was different from the others, and it took Lourds a moment to spot the snakes engraved on the ends of the wooden roller that held the papyrus. “You saw this?”
“It was what first caught my eye.”
Lourds ran a finger across the roller end. The carving had faded over time and only stood out faintly. “Evidently, you have better eyes than I do.”
“I stared at them for a long time before I chose one to look at. I had the benefit of patience.”
“I am being patient.”
“I know. Now, the scroll, please.”
Lourds opened the scroll and began to read. “‘I am Callisthenes of Olynthus, from the town founded by Olynthus, the son of Heracles and Bolbe.’” He grinned. “Well, now we have proof that Heracles was real.”
“You say that in jest, my friend, but there are many things in this world that we do not know.”
Lourds paused, recalling the showdown he’d had with United States Vice President Elliott Webster. Webster’s disappearance from the world was still an unexplained mystery, but Lourds knew the truth of it, and it was the most supernatural thing he had ever witnessed.
“You are right, Boris. I stand corrected.” Lourds cleared his throat and continued reading. “‘Now am I come to recite the last will and testament of my lord, King Alexander III of Macedon, also known as the Great. It has come to my lord’s attention that death waits for every man, even a man like him, after the passing of his beloved friend, Hephaestion, son of Amyntor and General in the army of my lord.
“‘These final tenets are written in the secret language devised by my lord and will describe what will be done with his mortal shell, as well as his personal armor and sword. These things must be done to preserve balance in the world.’” Lourds stopped reading.
“Well?” Boris gestured impatiently. “Don’t stop now. Go on.”
“I can’t.” Lourds sighed with frustration. “This is where the code begins.”
“That should be simple enough for you.”
Lourds showed his friend the scroll. “This isn’t the Greek alphabet, and it isn’t cuneiform either. This is something new.”
“Ah, well, we knew this couldn’t be all easy. There had to be some stumbling blocks.”
“Stumbling blocks? Do you know how long it could take to decipher a code?”
“No. But I know I have the right man on the job.” Boris clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, my friend. Put those scrolls away for further examination later. For the moment, let us go bask in the glory and accolades the media is primed to deliver unto us.” He smiled. “After that, we will drink vodka the Russian way.”
Shaking his head, Lourds knelt and packed the seven scrolls into a protective box inside his backpack. “This is not going to be as easy as you seem to think it will be, and I still have every intention of spending some kind of Valentine’s Day with Layla.”
“As well as proposing?”
“Yes.” Lourds stood and hefted his backpack over his shoulder. He resettled his hat.
“Come on then. After you are a newly minted celebrity—again—she will most certainly be in love with you.”
They headed out together. Just as they entered the passageway, the distinct, staccato roar of rifle reports echoed from the front of the cave.
A few feet away, Anna Cherkshan stood working on a computer tablet, doubtless reviewing her notes for the story or already writing parts of it. Startled by the cracks of the small arms fire, she looked up, then shoved her tablet PC into her messenger bag and ran toward the front of the cave.
“Anna! Wait!” Lourds’s shout seemed to galvanize her into greater effort.
“I can’t! There’s a story going on out there, and I need to see it!”
Fearing for the young woman’s safety, Lourds held the backpack strap crossing his chest and ran after her with Boris racing along behind him.
19
39 Miles Southwest of Herat
Herat Province
Afghanistan
February 14, 2013
Lying in the frozen waste overlooking the mountain where the diggers worked so diligently, Mafouz Abu Walid took aim again through the telescopic sight of the Dragunov sniper rifle that was his pride and joy. He’d carried a lot of black tar opium through the mountains to purchase the Russian long gun, and he had never been more enthusiastic in using it than right now.
He ignored the searing cold of the packed snow against his left cheek as well as the hard ground and winter’s chill embrace that tried to leach the warmth from his body. Instead, he let his desire for vengeance and his