“Thank you,” Bones and Kaylin said in unison.
“Not so fast.” The Admiral held up a beefy hand to silence them. “Maddock beat up a Naval Academy professor. Then you,” he turned to Bones, “knocked out an officer, tied him up, and left him in the basement.
“I believe I could let those things slide, considering that the two of them were dishonest at best, traitors at worst. What concerns me is that this sword might actually be of some benefit to our armed forces. If this metal has the qualities that you say it does, I think the military needs to know about it.” He turned and fixed Dane with an intense gaze. “It’s quite a conundrum, isn’t it?”
“Admiral Meriwether,” Kaylin spoke up, “my father lost his life in pursuit of this sword. We have to finish what we started. There’s a mystery that must be solved.”
“Why do you need to solve the mystery?” Meriwether boomed, slapping his palms on his desk. “You’ve found the sword. You’ve done what Maxwell set out to do.”
“My father was killed because of this sword. We have almost been killed as well. We have no idea who is after us, or who killed him. Perhaps if we can solve the mystery, we can find out who these people are.”
Meriwether stared at Kaylin. His face betrayed nothing.
“It’s also possible,” Bones said, “that even if we were to turn the sword over to you, those people could still be after us for what we know, either to get the information or to suppress it. The only way to end this is to solve the puzzle.”
The Admiral nodded thoughtfully, cupping his chin in his hand and staring at the portrait behind them.
Dane saw an opening, and took it.
“Admiral, the Navy has all of Sowell’s findings to work with until this is over. Let us finish what we started, and I promise you that when this is over, we will do our best to see to it that you have the opportunity to study it.” He looked at Kaylin, hoping she would not contradict him. She looked back at him angrily, but nodded in agreement.
Meriwether exhaled long and loud. With a shake of his head, he returned his gaze to Dane and the others.
“Well then,” Meriwether said, clapping his hands, “I’ll make a deal with you.”
CHAPTER 21
Dane rubbed his eyes and fought to stay awake as the tour guide droned on. The guide was an American, and appeared to be in his early retirement years. A fringe of white hair showed at the back of his head beneath his tan pith helmet. The sun was apparently not agreeing with the man, as his burned, red face attested, but he did seem knowledgeable, if a bit dry.
“Petra was the stronghold and treasure city of an ancient Arabic people who were called the Nabataeans. It was situated near the points of intersection of great caravan routes from Gaza on the Mediterranean Sea, Damascus, Elath on the Red Sea, and the Persian Gulf. From the fourth century B.C. until the second century A.D., Petra was the capital of the Nabataean Kingdom. The Romans conquered it at the beginning of the second century A.D., and made it part of the Roman province of Arabia Petraea. The city continued to thrive in the second and third centuries, but later, when the rival city of Palmyra took away most of Petra's trade, its importance declined. It was conquered by the Muslims in the seventh century and captured by the Crusaders in the twelfth century. Afterward, it gradually fell into ruin.”
Dane looked at Kaylin, who was seated next to him. She was studiously making notes in a small journal book, despite the fact that they both already knew these things.
“The site of the ancient city was rediscovered in 1812 by the Swiss explorer Johann Burckhardt,” the guide continued.
Dane was tempted to ask him who was the first to excavate the city, but knew that he should not risk drawing that sort of attention to himself. He shifted in his seat, and exhaled loudly. Kaylin frowned at him and kept writing.
“Petra is known both for its natural beauty and for its magnificent monuments. You will see, when you approach the city, that it may be entered only through a chasm which is, in some places, no more than twelve feet wide. Along the ravine are the ancient structures carved out of the walls of solid rock, the most famous of which include the Khaznet Firaoun, a temple also known as the Treasury of the Pharaohs, and a semicircular theater capable of seating about three thousand persons. All along the rock face are rows of tombs hewn out of the solid stone. The remains of Petra bear witness to its former power, wealth, and prestige.”
Dane looked around. About twenty yards away, Bones sat in the midst of a different tour group, probably getting the same boring spiel. He wore a ridiculous looking wide-brimmed straw hat, wraparound shades, and an orange and yellow Hawaiian print shirt. He appeared to be amusing himself by constantly raising his hand and asking questions. Dane could not hear what his friend was asking, but judging by the look on the tour guide’s face and the snickers of the group’s other members, Bones was up to his usual foolishness. Next to Bones, looking annoyed, sat Admiral Meriwether.
Meriwether’s “deal” had been to make all of the arrangements for this trip to Petra, including false identities for the four of them and inspection-free transportation on a Navy plane, in exchange for Dane and the others allowing him to take part in the “adventure,” as he called it. Dane wondered if his old commanding officer were regretting his decision right about now.
The four of them were registered in separate tour groups for today. Beginning the next morning, they would be volunteering for one of the archaeological digs that were taking place within the ancient city. Dane hoped that they could slip away in time to find whatever lay at the coordinates the writing on the sword had pinpointed.
“If there are no questions, we’ll head down to Petra,” the guide said. He removed his hat and ran his fingers through the fringe of short, white hair. The look on his face indicated that he was not eager to field questions. Hearing none, he motioned for the group to follow him.
The track wound down the hill from the small village of Wady Musa, with its neatly terraced gardens and vineyards looking more like a model than reality. Upon entering the valley, Dane had his first impression of the strangeness of the place. Rocks weathered by time into rounded masses like domed towers stood above them. As they continued on, the facade of an occasional tomb showed in a side valley or recess. Everything was so different from what they had just left behind that Dane had the sensation of having wandered into another world. It felt nightmarishly surreal, like he was walking through the abode of the dead.
The valley narrowed. A sheer cliff in front seemed to offer little promise of further progress. Rounding a corner, a great dam built of carefully dressed blocks of stone filled the valley from side to side and confirmed the impression, but the guide led them through a narrow cleft in the cliff face just by the wall.
“So this is the road to Petra,” Dane said to himself. “A handful of men could hold it against an army.”
Kaylin nodded in agreement.
The path ran along a dry torrent bed, the sheer cliffs on either side rising higher and higher as they penetrated deeper into the heart of the mountains. Here it seemed to be perpetual twilight, with an occasional glint of sun on the cliff face high above. The pathway widened and narrowed intermittently. Dane looked above him and saw that, in places, the cliff tops nearly touched. There was little sound beyond the shuffling of feet and the occasional rustle of shrubbery in the faint breeze.
“This road is called the Siq,” the guide announced. “As you can see, on this side is a channel cut in the rock, which originally carried water to the inhabitants of Petra from the springs at Wady Musa.”