Map of Bones (29 page)

Gray stared down, as did the others. The enclosed section of the coastline was a rough match to the etched line drawing on the hematite slab.

“It’s a map,” he said.

“And the glowing star…” Rachel met his eyes.

“There must’ve been a tiny deposit of m-state gold imbedded in the slab. It absorbed the Meissner field energy and ignited.”

“Marking a spot on the map.” Rachel placed a finger on the paper.

Gray leaned closer. A city lay at her fingertip, at the mouth of the Nile, where it drained into the Mediterranean.

“Alexandria,” Gray read. “In Egypt.”

He lifted his eyes, his face inches from Rachel’s. Their eyes locked as he looked down upon her. Both froze for a heartbeat. Her lips parted slightly as if she were going to say something but forgot her words.

“The Egyptian city was a major bastion of Gnostic study,” Vigor said, breaking the spell. “Once the home of the famed Library of Alexandria, a vast storehouse of ancient knowledge. Founded by Alexander the Great himself.”

Gray straightened. “Alexander. You mentioned he was one of the historical figures who knew about the white powder of gold.”

Vigor nodded, eyes bright.

“Another magi,” Gray said. “Could he be the
fourth
Magi we were instructed to seek?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Vigor answered.

“I can,” Rachel replied, her voice certain. “The verse in the riddle…it specifically refers to a
lost king
.”

Gray remembered the riddle about the fish.
Where it drowns, it floats in darkness and stares to the lost king
.

“What if it wasn’t just allegorical?” Rachel insisted. “What if it was literal?”

Gray didn’t understand, but Vigor’s eyes widened.

“Of course!” he said. “I should have thought of that.”

“What?” Monk asked.

Rachel explained, “Alexander the Great died at a young age. Thirty-three. His funeral and internment were well documented in the historical record. His body was laid in state in Alexandria.” She tapped the map. “Only…only…”

Vigor finished for her, too excited. “His tomb vanished.”

Gray stared down at the map. “Making him the
lost
king,” he mumbled. His gaze swept the room. “Then we know where we have to go next.”

11:56
P
.
M
.

T
HE IMAGE
on the laptop played through once again, without sound, video only. From the appearance of the Dragon Court, through the escape of the Sigma team. There continued to be no answers. Whatever lay below in Saint Peter’s tomb remained a mystery.

Disappointed, he closed the laptop and leaned back from his desk.

Commander Pierce had not been entirely forthcoming at the debriefing. His lie had been easy to read. The commander had discovered something in the tomb.

But what had he found? How much did he know?

Cardinal Spera leaned back, twisting the gold ring around his finger.

It was time to end all this.

JULY 26, 7:05
A
.
M
.
OVER THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA

T
HEY’D BE
in Egypt in two hours.

Aboard the private jet, Gray inventoried his pack. Director Crowe had managed to outfit them with new supplies and weapons. Even laptops. The director had also had the foresight to move their rented Citation X plane down from Germany to Rome’s Leonardo da Vinci International Airport.

Gray checked his watch. They had taken off half an hour ago. The two hours remaining until they landed in Alexandria was all the time the group had to strategize. The few hours of downtime in Rome had at least helped revive the group. They had left before dawn, sneaking out of Vatican City without alerting anyone of their departure.

Director Crowe had arranged additional cover at his end, setting up a dummy flight plan to Morocco. He had then used his contacts with National Reconnaissance Office to change their call signs in mid-flight as they turned for Egypt. It was the best they could do to cover their tracks.

Now there remained only one detail to iron out.

Where to begin their search in Alexandria?

To answer this, the Citation X’s cabin had been turned into a research think tank. Kat, Rachel, and Vigor all hunched over workstations. Monk was up in the cockpit, coordinating transportation and logistics once on the ground. The man had already taken apart and inspected his new Scattergun. He kept it with him. As he stated, “I feel naked without it. And trust me, you wouldn’t want that.”

In the meantime, Gray had his own investigation to pursue. Though it was not directly related to the immediate question, he intended to research further into the mystery of these m-state superconductors.

But first…

Gray stood and crossed to the trio of researchers. “Any headway?” he asked.

Kat answered, “We’ve divided our efforts. Scouring all references and documents beginning before Alexander’s birth and continuing through his death and the eventual disappearance of his tomb.”

Vigor rubbed his eyes. He’d had the least sleep of any of them. A single hour nap. The monsignor had taken it upon himself to do some further research among the stacks at the Vatican Archives. He was sure that the head prefect of the libraries, the traitor Dr. Alberto Menardi, was the mastermind behind solving the riddles for the Dragon Court. Vigor had hoped to track the prefect’s footsteps, to gain some additional insight. But little had been discerned.

Kat continued, “Mystery still surrounds Alexander. Even his parentage. His mother was a woman named Olympias. His father was King Philip II of Macedonia. But there’s some disagreement here. Alexander came to believe his father was a god named Zeus Ammon, and that he himself was a demigod.”

“Not exactly humble,” Gray said.

“He was a man of many contradictions,” Vigor said. “Prone to drunken rages, but thoughtful in his strategy. Fierce in his friendships, but murderous when crossed. He dabbled with homosexuality, but married both a Persian dancer and the daughter of a Persian king, this last in an attempt to unite Persia and Greece. But back to his parentage. It was well known that his mother and father hated each other. Some historians believe Olympias may have had a hand in assassinating King Philip. And what’s interesting is that one writer, Pseudo-Callisthenes, claimed Alexander was not the son of Philip, but instead was the son of an Egyptian magician to the court, named Nectanebo.”

“A magician…as in
magi
?” Gray understood the implication.

“Whoever his parents truly were,” Kat continued, “he was born on July 20, 356
B
.
C
.”

Vigor shrugged. “But even that might not be true. On that same date, the Temple of Artemis in Ephesus burned down. One of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world. The historian Plutarch wrote that Artemis herself was ‘too busy taking care of the birth of Alexander to send help to her threatened temple.’ Some scholars believe the choice of date might be propaganda, the true date of Alexander’s birth moved to match this portentous event, portraying the king as a phoenix rising from the ashes.”

“And a rise it was,” Kat said. “Alexander lived only to thirty-three, but he conquered most of the known world during his short life. He defeated King Darius of Persia, then went on to Egypt, where he founded Alexandria, then on to Babylonia.”

Vigor finished, “Eventually he moved east into India, to conquer the Punjab region. The same region where Saint Thomas would eventually baptize the Three Magi.”

“Uniting Egypt and India,” Gray noted.

“Connecting a line of ancient knowledge,” Rachel said, stirring from her own laptop. She didn’t raise her eyes, still focused on her research, but she did work a kink from her back.

Gray liked the way she stretched, slow, unhurried.

Maybe she noticed his study. Without turning her head, just her eyes flicked toward him. She stuttered a moment, glancing away. “He…Alexander even sought out Indian scholars, spending a significant amount of time in philosophical discussions. He was very interested in new sciences, having been taught by Aristotle himself.”

“But his life was cut short,” Kat continued, drawing back Gray’s attention. “He died in 323
B
.
C
. In Babylon. Under mysterious circumstances. Some say he died of natural causes, but others believe he was poisoned or contracted a plague.”

“It is also said,” Vigor added, “that upon his deathbed in the royal palace of Babylon, he gazed out upon the city’s famous Hanging Gardens, a tower of sculpted terraces, rooftop gardens, and waterfalls. Another of the Seven Wonders of the ancient world.”

“So his life began with the destruction of one and ended at another.”

“It may just be allegorical,” Vigor conceded. He scratched at the beard under his chin. “But Alexander’s history seems strangely tied to the Seven Wonders. Even the first compilation of the Seven Wonders was made by an Alexandrian librarian named Callimachus of Cyrene in the third century
B
.
C
. The towering bronze statue in Rhodes, another of the Wonders, the ten-story Colossus that spanned the island’s harbor and held up a fiery torch, like your Statue of Liberty, was modeled after Alexander the Great. Then there’s the Statue of Zeus in Olympia, a glowering four-story figure of gold and marble. By Alexander’s own claim, possibly his real father. And there can be no doubt that Alexander visited the Pyramids of Giza. He spent a full decade in Egypt. So Alexander’s fingerprints seem to be all over these masterpieces of the ancient world.”

“Can this be significant?” Gray asked.

Vigor shrugged. “I can’t say. But Alexandria itself was once home to another of the Seven Wonders, the last to be built, though it no longer stands. The Pharos Lighthouse of Alexandria. It rose from a spit of land extending into the harbor of Alexandria, splitting the bay into two halves. It was a three-tiered tower of limestone blocks, held together by molten lead. It rose taller than your Statue of Liberty, some forty stories. At its top, a fire burned in a brazier, amplified by a gold mirror. Its light guided boat pilots from as far away as fifty kilometers. Even today, the very name
lighthouse
harkens back to this Wonder. In French,
phare
. In Spanish and Italian,
faro
.”

“And how does this connect to our search for Alexander’s tomb?” Gray asked.

“We were pointed to Alexandria,” Vigor said. “Chasing clues left by an ancient society of magi. I can’t help but think that the lighthouse, this shining symbol of a guiding light, would be significant to this group. There’s also a legend surrounding the Pharos Lighthouse—that its golden light was so potent that it could burn ships at a distance. Perhaps this hints back to some unknown source of power.”

Vigor finally sighed and shook his head. “But how this all hangs together, I don’t know.”

Gray appreciated the monsignor’s intellect, but he needed more concrete information, something to pursue once they arrived in Alexandria. “Then let’s go directly to the heart of the mystery. Alexander died in Babylon. What happened after that?”

Kat spoke up, leaning over her laptop. She ran a finger down a list she had compiled. “There are many historical references to the parade of his body from Babylon to Alexandria. Once entombed in Alexandria, it became a shrine for visiting dignitaries, including Julius Caesar and the emperor Caligula.”

“During this time,” Vigor added, “the city itself was ruled by one of Alexander’s former generals, Ptolemy, and his descendants. They would go on to establish the Library of Alexandria, turning the city into a major site of intellectual and philosophical study, bringing scholars from around the known world.”

“And what happened to the tomb?”

“That’s what’s intriguing,” Kat said. “The tomb was supposedly a massive sarcophagus made of gold. But in other references, including the major historian of the time, Strabo, the tomb is described as being made of
glass
.”

“Perhaps golden glass,” Gray said. “One of the states of the m-state powder.”

Kat nodded. “In the early third century
A
.
D
.; Septimus Severus closed the tomb from viewing, out of concern for its safety. It’s also interesting to note that he placed many secret books into the vault. Here’s a quote.” She leaned forward to the laptop. “‘So none could read the books nor see the body.’” She pushed back and glanced to Gray. “This plainly supports that
something
of great importance was hidden at this tomb site. Some storehouse of secret arcana that Septimus feared would be lost or stolen.”

Vigor elaborated, “There were many attacks upon Alexandria from the first through third centuries. They grew worse and worse. Julius Caesar himself burned a large portion of the Alexandrian library to ward off attack at the harbor. These attacks would continue, leading to the eventual destruction and dissolution of the library by the seventh century. I can understand why Septimus would want to protect a portion of the library by hiding it. He must have hidden the most important scrolls there.”

“It wasn’t just military aggressors that threatened the city,” Kat added. “A series of plagues struck. Frequent earthquakes damaged significant parts of Alexandria. A whole section of the city fell into the bay in the fourth century, destroying the Ptolemaic Royal Quarters, including Cleopatra’s palace, and much of the Royal Cemetery. In 1996, a French explorer, Franck Goddio, discovered sections of this lost city in the East Harbor of Alexandria. Another archaeologist, Honor Frost, believes that perhaps this might be the fate of Alexander’s tomb, sunk into a watery grave.”

“I’m not convinced of that,” Vigor said. “Rumors abound on the location of that tomb, but most historical documents place the tomb in the center of the city, away from the coastline.”

“Until, like I said, Septimus Severus closed it off,” Kat argued. “Maybe he moved it.”

Vigor frowned. “Either way, throughout the subsequent centuries, treasure hunters and archaeologists scoured Alexandria and its vicinity. Even today, there’s a gold-rush-like fervor to find this lost tomb. A couple of years ago, a German geophysics team used ground-penetrating radar to show that the subsoil throughout Alexandria is riddled with anomalies and cavities. There are plenty of places to hide a tomb. It could take decades to search them all.”

“We don’t have decades,” Gray said. “I don’t know if we have twenty-four hours.”

Frustrated, Gray paced the narrow cabin. He knew the Dragon Court had the same intel as they did. It would not take them long to realize the hematite slab under Saint Peter’s tomb was a map with Alexandria marked on it.

He faced the trio. “So where do we look first?”

“I may have one hint,” Rachel said, speaking for the first time in a while. She had been furiously typing at her keyboard and squinting at the screen periodically. “Or two.”

All attention turned to her.

“There is a reference back in the ninth century, testimony from the emperor of Constantinople, that some, and I quote, ‘fabulous treasure’ was hidden within or under the Pharos Lighthouse. In fact, the caliph who ruled Alexandria at the time dismantled half of the lighthouse searching for it.”

Gray noted that Vigor stirred at her words. He remembered the monsignor’s interest in the lighthouse. Rachel must have been swayed by her uncle and gone in search of clues.

“Others periodically continued the search, but the lighthouse served a strategic role for the harbor.”

Vigor nodded, his eyes glowing with excitement. “What better place to hide something you don’t want dug up than under a structure too important to tear down?”

“Then it all ended on August 8, 1303, when a massive quake shook the eastern Mediterranean. The lighthouse was destroyed, toppling into the same harbor where the Ptolemaic ruins fell.”

“What became of the original site?” Gray asked.

“It varied over the centuries. But in the fifteenth century, a Mamluk sultan built a fort on the peninsula. It still stands today, the Fort of Qait Bey. Some of its construction includes the original limestone blocks that made up the lighthouse.”

“And if the treasure was never found,” Vigor continued, “then it must still be there…
beneath
the fort.”

“If it ever existed,” Gray warned.

“It’s a place to start looking,” Vigor said.

“And what do we do? Knock on the door and ask them if it’s okay to dig under their fort?”

Kat offered a more practical solution. “We contact NRO. They have access to satellites with ground-penetrating radar capability. Have them do a pass over the site. We can look for any abnormalities or cavities like the German geophysicists did in the city. It might help pinpoint our search.”

Gray nodded. It wasn’t a bad idea. But it would take time. He had already checked. It would be eight hours until the next pass of a surveillance satellite.

Rachel offered an alternative. “Remember the back door into the cavern under Saint Peter’s tomb? Maybe we don’t have to go in the front door of the Fort of Qait Bey. Maybe there’s a back entrance. One underwater like in Rome.”