The Tombs of Eden Read online

  They embraced; then pulled back and measured each other with hangdog looks.

  In a tone mired in sadness, Montario said, “I’m sorry, Alyssa. I’m sorry about your dad.”

  Her chin began to quiver. “How . . .” It was all she could manage.

  Montario looked painfully awkward. How do you tell someone that her father had become the victim of something much higher on the food chain than he was?

  “Montario, what happened to my father?”

  For a moment he stood as still as a Grecian statue.

  She studied him with keen appraisal, wondering if the hospital garment he wore was too large and made him look small, or if he was simply wasting away as the sharpness of his facial features suggested. Were the points of his shoulders the result of his body becoming thin and emaciated by what happened? Whatever the case, Montario appeared to have shrunk since she’d last seen him, which was only days ago.

  He slid back onto the exam table. “Your father,” he began, “found what he believed to be Eden . . . but discovered it to be so much more.

  “It is a place you couldn’t even begin to imagine,” he told her. “It is totally surreal. At first everything was fine and then we began to hear strange noises and ticks, a metered tapping coming from the shadows. When the tapping stopped and nothing happened, we moved on. It remained that way until the second night. By this time we were deep inside the temple.” He cast his sight to the floor, unable to look her in the eyes. “Because it was late, we all went to sleep with the exception of your father. He was keyed up like always. So he took a lamp and went deeper into the tunnels where he came upon what he called a Central Chamber. Inside he found something incredible.”

  “Like what?”

  “Depictions of tombs,” he answered. “He said the pictograms answered any and all doubts about the true nature of Eden. He said that it’s a cold, dark place and nothing like what religious texts make it out to be.”

  “Eden was written as a metaphor to teach lessons,” she told him. “It wasn’t really considered to be a civilization of historical significance.”

  Montario continued. “The night your father went into the Central Chamber, he told me that he didn’t think he was alone. He thought that there was something in there with him, something watching very closely.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There is this . . . thing. We never knew what it was because we only saw glimpses of it. But within hours, while we slept, it began picking us off one by one. At first it took those farthest from the light, dragging them into shadows. Their screams woke us up so we banded together, keeping our lamps close. But no matter what we did, it just kept coming—just snatching people right out of the circle of light, and then dragging them off to some obscure niche. Even now I can hear their cries.” He looked at her forlornly. “I don’t think I’ll ever get them out of my head.” And then he closed his eyes, making her wonder if he was hearing them at this moment.

  And then: “When your father and I were the only two left,” he added, “this thing shadowed us, letting us know it was there by ticking its claws against the floor, telling us it was close, that it was watching. And when your father and I finally saw the way out, when we got close to the exit, it was then that it came out of the shadows and took him.”

  As much as she had tried to prepare herself, her eyes glassed over. The sting was too painful, the truth a stab wound to the heart, the sudden weight on her shoulders even too heavy for Atlas to bear. She closed her eyes and fell into Montario, who pulled her close.

  “I’m sorry, Alyssa. He was a good man. And be assured that when he left us, he did so only after finding the one thing he had spent his entire life looking for—even when no believed him. He ended up proving everybody wrong.”

  She pulled back as tears lined her cheeks, looking lost and proud at the same time.

  Montario, however, never mentioned her father’s black book.

  Though she did not know of Eden’s exact location, Alyssa had seen her father’s aerial photographs of a geographical anomaly in southeast Turkey. It was a barren area, a harsh terrain of sand and stone, and one of the three locations her father considered to be the actual area of Eden after following the blueprints of religious texts.

  “Unless we can prove what he found,” she finally said, “then he died for nothing.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, studied the beauty of her face and her pixie-like features. “I’m not going back there, if that’s what you’re alluding to.”

  “Montario, you loved my father as much as he loved you. We can’t allow his findings to go without further examination. You know that. None of what you tell me means anything unless we can confirm it. Otherwise, it’s nothing more than tabloid fodder about an old man pursuing a myth. Now you might have been to a place that may or may not have been Eden,” she continued, “but I’m not about to let my father’s rep become front page news for a rag paper. I need you to show me the way.”

  “I don’t have to show you anything,” he returned testily. “And don’t use how I feel about your father as a weapon to guilt me into a trip I don’t want to make. I’ve been there, Alyssa. I know how dangerous it can be.”

  “My father wasn’t prepared for danger,” she returned. “But we will be.”

  “There is no preparation for this,” he told her. “Your father, God bless his soul, would never forgive me for putting you in jeopardy.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” she stated emphatically. “Sometimes in the pursuit of factual evidence, risks have to be taken. He always said that, Montario. You know that.”

  “Sometimes,” he emphasized. “You just said it yourself. Sometimes is the keyword here. He didn’t say always. He didn’t say at all times. He said sometimes. All I can tell you is that some places were never meant to be found.” And then after a slight pause: “And Eden is one such place.”

  “Montario, please.”

  “There’s no way in hell I’m going back there,” he told her. “There’s no way.”

  He could see the annoyance in her face, the pulsating Y-vein throbbing against her forehead, which was something that always happened when she got flustered.

  “Then tell me the coordinates.”

  He refused.

  “Montario, please, I'm begging you. Tell me the coordinates.”

  “Alyssa, some things were never meant to be found,” he said softly. “Please let it go.”

  She made a noise of frustration, which was soon followed by a stomp of her foot.

  “Look,” Montario began. “Whether it is or isn’t what your father believes this place to be, it’s not worth risking your life over. OK? I’m not going down that road, Alyssa. Not again. And there’s no way I’m allowing you to do so, either.”

  “If I have to, Montario, and you know I will, I’ll do this without you, and you know I will.” She turned to leave.

  “Alyssa?” He called after her in imploring manner.

  She stopped with her back to him.

  “The reason I’m doing this is because if you follow through with this expedition, I don’t want to be responsible should anything bad happen to you. You know I’d be devastated if you were hurt.”

  Her shoulders dropped slowly. “Why won’t you ever let me be angry with you?” she asked. And then: “But as angry as I am with you—you know I love you, right?”

  The edges of his lips lifted faintly. “Like a brother,” he answered evenly.

  She nodded. “Like a brother. But you know I can’t let this go, either. You said so yourself, Montario. He may have died finding what he’d been looking for all his life, proving his colleagues wrong. But until I can verify his finding, then my father has proved nothing.” She looked at him with features that were kinder and softer. “You know I have to do this,” she told him. “You know it’s what my father would want.”

  “This time, I’m not so sure,” he advised. “Not after what I saw. And if something
should happen to you, then I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I could have stopped you. Now with your father gone, you’re all I’ve got. Please understand that. If it is Eden, just let it go.”

  “If it is Eden, then the world has to know.”

  Montario stared at her, wanting to smile but couldn’t. “You’re so much like your father,” he finally said.

  She feigned a smile. “If there’s a legend to be had, then it’ll be his. My father deserves this.”

  He couldn’t deny her sentiment or fortitude regarding the love of her father. “Then you take care of yourself,” he told her, his voice starting to crack. “And be careful.”

  She took a step closer. “And what about you, Montario? What are your plans?”

  “Me? I’m going back to New York,” he told her, “to finish up with my studies at NYU.”

  She looked at him as a brief moment of silence passed between them. And then she laid a hand on his forearm and stroked it gently. “You know I’ll find this place,” she said calmly. “You know I’ll find Eden.”

  He sighed. “I know,” he told her flatly. “I just wish you wouldn’t.”

  A moment of time passed between them as they stood diametrically opposite one another; one possessing the conviction to find Eden, the other content with knowing what was inside and having the presence of mind to leave it alone.

  In an instant, they embraced as the anger and disagreements between them bled themselves dry. Even though he confessed to love her as a brother, the truth was that he loved her fully and deeply. Alyssa Moore had always been his first thought in the morning when he woke, and his last thought at night when he went to bed.

  His passion was too great for him to admit.

  When they pulled apart and looked at each other, he wanted to tell her about his underlying emotions but he could not find the courage to do so.

  “I got to go,” she said finally.

  He smiled in return, hating himself for feeling so awkward about his feelings. When she left, he allowed his shoulders to drop. At least he had not given her the black book, he told himself. He was sure somewhere within its encryptions lay the coordinates Alyssa wanted. He was justifying his actions as championing a cause that would ultimately save her life. Without the book, she would not have a directional blueprint to follow. And she would be safe.

  But if there was one thing about Alyssa Moore, he thought, it was that she was dogged by nature. Although she may have been rendered petite in stature, the fight in her was incredible.

  So he prayed that her father had hidden his secrets well—as he was prone to do.

  But if he had not, then he would guard the secrets of the book.

  He turned to the closet that held a baggie containing his clothes and personal items. Inside was the black book which he would take to New York.

  After all, he considered, some places were never meant to be found.

  And in this case, he was spot on.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Göbekli Tepe Site

  Not only was Alyssa Moore tired, but she continued to mourn the loss of her father. While sitting at her desk, she had taken on a vacant stare that seemed to look well beyond the walls and into the nether regions of dismal thoughts, a world that was as gray and disturbing as a film noire. She was calling up images of her father when a tear coursed lazily down her cheek and dangled precariously at the edge of her jaw a moment before falling.

  “If you wish, Ms. Alyssa, I could come back.”

  Upon hearing Noah’s voice, she sat up and ran the back of her hand across her cheek. “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  “Are you sure?”

  She shook her head. “I’m all right, Noah. Please, come in.”

  Noah was a tall man who had to duck beneath the flaps of the tent to enter. Besides the cot, a few tables, and a laptop for networking and research, the area was quite spartan. “I just wanted to inform you that Emiyet Müdürlüğü officials are on site asking about your father and his expedition.” The Emiyet Müdürlüğü was similar to investigative police.

  Alyssa nodded. “Thank you, Noah.

  He moved closer. “You know this already,” he began, “but your father and I go back long before you were born.” Looking over the research papers that lay scattered across the tables, and the photos of the bas-relief carvings posted on the Göbekli Tepe columns, he told her, “Everyone —including scholars and world-class professors—believed your father to be chasing a myth. But whenever they doubted him, he always brought up the names of Frank Calvert and Heinrich Schliemann.”

  Alyssa knew where this was going since she heard it a thousand times before, this story of hope. Whenever colleagues disputed her father’s claims as nothing more than a feeble attempt to shine a spotlight on his endeavors, he always countered by naming Calvert and Schliemann as the founders of Troy after following the blueprint of Homer’s writings. For many years, scholars had disputed the existence of Troy, stating that it was nothing more than the fictional account of the Greek author but in 1865, they had proved them wrong by discovering the city right where Homer’s writings said it would be, in Turkey.

  “They eventually proved the world wrong,” he added. “But unfortunate as it may be, your father will not be able to confirm his findings.” He made his way to Alyssa until he stood behind her. “Do you believe that your father found Eden?”

  “I believe he found something.”

  “Then my intent is merely to suggest that we attempt to prove your father right. I suggest that Montario act as the guide since he knows the location.”

  “Montario isn’t going,” she told him. “He wants nothing to do with this.”

  “Surely with the find of a lifetime—”

  “Montario isn’t going, Noah. He knows where it is. But he says some things were never meant to be found.”

  “Why would he be afraid of the ‘find’ of a lifetime?”

  She hesitated before answering, and then she enlightened Noah as to everything Montario had told her—such as the creature within the tunnels, about the tombs and the Crystal Wall within the Central Chamber, the wall a schematic of some kind.

  “My father’s dream will become a legend someday,” she told him. “I promise you that.”

  “Then you know of its location?”

  “No. But I’ll look for them in my father’s records.”

  “Your father kept things well hidden. Perhaps you won’t find them,” he said.

  “That’s always the possibility, Noah. But I will find Eden . . . somehow.”

  “Very well, then.” There was a slight pause between them as he turned toward the tent opening. “If you wish, I can handle the Emiyet Müdürlüğü.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” she returned, patting his liver-spotted hand. “I’m sure they’ll have questions only I can answer.”

  “We’ll talk later then.”After giving her a quick and supportive rub on her back, Noah Wainscot left the tent.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Two Days Later

  Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean beyond the Shoreline Limits of the United Kingdom

  Obsidian Hall was a man of incredibly expensive taste. So expensive, in fact, that he was listed as one of the wealthiest men in the world amassing a multi-billion dollar fortune from commercial and financial holdings, with his corporate office a 300-foot yacht that was in constant motion.

  In the state room that was located in the central part of the ship, Obsidian Hall was sitting on a cream-colored sofa made of the finest Corinthian leather. The room was large and opulent with luxuries from all over the world, including paintings and relics such as Dynasty vases and ancient scrolls that had been illegally appropriated from museums, only to end up in his private collection.

  Opposite the sofa stood a ceiling-to-floor mirror he used to appraise himself during periods of working out. However, Obsidian Hall never lifted a dumbbell or even raised anything heavier than a glass of expensive cognac to his lips. He used the
mirror as a tool of his own narcissism, forever scrutinizing his appearance with casual tilts of his head to view every angle of his face. He was tall and lean with a tanned complexion in contrast with hair so blonde it was like corn silk. And his eyes were as blue as Jamaican waters.

  As he sat there looking over his features, raising an occasional hand to graze the tips of his fingers along his jaw line, he was engaged in a phone conversation in speaker mode.

  “The news of Professor Moore’s disappearance was nothing but tabloid fodder,” he said evenly, “until the administration at the AIAA confirmed his loss along with eight others. Now I say his disappearance and not his death, mind you.”

  “I can assure you, Mr. Hall, that Professor Moore is unfortunately deceased. I can further assure you that his findings are most likely credible.”

  “And how likely is ‘most likely’?” he asked.

  The voice that exited the speakers throughout the room sounded confident. “I believe that he found Eden,” he said. “I believe it exists.”

  Obsidian Hall got to his feet and began to pace the room. “Where? And don’t say Turkey, either. I gathered that from the reports. What I need to know is where in Turkey.”

  “I’m afraid that’s a secret possessed by the surviving member of the professor’s team.”

  He stopped pacing and looked up at one of the speakers. “You’re talking about this Montario guy?”

  “He would be the one, yes. He was being detained by the Turkish authorities regarding the disappearance of Professor Moore and his team. But since there is no actual consideration of foul play, they released him.”

  “And where is he now?”

  “He’s on his way to New York.”

  “Then tell me this,” he said. “Why didn’t he surrender the location of Eden to the Turkish authorities? Certainly they would want to follow up on the matter considering that nine people disappeared.”

  “They did press him,” he answered. “But Mr. Montario claimed that he could not quite pinpoint the location after wandering the desert for two straight days.”