Читать книгу Back To Earth - Danilo Clementoni - Страница 8

Elisa Hunter tried yet again to wipe the accursed drops of sweat from her forehead. They seemed determined to fall slowly towards her nose and drip into the hot sand beneath her. She had already been on her knees for several hours, with her inseparable Marshalltown Trowel⁶ , gently scraping the ground without causing any damage, trying to unearth an object that looked like the upper part of a tombstone. She had, however, remained unconvinced about this theory from the start. She had been working for almost two months near the Ziqqurat of Ur⁷ . Because of her reputation as an archaeologist and her expert knowledge of the Sumerian language, she had been allowed to work there. Since the first excavations at the beginning of the XX century, several tombs had been found, but never had an artefact such as this been seen in any of them. Due to its square shape and considerable size, it seemed more like the “cover” of some kind of container than a sarcophagus. An object buried there thousands of years before, to protect or hide something.

Unfortunately, having so far uncovered only a small section of the upper part, she was not yet able to establish how tall the supposed container might be. The cuneiform engravings that covered the entire visible surface of the cover did not resemble anything she had ever seen.

Translating them would take her several days and as many sleepless nights.

“Doctor Hunter.”

Elisa raised her head. Placing her right hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, she saw her assistant, Hisham, hurrying towards her.

“Professor,” he repeated, “there’s a call for you from the base. It sounds urgent.”

“OK. Thanks, Hisham.”

She took advantage of this forced break and enjoyed a sip of water, by now almost boiling, from the flask she always carried in her belt.

A call from the base... That could only mean something was wrong.

She stood up, patted clouds of dust from her trousers, and walked purposely towards the tent that served as a research base.

She opened the zip that held the field tent half open and went inside. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the change in light, but this did not stop her from recognising the face of Colonel Jack Hudson on the monitor. He was grimly staring into space, waiting for her to appear.

The Colonel was officially responsible for the strategic anti-terrorist squad stationed in Nassiriya, but his real duty was to coordinate a scientific research programme commissioned and monitored by the phantom ELSAD⁸ department. This department was shrouded in the usual mystery that enveloped all organisations of this kind. There were few people who knew the precise purpose and aims of this organisation. All that was certain was that the operational command reported directly to the President of the United States.

Elisa did not attach much importance to all this. Her real reason for accepting the offer to participate in one of these expeditions was that she would finally be able to return to the place she loved most in the world, doing the work that she loved. In spite of her relatively youthful age (thirty-eight), she was one of the most accomplished in her field.

“Good evening, Colonel,” she said, wearing her best smile. “To what do I owe this honour?”

“Doctor Hunter, there’s no need for affectations. You know very well why I’m calling. The permit you were granted to complete your work expired two days ago. You can’t stay there any longer.

His voice was firm and decisive. This time, not even her undeniable charm would be enough to secure any further extension. She decided she would play her last card.

Since 23 March 2003, when the coalition led by the United States had decided to invade Iraq, with the express intention of deposing the dictator Saddam Hussein, accused of holding weapons of mass destruction (an allegation that subsequently proved to be unfounded), and of supporting Islamic terrorism in Iraq, all archaeological research, already difficult enough in times of peace, had suffered a setback. Only the formal end to the hostilities on 15 April 2003 had rekindled the hope of archaeologists around the world that they would once again be able to access the site where one of the most ancient civilisations in history had developed, before spreading their culture across the globe. The decision of the Iraqi authorities, in late 2011, to reopen the excavations in some sites of inestimable historical value, in order to "continue to enhance their cultural heritage", had finally turned hope into certainty. Under the auspices of the United Nations, and numerous authorisations previously signed and confirmed by countless “authorities”, several research groups, selected and supervised by appropriate commission staff, would be able to work for a limited time in the most significant areas of archaeological interest on Iraqi territory.

“My dear colonel,” she began, leaning as close as possible to the webcam, so that her large emerald green eyes would get the results she was hoping for. “You are absolutely right.”

She knew that giving face to her caller would put him in a more positive frame of mind.

“But we're so close now.”

“Close to what?” thundered the colonel, sitting up in his seat and placing his fists on the desk. “You've been repeating the same old story for weeks. I can’t support you any longer unless you come up with something concrete.”

“If you’ll do me the honour of joining me for dinner tonight, I should be delighted to show you something that will make you think again. What do you say?”

A beautiful smile revealed her white teeth, and she ran her hand through her long blond hair. She was certain that she could convince him.

The colonel frowned, trying to maintain an angry appearance, but even he knew that he would not be able to resist this offer. He had always liked Elisa and the idea of a dinner for two intrigued him.

Despite his forty-eight years, he was still an attractive man. With an athletic body, angular features, closely cropped, greying hair, a sharp, decisive look in his intense blue eyes, a broad general knowledge that enabled him to converse widely on a variety of topics, and the indisputable charm of the uniformed officer, he was still an ‘interesting’ man.

“Okay,” snorted the colonel. “But this evening you’ll have to bring me something sensational, otherwise you’d better start getting all your junk together and packing your bags.” He was trying to use the most authoritative tone he had, but he wasn’t doing too well.

“Be ready by eight. I’ll send a car to pick you up at your hotel.” He cut off the communication without saying goodbye.

Hell, I have to hurry. I only have a few hours before it gets dark.

“Hisham,” she called, peering out from the tent. “Call the whole team together. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

She hurried across the few metres that separated her from the excavation area, leaving a series of dust clouds behind her. Within a few minutes everyone was gathered around her waiting for instructions.

“You, please remove the sand from that corner,” she ordered, pointing to the side of the stone furthest away. “And you help him. I suggest you take care. If it’s what I think it is, this thing might well save our asses.”