Part 3 (1/2)
”I agree, and the first land Thoth and company found would eventually become ancient Egypt.”
It all sounds plausible but, still a little far-fetched, I think.
I continue reading, ”A catastrophe occurred that forced them from their homeland that would also decimate the region and its land. This could be the reason for the water to recede and for the rivers to dry up. It also says that Thoth was a king before he became a G.o.d. He became a G.o.d because of the knowledge he gave the natives of the region.”
”So,” Dad deduces. ”A colossal natural disaster or something destroys an island kingdom to the west. Thoth, the king, leads his people across a sea to the land that would become Egypt. He gives his wisdom to the original inhabitants of the land and they make him a G.o.d.”
I shrug my shoulders, ”I guess it's possible.”
DING.
”We will now be making our decent.”
We land in Algiers, the capital of Algeria, without a hitch. There is barely a b.u.mp on the scorched runway and thank G.o.d for that, my receding headache could use the rest. I kind of figured landing this thing would be a cake walk compared to the bobbing and weaving we did earlier. I think back to this morning's events, not believing what happened.
The plane taxis to a stop and we are thanked for flying with them which I think is absurd, I should be bowing at and kissing the pilots feet right now for their efforts keeping me alive this morning. Things could have turned out much, much worse. Like, death-worse.
Between the half a day flying and the a.s.s kicking I endured I'm pretty well limping through the jet way. My head is pounding and my body is aching. At least when I would normally feel like this it would be after a late night out with the guys going bar hopping. Now...not so much. It feels like I went toe-to-toe with a rabid kangaroo on steroids. Thankfully for me there was less biting.
We make it through the first half of the airport without incident and arrive at baggage claim.
”So,” I ask. ”Who is your contact at the site?”
Dad answers without looking up from the conveyer belt, ”A local that was recommended to me from a colleague at the office. He came with very high praise.”
The office' is a nickname of sorts that he has given to his workplace, the Smithsonian Inst.i.tute, in Was.h.i.+ngton D.C.
The Smithsonian isn't just a museum--it's a collection of nineteen museums, nine research centers and of course you guessed it, a zoo. The main building, the Castle, was built in 1847 and is still its headquarters. It features the Smithsonian's information center and administrative offices, the latter of which is where Dad is employed. He's been a head researcher there for the last ten years after being one of their more respected historians and archaeologists.
Of the nineteen museums, eleven sit within the National Mall, which runs from the Lincoln Memorial to the United States Capital. Some of the Mall's more popular attractions are the National Museum of American History, the National Museum of Natural History, the National Air and s.p.a.ce Museum along with a variety of other museums, parks and memorials.
”What's his name?” I ask, not wanting to sound untrusting.
He looks up at me with an indifferent look on his face, ”Omar, his name is Omar.”
8.
924 miles south of Algiers is the small town of Djanet-an oasis of sorts-where it lies on the southwest border of the Ta.s.sili n'Ajjer National Park. The city has a population of roughly 15,000 people, which is made up of primarily the Kel Ajjer Taureg-a friendly and humble people. Djanet has been called The Jewel of the Desert' by travelers and the local economy relies heavily on tourism. There are no accommodations such as hotels, motels or bed and breakfasts, leaving only a camping site available to outsiders.
The park itself has many sites to visit, including, the Ta.s.sili rock paintings. It's one of the most visited spots in the entire region and has been labeled a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, The United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. UNESCO named it that because they feel that the geological formations and rock art have importance and value that is worth protecting.
Omar Jafari waited impatiently in the front seat of his heavily worn Land Rover, outside the Djanet airport. The abused air conditioning did its best to keep the ever increasing temperature at bay, but he knew that it wouldn't live for much longer. The vehicle had seen better days for sure.
He hated his job with an unbridled pa.s.sion. Traipsing all over the burning desert, brown-nosing rich, pompous Americans had worn on him over the years. Still, he knew the money was too good to pa.s.s up. Plus, this specific expedition was heading out to Ta.s.sili where a new ruin was uncovered by last week's sandstorm and they had promised twice his wage.
Why are they so h.e.l.l bent on getting to Ta.s.sili? Omar thought. It's just a bunch of weather worn rocks and dirt. Unless, this new discovery is more than it seems? We will have to just wait and see, now won't we?
Omar's phone rang.
”Yes?” He said answering it.
”Mr. Jafari, is that you? It's Dr. Boyd,” said the caller.
With a practiced reluctant joyfulness Omar replied, ”Why yes, Dr. Boyd, it is. Have you landed in Algiers?”
”Yes, we have. Is everything proceeding as scheduled?” asked his client.
Right to business as usual, Omar thought.
”Yes sir, it is. Your a.s.sistant is at the dig site as we speak, getting the excavation underway. There are teams of diggers working in s.h.i.+fts round-the-clock like you ordered and all the supplies you sent ahead are being unpacked and checked.”
”You're a good man, Omar.”
”Thank you, sir.”
They signed off a moment later.
Omar knew they had another 90 minute flight to Djanet to catch and then the Boyd's would arrive. He reclined his seat, turned the A.C. up to high and shut his eyes. He'd rest for another hour, hoping his AC wouldn't c.r.a.p out.
”Just think,” he muttered. ”By this time next week I'll be able to use this money and leave this h.e.l.lhole for good. I could move to Algiers maybe? Get a better, quieter job.”
He softly counted his new found wealth and drifted off to sleep remembering another obligation he needed to fill, a personal one.
9.
”Dad, you get your bags?” I ask, my rolling suitcase at the ready, carry-on slung over my shoulder.
My father double-checks that he has everything, nods and hangs up his phone.
”That was Omar. He's at the Djanet airport waiting for us,” he says.
”Already?” I ask. ”Man, this guy is punctual. He's two hours early.”
”Like I said before, he came highly recommended and-”
BOOM!.
Dad is cut off by a ma.s.sive explosion that rips through the concourse. Smoke and debris are thrown everywhere and people lay all over the place. Some of those people aren't moving.
”Mother-”