“Turns out all he needed was a good hookah,” Scarlet said.
“I like your style,” Camacho said, and winked at her. “Babe.”
Hawke was wrestling with another soldier now who was approaching fast with his gun raised. A yard from Hawke he suddenly toppled over to reveal the winking face of Lexi Zhang standing behind him. She was holding Khatibi’s lampshade, and had used the chrome tube like a kendo shinai sword to belt the soldier around the back of his head and knock him unconscious.
“Thanks, I owe you.”
“Yes… you do,” she said and fled into the hall to take down another of the men. A second later she was making short work of the last man in the hall, essentially using his face to practice some Kung Fu hook kicks she had been learning. The man looked like he’d rather fight a starving lion, but there was no escaping the wrath of Agent Dragonfly tonight as she knocked him out of the hall and through the kitchen. Another kick sent him tumbling out into the rear courtyard. He tried to get up but the blows were relentless.
The final strike sent him stumbling backwards until he tripped over the small wall running around Khatibi’s fountain and he went arse-over-backwards into the water, cracking the back of his head on the flow control cap. He collapsed and the blood from his wound spilled into the bubbling water, turning the zellige tilework from terracotta to crimson. Outside, the local muezzin was reciting the adhan, and the Islamic call to prayer now mixed with the noise of the chaotic scene inside Khatibi’s apartment.
“I hate that these guys can’t last longer,” Lexi whined to Ryan.
“Said the actress to the bench of bishops,” he replied.
“Don’t overdo it,” Scarlet called out from across the room.
“Sorry.”
A quiet voice squeaked from under the desk. “Is it over?” It was Khatibi.
“Yes, and thanks for the help,” Scarlet said. During the fight the overhead light had gotten knocked and was now swinging back and forth creating crazy moving shadows over the cluttered room.
“Ah, you’re welcome!” he said. “Because while you were brawling like thugs I found what we’ll need when we get to the Pillars of Hercules.” He pushed his head out from behind the safety of the desk and looked up at them, blinking at the swaying light bulb. “Shall we?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Eurocopter’s powerful Turboméca Arriel’s turboshaft powerplant was cruising them high above the Moroccan clouds. They reflected the bright light of the crescent moon back up to the chopper, almost as bright as day. Everyone was tired, and most were sleeping, but Hawke, Lea, Ryan and Maria were awake and counting the minutes down until their arrival at Jebel Musa, the Mount of Moses.
The Pillars of Hercules was the ancient name given to the two elevations either side of the Straits of Gibraltar — the Rock of Gibraltar to the north and Jebel Musa to the south. Some had argued that the southern pillar was Monte Hacho in Ceuta, a Spanish city in Africa which bordered Morocco. Khatibi had spent his life studying the region and was certain the southern pillar was Jebel Musa.
On the flight, Khatibi and Ryan and used the professor’s research to work out the inscription was also indicating some kind of temple, and given Jebel Musa was on the tourist trail, that meant it had to be underground.
“So we’re definitely looking for an entrance inside the mountain,” Khatibi repeated.
Scarlet cupped her hands on the glass so she could see below and peered dismissively out the chopper’s window. “So that pointy little mountain is the southern Pillar of Hercules?”
Khatibi nodded. “Yes.”
“Not more bloody potholing,” was all she said, and then she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes again.
Lea looked at the twin peaks far below them. “So what’s the skinny on old Heracles, Ry. Why did het get these named after him?”
“During his Twelve Labours, this was the furthest west he got… simple. Back in those days, if you were Greek, then this was pretty much the end of the world. It was the tenth challenge, when he had to collect the Cattle of Geryon.”
“Now he’s talking about cows,” Scarlet said. “Heaven help us.”
“Let him finish, Cairo,” Maria snapped.
Camacho stepped in. “Just everyone calm down. Ryan — please.”
“I’m not talking about cows per se, but Hercules’s mission to cross the Libyan desert to fetch them. It was one of his twelve labours. There are several references made by writers such as Pindar or Strabo that refer to the limits of his journey in the far west as being marked by the Pillars of Hercules, and Plato even goes so far to state that it is beyond these pillars that Atlantis is to be found.”
“People think of these legends as all taking place in ancient Greece but this is not always the case,” Khatibi said from nowhere. “We have the Pillars of Hercules and part of the Atlas Mountains right here in Morocco, for example.”
Ryan nodded in agreement. “According to the myths, there’s a famous legend detailing a meeting between Atlas and Heracles, so we know they met at least once. As you know, Heracles was made to perform twelve labours as a punishment for killing his family.”
“Which on reflection seems fair enough,” Lexi said.
“Oh, sorry,” Scarlet said. “Is that you being funny or were you making a serious point?”
“Drop dead.”
“Kapow!” Ryan said, giggling.
Scarlet looked at him. “Really?”
“Sorry. Anyway, so off he goes on his twelve labours and one of them just happens to be getting hold of some golden apples.”
“As in the golden apples of Valhalla fame?” Lea said.
He nodded.
“All this shit is coming together,” Scarlet said, lighting a cigarette. “I just wish I cared.”
Ryan shook his head at her and continued. “So these particular golden apples belonged to Hera, Zeus’s wife and sister.”
“The plot thickens,” Lexi said. “Wait — what? His wife and sister?”
“I’m afraid so, yes, and if that’s not scary enough, the garden was also guarded by Ladon, a sort of cross between a serpent and a dragon. Definitely not fuckaroundable with, if you get my drift. The constellation Draco is supposed to be Ladon.”
“We finally reach your millionth factoid,” Scarlet said.
“Anyway,” Ryan said, ignoring her, “old Ladon was guarding the Garden of the Hesperides, and…”
Lea looked at Ryan, confused. “Wait — who?”
“The Hesperides — the famous evening nymphs.”
“Oh, I remember.”
“Great. So the thing is Heracles was reluctant to go and fight Ladon for the golden apples so he went and asked Atlas if he would do it for him.”
“As you would.”
“Except Atlas was busy holding the entire world on his shoulders.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Scarlet said, “but are we still working on the premise that all of this shit really happened, or not? It’s just that the whole planet being held up by one chap is pushing even my broad mind.”
“It might be metaphorical,” he said bluntly. “So Heracles made a deal with Atlas that involved him holding up the world while Atlas got the apples, the only problem being that when Atlas returned with the apples, he offered to finish the task himself, and Heracles got the impression he was trying to fool him into carrying the world forever.”
“So what happened?”
“Heracles got sneaky and told Atlas he accepted the offer, but that first he wanted to rearrange his cloak, so he asked Atlas to hold the world for just a second.”