Conspiracy of Bones (And the Beat Goes On) Page 10

  He froze for a second, his mind having a knee jerk reaction to its own meanderings.

  Now where had that come from? Amy Walters was just a kid - his little sister’s friend. Someone he used to babysit. And what kind of man was he anyway, to be thinking of one woman after having just made love to another?

  His family would indeed be disappointed if they knew just how far he had fallen.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mark stepped out of the storage compound and let his eyes adjust to the brightness of the sun. The facility was being systematically emptied and its contents shipped. Anthony, a few metres away, waved and stopped his own progress to wait for Mark.

  “Looks like today might be the day," Anthony said.

  Mark nodded. "I was worried we’d never get that casket out in time. But it looks promising. Now I just have to make sure the final arrangements for the airlift are in place. Our mystery man is about to make his first overseas flight to Albuquerque."

  "You’re going with?" Anthony asked.

  "You bet I am. I’m letting it out of my sight.“ Mark hesitated before continuing. "Before I forget, I have a book I think you might be interested in. My father lent it to me.”

  "What kind of book?”

  "Come on and I’ll show you."

  They strode with purpose to Mark’s quarters and ducked under the flap. Mark found the book where he’d left it right beside his bed and handed it over to Anthony for inspection. "A pretty interesting read, if I do say so.”

  Anthony perused the cover and nodded. "Thanks man. I’ll return it when I’m finished."

  "According to the author, our find isn’t so unique after all. There have been lots of dinosaur remains found with more, so called, modern species."

  "Just like Rocco said.”

  “Right. There are all sorts of discrepancies. Human remains in layers labelled millions of years old. Fossils of modern horses alongside their ancient ancestors - all kinds of discrepancies in the geologic layer that are either ignored, hidden, or otherwise explained away by elaborate means."

  The two men stepped back out into the African sun, and mark continued, “After reading that book, I’m beginning to wonder if Rocco’s conspiracy theories aren’t so off base. Did you know that scores of fraudulent ‘missing links’ that were documented as fact and then found to be untrue are still being used in reference books?”

  "Really? You don’t say."

  "Absolutely. Take for instance, Neanderthal man. Although the scientific world has long since dismissed that discovery as a fake, most of the general population still believes it to be a fact. And get this. Modern DNA testing has even proved the impossibility of any link between bipedal primates thus discovered and man. Yet there are some less scrupulous scientists out there, with federal backing I might add, that are willing to tweak their findings just a bit in order to fit them into acceptable theories. As a strict follower of scientific methodology myself, that really irks me! That’s not even science."

  "Sounds like a pretty fascinating read," Anthony noted with upraised brows. "Certainly caught your interest, anyway."

  Mark allowed a smile to pierce his features. “I guess I was getting pretty excited, wasn’t I? It’s why I thought you might want to read it. I’d appreciate your thoughts on the subject once you’re through."

  They parted ways with a wave and Mark entered the lab where Laura was hard at work.

  "You’re looking much more chipper this morning," she noted, looking up from her computer.

  "I’m feeling better, too," Mark replied. "Probably the fact that we should be able to recover that casket today."

  "That is good news. What were you and Anthony having such a heated discussion about just now?"

  "You heard us?”

  "The walls are only made of canvas," she reminded.

  "Oh, just some research I’ve been doing." He looked over her shoulder at the computer screen. "What are you working on?"

  "I think I have a plausible explanation for the Reptilian remains," she said.

  "Okay," he nodded. "I’m listening."

  "Well, since there is a fair bit of seismic activity in this region, that well preserved headpiece we saw in the casket could well have been buried and almost instantly freeze dried during one of the ice ages. Eons later, more seismic activity reopened the long buried remains, which the people of the region must have come across. They then used them in their ceremonial burials. It’s probably how the whole legend started."

  Mark raised his brows. "That’s a fairly elaborate explanation. What’s wrong with just accepting that there could have been a Pterodactyl like reptile alive at the same time as the humans living in the region? Scientists are discovering new life forms in the jungles of South America practically every day. Why are we so reticent to admit that there could be dinosaur like creatures that lived contemporaneously with man?"

  Laura gave him a withering look. "I thought we’d been through this."

  "What?" Mark crossed his arms. "Did you know that there are numerous documented cases of human remains found in geologic layers where they’re not supposed to be? Take for instance, a site in Germany where a human skull was found buried in the layers of coal. Coal! You know how many millions of years old that’s supposed to be? Or in Texas, remains that are clearly human were found in the same geologic layer as long extinct fossil remains. There are dozens of discrepancies. Recognizably modern birds have been found side by side with, oh… what’s the name of it?” He frowned, snapping his fingers and then his face cleared. "Archaeopteryx, that’s what it’s called."

  Laura blinked, her eyes wide. “What on earth are you talking about?"

  "Archaeopteryx. The supposed link between flying reptiles and birds," Mark explained.

  Laura held up her hands and shook her head. “Listen to yourself! If these finds are so well documented, why aren’t they common knowledge?”

  “Well -”

  She interrupted him. “Just think about it. You’ve been doing a little reading from a book written by who? Some quack who has a questionable background in science, with degrees from some obscure university that nobody’s heard of, and who obviously has a religious agenda behind it all."

  Mark frowned. “How do you know what I’ve been reading?”

  "I saw the book by your cot," Laura answered. "I have been in your quarters since you’ve been home, just in case you’ve forgotten," she added sarcastically.

  “And?" Mark felt the tick in his own jaw as he waited for the rest.

  “I looked the author up on the internet. His credibility is iffy, at best."

  Mark felt suddenly deflated. And foolish.

  "I’m worried about you, Mark.” Laura put a hand on his forearm. "You’ve got your reputation to think about."

  Mark inhaled deeply. “So what you’re saying is, I should just turn a blind eye to anything that might raise a few eyebrows and pretend it never existed.”

  "Well, no. Not exactly," Laura replied.

  "No? Then what are you saying, Laura? I’m a little confused here.”

  “Just don’t go making any claims that you can’t verify one hundred percent.”

  "I wouldn’t do that," Mark retorted. "It’s not my style and you know it. But I’m not going to make up a bunch of complicated hooey just to save face either.”

  "Well, don’t go looking for trouble, then.”

  "You mean, ignore the facts, if necessary."

  Laura let out another exasperated sigh. "You’re impossible!" Turning, she stormed out of the lab.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  With no further incident, the casket of the mysterious king was brought to the surface. It was the moment of triumph Mark had been straining toward for weeks. He thought he might burst with it.

  "Okay, people," he called out to the crowd of onlookers. Every single person who was part of the archaeological team had gathered at the entrance to the tunnels. "Make way. We need to get the king, here, to the lab for some initial analysis. I
want all the stats, pronto! Photos, measurements, skin and hair samples - everything within the next hour! And don’t forget a sample from the reptilian headdress.”

  "What’s the rush?" Laura asked, frowning. "I thought the chopper wasn’t coming until the day after tomorrow?"

  “That’s what I wanted everyone to believe. It might actually arrive as early as this afternoon."

  "What?" Laura practically choked on the word. “Why?”

  ”I told you before. I’m worried that the authorities are going to put the clamp down on removing artefacts from the country. A little innocent mix up in paper work is my insurance that I get him back to New Mexico in one piece for some proper analysis."

  "You’re as paranoid as Rocco, for heaven’s sake! This isn’t some spy movie, Mark. We’re scientists and this is an archaeological dig. Remember?"

  He gave her an icy stare. "Get to work, please, Doctor Sawchuk. We might not have all day."

  The team worked efficiently to get the requested statistical information and samples and the casket was resealed and readied for transport. It was first vacuum-sealed in a protective, heat, fire and moisture resistant shroud. Then it was placed in a large wooden crate, surrounded with several feet of foam. Once air lifted by helicopter to Harare, it would be placed inside a metal container and flown the rest of the way to New Mexico.

  The crate was resting on the back of a flat bed truck, awaiting the arrival of the helicopter. The tension around the camp was palpable. There was still a lot of work to be done, but everyone seemed preoccupied with anticipation.

  Mark was packed and ready himself. He wasn’t about to let this find out of his sight. He gathered together the crew chiefs to give them some final instructions before his departure. "Laura, you’ll be in charge of the final cataloguing and crating of the artefacts. Joey, you and Rocco look after getting that tunnel sealed off so no would-be raiders come and disturb the site after we’re gone. Hopefully the government will do a proper refit and will make the site accessible to the public. We’ve already got the schematics of the site mapped out and catalogued, but there might be a few additions now that the initial tunnelling has been disturbed. If any government officials come by asking questions, plead ignorance. But I want this site ship shape, sealed off and ready to leave in their hands with no glitches by the time the dead line is up."

  "Aren’t you coming back?" Rocco asked.

  "I’m not sure,” Mark answered. “It’s my intention to, but I’m just not sure what’s going to happen once I get to Albuquerque. I want everything wrapped up nice and tidy just in case I don’t."

  "Great. So you’re leaving us to deal with irate government officials," Laura said. "Once they find out we’ve hauled everything off to the States, they’re not going to be happy."

  "I’ll deal with it," Mark assured. "You must see there’s no other way?"

  Laura just shrugged.

  "So? Any other questions or concerns?" Mark asked, looking around the group. A slight smile suddenly turned up the corners of his mouth as he cocked his head to one side. "Is that a helicopter I hear in the distance?" He shielded his eyes from the sun as he scanned the sky.

  The rest of them heard it, too. The distinct double chop-chop of the huge propellers on a military type helicopter used for transporting cargo to remote locations. The crowd gathered again, as the giant locust came into view, scattering just enough for safety’s sake once the beast was close to touching down.

  Mark waited as the whirling knives at the crown and tail of the vehicle slowed and the door was thrown open. He walked forward to greet the pilot, a trusted member of the underground opposition. Suddenly, the smile that had formed on his lips froze. Several men in green camouflage army fatigues stepped out, automatic weapons trained and ready.

  They advanced forward with crouching gait, sweeping the area with their eyes, weapons never straying from the locked in position by their sides. Mark blinked nervously, raising his hands slightly for lack of a better idea. Finally, a well suited government official, a man whom Mark had dealt with quite pleasantly on several occasions, stepped down from the now immobile chopper. He surveyed his surroundings and with a raised hand gave the signal for the soldiers to lower their weapons.

  With a sigh of relief, Mark lowered his own hands as well. "Mr. Sangeruka," he called out, trying for pleasant nonchalance. "This is a rather unexpected surprise. Don’t you think the armed guards are a bit much, considering this is a government sponsored archaeological dig?"

  The official glared back at Mark, his eyes never wavering, his mouth never cracking a smile. "We need to talk, Dr. Graham."

  "Fine. Shall we step out of the sun?" Mark suggested with a gesture.

  Without warning, an engine roared to life. All eyes swung in the direction of the sound as a cloud of dust and rocks sprayed up from spinning tires. Someone had commandeered the truck that held the casket! Shouts and gunshots rang out but the truck was already swerving crazily around the side of the mountain, out of sight.

  Mark sped toward another jeep and vaulted inside, searching frantically for the keys. A spurt of machine gun fire pelted the air and he looked up to see the government official with his hand in the air, gesturing for calm.

  "Let him go," Mr. Sangeruka yelled. "He won’t get far on these mountain roads. We’ll cut him off before he gets down the side of the mountain."

  "But the casket!" Mark shouted. "What if it gets damaged? What if he has an accident?"

  "That is out of your hands, now," Mr. Sangeruka said pointedly. "It is not your property. It belongs to the people."

  "But…” Mark surveyed the crowd of gaping spectators. His eyes searched and catalogued every face. Who was missing? Then it came to him. Rocco. His mouth became a grim line. He unfolded himself slowly from the jeep and stepped onto the dusty ground.

  "We would ask that your crew pack up their personal belongings as quickly as possible. Transport trucks will be arriving tomorrow to take them from the site."

  "What’s going on here?" Mark asked, his eyes steel.

  "The government of the people is taking over the rest of the operation of this sacred and holy site," Mr. Sangeruka explained quite calmly. "Any equipment that belongs to you or your governments will be shipped to you at a later date. We will also be launching an official requisition order. All missing artefacts must be returned immediately to their place of origin. As for you, Dr. Graham. You are under arrest."

  Chapter Twelve

  It was like a terrible nightmare. Soldiers watched Mark as he unpacked his personal belongings for their perusal and then repacked it all again. At one point he tried to make eye contact with Laura; to try to tell her to get the skin and hair samples out - somehow.

  But he was never given the chance. Before the eyes of the rest of the team, he was hand cuffed and pushed unceremoniously into the waiting helicopter. Several soldiers were dispatched to stay behind until the rest of the transportation trucks arrived. But in the meantime, Mr. Sangeruka was anxious to get his prisoner safely back to Harare. Not to mention the fact that they still had a thief to catch.

  With a deafening whir of propellers, the helicopter lifted off. Mark watched out the window as the archaeological site became a tiny cluster of doll sized tents and roped off squares. The people below scurried about like ants. Soon they were out of sight all together as the chopper gained altitude and swung around to the north.

  The treacherous alpine road leading to the nearest airstrip wound around the side of the mountain like a snake. Mark strained forward to see if he could catch any signs of Rocco and the flatbed truck. Where did Rocco think he was going with that casket, anyway? Didn’t he know there was no way he could outrun them? And even if he managed to hide in the hills for a few days, he was still going to need to surface at some point. He’d never be able to transport a package that size anywhere without alerting the authorities somehow. Whatever his former friend and colleague’s plan, it wasn’t very well thought out, that’s for sure.


  They spotted the errant vehicle a few moments later, just up ahead, still creating a cloud of dust in its wake as it careened along the side of the mountain. The helicopter swooped down to overtake the truck. Mr. Sangeruka signalled for one of his soldiers to fire on the vehicle.

  Mark protested loudly, but his voice was caught in the combination of propeller chops and gunfire that spewed from the armed man’s weapon.

  This was no action movie, Mark realized with sickening clarity. There would be no near misses as bullets inexplicably ricocheted off their intended target. No. With the very first ejaculation of the automatic weapon, the tires on the truck blew apart, sending the vehicle swerving uncontrollably on the narrow roadway below. Then, with the grace of a slow motion replay, the truck veered off the edge of the cliff, bouncing and bumping like a toy, end over end. Mark caught a glimpse of the crate flying gracefully through the air and disappearing into the brush below. He thought he might pass out.

  "Don’t worry, Dr. Graham," Mr. Sangeruka shouted above the din. "We’ll send a crew to recover the remains. For now, I think we’d be better off getting you to Harare."

  Idiot. Didn’t he realize the priceless nature of the cargo he had just sent off the cliff?

  Not to mention, another man’s life. Rocco had some quirks, that was for sure, but Mark felt more certain than ever he had just been trying to protect the discovery from getting into the wrong hands. Apparently he was correct in trying to do so.

  Once the helicopter touched down at the military airport on the outskirts of Harare, Mark was practically thrown from the aircraft and pushed, headfirst, into a waiting dark blue Escalade. His duffel bag of belongings, along with the saxophone case, were thrown in beside him on the back seat.

  Didn’t people learn how to drive in Africa, he wondered? The government official in the front seat seemed unfazed by the way the driver careened through the streets of the city, nearly missing pedestrians and other vehicles alike.

  "So what am I being charged with?" Mark asked flatly. He was still reeling from the knowledge that Rocco was dead and the casket probably lost forever.