Indisputable Proof by Gary Williams, Vicky Knerly Page A
Authors: Gary Williams, Vicky Knerly
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denying her femininity. Stunning looks and a mind; a rare and tricky combination, Tolen thought.
To her side, Diaz was snoring like a bear.
He was teamed with quite a pair: a beautiful English archaeologist and a revenge-minded Spanish police inspector. He could not remember working with a more odd combination of partners.
Just then, the image of his father lying dormant in the hospital bed in Jacksonville popped into his head. It came suddenly and without warning, as if someone had used a remote to change the channel of his thoughts. With absolute clarity, he could see the man’s dark, withered face, and his sunken eye sockets draped with rubbery eyelids. His emaciated arms stretched down at his side. He envisioned the white sheet permanently pulled to the top of his chest, rising and falling with his slow, shallow breathing as the machine hissed and pumped on the wall behind.
Tolen shook the thought away and looked at his watch: 5:56 a.m. local time, 11:56 a.m. in Spain; 69 hours before the Sudarium was to go on display in Oviedo. He rubbed his eyes, fending off fatigue; it was time to get back to work.
Tolen had exhausted the eastern seaboard of Central America, at least the range he considered to be within reason, and now moved to the western shoreline. He was feeling far less optimistic about finding a “ three-sided rock doorway at the sea ” on the Pacific side, since he assumed the cross-oceanic journey Joseph of Arimathea made to reach the area would have been via the Caribbean Sea. Nevertheless, Tolen resumed his search, diligently examining every posted picture along the western coast, north of Palmar Sur.
He followed the coastline almost to Nicaragua to a peninsula jutting out at the northwest end of Costa Rica when he pulled up a picture titled, “Formacion Descartes Santa Elena.” He studied the image for only a few seconds.
Minutes later, both Jade and Diaz were wiping sleep from their eyes as Tolen explained what he found. “ ‘Formacion Descartes Santa Elena’ is a natural recess in the coastal land wall. It’s framed in a triangular outcropping of rock with the apex reaching about 20 feet high and leaning slightly to the right.” He turned the laptop around to show them the image on the screen: a “ three-sided rock doorway at the sea .”
A sleepy smile blossomed on Jade’s lips. Diaz seemed unaffected.
“How do we get to it?” Jade asked.
“The entire coastline in that area is mountainous, and where the land meets the water, there’s a sheer cliff face. It’s only accessible by water. I’ve already contacted Bar and asked her to secure us a boat from a nearby fishing village. It’ll be an eleven-mile boat ride.”
“If this is a known land formation, why hasn’t the tomb already been found?” Diaz asked.
“We won’t know the answer to that question until we get there. We’ll land in Costa Rica by 1 p.m. Until then, we better all get some rest.”
In truth, Tolen realized with some consternation that Diaz’s question was valid. The tomb might have already been found in antiquity and plundered. The more troubling possibility, though, was that the tomb was never there.
The certainty was they would know before nightfall.
****
At 8:40 a.m. Eastern Time, Tolen unbuckled his seat belt and rose from his chair. Jade and Diaz were both fast asleep in the dark cabin. He looked out the nearest window. The droning engines were pushing the plane through the morning skies far above the silky surface of the Atlantic Ocean. Tolen quietly walked to the rear and grabbed two bottles and three shot glasses from the galley bar. He carried them back up the aisle to the cockpit door. He knocked lightly and entered. Reba Zee turned in her seat. She was flying by autopilot and had been reading. Upon seeing Tolen, she silently laid her book to the side.
She had been expecting him.
Without a word, he handed her one of the shot glasses. Then he popped the cork on the non-alcoholic champagne
To her side, Diaz was snoring like a bear.
He was teamed with quite a pair: a beautiful English archaeologist and a revenge-minded Spanish police inspector. He could not remember working with a more odd combination of partners.
Just then, the image of his father lying dormant in the hospital bed in Jacksonville popped into his head. It came suddenly and without warning, as if someone had used a remote to change the channel of his thoughts. With absolute clarity, he could see the man’s dark, withered face, and his sunken eye sockets draped with rubbery eyelids. His emaciated arms stretched down at his side. He envisioned the white sheet permanently pulled to the top of his chest, rising and falling with his slow, shallow breathing as the machine hissed and pumped on the wall behind.
Tolen shook the thought away and looked at his watch: 5:56 a.m. local time, 11:56 a.m. in Spain; 69 hours before the Sudarium was to go on display in Oviedo. He rubbed his eyes, fending off fatigue; it was time to get back to work.
Tolen had exhausted the eastern seaboard of Central America, at least the range he considered to be within reason, and now moved to the western shoreline. He was feeling far less optimistic about finding a “ three-sided rock doorway at the sea ” on the Pacific side, since he assumed the cross-oceanic journey Joseph of Arimathea made to reach the area would have been via the Caribbean Sea. Nevertheless, Tolen resumed his search, diligently examining every posted picture along the western coast, north of Palmar Sur.
He followed the coastline almost to Nicaragua to a peninsula jutting out at the northwest end of Costa Rica when he pulled up a picture titled, “Formacion Descartes Santa Elena.” He studied the image for only a few seconds.
Minutes later, both Jade and Diaz were wiping sleep from their eyes as Tolen explained what he found. “ ‘Formacion Descartes Santa Elena’ is a natural recess in the coastal land wall. It’s framed in a triangular outcropping of rock with the apex reaching about 20 feet high and leaning slightly to the right.” He turned the laptop around to show them the image on the screen: a “ three-sided rock doorway at the sea .”
A sleepy smile blossomed on Jade’s lips. Diaz seemed unaffected.
“How do we get to it?” Jade asked.
“The entire coastline in that area is mountainous, and where the land meets the water, there’s a sheer cliff face. It’s only accessible by water. I’ve already contacted Bar and asked her to secure us a boat from a nearby fishing village. It’ll be an eleven-mile boat ride.”
“If this is a known land formation, why hasn’t the tomb already been found?” Diaz asked.
“We won’t know the answer to that question until we get there. We’ll land in Costa Rica by 1 p.m. Until then, we better all get some rest.”
In truth, Tolen realized with some consternation that Diaz’s question was valid. The tomb might have already been found in antiquity and plundered. The more troubling possibility, though, was that the tomb was never there.
The certainty was they would know before nightfall.
****
At 8:40 a.m. Eastern Time, Tolen unbuckled his seat belt and rose from his chair. Jade and Diaz were both fast asleep in the dark cabin. He looked out the nearest window. The droning engines were pushing the plane through the morning skies far above the silky surface of the Atlantic Ocean. Tolen quietly walked to the rear and grabbed two bottles and three shot glasses from the galley bar. He carried them back up the aisle to the cockpit door. He knocked lightly and entered. Reba Zee turned in her seat. She was flying by autopilot and had been reading. Upon seeing Tolen, she silently laid her book to the side.
She had been expecting him.
Without a word, he handed her one of the shot glasses. Then he popped the cork on the non-alcoholic champagne
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