Cainan smiled. “Tick tock.”
Alpha matched the smile. “He’ll waste no time tracking her down.”
After the pair left the cell, Alpha whispered to the walls. The stone shook and stretched out. Soon, all but a small slit merged into solid stone. A noise from the central chamber caught their attention. They hurried back to find Mahaleel studying the inscriptions on the walls.
“This is fascinating,” Mahaleel said as the others entered.
“Do you have it?” Alpha asked, his impatience oozing from every syllable.
Mahaleel was unfazed. He waggled his finger toward one of the research tables. “There.”
Alpha found a padded satchel on the table, opened it, and began unwrapping the object contained within.
“Have you deciphered all of this?” Mahaleel asked.
“Of course,” Adam said, also sounding annoyed, but not being preoccupied with opening the package, he turned and faced Mahaleel, who had been joined by Cainan in his inspection of the walls. “But there was nothing to be learned. It is a warning, carved into the stones after the language fracture.” Adam waved his small arm in the air dramatically quoting: “‘The language of the ancients has been diluted. May each tongue carry its knowledge with wisdom lest the wrath of the Originator’—capital O—‘whose will can protect or destroy all things, return to this world. Do not be corrupted by temptation. For if his words are used for evil again, the guardians shall descend from on high and lay waste to the tainted.’ It carries on like that all around the room. Fire and brimstone.”
“Who is the Originator?” Mahaleel asked.
“God,” Adam replied.
Cainan turned away from his close inspection of the hieroglyphs. “Have we considered that the Originator spoken of on these walls might not be God?” The others, even Alpha, looked at him. “What if the Originator was a man? After all, what we’re attempting is nothing less.”
Alpha nodded and held out the stone tablet that Mahaleel had brought. It contained an inscription readable only to those whose understanding of the ancient language was comprehensive. And right now, only Alpha and Adam could claim such understanding. The key to unlock the human mind was in their grasp. “Thanks to Merlin, we are one step closer.” He turned his head to Adam’s. “Our time is near.”
FOUND
SIXTY
Haifa, Israel
STANDING NEAR THE top of Mount Carmel, the Crown Plaza Hotel looked like a stark white modern-art waffle. At road level it stood five stories tall, much of it used up by the lobby. Five more floors were hidden in the rear as the building descended the mountain’s slope.
King and Alexander had parked several blocks away and walked to the hotel, winding their way through a confusing maze of streets and alleys surrounding the hotel, just in case they had a tail. As they walked the final block, the hotel clearly in view, King decided to broach yet another topic he’d been wondering about.
He ran a hand through his hair and asked, “You’ve been alive for what, twenty-five hundred years?”
“Give or take a few decades,” Alexander replied with a grin, a lit cigar clenched between his teeth.
“And in that time, you’ve done what? Other than the myths you’re known for, have you been anyone else in history?” A straight answer might not help him figure out exactly what Alexander was up to now, but it might give him some indication about the kind of man he was, or had been.
“You mean, have I been anyone important? A king. A general.”
King just waited for an answer.
“George Washington.”
As King whipped his head toward Alexander the man burst out laughing.
“I was being serious,” King said, realizing a straight answer out of Alexander might be more impossible than cracking the secret of immortality, which to his knowledge had been accomplished twice already. He stepped ahead of Alexander and opened the hotel’s front door. “After you, Mr. President.” Alexander snubbed out the cigar in the hotel’s outdoor ashtray and entered the hotel. King gave the street and parking lot a quick glance. No one had followed them. Not that he could see, anyway.
The hotel lobby was four stories tall capped by a grand arched ceiling. Tall windows and an array of sconces flooded the gaping space with light. Four palm trees, covered in white lights, stood in the center. It looked one part Hollywood at Christmas and one part opulent Arabian palace. King was fond of neither look, but still could not take his eyes off the surreal lobby. He had waited outside when they dropped Davidson off and had yet to see the hotel’s interior.
“You haven’t answered my question,” King said. But Alexander just kept on walking, heading straight for the elevator.
Alexander entered the elevator and hit the button for the fifth floor, which was directly over the lobby. He didn’t even acknowledge that King had spoken.
Growing impatient, King said, “Have you done anything meaningful with your life? Cured a disease? Freed an oppressed people? Anything at all?”
Alexander remained stoic.
“You haven’t, have you?” King grew angry at the thought. Alexander had infinite resources, a devout following of Herculean Society members, immortality, and a genius intellect; nothing should have been out of reach for him. “In twenty-five hundred years you haven’t done a damn thing.”
Alexander looked at him with a smile. “I can tell you one thing I’ve done,” he said. “I’ve learned to not let angry men with no concept of time ruffle my feathers. One hundred years from now, I will have all but forgotten this conversation. I live outside your understanding of time. Like a chess player, I can set things in motion and not see the resulting goal until several moves later, which for me could be hundreds of years. Sometimes longer.”
“Then why do you give a damn about what’s happening now?”
“Because my opponent is cheating.”
At least it was an answer, King thought, though he knew it was only a half-truth, if that.
A digital chime rang out and the doors opened. Alexander exited the elevator and headed down the hall. King followed behind him, thinking about what he’d said. Could his endgame be hundreds of years off? If so, did it really even matter? King would be long dead and the human race was likely to nuke itself into oblivion by then. Or was it all a smoke screen? Was the endgame just around the corner and Ridley’s actions putting it in jeopardy? Alexander might be working toward something begun during the time of Jesus. King shook his head. Ignorance was bliss, which was why he was starting to feel so unhappy.
Alexander knocked on the door of suite 907. They could hear movement behind the door. Davidson was no doubt peering at them through the peephole. The deadbolt slid away and the door opened a crack. The chain lock kept it from opening all the way.
Davidson peeked out at them, his eyes nervous.
“It’s us,” King assured him.
“Right. Sorry.” The door shut and the chain was pulled away. Davidson opened the door again and let them in.
It was a large hotel room, standard in most every way—queen-sized bed, a TV, a single lounge chair, and a small desk. What made it different from other hotel rooms was the glossy hardwood floor, the large window split into large waffle squares, and the amazing view of the Mediterranean it provided. The desk was covered in hotel stationery. Notes in Hebrew and mathematical equations covered the pages. Several room service trays holding half-eaten food sat on the still-made checkered bedspread.
Davidson closed the door behind them, locked both locks, and headed to the desk. He sat down, looking disheveled. His face, which had been smooth the previous day, was rough with stubble, and his yellow dress shirt was wrinkled and covered in a big red stain. King took note of the stain.