Chapter 1
Frank Borringer stared hard at the ancient script. It just didn’t make sense. If what his associate had told him was true about where this item had come from, the implications would be enormous. He leaned back in his chair, removing the reading glasses from his face. With the other hand, he wiped his eyes and pinched his nose. Inside his staple brown tweed blazer, his body perspired from the mental labor. His fingers struggled against the constriction of the light blue bow tie around his neck.
He wondered how long he’d been in there. It was easy to lose track of time when your brain was over-clocking the type of research he was doing.
The library was dark, save for a few lamps casting spots of illumination here and there. He usually visited after hours, though he doubted the relic of information saw any busy time anymore. With the advent of the Internet, it was possible to do nearly all of one’s research from home. Still, Frank enjoyed the feel of a library; surrounded by books, works from thousands of years, and all in a material, concrete presence. With a computer, sure the information was there, but there was no feeling.
He’d let himself get distracted by the thoughts and shook his head in frustration.
Frank had been a professor of Global and Ancient History at KSU for fifteen years now. During that time, he had been blessed with the opportunity to travel to many different countries as a special guest of numerous IAA excavations. The IAA, or International Archaeology Agency, traveled the globe in search of ancient artifacts, most of which modern historians didn‘t believe existed. Fortunately, for him, the IAA headquarters was near his home in Atlanta. The proximity and his expertise on so many ancient cultures and languages lent him as the first choice for many of the research expeditions.
Over the last decade he had been to the far east, Europe several times, Central and South America, and the most fascinating of all to him, the Middle East. In recent years, he had turned his attention from foreign countries to his own. Growing up in Northwest Georgia, he had a special interest in the history of the country now called the United States. Frank began concentrating most of his efforts on the history of the Native Americans, where they came from, how they got there, and what they left behind.
Sitting there at a work table in the Kennesaw State library, he stared at something that both puzzled him and aroused the childlike wonder inside of him.
Forcing himself back to task, he propped the spectacles back onto his nose and started reading again. “ The chambers shall light your way.”
Borringer sat alone at the table, staring at a small, circular stone with a script on it from a time long forgotten, and a place far from the southern United States. The engraved disc arrived in his possession a week ago. Frank had promised the friend who’d sent it that he would analyze the piece as soon as there was a moment to spare. Until yesterday, he had yet to open the box in which it had been delivered. Frustrated with himself, now, for not looking at this miraculous piece sooner, a chill went up his spine at the implications as he turned it over carefully, inspecting the smooth surface with the greatest of care.
Mesmerized, he could hardly believe what he was reading. Impossible. Could the four chambers really exist? He’d thought them to be a legend from ancient tribes, something they talked about, much like the stories of a fountain of youth or El Dorado. But just like with those famous legends, the golden chambers were never found. Yet, here was a piece of evidence that suggested they were out there, somewhere. Thinking back, he remembered the first time that he had heard of the four mystical rooms. One of his good friends had told him a story about Indian gold in northern Georgia.
There were several stories, actually. As kids, he had even witnessed some things that made him believe there might be a huge repository of the precious metal somewhere nearby. But nothing was ever found, simply rumors, stories. Notions of an ancient native treasure had been abandoned long ago.
The stone was shaped like an inch-thick coin, about the size of the average human palm. On one side of it was an odd picture of what appeared to be two birds. The opposite face contained some kind of writing in a very odd script. At first glance, the inscriptions had been confusing. There were marks that looked like hieroglyphs, but there were others that appeared to be ancient Hebrew. Still more of the engraved characters appeared to be cuneiform.
It had been an astounding epiphany when he realized that what he was looking at four ancient languages combined into a singular code. Once he had come to that conclusion, the translation of the phrases had been much easier. But how had these ancient languages come to be on something so obviously Native American? These writings should only be found in ancient parts of the Middle East and certainly not together on one piece.
Perhaps even more unsettling was the riddle the words spelled out.
He poured over the two sheets of paper on which he’d written the translations. One was a letter to his friend who’d sent the artifact. The other was to a colleague from the IAA.
Glancing down at his watch, Frank realized how late it was getting. He placed a call from his cell phone to his wife at home so she wouldn’t be worried and started packing up his things. After storing sheets of paper, pens, and other items into his laptop case, he returned to his computer. Better to print the stuff off, make some copies, and come back to it tomorrow. The thrill of discovery made him want to stay and work further, but he knew there would already be hell to pay at home for his tardiness.
He slid the laptop into its bag with his other research materials and casually walked over to the librarians’ desk. The library had closed about an hour ago, but being a professor had its privileges. All of the staff workers were very kind about letting him lock up for the night. Stepping around the corner of the front counter, he pulled out the papers onto which he had just finished the translations of the stone disc. After making copies and a brief notation, he put one set into envelopes and addressed them. Slipping the letters into a special basket for outgoing mail, he then walked hastily around the front desk and out the door to the sidewalk.
A brisk autumn breeze greeted him as he strode down the promenade toward his car. There was a renewed feeling in his mind as he deeply breathed in the crisp air. Maybe it was the weather or the fact that he felt like this new discovery was going to be something that was talked about for generations? Perhaps it was both. Frank smiled and turned the corner around the library building that led to the parking lot.
The university was situated on the north side of Atlanta in an area outside the perimeter of the I-285 bypass. It was largely a suburban community. Safety while walking around at night had never even been a concern. For some reason, though, tonight he found himself glancing around, uncertain as to what would make him paranoid. Frank had never had any problems working with the IAA, though he had heard stories about some of their agents, one in particular.
Shrugging off the brief moment of caution, he walked over to his car and put the key in the door. Why should he worry about anything? No one knew what he was working on except his friend. Besides, he had only been researching this new find for the last couple of days.
Frank smiled, thinking about some small amount of accolades. Maybe, after more information came to light, he would receive an award for his assistance in the unraveling of the ancient mystery. Opening the back door of his car, he plopped the laptop case into the back seat. After slamming it shut, he moved to the front door and started to pull the handle when suddenly, he heard a footstep behind him followed by a sharp pain in his lower back.
His initial thought was to turn and face his attacker, but there was no feeling or control in his legs and his body hit the ground a moment later. He tried to move his arms back to feel the wound, but he couldn’t control them either. They just laid limply at his side. Panic set in with the realization that he was paralyzed.