The Genesis Key by James Barney Page A

mental inventory of where each piece had been retrieved and its position relative to other pieces in the tomb, though he knew he’d never be able to keep it all straight. This was haphazard, slash-and-burn archeology of the type he absolutely abhorred. But it couldn’t be helped. Better to recover these precious artifacts than to let them be looted by villagers or, worse, destroyed by religious zealots. There was simply no time to observe proper archeological procedures. No photographs, no sketches, no inventory control numbers—not even notes. What he was doing today was nothing short of sacrilege for a trained archeologist. But it had to be done.
    The three took a break in the early afternoon, and Sargon sent the boys into the village for some food. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he warned as the boys were leaving. Then, thinking better of it, he added, “There’s an extra two dinars if you keep this quiet.”
    Ecstatic, the boys ran off to retrieve lunch. When they had gone, Sargon went to the Land Cruiser and searched it thoroughly. He did not find what he was looking for. On his way back, he dragged the first gunman’s body into the brush, so that it could not be seen from the path.
    He then returned to the pit and squeezed himself through the small hole into the temple’s anteroom. There, as he held the flashlight with one hand, he searched Daniel Talbot’s pockets and finally found what he was looking for—the official paperwork granting the Talbots permission to excavate at Tell-Fara. Sargon remembered signing that very paperwork more than two years ago. He flipped through several pages in the bundle and eventually found what he needed. It was a letter of support from Harvard University signed by Dr. Charles Eskridge, dean of the Department of Near East Studies.
    A short time later, the boys returned from the village with lunch, which consisted of flat, unleavened bread and a large pot of khoresht— beef-and-vegetable stew. They ate communal-style on the ground, each of them scooping warm stew from the pot with pieces of flatbread. Sargon had a hunch the boys’ mother had prepared this stew, which, surprisingly, wasn’t half bad.
    By mid-afternoon, Sargon had retrieved 127 artifacts from the Tell-Fara tomb, including more than a dozen funerary statues, jewelry, ornaments, pottery, and a beautiful gold-leafed lyre carved at one end to resemble the head of a ram. The task now was to load these precious artifacts into the Land Cruiser. Sargon had already decided that his brother-in-law’s open-bed pickup truck was not a suitable option.
    It took another hour for Sargon and the boys to load the vehicle. This involved repeated trips up and down the rocky path, which was exhausting for all of them, especially Sargon.
    When they were done, Sargon announced, “I have one more job for you boys.”
    â€œAnd then we get paid?” Jabar asked.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œFour dinars total, right?”
    â€œHelp me with this last job, boys, and I’ll make it ten .”
    The brothers smiled at each other and eagerly followed Sargon back to the temple.
    â€œW e need more rope!” Sargon yelled to the boys.
    â€œWe’ve looked everywhere,” Jabar responded, “We can’t find any more rope.” He and Amhed had just completed a thorough search of the entire excavation site.
    â€œWhy can’t we just use this one?” Ahmed asked, pointing to the rope dangling into the pit, which was still tied to a palm tree.
    â€œBecause,” Sargon explained in an exasperated tone, “we need a rope down there .” He pointed down into the pit. “If we untie this rope up here , we won’t be able to get back up.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œOkay, here’s the plan,” said Sargon. “You—” He pointed to Jabar. “You stay up here and tend the rope.”
    Jabar nodded.
    â€œAhmed, you come down