Seven Ancient Wonders - Matthew Reilly [126]
Del Piero gasped, ‘Koenig and Hessler. The two Nazi explorers. . . ’
‘Colonel Judah!’ Cal Kallis called from the rear of the Land Cruiser. He stood by the boot of the big four-wheel drive, having opened the steel case there, revealing the Artemis Piece. ‘We have the Europeans’ Piece. We also have the boy . . . and a couple of West’s people.’
Kallis held Alexander out in front of him. His men covered the handcuffed Wizard, Zoe and Fuzzy.
Judah grinned. ‘Why, Father del Piero, what possible reason could you have for bringing these good people along on your mission? I imagine it will be exactly the same reason I will keep you with me.’
Del Piero’s eyes went wide with fear.
Judah enjoyed it. ‘What does the Bible say? Do unto others as you would have them do to you. How ironic.’
He beheld the boy. So did the Nazi, Koenig.
‘So this is him. The son of the Oracle. Alexander, I believe,’ Judah bowed respectfully. ‘My name is Marshall Judah, from the United States of America. It’s my honour to make your acquaintance.’
The boy—completely fearlessly—returned his gaze evenly, but said nothing.
Judah said, ‘It’s also my honour to present to you, for the first time, your sister.’
With that, Judah stepped aside, to reveal, standing shyly behind him, with her legs nervously crossed and her head bowed: Lily.
In the pre-dawn, a dense low mist hung over Luxor.
Through this unnatural haze moved a convoy of heavy vehicles, their headlights casting beams of light.
It was the American force, rushing toward the Luxor Temple.
The Temple sat beside the Nile—with its immense pylon gateway guarded by two colossal statues of Rameses II, seated on identical thrones, and its obelisk standing proudly but alone out in front, its twin long since removed to Paris.
The convoy of US vehicles included Humvees, jeeps, motorcycles, a single Apache helicopter overhead, and in the middle of it all, a long lumbering flat-bed semi-trailer, on which sat a large folded-up crane.
At the Temple, under the glare of floodlights, the Americans raised the mobile crane alongside the still-standing obelisk, in the exact spot where the obelisk’s identical twin had once stood.
The crane was a cherry-picker, not unlike those used by electricity workers to fix power lines, with a basket at its summit big enough for three or four men. Judah, Kallis and Koenig were raised up in it.
‘Herr Koenig,’ Judah said. ‘You have your copy of your colleague’s diary?’
The old hunched-over Koenig held up his own secretly-made copy of Hessler’s diary. ‘As always, Herr Judah,’ he hissed.
As they rose up the flank of the existing obelisk, analysing the many hieroglyphs on its sides, Koenig flipped to the relevant page in the diary:
FROM THE SECRET GOSPEL OF ST MARK
AT DAWN ON THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT,
THAT FINAL HORRIBLE DAY,
AT THE ONLY TEMPLE THAT BEARS BOTH THEIR NAMES,
THREAD THE POWER OF RA THROUGH THE EYES OF
GREAT RAMESES’S TOWERING NEEDLES,
FROM THE SECOND OWL ON THE FIRST
TO THE THIRD ON THE SECOND . . .
. . . WHEREBY THE TOMB OF ISKENDER WILL BE REVEALED.
THERE YOU WILL FIND THE FIRST PIECE.
At the summit of the lone obelisk they found three carved owls, seated side-by-side. There, just as West had done on the Paris Obelisk, Judah extracted a little plug-stone from a carving of the Sun above the second owl. He found a second plug on the other side, and removed it too—
—to reveal a bore-hole running horizontally through the obelisk, from east to west . . . again, just as West had found in Paris.
Judah then had his crane-basket brought over to where the summit of the other obelisk—the one now in Paris—would have stood.
‘You have the measurements, Herr Koenig?’
‘To the millimetre, Herr Judah.’
And so, using a caesium altimeter and a digital inclinometer to get the angles and the height absolutely correct, they erected a pipe-like cylinder on a tripod in their basket. They erected it horizontally,