kukri as a weapon of last resort. It remained a treasured memento of that ill-fated mission, though no less utilitarian.
To distinguish themselves from combatants, the UN personnel wore white flak jackets and helmet covers, prominently displaying the letters of their organization. A similarly adorned banner was draped across the rear of each Humvee, hopefully reinforcing the message to the local populace that their excursion into the city had only peaceable motives.
The convoy moved at a safe but deliberate pace of eighty kilometers per hour, along highways that were virtually empty. In a modern city of six million souls, the lack of automobile traffic was vaguely disturbing, but Baghdad was still recovering from the brief siege that had heralded the end of a dictatorship. Certain parts of the city were still without electricity and running water, and there were reports of gasoline shortages and long lines—even riots—at refueling stations.
Navigating by means of a GPS system, the lead vehicle in the column charted a decisive course toward the city. Their route took them along the main highway within sight of several palatial complexes, some of which were now only shattered memories of their former opulence. As the road drew parallel with a westward curving segment of the Tigris River, the convoy threaded between the Sujud Palace and the military parade grounds, both of which bore testimony to heavy bombing and ground battle. Kismet did not strain for a better look. He loathed the idea of playing ghoulish tourist.
The journey progressed uneventfully, but the comfort level inside the Humvee bottomed out rapidly. The Lexan windows remained closed as a protective measure, bottling up the musty odor which emanated from the cracked upholstery. To make matters worse, the driver informed them that he would be running the vehicle’s heater in order to dissipate the rising engine temperature. The interior quickly became a claustrophobic hot-box.
“A pity Marie couldn’t join us,” mused Chiron, raising his voice to be heard over the incessant roar of the engine. It was the first comment the older man had made on the subject—the first thing he had said all morning really, except for a few brief utterances in preparation for departure.
“She didn’t strike me as the rugged, adventurous type. I’d say she’s lucky to have stayed behind.” Kismet then threw a sidelong glance in the other man’s direction. “I thought that it was your decision.”
Chiron smiled cryptically. “I found a pretext with which to discourage her from joining us, but I did so for your sake.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nick, it’s been clear to me from the start that whatever this thing that drives you, it is a deeply personal matter.” He leaned over the upraised platform covering the drive shaft and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “You’ve kept it secret even from me. What you haven’t told me only fires my curiosity. Shall I review?
“You are sent on a clandestine meeting in the desert with a defector. The man seems to have information about you, and believes you will be interested in a very precious relic, unearthed in the ruins of ancient Babylon. What was that relic? Never mind. I suspect I don’t want to know.
“Then your meeting is violently interrupted by a man who also claims to have knowledge about you. Both men believed that you will have an interest in whatever this relic is, but you claim no particular desire to possess this, or any other artifact of the ancient world.
“I have tried to offer whatever help I can. And I have let you keep your secrets. It is clear that the beginning of this labyrinth begins with a discovery here, in the sands of Iraq—the ruins of ancient Babylonia—and perhaps by returning to source, we will be able to find the thread of Theseus and a solution to this mystery.”
“Theseus.” Kismet echoed the word in a distant voice, his mind elsewhere. He knew he ought to trust
To distinguish themselves from combatants, the UN personnel wore white flak jackets and helmet covers, prominently displaying the letters of their organization. A similarly adorned banner was draped across the rear of each Humvee, hopefully reinforcing the message to the local populace that their excursion into the city had only peaceable motives.
The convoy moved at a safe but deliberate pace of eighty kilometers per hour, along highways that were virtually empty. In a modern city of six million souls, the lack of automobile traffic was vaguely disturbing, but Baghdad was still recovering from the brief siege that had heralded the end of a dictatorship. Certain parts of the city were still without electricity and running water, and there were reports of gasoline shortages and long lines—even riots—at refueling stations.
Navigating by means of a GPS system, the lead vehicle in the column charted a decisive course toward the city. Their route took them along the main highway within sight of several palatial complexes, some of which were now only shattered memories of their former opulence. As the road drew parallel with a westward curving segment of the Tigris River, the convoy threaded between the Sujud Palace and the military parade grounds, both of which bore testimony to heavy bombing and ground battle. Kismet did not strain for a better look. He loathed the idea of playing ghoulish tourist.
The journey progressed uneventfully, but the comfort level inside the Humvee bottomed out rapidly. The Lexan windows remained closed as a protective measure, bottling up the musty odor which emanated from the cracked upholstery. To make matters worse, the driver informed them that he would be running the vehicle’s heater in order to dissipate the rising engine temperature. The interior quickly became a claustrophobic hot-box.
“A pity Marie couldn’t join us,” mused Chiron, raising his voice to be heard over the incessant roar of the engine. It was the first comment the older man had made on the subject—the first thing he had said all morning really, except for a few brief utterances in preparation for departure.
“She didn’t strike me as the rugged, adventurous type. I’d say she’s lucky to have stayed behind.” Kismet then threw a sidelong glance in the other man’s direction. “I thought that it was your decision.”
Chiron smiled cryptically. “I found a pretext with which to discourage her from joining us, but I did so for your sake.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Nick, it’s been clear to me from the start that whatever this thing that drives you, it is a deeply personal matter.” He leaned over the upraised platform covering the drive shaft and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “You’ve kept it secret even from me. What you haven’t told me only fires my curiosity. Shall I review?
“You are sent on a clandestine meeting in the desert with a defector. The man seems to have information about you, and believes you will be interested in a very precious relic, unearthed in the ruins of ancient Babylon. What was that relic? Never mind. I suspect I don’t want to know.
“Then your meeting is violently interrupted by a man who also claims to have knowledge about you. Both men believed that you will have an interest in whatever this relic is, but you claim no particular desire to possess this, or any other artifact of the ancient world.
“I have tried to offer whatever help I can. And I have let you keep your secrets. It is clear that the beginning of this labyrinth begins with a discovery here, in the sands of Iraq—the ruins of ancient Babylonia—and perhaps by returning to source, we will be able to find the thread of Theseus and a solution to this mystery.”
“Theseus.” Kismet echoed the word in a distant voice, his mind elsewhere. He knew he ought to trust
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