The Babel Codex (10 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Party’s already started.”

Seated in the military helicopter passenger seat, Garin silently agreed with Friedrich’s assessment of the situation. Then he waved at the helicopter pilot to take them down.

The three helicopters he’d brought with him were filled with DragonTech Security people. Garin held private security contracts with the Iraqi and American governments. He was inside the country and heavily armed—with a license to kill.

Bhalla and his people had scrambled to secure weapons. Unfortunately, getting weapons wasn’t hard. The irony that Garin was partly at fault for that was not lost on him. Hopefully he’d made a profit from Bhalla before he killed the man.

When the helicopter landed, Garin popped the door open, pulled on his NVGs and held his MP5-SD3 at the ready as he raced down the mountainside to the cave. He opened fire as soon as he saw the guards posted at the door.

When he stepped inside the tunnel and saw the bodies and the empty husk of the claymore mine in the main chamber, Garin knew Annja wasn’t alone.

“Spread out.” Garin waved his team forward. “Find out which one of these tunnels they went down.”

* * *

The tunnel descended quickly and the cavern walls and floor grew steadily damper. Annja knew they were below sea level, and the Tigris and Euphrates rivers drew groundwater to them, as well. The tunnel also rounded in a spiral, going deeper and deeper as it narrowed.

The walls revealed tool marks now. At least part of the tunnel had been chopped from the stone. A preexisting fissure or tunnel had been here, but someone had put in a lot of time making the way clear.

A few feet farther, the tunnel opened up to another cave. About forty feet long and nearly that wide, the ceiling was twenty feet overhead. The cave floor had been cleared of stalagmites, but a few stalactites had crashed to the floor and shattered, either from earthquakes in the area or a result of the artillery shelling.

Six columns made from stone cubes a yard to a side were spread out across the chamber. Each exposed facet of the cubes told some of the story of the building of the Tower of Babel. Annja ran her fingers over the nearest one, finding a strange groove that ran along it at the top of the first cube.

A recessed area in the far wall looked like an altar or a puppet theater, a rectangular opening beneath a banner she didn’t recognize. Mesmerized, Annja was pulled forward, shining her flashlight across the opening.

On the altar lay a thick scroll. Two smaller scrolls lay beside it. On either side of the scrolls, partially decomposed baskets held gold and silver coins and a collection of gemstones.

“Careful,” Roux said softly as he joined her. “Things are not always as innocent as we may believe.”

The scythe in the tunnel they’d come down was a deadly reminder of that. Still, she wanted so badly to pick up the scroll and see what it held. At the same time, she realized she wouldn’t be able to read it.

But she had
found
it. Whatever story it contained, whatever lore and history, she would get to know it. She’d opened a door to the past.

“The inscription above the altar says that only a humble man may receive the story of God’s wrath, and that an arrogant man will be divided.”

“Split in two with a giant scythe, maybe?”

Roux shook his head. “I hate when people try to be clever with these things. It most always means they want to kill you in some vile and nasty way. Whoever put this scroll here, he was setting a trap and he knew it. Do not touch this until we have a chance to look at it more properly.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Then we’ll have to be humble, Annja, and trust that what was meant to come to us will.” Roux looked around. “Of course, trust would be a little easier to manage if there were another way out of here.”

Footsteps at the other end of the room drew her around.

Bhalla stood behind a dozen men, some of them ragged and bloodied.

Annja and Roux dove to the sides, taking cover behind two of the cube columns. They readied their weapons and tried to bring them to bear, but Bhalla’s men kept them pinned down.

“Annja Creed, you can hide, but you are not leaving this cave alive. You have cost me too many men, so do not think you can throw yourself on my mercy. I only pray that we take you alive so you can watch me gut the old man.” Bhalla spoke in his language to one of his men.

The man, covered in Kevlar, reached the altar while gunfire kept Roux and Annja ducking for cover. Bullets ricocheted off the walls around them and stone splinters stung her face and hands. She shifted and managed to fire a short burst that caught Kevlar Man in the side. He was still able to grab one of the baskets of jewels.

Mechanisms clicked behind the wall and the column where Annja took cover shuddered. Vibrations ran through the floor.

Annja looked at Roux, who called to her at the same moment. “Humble man!” he said, and they dropped simultaneously into prone positions.

The man standing in front of the altar died in the blink of an eye as a thin wire came out of the wall and rocketed across the room. The columns were designed with space between them, two sections anchored to the ground and to the ceiling at the same time. The wire whipped through half of the columns and two more of Bhalla’s men before catching for an instant on a column that had shifted slightly over the past two-thousand-plus years. The wire strained for a moment, pulled by the counterweights that propelled it, before snapping. Even then, the whipping wire sliced through another of Bhalla’s men.

While they were standing there stunned, watching their comrades literally fall to pieces in front of them, Roux rolled to his feet and leveled the machine pistol, opening fire. Two of the remaining men fell, but the others started shooting back.

The rumbling in the room continued, and Annja realized it wasn’t just the hidden gears in motion. The room was spinning, too. She watched as the door to the tunnel leading back to the surface disappeared. She stood with knees bent, her center low to better keep her balance.

On the other side of the room, Roux reloaded and glanced anxiously at Bhalla and his gunmen. “I don’t suppose that translation mentioned anything about the room spinning, Annja?”

“No.” She watched the walls. “I’m assuming this isn’t good.”

“It so rarely is.” Roux spun around and fired a three-round burst at one of their opponents, dropping him in a loose sprawl.

The room ground to a stop, and the altar suddenly jumped backward, tipping slightly as it began a descent into a dark tunnel.

Annja oriented herself by the stalactites shivering above. Even as she watched them, two cracked free of their moorings and dropped. One of them plunged toward Roux’s position.

“Roux!”

The old man was already in motion, rolling to the side, but Bhalla and his six remaining gunners opened fire.

Stepping from behind the column, Annja trained her machine pistol on the gunners. Bullets caught three of them and knocked them backward.

Annja reloaded her machine pistol, wishing she didn’t have to kill anyone as she listened to the grinding coming from the tunnel where the altar had vanished. She felt certain wherever it was headed was not good.

And she wanted the scroll. She wanted the story that had been left.

“Roux.”

“Go.” Safely behind the column again and facing fewer foes, Roux waved her on. Then he reached into a pocket, took out a grenade and winked at her. He pulled the pin and threw it toward Bhalla.

Bhalla yelled a warning and dove to the side, racing along the columns after Annja. She raised the machine pistol, but one of the other gunmen fired at her. Bullets struck the column and knocked the weapon from her hands, leaving her fingers numb from the impact.

The grenade blew, catching the gunman in the blast and shoving him back against the wall.

Annja ran, streaking down the tunnel where the altar had vanished. Fishing her mini-Maglite from her pocket, she pointed it ahead of her. The tunnel was just large enough to allow the altar to pass on the grooves in the stone, she realized. Then the passage widened and she spotted the opening that loomed only a short distance away. From her angle, she saw only empty space at the end of the tracks.

She ran harder, knowing that even as she caught up to the altar she was going to be unable to stop before she plunged over the side after it. She told herself that she was being foolish, that she couldn’t make it, that the scroll probably didn’t have anything worthwhile on it, anyway....

She hurled herself after the altar and scroll, anyway, leaping onto it just as the altar tilted back. Her numbed hand caught hold of the scroll just as the gems and gold tumbled into the black void beyond the cliff’s edge. She managed to get one foot under her solidly enough to push off the altar as it tumbled and push herself back toward the cliff.

Clutching the scroll, she only had one hand to catch the stone edge and save herself from falling. She hadn’t been able to get enough out of her jump to get back onto solid ground.

Gasping, Annja began to pull herself up with one hand.

Then Bhalla stepped on her fingers and looked down at her. He held a pistol in one hand and a flashlight in the other. “Give me the scroll.”

“You’re just going to kill me, anyway.” Annja stared up at him, thinking furiously.

“You do not want the scroll destroyed. I know that about you.” Bhalla put his flashlight down, kept his weapon leveled and held out his empty hand. “Give. Me. The. Scroll.”

She was out of options. Her arm had already begun to shake. Not certain of the grip her numbed fingers could manage, Annja raised the scroll.

Bhalla smiled.

He stopped smiling when Annja tossed the scroll past him, then slapped her left hand onto the edge while letting go with her right. Bhalla fired and the bullet whipped by her head, burning her cheek. Then the sword was in her right hand and she thrust up, driving it into the man’s abdomen, ripping into his rib cage and through his heart.

Face taut with surprise, Bhalla toppled forward and fell into the darkness.

Annja released the sword to the otherwhere and pulled herself up onto the ledge. Trying to get her breath back, she sat for a moment. Had she heard the altar hit anything on the way down? She didn’t think so.

“Annja!” Roux was running down the tunnel with his machine pistol and flashlight. “Are you all right?”

“I am.” She accepted Roux’s offer of his arm and let him help her to her feet.

Roux peered over the edge and pointed his flashlight into the darkness. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect that.” He looked at her. “Bhalla?”

“He wasn’t expecting that, either.”

“I suppose you lost everything? That’s too bad.”

Annja picked up the scroll and smiled. “Not everything.”

“But you lost all the valuables.” Roux smiled back at her. “That’s going to upset Garin. I think he rather counted on getting something for all his trouble.”

Together, they walked back into the main chamber. Annja saw that the doorway no longer opened onto the tunnel. She was just about to suggest they look for a way to change the counterweights when a section of the wall collapsed and the sound of a muffled explosion echoed in the room.

An instant later, Garin stepped into the room with weapons at the ready, blood on his face. He seemed embarrassed as he lifted his machine pistol from the ready position. “I’m late. We had to make a door.”

“It’s a great door,” Annja said.

Burris Coronet, clearly shell-shocked, stumbled through the door after Garin. “Holy crap!”

Garin looked around the room. “So this is it. What did you find?”

Annja held up the scroll. “This.”

Garin wrinkled his nose. “Plebian.”

“History. I hope.”

“What’s down the other tunnel?” Garin pointed to the tunnel at the back of the chamber.

“Gold, silver, gems,” Roux said. “Quite a haul. If you can get to it.”

Without another word, Garin headed down the tunnel.

Annja turned toward the surface. She wanted to see what she’d found. After that, she wanted a bath and a bed.

Epilogue

“Sleep well?”

Annja glanced up from her tablet PC and saw Roux at her table
in the small restaurant inside the Baghdad hotel. They'd decided to stay here
while she worked out delivery of the scroll to the proper authorities. Taking
artifacts out of Iraq was a major crime, especially since so many had gone
missing during Saddam Hussein's reign and the wars afterward.

“I did.” Annja pulled her things out of the way so Roux had
space to sit. He looked dapper this morning. “I'm surprised you're still
here.”

He shrugged and reached for a menu. “I've got a flight to Dubai
booked this afternoon. I've arranged for another poker game.”

“Congratulations.”

“There's always a poker game. What did you find out about the
scroll you discovered?”

“I sent images to a friend of mine in Rio. She believes it's a
dictionary of the language the workers who built the Tower of Babel used to
communicate with each other.”

Roux lifted an eyebrow. “So maybe people were speaking
different languages before the tower fell?”

“Maybe. Or maybe the regions had so many differences that a
common language had to be constructed. After all, British speakers and American
speakers don't always understand one another, and they speak the same
language.”

“People have a tendency to make language their own. Take a look
at the rap stars that plague your country?”

“
Plague?
”

“Yes. I've heard them.” Roux frowned. “Nearly all of it is
annoying. Loud, brassy, narcissistic.”

“You can say that about a lot of things. And even about old men
who have little patience with the rest of the world.”

Roux harrumphed, but clearly his heart wasn't in the effort.
The server returned and he gave the young man his order in Arabic.

“So you found something special?”

“I think so.”

“Good. Congratulations.”

“What is there to be happy about?” Garin demanded as he walked
over to them. He didn't look so dapper. He was dirty and looked as if he'd been
up all night. He sat and picked up Annja's coffee, downing it in one long
swallow. “The hole in that mountain goes down at least a half mile. We found a
few gems and some coins, but it's not going to be worth the reclamation effort
to find the rest of it.” He glanced at Annja. “So you're buying breakfast this
morning.”

“All right. We're friends again? Because I'm not buying
breakfast for people who aren't friends.”

“For the moment. Although I don't care for your new friend at
all.”

“What new friend?”

“Burris Coronet. The mouth. He's back at his room talking about
the discovery he made.” Garin took his iPhone from his pocket, laid it on the
table and punched an app. “He's on satellite radio, you know.”

“I believe he mentioned that.”

An instant later, Burris's voice broadcast from the iPhone. He
was talking fast and excitedly. “And that's how I found the Tower of Babel
scroll you people are hearing so much about. From what I know, my discovery is
going to set the archaeological community on its collective ear, and you heard
it here first. Annja Creed and her grandfather would have missed out on this one
if I hadn't—”

Annja tapped the iPhone and closed the app. “I'm trying to
enjoy breakfast.”

“Grandfather?” Roux looked like he couldn't believe it. “
Grandfather!
Where is that blathering idiot?” He
looked at Garin. “And why isn't he mentioning you in all of this?”

“Because I told him I would kill him if he did.” Garin took a
piece of Annja's toast. “What does it take to get service around here?”

“They're probably still deciding whether to serve you or throw
you out,” she told him.

“They're not throwing me out on an empty stomach. I'll buy this
hotel and fire them all.” Garin glanced over his shoulder and spoke in fluent
Arabic to the server as he thumped a pistol on the table.

The server nodded quickly, disappeared and just as quickly
returned with a carafe of coffee.

Annja looked at the pistol. “Or maybe they'll throw you in
jail.”

Garin shook his head. “That'll never happen. I'm a licensed
security consultant in this country.” He poured coffee all around, then gave his
order in Arabic to the server, speaking at length. Roux joined in, then the
server went away.

Garin took another piece of toast, put jelly on it, folded it
and wedged it into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, sipped coffee and asked,
“What's next on your to-do list, Annja?”

“After I get the scroll delivered?” She shrugged. “I'm sure
Doug has something lined up for me. There are a half dozen articles I've been
asked to write and a couple seminars I could do at any one of a dozen
universities.”

Garin grinned, baring his white teeth. “Not afraid of getting
bored, are you?”

“My life is never boring. Especially not around the two of
you.”

Garin picked up another piece of toast. “Well, maybe I have
something you'll be interested in. There's an artifact dealer here in Baghdad
right now—I saw him this morning. I've got a history with him, so I can't get
close to him, but he likes a pretty face.”

“I'm the pretty face?”

“You are.”

“Why, thank you. And why should I be interested?”

“Because supposedly this artifact dealer has a lead on some
astronomy manuscripts that were thought lost when the Mongols sacked the House
of Wisdom.”

She sat back in her seat and stared at him. “Really? Because
they created the first observatory in the Islamic world. Heck, Sind ibn Ali was
an astronomer there. You know, the engineer who helped build the canal to
al-Ja'fariya? The guy who created the decimal point?” She shook her head, lost
in remembering.

Garin smiled and shared a look with Roux.

“When the Banu Musa brothers sent Sind ibn Ali away so he
couldn't work for Caliph al-Mutawakkil, Al-Farghani—a rival engineer—was
appointed lead on the project. Al-Farghani screwed up and made the start of the
canal deeper than the end, so the water never got there. Sind ibn Ali saved
Al-Farghani's life and the Banu Musa brothers' lives....”

Garin glanced at Roux again, rolled his eyes. “She knows more
than we've ever forgotten.”

Roux sipped his coffee. “Is this artifact dealer Qushji?”

Garin hesitated.

“He is,” Roux said with a scowl. “He tried to kill me in Dhi
Qar province.”

“I'm sure it wasn't anything personal.”

Roux drummed his fingers on the table. “Probably not. Still,
I've never liked that man. Putting him out of business would be a service to the
world.”

“Exactly, but he knows your face, too.” Garin switched his
attention back to Annja. “So what about it?”

“Astronomy scrolls from the House of Wisdom? Sacked so badly by
the Mongols that no one knows exactly what they did there?”

Garin held up a hand. “The scrolls might not be real.”

“Much of Qushiji's
artifacts
are
not. But he manages to stash some really good stuff,” Roux added.

“And he can be very dangerous,” Garin went on.

Annja smiled. “How can I resist?” More than anything, though,
she knew she wanted to hang on to her family just a little longer before they
went their separate ways.

She suspected Roux and Garin felt the same way, though she knew
neither of them would admit it.

* * * * *