They formed a primitive outline of the African continent, Mediterranean Sea through to the Black Sea. An asterisk was observed in the middle of the Black Sea. It was approximately fifty miles out from Istanbul, if the drawings were to a correct scale. Next to this, was the name, Mary Rose, 1653 — First failed expedition. Sam studied it for a few minutes, making sure he read each word correctly.
Expedition to what?
His eyes glanced around the rest of the painting. A small drawing of a ship was marked off the coast of Istanbul. The ship was followed by a series of dashes leading to an area about two thirds of the way down the west coast of Africa. An asterisk had been marked at the end of the line of dashes, and next to it were the words, Emerald Star, followed by the date 1655. Next to that, were the words, Current Location: Unknown. Second failed expedition — all hope is lost. With the exception of the ship’s name, everything was written in the ancient script used by the Master Builders.
Sam took several photos of the image before moving on to the other walls. They were sparsely covered in the ancient script with no other images. They looked like notes, searching for the ship named the Emerald Star. It was last seen off the southwestern coast of Africa, where a large desert met the sea in 1556. Sam continued to decipher the writings. Apparently the ship possessed the key to the Third Temple — whatever the hell that was — but despite extensive searches, the ship was never located again. It was presumed sunk, and with its loss, all hope for humanity sunk to the seabed below.
The Third Temple?
It was the name that Sadik had mentioned, although neither of them knew what it was. He’d never heard the name before today. He recalled the First Temple of the Master Builders ever discovered. It was in Khyber Pass of Afghanistan. They’d never found a second temple. And had never heard of there being a third temple.
Sam stared at the words again — Key to the Third Temple. Was it in reference to a place, or an event? Could it be the third cataclysmic die off since humanity’s existence? The rise of a third and massive event leading to widespread die off? He backed away from the wall, as though it might provide another perspective, and with it some more sense.
On the next wall was a simple map of the west coast of Africa. Most of the image was left unfilled, but inside what would now most likely be considered the Namibian Desert, a drawing of a large pyramid was observed. He’d never heard of any pyramid ever being found in the region. He made a mental note to have Elise do some computer searches for any reference to a pyramid within the region.
Sam completed taking photos of the other walls, and the ceiling. He took one last glance around the room, searching for signs of any clues he might have missed. Confident that whatever secrets the walls held were now captured on his digital camera, Sam returned to the steps. He donned his dive equipment, and made the short journey back to the well — to where answers might be waiting for him.
Chapter Eleven
Sam climbed out of the well. He quickly disconnected his carabiner from the end of the rope and started to remove his wetsuit. He glanced at Sadik, who appeared to be sweating harder than when Sam had left. He seemed to be battling that internal decision to run or wait it out — but for what, though?
Sam was wet, cold and hungry and all of these feelings were worsened by his heightened senses over Sadik’s betrayal. It made him work quickly to remove their equipment. He decided he would throw the tanks and climbing gear into the well. Better to lose them than have Sadik’s demon know they had finished their project.
Sadik approached, quickly. “Tell me, did you find anything?”
“Yeah. There’s another room below this one.”
“What was inside?”
“More writing like the one you found.”
“What did it say?” Sadik persisted.
“Not much,” Sam said. “Someone was searching for a ship a long time ago called the Emerald Star. Does that name ring a bell to you?”
Sadik shook his head. “No. Sorry.”
“Me neither,” Sam said. “What about the Third Temple?”
“We have a lot of temples in Cappadocia. Is there anything particular that identifies the one you’re after?”
“No.”
“Now what?” Sadik asked.
“Now, we must thank you muchly. Tom and I have to go. We’re going to have to search for this ship, if it’s still afloat somewhere, we’ll find it.”
“And if it’s already sunk?” Sadik asked.
“Then we’ll still find it, but it might just take a lot longer.”
Tom started to disconnect the pieces that grouped together to make the winching tripod. “What do you want to do with the equipment, Sam?”
Sam looked at it. He’d used much of it over the past decade on various expeditions and he had a strange sentimental value to the dive gear, but he couldn’t have anyone report they were finished with their search. “Ditch it.”
“All of it?”
Sam nodded.
Tom took apart the last of the winching tripod and threw the pieces into the well, where they sunk to the bottom. Sam dropped the heavy dive tanks into the well. Despite being full of compressed air, they were negatively buoyant and dropped like stones.
“What did you find?” Tom asked.
“There were some old drawings, most likely done by one of the Master Builders. They looked like notes, searching for a ship named the Emerald Star. It was last seen off the southern coast of Africa, where a large desert met the sea in 1655. Apparently it held the key to the Third Temple — whatever the hell that was — but despite extensive searches, the ship was never located again. It was presumed sunk, somewhere.”
“What do you want to do?” Tom asked.
“Let’s get back to the Maria Helena and see if Elise can track this ship down for us. Also, see if she can find any reference to the Third Temple.”
Sam crouched down to exit the washroom. He moved quickly, with Sadik following close behind and Tom casually following. They made it to the level above and nearly a hundred and fifty feet through the tunnel before they were stopped.
Three men approached at a walking pace. Two were armed with Winchester shotguns, with their barrels crudely sawn off. If either of the two men pulled their triggers, the effects of the short barrel would send a barrage of pellets down the tunnel with obliterating force.
A tall man at the center of the small group strolled with his hands in his pockets. “I’m afraid that’s far enough, Mr. Reilly.”
“Far enough for what exactly?” Sam asked. His tone was curious and nonplussed.
“They said you were a confident bastard.” The stranger smiled. “Of course, they didn’t mention you were stupid.”
“He gets that a lot,” Tom said.
The stranger ignored him. “I’m afraid neither of you is going to the surface.”
“Who are you?” Sam asked.
“No one of significance,” the man said.
His face appeared gaunt. It was narrow, with a patrician nose and high cheekbones. It was an ascetic face, like a monk or worshiper of self-sacrifice. He wore black robes. Hanging from his neck was a single pendant of a crucifix. At its center rode a horse of pure obsidian. Its rider carried a pair of weighing scales. It gave Sam Reilly the slightest of pauses. Violent criminals are dangerous, but the greatest of fear should be reserved for with those religious zealots who believe they are acting for a higher cause. Criminals can be reasoned with on a human level. Greed, desire, need, lust — these are all things that a criminal can understand, but religious zealots are operating under a divine order that no mere mortal can begin to understand.