‘Yeah,’ Cobb grunted. ‘Something like that.’
As far as he knew, it was more than anyone had learned about his previous adventure. Given the purpose of his call, he was encouraged by Ulster’s knowledge but slightly disturbed by his insight. He wondered where Ulster had acquired his information because it certainly hadn’t been from him.
Then again, their entire relationship had been rooted in mystery. Neither of them was fully aware of the circumstances that had led to their initial conversation — a mysterious benefactor had made the arrangements — but both were willing to play along because both benefited from the relationship. Cobb had access to one of the top historians in the world, and Ulster liked to talk about history even more than he liked to eat and drink.
And that was saying something.
‘So, Jack, to what do I owe this honor?’
‘You said to give you a call if I ever need help, and the truth is that I’ve run into some trouble here in Egypt.’
‘Alexandria!’ Ulster blurted. He suddenly remembered that Cobb had been tasked with exploring the Egyptian city. He didn’t know what Cobb was looking for — after all, Cobb didn’t even know what he was looking for when he was given the map — but one thing was certain: cleaning the kitchen could wait. ‘How stupid of me! Please forgive my momentary lapse of memory. It’s been a very stressful day.’
‘I know the feeling.’
‘I bet you do,’ conceded Ulster, who had watched coverage of the bombing on the news. ‘The Egyptian authorities have yet to release a statement, but off the record they’re downplaying the event. Do they really believe that people will accept their inane story about earthquakes and ruptured gas lines? I have seen my fair share of explosions in recent years, and it’s clear to me that this incident was not caused by seismic activity.’
‘You got that right.’
Ulster lowered his voice to a whisper, as if he were about to deliver privileged information. ‘Jack, if you’re in trouble, I know people. Just tell me what you need, and I will make the call. My friends are former military, and trust me when I say that they’re very good at what they do.’
‘I’m former military,’ Cobb argued, half insulted by the comment. ‘I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got that angle covered. The help I’m looking for is more academic in nature. I was hoping you could lend me a hand.’
Though he hardly looked the part in his dirty apron, Ulster was the director of the Ulster Archives, a facility that housed the most extensive private collection of documents and antiquities in the world. Founded in the Alps by Petr’s grandfather, the Archives had grown from a small assortment of artifacts — smuggled from Austria to Switzerland in coal cars in advance of the Nazi occupation — to what it was today. Though its early success could be attributed to his ancestors, Petr was directly responsible for its recent additions including a magnificent haul from Mexico.
‘Certainly!’ Ulster boomed. ‘How can I be of service?’
‘My team came across something that we’re not quite sure how to interpret. I was hoping you could give me your thoughts.’
‘Jack,’ he said tentatively, ‘I’d be happy to help with your project, but I think it’s important for you to know that I am not a certified Egyptologist. Yes, I admit that I am somewhat versed in all manners of history — after all, it is a job requirement — but the detailed knowledge that you’re looking for should probably come from someone on your own team. That last thing I want to do is to step on anyone’s toes.’
Cobb grimaced. ‘That’s part of the problem. Our historian has gone missing. I have some of the footage she recorded before she disappeared, and I’m asking you to take a look at it. Do you have access to the Internet?’
‘Yes, of course. Just give me one moment.’
Ulster removed his apron and tossed it to the ground as he hustled from the kitchen to his nearby office. He activated the hands-free feature on his cell phone as he sank into the overstuffed, high-back office chair in front of his computer. Then he grabbed the mouse and waited for further instructions. ‘Okay, I’m ready. Now what?’
‘Look at your e-mail. You should see a message from James Bond. Open it, and click on the link.’
‘Look at that,’ Ulster laughed. ‘I got an e-mail from James Bond!’
‘Sorry about that. My computer guy is kind of obsessed.’
Garcia had known that the team would need the camera footage available to them at all times, even when they weren’t in range of the boat’s wireless network. Rather than load the files onto each of their phones, Garcia had made the data available on a secure website that he had created. The information was streamed from his server, which was encrypted with so much security that it would take even the best hackers weeks to work their way through. Access to the site was normally limited to their personal devices, but Garcia had programmed a temporary password to allow partial access to the system.
Ulster was given the code, and he punched it in.
A moment later, he was scrolling through images.
‘These are spectacular,’ Ulster blurted.
‘So I’ve been told. But what do they mean?’
54
Cobb had spoken to Ulster on one previous occasion, and he had quickly learned that Ulster had the ability (and the desire) to talk about anything and everything under the sun. So he was more than a little surprised by the silence on the other end of the line.
‘Are you still there?’ Cobb wondered.
But Ulster didn’t respond. He was far too focused on the images on his computer screen to hear that question or any other that Cobb had asked.
‘Petr!’ Cobb shouted.
‘Hmmm, errr, what? Did you say something?’
‘I’ve been saying a lot of somethings, but you’ve been ignoring me for the past five minutes. If you keep it up, I’m going to shut down your access to the website.’
Ulster flushed with embarrassment. ‘Sorry, Jack. I truly am. Sometimes I’m like a horse with blinders: I only focus on what’s in front of me. That is particularly true when history is involved, and let me assure you: this is history.’
‘In what way?’
‘In every way!’ he said excitedly. ‘Hieroglyphs like this simply do not exist in the modern world. The clarity. The depth. It’s as if these were carved only yesterday. These symbols are utterly remarkable. Where did you find them?’
‘On a wall in the ancient cistern level of the city.’
‘Amazing. All this time and they were just waiting there, hidden under everyone’s feet. Tell me, is the wall recoverable in a single slab? Or will your team remove it in sections?’
‘Recoverable?’ Cobb blurted. It suddenly dawned on him that Ulster hadn’t connected the dots on his own. ‘Petr, listen to me. There’s no more wall. There are no more symbols. They don’t exist anymore. The bombs destroyed everything.’
Ulster’s heart sank. ‘Why would someone destroy something like this?’
Cobb rolled his neck. ‘Petr, that’s why I’m calling you. Our historian was in the middle of examining the wall when she was taken by the bombers. Without her, we don’t know what to make of this or why she was taken. I was hoping you could help.’
Now that Ulster understood what was being asked of him, and what was truly at stake, he took a long, hard look at the images. He started with the one that he felt had the most significance. ‘This glyph of the horned man symbolizes Alexander the Great. The protrusions are meant to evoke comparisons to Amun-Ra, the head of the Egyptian pantheon. Alexander considered himself the divine progeny of the creator.’