“I’m glad that is over with,” Eli said as he tugged the brim of his outback hat. He began making his way back up the loose, rock-laden path toward a large twelve-by-nine foot A-framed canvas tent.
The tent, fifteen feet from the tunnel entrance, had served as a holding station for artifacts prior to them being shipped off to the university. A smattering of smaller A-frame tents had been erected about the perimeter, serving as sleeping quarters for workers and students assigned to the team.
One khaki tent Eli Turner was relieved to see stood off near the edge of the path leading down the slope. It served as the quarters for a team of four men from the Guardia Civil, or the National Guard of Tenerife. They were assigned to the team at the request of Carlos Santiago to protect the site and keep the throng of spectators, including the media, at bay. Eli saw two of the guardsmen, wearing their faded, green battle dress uniforms sitting in front of their tent smoking as they tended to their campfire.
As he had planned, the bus that was now leaving carried the remnants of workers and archeology students from San Fernando University back to Santa Cruz, along with the final cache of Guanche artifacts. It was there that they would be cataloged and secured at the anthropology lab.
In the past four days, the crowds of curious onlookers and scores of media crews had slowly diminished as Eli hoped for. Now, with the site free of the media and observers, the work on the sealed tomb where the parchment was discovered could commence. His purposefully concocted, boring sci-tech babble had driven off most of the television crews by the third day, and with the forecast of light rain imminent tonight, it was the perfect time for them to begin work at the sealed burial tomb.
Couldn’t have planned it any better, Eli thought smugly as he tapped his extinguished pipe onto his boot heel and emptied its contents before entering the tent.
Opening the canvas tent flap, he saw Maria sitting at a metal table preoccupied with her computer. She was unaware of his arrival amidst the drone of the portable generator, some twenty feet distant, providing the power to the camp.
“Why don’t you take a break, Maria?” Eli said as she quickly turned, startled by his sudden appearance.
“Oh, Dr. Turner, I didn’t notice you come in. I’m just finishing uploading the digital photos to the computer along with my documentation on each artifact,” she said with a smile that revealed to Eli a distinct weariness in her eyes after the many long days working on this project.
“The last bus just left for the university,” Eli said, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to her. “This has been quite an extraordinary find, wouldn’t you say, Maria?”
“This has to be the best quality Guanche artifacts and remains found to date, Dr. Turner. I’d go as far as saying this was the burial site for an important Guanche Chieftain, most likely a tribal leader, and his family. The anthropology department is going to have a field day with the nearly perfect mummified remains we have found,” Maria said as she saved the last remaining file. “Even the cloth remnants are in pristine condition, which must be due to the tomb being sealed off from the climate for so many centuries. Absolutely, a marvelous find,” she repeated softly as she slipped the backup CD into a sleeve and shut down her laptop.
“Tonight looks like a go for us to begin work on the remaining sealed tomb where you found the parchment,” Eli said with a mischievous smile. “I had a feeling the crowds would get bored after a few days of nothing spectacular to report, and, with rain in the forecast tonight, we won’t be bothered with people looking over our shoulders. That way we can take our time doing a thorough study and documentation.”
“It will be good to see Josh again, Dr. Turner. I‘m glad he and Samuel are finished on Grand Canaria. When will they be here?” Maria asked, carefully placing her laptop into its shock-proof metal case.
“They should get here later this evening. I sent Paulo to the ferry landing in Santa Cruz to pick them up.”
“Sure, he gets here after all the grunt work is done,” Maria said with mock indignation.
“I’ll be glad to see him,” Eli said. “I look forward to working with him on this phase of the project.”
They rose from their seats and were walking to the entrance of the tent, when they were met by one of the National Guardsmen coming in.
Captain Rafael Saune was a hulking figure of a man possessing a no-nonsense persona. Normally stationed at the Guardia Civil barracks located near Santa Cruz, he and his three men had been assigned to the dig to maintain security at the site. His gruff attitude the past days failed to mask his pleasure at getting such a light duty assignment for a week or two, saving him from the daily grind of inspections and the constant reports he had to file. As a twenty year veteran, he had risen up among the ranks and become a trusted adviser to the Island administration. He also served now and then as helicopter pilot, providing tours to the many dignitaries that came to Tenerife from time to time.
“Dr. Turner, there’s a man here to see you,” the Captain reported. “I told him to wait in the parking area below. He demands to speak with you. Shall I send him away?”
“Demands to see me, huh? No, Captain, I’ll see him now. Probably a reporter,” Eli said exhaling wearily. “I’ll bore him to death with more monotonous details. I’m sure he’ll soon find an excuse to leave.”
The three exited the tent and started down the dry and dusty path of crumbling basalt rock, ever mindful of their steps. At the base of the path in the hastily constructed parking area, a man paced back and forth beside an old Jeep CJ-5. Eli chuckled at the sight of the short, well-groomed man wearing blue jeans, a khaki safari shirt, and new white sneakers; making him look quite out of place in this rugged setting. Eli could faintly hear him talking to himself as he frantically paced back and forth, holding a piece of paper in his hand.
Alton Burr was a man not accustomed to waiting for anything, or anyone. His years as a lawyer with the ACLU had hardened and fine-tuned him into a calculated master of intimidation. Now, with his newly established influence in many Washington political circles, and, the growing popularity of his Secular America Movement, he now garnered an arrogance unsurpassed by even the most pompous of Washington’s career politicians.
Burr was on a mission. His practiced ideology of the separation of church and state had been twisted into a vendetta to persecute the religious community wherever, and whenever, he could. Fueled by the fires of anger, he and his legal assault teams left a trail of disillusioned and broken communities in their wake. Many state and local governments they litigated were forced to adhere to judge-mandated policies, limiting a community’s right to exercise religious acts or display religious art in public places. From crosses in Veteran’s Cemeteries to displays in town squares, they were all in his cross-hairs.
Alton Burr’s anger-driven persecution of religion had not always been the case. As a young man, newly graduated from Harvard Law School, he looked to the future with a bright optimism and open mind. However, September 11, 2001 changed all that forever. His parents had been in the second of the Twin Towers in New York City. In stunned horror, he watched it collapse before his eyes on television, which also effectively collapsed a part of his mind and soul. When he attended their funeral service, something inside him snapped when the priest mentioned something about it being God’s will.
“God’s will?” he had cried in a rage at their grave side. “What kind of God would let my parents die that way?” From that moment on, his anguish manifested into fiery hatred of God, and of those propagating any religious or spiritual reasoning. Oh yes, he acknowledged God, but only in the sense of blaming him for his parents unwarranted death. Thus, he’d set out on his personal crusade of punishing God and religion wherever he could find it.