The Oracle Code

7



32 Miles Southwest of Herat

Herat Province

Afghanistan

June 18, 2012

Squatting in front of the passageway and holding a high-intensity lantern, Layla Teneen watched in disbelief as the bottom dropped out from under Lourds and Boris. The two screamed, but their cries didn’t last very long, indicating that the fall probably wasn’t high enough to break their necks but was sufficient to knock the air from their lungs. Layla had almost cried out herself, but she’d simply been too stunned, and the moment was gone before she knew it.

An instant later, she heard Boris speaking painfully. “Thomas, I think my leg is broken.”

“Hang on, Boris. Let me get the flashlight.”

Layla sighed. “Idiots.” Since she’d taken over the directorship, she’d learned she could count on some archeologist—or master’s student—being too brave or not resourceful enough. It was maddening. She looked over her shoulder at Fitrat. “Captain, we’re going to need some rope.”

“Here, Boris. I’ve got the flashlight. Just a moment and I’ll—” Lourds stopped speaking.

Layla’s imagination played havoc with her. One thing was certain: whoever climbed into the passageway wasn’t supposed to survive. The fall was supposed to take care of a body.

“Boris.” Lourds spoke more quietly, and the faint voice barely reached Layla’s ears. “Do you see that?”

***



Dmitry sat on the other side of the cave beside Chizkov.

The young lieutenant gazed at the dead men. “Did you...did you kill them?”

Dmitry shrugged. “I did. If they had killed me, I would not be here for you to ask me questions, would I?”

In the reflected glow of the flashlights in the hands of the Afghan soldiers, Chizkov looked pale and younger than ever. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Studying his young protégé, Dmitry waved to the dead men. “Does this bother you?”

The Afghan soldiers gave the corpses no more attention. They were attendant upon their commanding officer and the dig director.

Chizkov started to shake his head in reply to Dmitry’s question, then he stopped. “Yes, this bothers me. I am not used to this.”

“In the SVR, you may need to get used to such things. This is a sad revelation, but times in Mother Russia are not very restful. In addition to the Chechen terrorists, we are starting to attract Islamic extremists as well.”

“I know. My father is a politician. He worked to keep me out of the army and to get me someplace safe.” Chizkov looked embarrassed. “I was willing to be in the regular army, and to go to fight in Chechnya if I needed to.”

“Chechnya is no place for you, Lieutenant.”

Chizkov bristled at that. “I am not afraid, Major Dolgov.”

“Perhaps you should address me in such a manner again. In case one of the soldiers did not hear you.”

Face flushing, Chizkov looked away. “I am sorry.”

Dmitry patted the young man’s arm like he would his own son. “It is all right. You did well. You went and got help.”

“You didn’t need it.”

“No, as it turns out, I did not. But those two in that passage, Glukov and Lourds, they may yet need help that I was unprepared to give.” Dmitry looked at Chizkov again. “And when I said that you did not belong in Chechnya, I only meant that no one should have to fight that kind of war. It is a very terrible thing.”

Chizkov was quiet for a moment. “We are found out.”

“As liars? Yes, that is true. But not as spies.”

“What else will these people think of us?”

Dmitry shrugged. “We are not here spying on them. That is something.”

“My father says President Nevsky is very interested in Professor Glukov’s work.”

“This I know. But I do not know why. Did your father happen to tell you that?”

“No.”

“When we get back to Mother Russia, perhaps you might find out.”

“Why? Won’t we be off this assignment by then?”

“Possibly. But it is still a curious matter, Josef. I would not mind knowing the answer so very much, if it is not a problem.”

“I will see what I can do.” Chizkov was silent for a moment as one of the soldiers returned carrying a coil of rope. “What do you suppose they found?”

Dmitry looked at the dead men again. “Tell me, do you believe in omens?”

“You mean like the gypsies talk about when they wish to entertain a crowd?”

“Yes, I mean that. And when the gypsies talk of such things to frighten listeners. I think that is what I mean in this instance.”

Chizkov shrugged. “Sometimes. Sometimes I listen and I think maybe there is some truth in what they say about cursed things.”

“So do I.” Dmitry gazed at the passageway. “I do not know what our two professors have found in that place, but I think it is one of those things. Having the opium traffickers find them here tonight was an ill omen. I would not want anything to do with what they have found in that place.”

***



Lourds shined the recovered flashlight around the ground where he and Boris had landed after their surprise fall. His left side and arm still throbbed from the impact, but he hardly noticed the pain. He reached down, picked his hat off the ground, beat it against his leg for a moment, then clapped it onto his head.

The flashlight beam played over several skeletons laid out around them. For one insanely creepy moment, no doubt summoned by the potboilers Lourds loved to read when he wasn’t translating documents, he imagined that at any moment the skeletons would jump up from their impromptu resting spots and come at them.

“Thomas, give me a hand.” Boris beckoned for him and Lourds went. “Help me to my feet.”

“Are you certain?”

Boris stared at him. “Are you mad? I took a tremendous fall, I was nearly harpooned by a deadly spear, I braved gunfire–”

“I don’t think either of us braved anything.”

Boris frowned. “You know what I mean.” He nodded at the skeletons. “I want to see what we have uncovered.”

Lourds pulled Boris to his feet and took as much of his friend’s weight as he could. Together, like very weak three-legged race contenders, they limped around the huge cave.

“Look at how the bodies are laid out.” Boris pointed with his free hand. “In a large circle.”

The geometric pattern was hard to make out due to the way the earth had reclaimed many of the skeletons, but the berms of bones defined the circle.

“I bet you a bottle of good vodka that the skeletons on the outside of these will be those of males.” Boris smiled.

Lourds shook his head. “No bet.”

“You know who buried people in circles like this, don’t you?”

“The Zoroastrians.”

“Exactly, and it was the Zoroastrian religion that so defined Persia as it was back in the day of Alexander the Great.” Boris waved at the skeletons. “Do you know how much history we are talking about here?”

“Potentially back to the sixth or seventh century BCE, but I doubt it goes back that far. More likely this dates later than that.”

“Why do you say that?”

Lourds flashed his light onto the ground and picked up a heavily pitted knife. He examined the item briefly, then handed it to Boris, who accepted the blade gratefully. “Greek, don’t you think?”

The knife was nearly ten inches long, single-edged, and had probably been an example of craftsmanship back during its day. The ivory hilt had designs worked into it that showed a beautiful woman archer, a full moon, a cypress tree, and a stag in mid-leap.

Boris traced his fingers over the hilt. “Surely it is Greek. This has to be Artemis, goddess of the wildlands and mistress of animals. See? The stag and the cypress tree are symbols that represent her.”

“I do see. It appears you have found quite the treasure trove. You’ll be buried in research work cataloguing the things that you find here.”

“Only if there’s more of this.” Boris grimaced as he moved his injured leg, but his mood remained ebullient. “Come. We should look more while we are able.”

“While you are able, the two of you should fall to your knees and give thanks that you didn’t get impaled by that spear. I thought you were both dead.”

Drawn by the woman’s voice, Lourds gazed up at Layla Teneen framed in the opening some twenty feet or so above them. “Good evening, Director Teneen.”

“More like good morning. You do realize you’ve probably thrown off everyone’s workday for tomorrow with all the gunfire and excitement.”

Lourds grinned mischievously. “I beg to differ, dear lady. Boris and I are not responsible for the gunfire. We came here unarmed. In fact, all I have to defend myself with now is this dagger, which was probably once very fine but, as you can see, is no longer in good shape.” He held up the ancient dagger for inspection. “As for the excitement, any archeologist worth his or her salt should thank us for that.”

Layla frowned at him as she played her flashlight beam around the circle of skeletons. “You do realize this was probably a Zoroastrian burial site?”

“Of course. We were just discussing that. Once we get a good anatomist in here–”

Boris harrumphed. “I am more than adequately trained in such matters.”

Lourds nodded and continued smoothly. “–like my good friend Boris Glukov here, we should be able to confirm that the skeletons along the outer edge of the circle are male and the skeletons in the center belonged to women in the second circle and children in the final circle.”

“Yes, and with that being the case, you do realize that the two of you are probably traipsing around in lime mortar, don’t you?”

Frowning with irritation, Lourds realized he hadn’t thought about that. Lime was often used by the Zoroastrians to hasten the decomposition of bones. “No. I hadn’t given it a thought.”

“You should. The Zoroastrians believed that the body of a dead person was filled with pollutants and got rid of it as quickly as possible.”

“You know your history.”

“Several histories, in fact, Professor Lourds.” Layla continued to play her light around. She swept the hair from her face. “This is a bit unusual, isn’t it? Didn’t the Zoroastrians bury their dead in dakhmas?”

The term translated loosely from Parsig to “tower of silence,” and they were initially loose constructions designed to hold the bodies of the dead until the flesh rotted away—or was taken by animals, birds, and insects—and the bones could be collected and stored for final burial.

“They did, but eventually they gave up the open-air burial practice for pits.”

Layla gestured to the passageway she was in. “This seems a little user unfriendly.”

“When you throw in the spear, it was tremendously unfriendly.”

Layla smiled, and the sight made Lourds smile even broader.

“I would not have expected a sense of humor after being nearly killed twice tonight, Professor Lourds.”

“I should think the fall would count as well, because I didn’t really think Boris and I would survive it when we tumbled out of that.”

“Neither did I.”

Boris sighed. “Please. The two of you will have all the time in the world to speak about these things. For the moment, I would like very much to see what I—Thomas and I—have found.”

“I have a rope coming. We can get you out of here soon.”

“Don’t hurry on my account.”

“What about your leg?”

“I’m not going to think about my leg.” Boris tried to limp away under his own power. Lourds had to catch his friend before he’d gone three steps. He grimaced and looked up at Layla. “Perhaps you could send a physician down.”

“If I can find one curious enough and sober enough to agree to it, I will.” Layla started to crawl away.

Lourds called after her. “Director Teneen.”

“Yes?”

“Thank you very much for the rescue.”

Layla hesitated a moment, then nodded. “You’re very welcome. And you owe me a story.”

“A story?”

“Of what brought you down into this place.”