Sam took a deep breath. “How did it work?”
“The Master Builders forged seven different masks. Within each was stored a very precise code in the form of weight, individual materials used, and conductivity. Each mask could be used as an individual key to unlock an ancient vault of knowledge. It takes two keys, a combination of any two of them, to open the chamber door.”
Sam arched his eyebrow. “The Master Builders wanted us to work together?”
Goddard nodded. “It would appear so.”
“But not all seven species?”
“No. I believe they had the foresight to understand that was never possible.”
“So why two? Why not three or four… or, simply one — Homo sapiens?”
“I’ve given this some thought over the years…” Goddard steepled his long, bony fingers, his eyes staring in the distance. “Do you know that more than two percent of today’s population has some Neanderthal DNA?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t know it was that high.”
“I wonder if the ancient Master Builders, assuming they did indeed have a plan, hoped to blend two species together to make a more efficient species.”
“It’s a definite possibility, but while we’re going down that path, why not assume that they wanted all seven species to genetically merge?”
Goddard laughed. When he stopped he looked down his long nose, over his spectacles and fixed his blue eyes on Sam. “What’s to say that it hasn’t?”
Sam realized this line of reasoning could easily go on for days. Returning to the problem at hand, he asked, “So if the leaders — or whatever one wanted to call the brightest minds at the time roughly a hundred thousand years ago — were told that all they needed to do was acquire two or more keys and they would be granted access to the most extraordinary horde of knowledge, and the power that such a thing brings, why didn’t they?”
“Why didn’t they simply get along with each other so that they could open the vault?” Goddard’s lips formed a condescending smile. “Have you learnt nothing about the human race?”
“No, I’m saying, what have they been doing in the last hundred thousand years? I mean, you take any other form of wealth, such as gold for an example. People simply take it. Wars are fought, religions form to gather it, people are betrayed — somehow, in one way or another, I find it impossible to believe that one species simply never managed to get control of the two masks.”
“Ah, I see what you mean now.” Goddard nodded, looking, to Sam at least, more and more like an erudite wizard about to enlighten him. “You see, the Master Builders, in their infinite wisdom, decided to bury each mask in a different location around the globe, so that as the species evolved, and became more industrialized, they would discover the masks.”
Sam started to see it now, the fog of mystery finally lifting its haze. “How many masks have been found?”
Goddard set his jaw. “Until recently, only one. The Homo sapiens mask. The one that I possess and must protect for all our sake.”
Sam knew that Sandi Larson hadn’t told anyone about the mask yet. “You said, until recently… what’s changed?”
“Three months ago, I received an urgent message. Someone in Venice had died and all of his varied possessions were to be auctioned. One of those items was a Homo naledi mask. By the time I received the message, there was only one flight to take to reach Venice in time — thus someone forced me to board Phoenix Airlines Flight 318.”
“What are you saying… you were tricked into boarding that flight specifically, with a fake Eternity Mask?”
Goddard nodded. “I was tricked all right, there was no auction — the collector who had apparently died never even existed, but the Homo naledi mask was real.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ve seen an image of all seven masks.”
“Really? How did that happen?”
“My father took a photo of all seven of them — actually, paintings of them displayed on a wall in a cave where he found the mask, back in 1925. He actually took a photograph with what was considered the quite revolutionary Leitz camera. The photos are black and white and of a poor quality. But the shapes are indisputable.”
“Do you have a copy of the photograph?”
Goddard pulled up his smartphone, searched his image folders, and handed it to him. “Here, have a look at this. In the cave where my father took it, he said the entire wall had a strange purple hue to it.”
Sam took the cell phone and stared at the image.
It was identical to the one that he’d developed from a Kodak 620 Duo camera found in the cockpit of what appeared to be Amelia Earhart’s Electra.
“Has anyone else seen this?” Sam asked.
“No one who’s still alive. My father died years ago, and my back up plan was for Lorenzo De Luca to inherit the mask — and with it, my problem.”
Sam said, “Therefore, whoever set you up with the Homo naledi mask was the real deal. They know about the game, and they’re willing to stop at nothing to get it.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. Even though we’re down to just the human race, there’s nothing to stop someone ruthlessly stealing the information from the ancient chamber — and with that sort of power, who knows what they’re capable of.”
“Of course… whoever’s responsible has some serious financial backing to be capable of hijacking a passenger plane and then return it in three months…” Sam stopped.
Goddard met his face. “What is it?”
“I just thought of something…”
“What?”
“How did THEY know that you were going to be on that flight?”
Goddard shuffled in his seat. “Oh, that’s easy. They sent me a link to the auction in Venice with a picture of the Homo naledi mask.”
“No, no… I get that. What I’m trying to work out, is how did they know that you had the Homo neanderthalensis mask? And for that matter that you were in New York at the time?”
Goddard licked his dry lips. His face reddened. He expelled a small breath. “Look. In that respect I played into their plans like a fool.”
“How?”
“The Homo naledi mask wasn’t the first fake auction they’d set up.”
“It wasn’t?”
“No. They had one depicting a Homo sapiens mask being auctioned in New York. It was well advertised around the world. They gave plenty of time, so that anyone who knew about the mask would immediately recognize it. There were about sixty people who flew into New York specifically to buy that mask. Sixty possible candidates.”
Sam said, “Go on.”
“The auction finished at 3:25 p.m. Ten minutes later, someone came into the room and advised that there was a similar mask, this one depicting a Homo floresiensis. By the time I had called the airlines company to try and find a flight, Phoenix Airlines Flight 318 was the only one available. In retrospect, I see now that THEY had used a sieving technique to get everyone and anyone who knew anything about the seven sacred masks on that flight. They had no way of knowing who knew something and more importantly, who had one of the remaining six masks.”
Sam was intrigued. “How did they get control of the plane?”
Goddard closed his eyes, as though he was back on the plane. The lines around his face deepened and darkened. “THEY drugged us. Something in the ventilation system I’d guess. There was a strong and sweet taste in the air. At first, I thought it was the cognac I’d had, but looking back on it now, I suppose it could have been some sort of ether — they use that in anesthetics, don’t they?”