.’
‘Just what we need in the Middle East right now.’
‘Which is why we’re trying as hard as we can to get Fernandez to name his employer, so all the stolen treasures can be found and returned,’ said Jindal. ‘But he’s not talking. Which is another reason I wanted to see you - you might be able to help us. More specifically, Mr Chase might.’
‘Me?’ said Eddie. ‘How?’
Jindal took documents from his briefcase and laid them on Nina’s desk. Each had a photograph attached. ‘These are three of the raiders who were killed in San Francisco. They’re all different nationalities: Nicaraguan, Ukrainian, Portuguese. But what they have in common is that they are all known mercenaries.’
‘Mercenaries, eh?’ Eddie took a closer look at the photos, but didn’t recognise any of the faces. He glanced sidelong at Jindal. ‘Been reading up on me, have you?’