Moon Mask (25 page)

In fact, by having Langley be the one to talk to the U.N. Director-General and the President of the Security Council, requesting an emergency session, the U.S. had not only saved face, but had also stepped up onto the moral high ground. They had sent a rescue team, securing both the mask and the stricken scientists and overseeing their evacuation to the States.

He knew that, secretly, it must have galled President Harper to hand over the Moon Mask to U.N. custody, despite his grandiose speech about international cooperation.

“Unlike the splitting of the atom, it will be down to
all
nations to decide the fate of the tachyon,”
he had proclaimed in a closed session.

It was all politics.

In response to Chal Chan’s accusation, Langley had spoken the truth. “Very convenient, Mister Ambassador,” he replied, smiling.

Now, chaos reigned in the ‘Norwegian Room’, the unofficial name for the Security Council Chamber. Gifted by Norway, a huge mural depicted a Phoenix rising from the ashes, symbolic of the rebuilding of the world following World War Two.

It was in this room that the third such war had come perilously close to being declared on numerous occasions in the decades since. Now, Langley feared another ‘close-call’ was on the horizon.

China’s actions could not go ignored or unpunished, yet in so doing, this hornets’ nest would only get stirred up even further.

Demands were shouted out by indignant representatives, calling for vetoes on Chinese trade, cuts to aid, the withdrawing of loans from the World Bank. Some even called for China’s expulsion from its permanent seat on the council, citing its appalling human rights record as further evidence for such a drastic action.

But Alex Langley was a firm believer in the old adage about keeping one’s friends close, one’s enemies closer.

China was one of the ‘Big Five’, the only five countries who had a permanent seat on the Security Council, alongside Great Britain, France, Russia and the United States. It was also one of the world’s fastest growing economies and had the potential to one day become the world’s second superpower alongside the United States. At least, as part of the Security Council, America and the U.N. could keep a close eye on them.

But, for now, the arguments which had slipped into a slanging match were getting off track. The current Security Council President, the representative from France, had been unable to reign in the uncontrolled outbursts for the last three minutes. Now, voices carried across the room, angrily shouting at one another, some in support of China, others strongly against. The president struggled to make his high pitched voice heard over the clamour and failed miserably to restore order.

Alex Langley had the Security Council members exactly where he wanted them.

“Mister President!” he called out, his voice calm, smooth and confident. Those around him heard his words and quietened slightly. It had a knock-on effect. Only a very few of the most experienced, and foolhardy, ambassadors dared to go it against this U.S. representative.

Coming from a military background, with no history of diplomacy or politics behind him, Langley’s appointment to the post two years ago had been a shock to all. Many had laughed at his inexperience. All who had done so had come to regret it.

“Mister President,” he said again, his voice ever-so-slightly louder, carrying above the few muted debates that continued.

“Mister President,” he said one last time, his tone, despite its calm, challenging anyone to dare talk over him. All fell silent now, every pair of eyes watching Langley’s commanding figure.

“If I may suggest Mister President,” he began, looking directly at the Frenchman. “While no doubt China’s actions deserve some form of reprimand,” Chal Chan tried to speak up but Langley carried on as if he had not heard. “Currently, it should not be the Council’s top priority. This emergency session was called to examine and evaluate the security risk represented by the source of the tachyon radiation, and to determine the best possible way of securing and if needs be, nullifying said threat.”

The President, a balding man who struggled to be five foot three, peered nervously through mousy eyes hidden behind crescent-moon spectacles. Langley expertly hijacked control of the proceedings.

“You may continue, Mister Langley.”

Langley smiled, as though he needed permission. “As we have all been briefed,” he began, removing his own reading glasses so that they dangled from a cord around his neck, and stepping onto the main floor of the chamber. The large, circular tables surrounded him and he slowly turned to encompass all involved. “The source of the radiation is actually a deity carving, a . . .” he consulted the notes he held in his hand, peering through his glasses then dropping them to his chest again. “A Moon Mask,” he read.

He looked through his glasses at his notes again. In fact, there was no need to. He had memorized the entire document.

He was nothing if not a showman.

He had also taken the liberty of speaking to Doctor Benjamin King, after reading all the material he could on his and his father’s theories.

“Based on the mythological name, Xibalba, the archaeologist who discovered the city where the mask was found believes that it may have been constructed by an ancient race of seafarers, people he calls the . . .” Again, he checked his notes. “The Progenitors. And that these Progenitors, these early civilisers of mankind, divided up the Moon Mask into several pieces because they knew the power it contained should not be controlled by any one person, or nation.” He looked pointedly at the Chinese delegation.

“This is all irrelevant,” the Russian ambassador spoke up. Langley talked over him.

“There is nothing irrelevant about it, Mister Ambassador. Doctor King’s theory has, by his own discoveries, been validated enough for me to believe it whole-heartedly. I’m no historian. I don’t claim to understand half of what the man told me in his interview. But I trust what he said. That some ancient race divided up the mask. Millennia later, a descendant of that race tried, and almost succeeded in finding all the pieces. Now, we have one piece, but the rest of it is out there somewhere.”

Again, he directed his gaze to the Chinese. “I would hope we have all learned from the events of the last days and can trust our respective countries to work together. But, need I remind you that another group of as yet unidentified persons is also after the mask. They know it exists now. And it won’t be long before every terrorist cell, religious fanatic and international black-market arms-dealer tries to find the rest of it.”

“What are you proposing?” the British ambassador asked.

“I would have thought that would be obvious,” he stated. Perhaps it was his military background that made it obvious to him. Out in the field, he couldn’t afford to second-guess every decision, to sit down and discuss every scenario or to rely on others to make the uncomfortable suggestions, all in the name of politics.

He wasn’t a talker. He was a man of action. And right now, it was action that the Security Council, indeed, the world, needed.

He spelt it out for them.

“We need to find the rest of the mask.”

Several murmurs drifted from the mouths of the delegates.

“And how do we go about doing that?” the German representative asked. “It says here,” he held up the same briefing Langley had memorised, “that, if this Doctor . . .
King
is correct, then the mask was scattered across the known world thousands of years ago. How do we possibly begin looking for it?”

“That’s just the thing, Ambassador,” he grinned. “We don’t have to. Because,
someone already found it for us.”

Twelve hours previously

“My
name is Alexander Langley,” the grandfatherly-looking man had introduced himself as. Grandfatherly or not, however, Benjamin King felt the uncontrollable urge to punch him.

His frustration had been building since the moment the American soldiers had found him in the Venezuelan jungle and taken Raine into custody. He wasn’t sure how he felt about their rough handling of the other man. On the one hand, Nathan Raine had saved not only his life, but also prevented the Moon Mask from falling into the hands of the Chinese and the unidentified soldiers in black. On the other hand, however, he had also taken him hostage at gunpoint- never the best way to endear oneself to another.

He hadn’t seen Raine again since the helicopter had ferried them back to the summit of Sarisariñama. There, just like the rest of the expedition, he had been led behind a privacy screen that had been set up, stripped naked and forced to stand in what amounted to little more than a paddling pool while he was hosed down and scoured with rough brushes to clean his irradiated skin.

Eventually, he had been briefly reunited with Sid and the two lovers had fallen into each other as though they were both parts of the same whole. Again, he’d fingered the engagement ring hidden in his satchel which had been left safely in his tent. But, yet again, the correct moment had just never presented itself to bring it out into the open.

Both the Moon Mask and the fake mask which he had found on Kha’um’s remains had been secured inside lead-lined containers, blocking out the harmful tachyon radiation of the former.

An hour later, four more helicopters had arrived, ferrying in a full medical team. Shortly thereafter, the evacuation had begun in earnest. Despite their objections, Sid and Nadia had been shipped out with the rest of the sick scientists while King had remained on the mountain with the soldiers to ensure that the two masks, as well as anything relating to them, such as the remains of Pryce and Kha’um, were carefully stored for transport.

“I’ll be with you soon,” he had promised Sid. But he saw the hurt in her eyes. Once again, his obsession with the Moon Mask took precedence over her. To make matters worse, that had been over two days ago, and he still had no idea where his girlfriend, or any of his colleagues, were.

He had felt an odd sensation as he stepped off the summit of Sarisariñama, the last of the doomed expedition to leave the site where so much had happened.

For him, it was more than the tragedy of the deaths of so many people; it was more than the horrors and the exhilaration of what he had lived through.

Sarisariñama now represented the culmination of his life’s work, of his father’s work. Of his obsession. It had brought to life the Moon Mask, Kha’um and so much more. Xibalba. Surely the biggest archaeological discovery since Hiram Bingham had unveiled Machu Picchu or Howard Carter had opened King Tut’s tomb.

King’s family name would no longer be remembered as a laughing stock, but as the discoverers of the wonders of history.

The Black Hawk had taken off from the summit in the dead of night, leaving the burned and bullet-riddled remains of the expedition’s base camp to the lonesome Evil Spirit of local folklore once more.

In Caracas they had transferred to a U.S. Army Gulfstream C-20G jet which shot north over the continental United States. He had tried to sleep, but the weariness of his body could still not give in to the adrenaline rush that had overcome him.

Six hours later, they had landed at an unspecified military base. There, he had been ‘debriefed’ by the leader of the Special Forces team, a man named Gibbs. The debriefing, however, had felt more like an interrogation.

At first open and cooperative, as Gibbs had pushed him for all he knew about the Moon Mask, tachyon radiation, the Chinese and the unknown hostiles, King had closed up. His previous suspicions about the motives of the Americans came back to the forefront of his mind. He had demanded to speak to a representative of the British Embassy and to be reunited with Sid. Seven hours later, without either of his demands being met, he’d been shipped by helicopter to the United Nations Headquarters in New York City. There, he’d been met by a representative from Great Britain’s mission to the United Nations Security Council.

Due to the serious nature of the events that had occurred in Venezuela, normal British counsel couldn’t be supplied, he had been told. Very few people in the world knew the truth about what had happened. Even the scientists themselves had been fed a cover story about Weil’s Disease and mercenary tomb raiders who had detected the expedition’s mayday and taken advantage of the situation.

The Official Secrets Act had popped up a number of times during his new debriefing with the British Security Council Representative. Sid and Nadia, he had been told, were both responding well to the treatment they had received at John Hopkins hospital and were being shipped to New York. As another two people who could not be spoon-fed the lie, they would undergo a similar debriefing.

Until the Security Council had convened and decided on a course of action, however, none of them would be allowed to talk to each other or to anyone outside of the small circle of knowledge.

And so, as Langley stepped into what amounted to little more than a cell – a basic, windowless room with a single bed, a chair and desk, a television and a small shower/toilet room – King couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.

“I’ve already told you everything I know,” he snapped at the ambassador’s extended hand.

“I know, Ben,” Langley replied. He picked up the metal-framed chair, turned it around and straddled it casually. “May I call you Ben?” he double checked, eyeing the archaeologist perched on the edge of the bed, muscles tense, eyes tired. He didn’t reply to his question so Langley continued smoothly. “I’m sorry if your stay here has been less than friendly so far. You know what these military types are like,” he shrugged. “They had to be certain you didn’t pose a threat to national security.”

“I’m an archaeologist,” King answered, losing some of the bluster in his voice. It was more resignation now. Exhaustion.

“Of course,” Langley smiled. “But I’m afraid that since 9/11 everyone looks like a terrorist to this country’s security forces. I make no excuses for that. These are dangerous times. And quite frankly, Ben, you are at this moment one of the most dangerous men in the world.”