Library of Alexandria burned to the ground. What we do know is that Callisthenes—whoever he, or they, were—is accepted as the official scribe of Alexander the Great. In fact, many of Callisthenes’s works were later translated into what became known as the Alexander Romance. Some of them by Callisthenes himself.”
Fitrat nodded. “I read about that too. Those were supposed to be fictions written about Alexander.”
“Exactly. And some of those stories ended up scattered throughout literature as well as religious documents.”
“Like the Koran.”
“Yes. The story of Dhul-Qarnayn, The Two-Horned One.”
Fitrat shook his head. “Dhul-Qarnayn lived. He was a prophet, and he was known to Alexander. Dhul-Qarnayn ordered the wall built that kept Gog and Magog from the people he met on his trip to the East.”
Lourds decided not to go into the possibility that Cyrus the Great was also the source for Dhul-Qarnayn. That was a different matter anyway. He had his hands full trying to figure out where Alexander’s tomb lay. “Getting back to Callisthenes’s story about Aristotle taking Alexander to Delos, Callisthenes—whichever one it turned out to be, and the one usually attributed to keep the records at that time was Aristotle’s nephew—claimed Aristotle walked his young charge across the island and extolled upon him the virtues of the Greek culture.”
“All to brainwash Alexander?”
“According to what I’ve deciphered, that wasn’t all. You didn’t happen to look up Delos, did you?”
Fitrat shook his head and picked up another boiled egg.
“That’s fine. I’ll tell you about it when we get there.”
Surprise lifted Fitrat’s brows. “We’re leaving the safe house?”
“Yes.” Lourds glanced irritably at the scrolls. “Whatever merry little chase this scroll is leading us on, it points to that place. That’s where the Delian League met, and that’s where we will find some of the answers we seek.”
37
Kabul Serena Hotel
Kabul Province
Afghanistan
February 19, 2013
Anna met Emil Basayev in the hotel lobby.
He was six feet tall and looked clean and professional in khaki trousers and a pullover that he left untucked. His blond hair was neatly combed, and he had soft brown eyes.
He smiled when he saw her coming over to him. “Anna. You look lovely.”
Anna didn’t feel lovely. She felt tired and worn out. But she returned his smile and accompanied him as he led the way out of the building. A car waited just outside. He opened the door for her, and she got in while he put her bag in the trunk. She slid across the seat, and he followed her in.
“A military flight?”
Emil nodded and grinned. “The general’s idea.”
“I had expected to see you in uniform.”
“You will when we return to the airport. And I have one for you as well. I thought it best to leave the uniform since you were being pursued. A Russian uniform would have marked you for anyone to see. The general wanted me to get you back home with as little fuss as possible.”
The driver got the car underway, pulling smoothly into traffic.
“How did you cross paths with Sergay Linko? Your message to me did not say.”
The question puzzled Anna. “Who?”
“Colonel Sergay Linko of the FSB.”
“I do not know this man.”
“Of course you do. You sent me his picture.”
Understanding dawned on Anna, and she felt slightly sickened. “You identified the man.”
“Yes. Sergay Linko.” Emil frowned in disapproval. “He is a ghost in the FSB. A story agents tell to scare young agents. And other people as well, actually. It is said that if you betray the trust of Russia, the president, or the FSB, Linko is the man who will be sent for you. And once he finds you—and he will—you will never be heard from again.”
Anna searched her memories of all the stories she had done for The Moscow Times. She didn’t think she had ever encountered the man’s name before.
“You act as if you have never heard the name.”
“I have not. You did not get back to me, so I thought you had not identified him. I suppose you just now have?”
“No.” Emil looked confused. “I identified him that night. The general asked me to.”
“My father?”
“Yes. Once I was able to use his security level, doors were opened to me—and files—that I might not have been able to get otherwise.”
“And you identified Linko.”
“I did.”
“Why did you not call me?”
“The general said that he would take care of it.” Emil shifted uncomfortably on the seat. “Did he not do this?”
“No.”
Emil sighed. “He must have become busy.”
No, Anna thought. He lied to me. A killer is after me, and he lied to me.