The Eye of Heaven by Clive Cussler
Lazlo took a shaky step back. Sam inched forward and knelt in front of the six-foot-square depression and then turned to Remi. “Do you have your knife with you? Afraid I left mine at the motel,” he confessed.
“No well-dressed girl goes tunnel crawling without one,” she said, and handed it to him. He unfolded the five-inch blade and locked it into place, then leaned forward, one hand steadying himself against the edge of the depression, and stabbed it into the dirt in front of him. The knife penetrated into the ground. He sawed with it, then removed the knife and handed it back to her.
“Whatever it is, it’s too hard to cut.” He took the handle of his long aluminum flashlight and pounded on the ground. The unmistakable hollow sound of a cavity answered him. After a final thump for good measure, he stood and nodded.
“Let’s get some wood from the research tent and put it across this area. What do you want to bet when we excavate it, we’ll find a deep hole with a lot of very sharp objects at the bottom? Obsidian blades or spears? It’s a drop trap.”
Antonio and Sam went for the planks left over from the shoring project while Lazlo, Maribela, and Remi waited by the depression. They returned with four planks, easily long enough to span the area. Lazlo helped Antonio set them in place, and Sam tested the makeshift bridge before walking across.
“Mind that you don’t slip off. Could be fatal,” Lazlo warned.
At the end of the tunnel they found themselves facing a large carved doorway sealed with stone bricks, carefully mortared in place rather than the haphazard rockwork of the other crypt. Antonio and Lazlo went back to the ladder, mounted it in search of tools, and returned with the picks.
The brick barrier proved more solid than the other, but in half an hour the first stone block shifted, quickly followed by three more. They redoubled their efforts and soon had an aperture large enough to squeeze through. Remi and Lazlo led the way, Maribela behind her with the lamp, while Sam and Antonio relaxed.
“Oh my . . . this looks like the real thing,” Remi said, her hushed voice still audible in the confined space. Sam shouldered his way into the vault, where Remi was gazing at an ornate sarcophagus resting on a pedestal—but unlike the platform above, this one was covered in carved figures. Sam approached her and regarded the top of the coffin while Lazlo did a slow scan of the otherwise empty room, his flashlight eventually coming to rest on the pictographs adorning the sides and top of the sarcophagus.
“Who wants to help get this open?” Sam asked.
Antonio and Lazlo moved to the opposite side and nodded at him. Lazlo set his flashlight on the stone floor. “Ready when you are, old boy. But it looks heavy.”
“Hey, your sister and I can help, too. Move over, Fargo,” Remi said, and slid next to Sam. Maribela joined Antonio and Lazlo on the other side and, on Sam’s nod, they heaved.
The lid moved a few inches. They tried again, and then again, each effort edging it farther open. When they’d cleared two feet of space, they stopped and Remi directed her flashlight inside.
Remi gasped, as did Maribela. Sam let loose a low whistle and stepped closer.
“The legends were true,” he said quietly, his hand on Remi’s shoulder.
The figure was mummified, but his long red beard and hair were intact, carefully braided in an ornate style, with small jewels woven into the strands. He wore a tunic of chain mail, a classic Viking helmet, and had a steel sword clenched in one hand and a spear in the other. A battle-axe rested by his side and a shield covered his lower legs.
Antonio regarded the length of the sarcophagus. “What do you think he was? Hundred eighty centimeters? Assuming his body stretches the full length of the coffin.”
“More like six feet something. He was tall, that’s for sure. A Viking,” Sam said.
Maribela looked at him strangely. “You seem so sure.”
Sam told them about the longship on Baffin Island and their eyes widened.
“So that’s why you were so interested in the legend,” Antonio said. “You knew it likely corresponded with fact.”
“Yes,” Sam admitted. “And now we have further proof that the cultures overlapped in ways nobody’s ever imagined.”
“Look at this,” Lazlo said, shining his flashlight on the underside of the coffin lid. “There’s an inscription.”
“What does it say?” Remi asked.
He studied it for several long seconds before answering. “I can’t be sure. My runic alphabet’s a mite rusty, but, on first glance, it looks like a eulogy of some sort. I’ll need to see the entire thing to be able to do a reasonable translation.”
“Could you do it from a photograph of the interior lid and another one of the part that’s exposed at the foot of the sarcophagus?” Remi asked.
“I suppose so. Care to do the honors?” Lazlo invited. Remi slid her phone into the spacious coffin and took several photographs, then repeated the process with the exposed underside of the lid. When she was done, she photographed the entire exterior of the sarcophagus as the rest of them studied the carvings on the walls.
“Bit odd that there’s no booty, isn’t it? Didn’t the legend specify an emerald the size of a small car?” Lazlo asked.
“It did. But that could be an exaggeration. I don’t see anything in here. Do you?” Sam asked. Both Antonio and Maribela shook their heads. Maribela played her light across an elaborate pictograph.
“This appears to tell the story of Quetzalcoatl’s conquest of a large Mayan city. Maybe Chichen Itza.”
Antonio pointed to the series of carvings next to it. “And here . . . It’ll require further study, but it seems like this chronicles the move of the Toltec capital, or perhaps it’s the seat of power, to the Mayan city. And look! This symbolizes Quetzalcoatl’s exile from the Toltec capital . . . and . . . his death.”
“Lazlo, if I haven’t told you yet today, you’re absolutely brilliant,” Remi said.
“I never get tired of hearing it, although it’s a bit of an overstatement,” Lazlo said, pinpoints of color blossoming on his cheeks.
Sam turned to her. “It would have never occurred to us that the other tomb was a decoy.”
Antonio shook his head in awe. “This is really incredible. The more I study these pictographs, the less I feel like I know about the Toltecs. Their trading sphere was apparently much more extensive than we believed.”
Remi tapped the side of the coffin. “Remember that the legend says that Quetzalcoatl wandered in the wilderness for years after leaving Tollan.”
“Figuring all this out will be a life’s ambition. A dream, really, for both me and my sister,” Antonio said.
Lazlo smiled. “Well, I’d say you more than have your work cut out for you.”
They admired the carvings for several more minutes and then Sam glanced at his watch. “I suggest that we wind this up for the evening and return tomorrow morning to do a more thorough inventory and catalog all of the carvings. I don’t see anything else, do you?”
Antonio shook his head. “No. Still, this is a historical treasure without precedent. It will change the history of my people. Whether or not there’s an Eye of Heaven, today is a miraculous day by any measure.”
Lazlo nodded. “Yes. Well, quite.” His stomach rumbled audibly. “Sorry about that. Nature calling for sustenance—nothing to be done about it.”
“Let’s get you boys fed and we’ll take this up tomorrow,” Remi said, and Sam grinned.
“All this tomb raiding does make me a little peckish.”
“We don’t want either of you to waste away to nothing.”
“Come on, then, I’ll buy the first celebratory Coke,” Lazlo agreed.
Once they were back at ground level, Antonio gave the contingent of soldiers exacting instructions, forbidding anyone from entering the tomb while Remi transferred the photographs she’d taken first to her flash drive. When she finished, Antonio offered to give her and Sam a lift to their motel, which they gratefully accepted. A harvest moon glowed orange f
“I don’t suppose you’d let the shots of the coffin lid out of your sight this evening, would you?” Lazlo asked as their plates were being cleared away.
“You’re reading my mind again, Lazlo. You have to stop doing that,” Remi said.
“What’s the hurry? I’d say after a day like today, you can take the rest of the night off,” Sam said.
Lazlo shrugged. “Oh, no particular hurry, I suppose. I just thought you might like to know where the treasure’s hidden, that’s all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The inscription. My Old Norse orthography isn’t as rusty as I pretended.”
Remi’s eyes narrowed as she passed the flash drive to him. “What did you see, Lazlo?”
Lazlo paused dramatically. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon translate it before the madding crowds descend on the tomb tomorrow. Not to get everyone’s hopes up, but the last line said something about the Eye of Heaven. Which, given the inscription’s location, would seem about as good as a treasure map to this dusty old academic.”
Lazlo was subdued the following day at breakfast. Dark circles ringed his eyes, lending him the look of a haggard raccoon, and it was obvious to Sam and Remi that he hadn’t spent much of the night sleeping. After his third cup of coffee, he sat back and fixed them with a fatigued stare.
“The answer to your question is yes. Yes, I translated the inscription. And, yes, it tells an incredible tale. Unfortunately, the one thing it doesn’t describe is where to find the Eye of Heaven,” he said.
“What does it say?” Remi asked. Lazlo pulled a piece of worn notepaper from his pocket and unfolded it. He slipped it across to Sam and Remi, who read it carefully.
You see the body of Knut Eldgrim, son of father Bjorn and mother Sigrid. I came from Gotalander with 200 men and 4 ships. I was their leader and navigator. After 30 days’ sail across a calm sea we came onto a strange sandy shore by a rock cliff beneath a mountain that jutted straight into the sky. The land around was covered by lush forest.
We met strange people unlike any we had ever seen. They were friendly and led us a long way inland to their village, Tollan. I helped heal a large gash on their ruler’s right leg from a jaguar. I used the medicine we had brought with us should we find ourselves in battle. In gratitude the King made me his chief adviser.
I aided other villagers with injuries and sickness. My crew was given many rare objects and precious stones for digging a canal to bring water from a river to their village.
One year later the King died. Just before he left us he ordained me as the new leader of the people and gave me the name Topiltzin Ce Acatl Quetzalcoatl. He bequeathed a headdress of the great feathered serpent god. He gave me an amulet as a symbol of my power as ruler and god, a large green stone from the south that glows with the life of the sun: the Eye of Heaven.
In the years that followed I showed the people how to smelt iron, lay masonry, and carve sculpture, to grow food and build roads and waterways.
Under my rule our empire grew. We conquered the Mayan city of Chichen Itza. I moved the capital of our vast lands to this city and there I built a temple to the feathered serpent like the one in Tollan.
As I lay dying the people of this land wept and said that my brother, the god Tezcatlipoca, was casting me out but that I will return to them.
My warrior comrades have returned to our homeland laden with the wonders of this world, with plans to return. A marker has been built where my ships came ashore. When my people of Gotalander return they shall return to these people with the Eye of Heaven, marking my return to them.
Sam and Remi puzzled over the final line as Lazlo watched their reaction. When Sam looked up, his expression reflected the frustration Lazlo felt after spending half the night on the translation.
“So there’s a marker near a rock cliff beneath a hill or mountain. Piece of cake. That only leaves, what, several thousand miles of Mexican and Central American coastland? And a marker that could have well disintegrated long ago,” Sam said.
“Assuming it wasn’t a casualty to one of the earthquakes that have reshaped the coastline and decimated cities in Mexico over the last thousand years,” Remi added.
“Or hurricanes. Let’s not forget the hurricanes.”
“Although it does say that a marker had been built. Not erected or carved. Built. I take it to mean that it must be referring to a structure. Where the ships landed,” Lazlo said.
“Oh well, in that case forgive my pessimism. All we’re looking for is a marker that was built on the coast a thousand years ago. Which could mean anything from a pile of rocks to who knows what,” Remi corrected.
Sam appeared lost in thought. He took a long sip on his coffee and then stopped, the cup frozen in midair as he turned to Remi.
“On the ship. The Baffin find. There was a rune stone aboard. Do you have a picture of it?”
She nodded. “I think so. But I’m not sure where. Probably on one of the flash drives.”
“We never bothered to translate it.”
Remi pushed back from the table. “Oh . . . my . . .”
“If I might be so bold, I’d love to get a look at that photo sooner than later,” Lazlo said.
Remi almost ran back to the room. The waitress cleared the plates out of the way and Sam was laying down several large-denomination peso notes when Remi returned, holding a blue flash drive aloft in triumph.
“How long will it take you to translate it?” she asked as she handed it to Lazlo.
“Depends on how much text there is. How big was the stone?”
“Maybe two feet by three. I honestly thought it was ballast the first time I saw it in the hold.”
“Let me get to work. Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two. Certainly not after all the practice I’ve recently had.”
“We’ll wait here for you.”
“No need. If you want to go to the dig, I’ll meet you there once I have something to report.”
Remi nodded. “One thing, though. I think for now it would be best to keep our discoveries to ourselves. This could well lead us to the Eye of Heaven. I don’t want to broadcast that and become targets. Or get beaten to the punch. So mum’s the word,” she said.
“My lips are sealed,” Lazlo agreed as he rose. “You can tell the lads I slept in, should anyone have a burning desire to consult with me about the price of tea.”
“The man needs his beauty rest,” Sam agreed.
“Good luck, Lazlo,” Remi said.
Lazlo gave her a pained smile. “Luck will have little to do with it.”
Antonio and Maribela were already at the tomb site when Sam and Remi got there, supervising what seemed like a phalanx of archaeologists and techs from the Institute, all outfitted in newly issued white lab coats, while a cadre of armed soldiers looked on. Antonio waved when he saw them and the guards let them through.
“Good morning. Where’s your partner in crime?” Maribela asked with a sunny smile.
“He should be along anytime,” Sam said. “What have you got planned for today?”
“We’re going to begin mapping the area and go over the lower tomb with the sonar before we send it back—just in case,” Antonio explained. “And I’ve just briefed everyone on the protocols for documenting the find with video and photographs.”
“Sounds like you’ve got everything under control,” Remi affirmed.
“As much as anything of this scale can be managed. But make no mistake—this will be a multiyear endeavor. It dwarfs any of the other excavations we have going.”
“Do you have a team working on the casket inscription?” Sam asked.
“That will be processed in due time.”
“We can help with that, if you like,” Remi offered
“We appreciate it, but, honestly, you two have done more than enough,” Maribela said, her tone cordial but her glance dismissive. “Which reminds me. We’ll be doing a press release and a conference later and would love to have you there.”
They were interrupted by a harried-looking scientist carrying a clipboard and a radio, and Sam and Remi used the disruption to move away from the command center. Sam held one hand over his eyes, shielding them from the morning sun, and watched the activity near the mouth of the tomb.
“You have any interest whatsoever in doing a press conference?” he asked Remi.
“Not unless someone’s holding a gun to my head.”
“So we’ll beg off?”
“Absolutely. We can claim one of us got food poisoning.”
“Works every time. Want to flip a coin?”
Remi shook her head. “No, I’ll be the fall guy this time.”
Half an hour later, Lazlo arrived and, after running the security gauntlet, headed directly for them, barely contained excitement playing across his face. Maribela watched him march toward the Fargos, and Sam moved to meet him before he gave anything away.
“I say, I think I’ve—” Lazlo started, but Sam cut him off.
“We have a lot of folks paying attention to us today. Maybe we should take a nice, slow stroll around the pyramid while you tell me what the rune stone says?”
“Ah, quite. I see. Well, lead the way. Sorry. Didn’t mean to give away the game.”
“No problem. Remi, will you join us?”
“You couldn’t stop me.”
Once they were out of earshot, Lazlo quickly gave them a rundown of what he’d discovered.
“The rune seems to have fairly specific instructions on locating the Eye of Heaven. It doesn’t refer to it as such, but it does say the pride of the New World resides beneath a temple. And then it goes on to describe landmarks. A jutting peak just south of it. A nearby lagoon. Cliffs. A small nearby island. I think that there’s enough to go on. With a detailed examination of the coastline along the Gulf of Mexico, we should be able to narrow it down—assuming that the landmarks are still roughly the same.”