The Oracle Code

49



Temple of Hades Ruins

Elis

Peloponnese Peninsula

Hellenic Republic (Greece)

February 23, 2013

Disgusted and exhausted after hours of fruitless searching, Lourds walked the course he had set for himself on his search path. So much of archeology was this: laying out a grid and walking it till everything that could be found was found. He didn’t care so much for archeology during the boring times. He preferred finding things or having documents that had already been found brought to him. Translating was so much better than just walking and looking.

He sighed. At least walking and looking was better than digging. The wind nearly lifted his hat from his head. He took it off and resettled it, raking the terrain constantly with his gaze.

Captain Fitrat walked beside him like a hunting hound. Corporal Rahimi flanked Lourds on the other side. They seemed dedicated to the search as well, but now that they were in the evening of their second day at it, they didn’t have the same curiosity or anticipation. Those were always the first things to go.

And the confidence that the original assumption was correct. That was going too.

“Perhaps the temple location was in another place.” Fitrat was trying to be helpful, but the frustration in his voice was evident. He didn’t like Lourds being out in the open like that, easy prey for a sniper.

“No.” Lourds hitched his shoulders and drew his jacket up a little more. The wind blowing in from the west, out over the Adriatic Sea, was cool to the point of being uncomfortable. “It’s here. Somewhere. Adonis and I pored over that document. We didn’t make any mistakes. From the descriptions we found, the temple is here somewhere.”

“Times change the land. I know in my homeland that my city changes nearly every day.”

“Your city is still at war.”

“And the Greeks made war for generations. Things change. What points of reference do you have?”

Lourds halted and pointed west. “Over there, we have the Adriatic Sea.” He pointed to the north. “There, the mountains. To the south of us is Elis.”

“The old city or the new?”

“It doesn’t matter. They built the new city right on top of the old one. That’s why it has so many archeological digs in and around it.”

Fitrat looked around. “Surely there are other physical characteristics you were given? Trees? A group of rocks?”

“Those weren’t mentioned in the scroll. Trees would have been cut down. Rocks would have been used for buildings. Callisthenes only referred to things that would stay.”

“What about stone quarries? I know many of the cities, like some in France, dug out their own bedrock to build their homes and buildings.”

“Yes, and that practice has caused lots of problems as the city kept growing. Cave-ins, especially.” Lourds swept his gaze around. “We’re looking for a cave.”

“Callisthenes said a cave?”

“A passageway underground usually means a cave.”

Fitrat nodded toward a primitive structure at the bottom of the foothills. “There is no mention of a well?”

“A well?”

Fitrat pointed. “There. That one looks like one that was advertised on Delos Island, correct?”

“Yes, that’s a well. I think.”

Lourds saw a small depression in the ground, rectangular in shape and nearly ten feet by six.

Curious, wanting something to explore other than endless and similar-looking terrain, Lourds walked down the incline to take a look.

***



Linko lay up on the high ground behind Lourds and the men he traveled with. An AK-47 lay beside him, and he knew that the rifle had a much greater reach than the pistols the Afghanistan police assigned to Lourds carried. Killing them would be an easy matter, and he was looking forward to doing so.

But there remained the fact that Lourds hadn’t given up the hunt. The possibility existed that he might yet find whatever it was that he searched for.

Linko hoped that would happen. He was certain President Nevsky was not pleased with how things had turned out with Anna Cherkshan. But no one had known that she had discovered so much information or that she would be granted airtime on a television station.

Nevsky and his generals and his public relations people were working hard to undo the damage. Some of the control that had been taken in the Ukraine was crumbling, but the military operations there had been stepped up to compensate.

Things would be all right. Linko kept telling himself that as he followed Lourds with his binoculars.

Come on, you idiot. Find whatever it is you are looking for. Find it so that I may kill you and go home.

***



The well was ancient. Lourds estimated that it had been constructed centuries ago. Over the course of time, much of the rock that had gone into the building of the low retaining wall around the well had been scavenged and taken elsewhere. Weeds and brush had grown up around it.

Fitrat gazed down into the well. “Not very deep.”

Lourds nodded. “It didn’t have to be deep. It only had to reach the water table in order to keep a steady supply of water. Out on the peninsula here, the water table wasn’t very deep.”

He navigated the narrow stone steps that led down into the well at one end. Roots had twisted through the mortar, and stubborn grass clung to the stones in places where seeds had blown in the past. The well had no smell, no mold, no mildew.

And it was dry as a bone. The bottom of the well was overgrown with grass and weeds as well.

“You had good eyes to see this.”

Above, kneeling on the edge of the well, Fitrat shrugged. “Finding this only seems like another waste of time.”

Lourds took a flashlight from his backpack and shone the beam over the rough walls. There was some graffiti left by children or teenagers, drawings of monsters or declarations of undying love.

“Perhaps we will have more luck at the next well?”

Glancing up, Lourds saw Corporal Rahimi standing on the well wall across from his commander. “Next well?”

“Sure.” The young corporal nodded and pointed to the east. “I have found another one about a hundred meters to the east.”

Lourds clambered up from the well. “Where?”

“There.” Rahimi pointed again.

This time Lourds spotted the hint of a rectangular area in the grass. The shape was too uniform to have occurred naturally. He hitched up his backpack. “Let’s go.”

***



Elis Harbor

Dmitry Dolgov clambered from the boat at the harbor in Elis. The pilings were old and decrepit, and only a few people still lived there. The man who had rented Dmitry the boat had said that the old town had fewer than two hundred reglar inhabitants and that, in the summer, during tourist season, there were often more visitors than residents.

His boots echoed on the wooden pier that swayed drunkenly beneath him. He did not like deep water or boats or ships, and traveling through Greece had promised much of that.

Catching up with Lourds had proven problematic. At first, Layla Teneen had been cautious, unwilling to even talk about Professor Lourds, and Dmitry had understood. She had wanted Lourds kept out of harm’s way. Dmitry had calmly, professionally told her that the only way to do that was to remove the threat.

“That is exactly what Thomas said.” She had sounded anxious and tired. “He told me that if he could find Alexander’s tomb, then this would be over. That there would be nothing to be taken or hidden or kept secret.”

“In one respect, Professor Teneen, that would be correct. But Anna Cherkshan will not be avenged. That is what I will do. And I can protect Lourds at the same time.”

Eventually, she had agreed, but she had not spoken with Lourds in a while and did not know his exact location. He had not told her his plans, and she did not know for certain where he had gone.

Dmitry had tried using tracking software from low earth orbit satellites that were available to the SVR, but even the LEOs had failed to pinpoint Lourds’s satphone ping. Past experience had proven that even using the Doppler shift calculations could be off by several kilometers.

Finally, last night, Lourds had spoken with Professor Teneen and told her where he was. As Dmitry had requested, for fear of being overheard by Colonel Linko, she had not mentioned Dmitry and his group.

Dmitry wore combat armor under his long coat, and he carried a Heckler & Koch MP3 submachine pistol on a Whip-it sling on his shoulder under the garment as well. The rest of his unit, all hard men who had seen action in Chechnya and other covert actions around the globe, were similarly attired.

Standing once more on the solid ground of the shoreline, Dmitry took a map from his chest pouch and unfolded it.

An old fisherman approached them. “You are visitors, yes?” His English was stilted but easily understandable.

“Yes.” Dmitry smiled at the man.

“Visitors do not usually come this time of year.”

“We thought we would come when it was not so crowded.”

The man nodded. “Not so crowded now. But cold.”

“Not too cold for fishing, I see.”

The old man grinned. “Never too cold for fishing.”

“Have you seen many other tourists?”

“Yes. Many men. Two groups go into the old places.” The man pointed in the direction of the ruins. “They not come back yet. Camping. Probably archeologists.” He had trouble with the word.

“How many men?”

The old man thought for a moment. “First group ten men. Second group, maybe thirty.”

That caught Dmitry by surprise. He had thought Linko would have tried to keep his operation small. Dmitry had only brought six men with him. Moving even that many through customs and getting the proper identification in order had been difficult. Linko must have hired local talent to supplement his forces.

“Thank you for your time. I wish you good fortune with your fishing.”

“Thank you. And may you have good fortune with your travels. You come back later, I fry you some fish. We will have wine.”

“I will be back.” Before Dmitry had gone three steps, the ground beneath him quivered and shook and rolled, then snapped back into solid earth again.

The old man laughed. “That was an earthquake. We have many of those here. There is nothing to worry about. The old stories say it is because Poseidon is angry out to sea. He strikes the ground with his trident and causes the earth to tremble.” He nodded out at the Adriatic. “Somewhere out there, a storm is brewing. You will see.”

Dmitry nodded and continued on. To the west, the sky was darkening, obscuring the setting sun. It would be twilight in another three hours or so. He hoped to have located Lourds—or at least Linko—in that time.