Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) (12 page)

The
helicopter suddenly began to bank, the large lit area now viewable to everyone
through the windows.

“Looks
like you were right,” whispered Laura in Acton’s ear.

Acton
nodded, his stomach tightening slightly as he surveyed the site, it clear there
were at least hundreds of armed soldiers everywhere.

“There’s
trouble,” said Tucker.

“What?”

“On the
other side of the river.”

Acton
leaned forward and noticed a large number of lights were aimed at the opposite
bank of the river.

Revealing
what appeared to be hundreds of troops accompanied by dozens of armored
vehicles.

“I think
our jobs just got much more urgent,” he muttered.

“Indeed,”
agreed Tucker. “This will continue to escalate. If the Eritreans can’t maintain
the balance, the Ethiopians will cross that river and snatch the gold before we
have a chance to get it out.”

Acton
exchanged a concerned glance with Laura, taking her hand and squeezing it.

Perhaps
agreeing so readily wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Lucius Valerius Corvus Residence, Pompeii, Roman Empire
August 24
^th
, 79 AD

Costa sat in a corner, eating some chicken with grapes, a goblet of
wine sitting on the floor next to him. The room was quiet save the constant
stories Plinius regaled them with. He knew it was in an attempt to calm
everyone, and to his surprise, it was working. The man had led an extraordinary
life, and Costa found himself riveted by almost every word, occasionally even
able to tear his eyes away from the massive pile of gold in the center of the
room.

A steady
stream of soldiers was now at work, the fleet having arrived almost an hour
ago. Word had arrived that the wind was not cooperating, and there was no way
to set sail away from the coast, but they were hopeful in the morning the winds
would turn. Plinius seemed unconcerned, indicating that until the gold was
loaded aboard, the winds could do as they will.

Soldiers
continued to hand bars of gold from the basement, up the stairs and into the
chamber in which they all sat, but now instead of adding to the pile, a double
line of troops continued handing the newly arriving gold, and the already
stacked gold, out of the house and down to the shore. Costa was impressed with
how efficiently it was working, the amount of gold being moved remarkable.
Those outside would switch to the resting room after fifteen minutes, with
those inside moving outside, and those resting, resuming work on the inside. Those
battling the ash on the roof and on the path were also switching off, the
initial troops who had done battle still resting in another chamber, many quite
sick from what they had inhaled.

Plinius
suddenly stood, his story over. “Now I shall sleep. Wake me in the morning.”

“My
lord!” exclaimed Valerius as he jumped to his feet, quickly rushing to Plinius’
side. “The fires! They grow closer and larger! Should we not at least stay on
the boats until the treasure is loaded?”

Plinius
batted his hand at the air. “Never mind the fires, they’re merely from the
untended hearths of panicked farmers.” He gripped Valerius by the shoulder.
“Don’t worry, my friend, all will be fine.” He walked briskly out of the room
and toward a guest room that had survived the collapse, ending the conversation.
Costa was relieved to find he wasn’t the only one shocked at this
pronouncement, the dropped jaws and wide eyes of the few that remained
revealing what he was thinking.

How
could you possibly sleep at a time like this?

As if to
punctuate the idiocy, the ground rumbled once again, more plaster dust shaking
from overhead as the entire structure of the house continued to weaken, the
marble floor cracking and heaving before finally settling. Valerius’ head was
shaking in his own disbelief before he finally caught himself and turned to
those who remained.

“We’ll
remain in this room, it is safest. Costa, have pillows and blankets brought and
have the staff get some rest. We will need our energy in the morning.”

Costa
nodded, motioning to one of the slaves to fulfill the order then another to
pass on the message that all should rest in the main hall. Within minutes
bedding was provided to everyone, all but a few torches were put out, and the
only sounds were that of the chaos outside and the grunting of the soldiers as
they continued to move the treasure.

A
treasure that Costa lay facing, his eyes wide as they caught every glint of the
precious metal.

Outside Omhajer, Eritrea
Present Day, One day before the crash

Professor James Acton was on his stomach, lying in the dirt as he
wiggled his way as deep as he could into the hold of the ancient vessel. The
level of preservation was remarkable, most likely aided by the dry, arid
conditions, and the protection from the elements provided by a healthy covering
of sand deposited over millennia.

He felt
Laura’s hand on his leg and a harness around his waist should there be a
collapse. He knew she was disappointed at not being the first in, and was
hiding it well from the others. But he knew her. Better than he had ever known
a woman. They were alike in many ways, different in all the right ways. But in
the pursuit of their chosen professions, they were identical, and both wanted
to plunge head first into the mysterious tunnel, to jump down the rope into the
unknown cavern. They lived for the thrill of discovery, no matter what the
pace, whether it was crawling into the hold of a ship that could collapse at
any second if some idiot drove a truck over the berm it was resting against, or
whether it was simply brushing the dust off a piece of earthenware jar at a
staked out dig site, the adrenaline rush was always there.

Who had
used that jar? And for what? Had they made it themselves? Or traded at a market
for it? What had they traded? Why had they left it behind? This was what so
many people outside of his profession didn’t think of. When we move, we pack up
our belongings in a truck and move to our new residence, unpacking all of our
old stuff. Sometimes we leave things behind, but someone either takes over
using them, sells them, or throws them in the garbage.

The same
was true thousands of years ago. In today’s throwaway society, it’s so easy to
simply toss out things and repurchase them at the new destination, but before
the twentieth century, belongings were far fewer and far more precious. Things
were only abandoned or left behind for a reason, and those reasons were rarely
good.

War,
famine, pestilence, natural disaster. People forced to abandon their villages
due to war, it burned to the ground by the marauders, the villagers never
returning. That was a common reason found in their digs. Some natural
phenomenon such as landslides, earthquakes or volcanos, forcing a rapid escape,
or worse, the calamity creating a tomb not only for their possessions, but
themselves.

Pompeii
popped into his mind as he reached the first of the gold bars, the brand of Emperor
Vespasian, who died only weeks before the eruption of Vesuvius, clearly marked
on the bar by the assayer two millennia ago. The eruption had been violent,
catastrophic, and when the end finally came, so devastatingly swift, the city
was essentially abandoned, it impossible to salvage anything after the
destruction wrought by the sleeping giant that was Vesuvius.

Over the
ensuing centuries Pompeii, and the neighboring town of Herculaneum, were
forgotten to history, life moving on as an empire collapsed. It wasn’t until
1738 that the lost city was rediscovered, and even then it took decades before
any real excavations began. Now thousands of tourists roam the streets of the
nearly perfectly preserved ancient city, flash-heated in time.

Acton
peered deeper into the hold then held up his cellphone, snapping a rapid series
of pictures in panorama mode. As the flash snapped, he spotted a partial
skeleton at the far end, and said a silent prayer for their soul. It was a
common misconception that the bodies famously preserved in Pompeii were the
actual hardened or petrified remains of people. Instead, they were actually
plaster casts of the voids created by the bodies of the victims. When the final
disaster struck, super-heated air rolled down the mountain and through the
city, instantly “cooking” everything. The heat was so intense it caused many of
the victims’ muscles to contract, which resulted in many dying in the fetal
position, as opposed to actually having already been in the position when the
final blow came. These bodies were then buried in tons of ash that solidified
over the centuries, and as the bodies decomposed to nothing, voids were created
in the ash.

When
archeologists began to excavate, they came upon these voids, and curious, one
decided to fill one of them with a plaster of Paris mixture. After it
solidified, they carefully removed the ash from around the now solid void, and
were shocked at their discovery. Over one hundred bodies to date have managed
to be preserved, their death throes now on display for all to see, from man,
woman, child and beast.

But not
here, not today. He had no doubt they might find more skeletons, but nothing
preserved like the human voids in the ashes of Pompeii. Examining the
skeletons, however, might give some indication as to how they died, and at
least some of their uniforms might have survived, which could answer another
important question. Was this vessel from the time of Vespasian, or was it from
much later, merely transporting gold minted in Vespasian’s time?

“Coming
out!” he yelled as he began to shuffle backward. He felt a gentle tug on his
harness as the slack was pulled out along with him, and within moments he was
back outside, lying on his back, gasping in the fresh air. He held up his phone
to the crowd circling him, all looking down with expectant expressions on their
face. “I took a panorama of the inside.”

Laura
grinned, grabbing the phone as Tucker pulled Acton to his feet. They all rushed
to what had been identified earlier as the Command Tent, it containing computers
hooked into a diesel generator available for the gathered to use. Laura hooked
the phone into her computer, sending the image to a large display for all to
see.

Gasps
filled the tent.

For as
far as the eye could see into the hold, which was at least several dozen feet
deep, sat stacks of gold bars. The estimate of thousands definitely correct,
tens of thousands most likely so. As Laura zoomed in on the gold, the assayer’s
brands of the Vespasian seal were obvious.

“It
appears that all of the gold is from Emperor Vespasian’s rule,” she said for
those who weren’t familiar with the history. “He ruled from about 69 AD until
79 AD.”

Acton looked
at the picture, standing only a couple of feet from the television, off to the
side. A quick glance at the gathered throng suggested they weren’t very
impressed by the historical significance of Vespasian. “Fun fact,” he said to
the room. “Vespasian built the Coliseum in Rome.” A round of “Ahhhs!” had him
satisfied they were sufficiently engaged. He turned to Laura. “I saw a partial
skeleton, farther down the left side. “Can you zoom in on it?”

She
nodded and manipulated the image. Soon they were looking at the enlarged
skeleton, the bones mostly collapsed into a pile. “What’s that?” asked somebody
in the crowd, stepping forward and pointing at a round disk sitting to the
right. Laura zoomed in some more, and Acton’s heart raced.

It was
an Imperial crest, worn by senior officers to identify their family, along with
their unit and the emperor at the time. Acton looked back at Laura, a grin on
his face as the implications of what they had discovered sank in. “It
identifies this man as a member of the Roman Navy, stationed at Misenum under
the Admiralty of Pliny the Elder!” The excitement was evident in his voice, and
as he looked about the tent, only Laura was as excited as he was.