Shadows in the Silence
Page 89
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Stone exchanged a few more words with the man, handed him a fat envelope of what was likely cash, and returned his attention to Will and me. “Climb in,” he instructed. “Yusri will escort us to our destinations today.”
“Another driver?” I asked, peeking over the seat at the man in the Hawaiian-print shirt behind the wheel. He turned around and gave us a pleasant smile. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but I caught a glimpse of a gun sticking out the waistband of his khaki shorts.
“Of course,” Stone replied. “Don’t be silly. I never drive myself anywhere.”
I studied the GPS on the dashboard as Yusri configured the map. “Aleppo? Why are we going there first? I thought we’re headed to Ain Dara. You’d better not try to bamboozle me, Stone.”
“No bamboozling, I assure you,” he replied. “The surface of Ain Dara has been reduced to rubble. There’s no way to access the underground channels there. We’ll be going in through a different door.”
Will made an impatient noise. “Can you be a little more specific?”
“Ain Dara’s underground system connects with the temple of the storm god Addu in the Citadel in the center of Aleppo. This temple is five thousand years old, older than the ottoman palaces, the fortifications constructed by Ghazi after the Crusades, the Byzantine churches, the colonnades built during Alexander the Great’s conquests…. It’s older than everything built atop it. The passageways beneath run for miles and miles.”
I nodded, understanding the plan. “So we will access Ain Dara from underground.”
“I hope you brought walking shoes.”
I frowned down at my sandals. “Meh,” I mumbled in response. At least I had my backpack full of supplies.
“We’ll need plenty of propane lanterns,” he said. “It’s dark as Hell down there.”
Aleppo could only be described as a city built of gold—of golden limestone and sand brick, that is. The streets were a vibrant mix of languages, of people wearing Western and Middle Eastern clothing, and the scents of oils and spices. We navigated toward the ancient Citadel in the center of the city, past tourists and locals, automobiles, and carts pulled by donkeys. The Citadel, sitting atop a gigantic hill, was never out of sight so we’d never get lost, even though Stone seemed entirely sure of his path through the winding streets. We entered the same way the tourists did, across a grand stone bridge over what was once a moat and toward the towering entrance gate.
Ethan Stone pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. “We’re here. See you shortly.” And he hung up. He led us past groups of tourists and their guides, and past open areas of excavations by archaeologists. The Citadel was an array of different levels of excavations, some sections cleared and others barricaded from visitors, and we had to hop up and off short ledges when there weren’t any stone steps. The walls of some buildings still stood with little damage to their structure, while others had been reduced to rubble, though leaving clearly defined floor plans. We passed through archways of stone of alternating colors and through magnificent colonnades lined with gorgeous Hellenistic columns. The entire city, with its rich variance in ancient styles, was incredible. I wanted to veer off our path and go explore so badly, but we had a mission to see through. I wondered, for a fleeting, sad moment, if when I became an archangel again I’d even care about the beauty of the Citadel.
“Hello!” an attractive woman in her midthirties called out to us and waved. Dressed in khaki shorts and a wide-brimmed sun hat, she looked like she’d meandered off the set of an Indiana Jones movie not five minutes ago.
“Rebekah,” Ethan Stone greeted her, and kissed both her cheeks. “Ellie, Will, meet Dr. Rebekah Massi. She is an old friend and accomplice on many adventures. She’s treated me to archaeological finds not available to regular visitors, including some passageways still being excavated.”
She flipped her long braid of dark hair over her shoulder and smiled at us. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” she said, accent thick. “Ethan has told me you’re interested in climbing down into the tunnel system beneath the Addu Temple. It’s really a very exciting maze of a system. The tunnels are still mostly intact. We haven’t run into many that have collapsed.”
My eyes bulged and my stomach turned. As claustrophobic as I wasn’t, I had no desire to be buried alive in Syria. or anywhere.
Ethan held an arm out. “Shall we?”
Dr. Massi steered us toward the storm god temple, which was an unearthed pit lined with limestone walls. To me, it didn’t appear very different from the surrounding ruins, but Rebekah explained to us the intricate floor plan and what each room was used for. We headed to a section of the floor made of stone blocks that were free of dust, unlike the surrounding ground, and looked as if they’d been examined closely. She waved Ethan over and they both lifted the stones from where they fit, revealing a hatch made of wood that seemed to have been preserved in the scorching desert heat. I watched in utter fascination as the two carefully pulled the hatch open by an iron handle. Beneath was a shaft, barely large enough for a full-grown man to slip through, that descended into darkness.
“Cool,” I murmured, and exchanged looks with Will. He seemed just as excited as I was.
“Are you ready?” Rebekah asked, a wide smile on her face. “It’s a bit of a drop, but I’ve cleared the dangerous bank of sand that might have broken our necks and I’ve tossed down sacks to cushion our landing. I’ll go first.”
“Another driver?” I asked, peeking over the seat at the man in the Hawaiian-print shirt behind the wheel. He turned around and gave us a pleasant smile. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but I caught a glimpse of a gun sticking out the waistband of his khaki shorts.
“Of course,” Stone replied. “Don’t be silly. I never drive myself anywhere.”
I studied the GPS on the dashboard as Yusri configured the map. “Aleppo? Why are we going there first? I thought we’re headed to Ain Dara. You’d better not try to bamboozle me, Stone.”
“No bamboozling, I assure you,” he replied. “The surface of Ain Dara has been reduced to rubble. There’s no way to access the underground channels there. We’ll be going in through a different door.”
Will made an impatient noise. “Can you be a little more specific?”
“Ain Dara’s underground system connects with the temple of the storm god Addu in the Citadel in the center of Aleppo. This temple is five thousand years old, older than the ottoman palaces, the fortifications constructed by Ghazi after the Crusades, the Byzantine churches, the colonnades built during Alexander the Great’s conquests…. It’s older than everything built atop it. The passageways beneath run for miles and miles.”
I nodded, understanding the plan. “So we will access Ain Dara from underground.”
“I hope you brought walking shoes.”
I frowned down at my sandals. “Meh,” I mumbled in response. At least I had my backpack full of supplies.
“We’ll need plenty of propane lanterns,” he said. “It’s dark as Hell down there.”
Aleppo could only be described as a city built of gold—of golden limestone and sand brick, that is. The streets were a vibrant mix of languages, of people wearing Western and Middle Eastern clothing, and the scents of oils and spices. We navigated toward the ancient Citadel in the center of the city, past tourists and locals, automobiles, and carts pulled by donkeys. The Citadel, sitting atop a gigantic hill, was never out of sight so we’d never get lost, even though Stone seemed entirely sure of his path through the winding streets. We entered the same way the tourists did, across a grand stone bridge over what was once a moat and toward the towering entrance gate.
Ethan Stone pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. “We’re here. See you shortly.” And he hung up. He led us past groups of tourists and their guides, and past open areas of excavations by archaeologists. The Citadel was an array of different levels of excavations, some sections cleared and others barricaded from visitors, and we had to hop up and off short ledges when there weren’t any stone steps. The walls of some buildings still stood with little damage to their structure, while others had been reduced to rubble, though leaving clearly defined floor plans. We passed through archways of stone of alternating colors and through magnificent colonnades lined with gorgeous Hellenistic columns. The entire city, with its rich variance in ancient styles, was incredible. I wanted to veer off our path and go explore so badly, but we had a mission to see through. I wondered, for a fleeting, sad moment, if when I became an archangel again I’d even care about the beauty of the Citadel.
“Hello!” an attractive woman in her midthirties called out to us and waved. Dressed in khaki shorts and a wide-brimmed sun hat, she looked like she’d meandered off the set of an Indiana Jones movie not five minutes ago.
“Rebekah,” Ethan Stone greeted her, and kissed both her cheeks. “Ellie, Will, meet Dr. Rebekah Massi. She is an old friend and accomplice on many adventures. She’s treated me to archaeological finds not available to regular visitors, including some passageways still being excavated.”
She flipped her long braid of dark hair over her shoulder and smiled at us. “It’s wonderful to meet you,” she said, accent thick. “Ethan has told me you’re interested in climbing down into the tunnel system beneath the Addu Temple. It’s really a very exciting maze of a system. The tunnels are still mostly intact. We haven’t run into many that have collapsed.”
My eyes bulged and my stomach turned. As claustrophobic as I wasn’t, I had no desire to be buried alive in Syria. or anywhere.
Ethan held an arm out. “Shall we?”
Dr. Massi steered us toward the storm god temple, which was an unearthed pit lined with limestone walls. To me, it didn’t appear very different from the surrounding ruins, but Rebekah explained to us the intricate floor plan and what each room was used for. We headed to a section of the floor made of stone blocks that were free of dust, unlike the surrounding ground, and looked as if they’d been examined closely. She waved Ethan over and they both lifted the stones from where they fit, revealing a hatch made of wood that seemed to have been preserved in the scorching desert heat. I watched in utter fascination as the two carefully pulled the hatch open by an iron handle. Beneath was a shaft, barely large enough for a full-grown man to slip through, that descended into darkness.
“Cool,” I murmured, and exchanged looks with Will. He seemed just as excited as I was.
“Are you ready?” Rebekah asked, a wide smile on her face. “It’s a bit of a drop, but I’ve cleared the dangerous bank of sand that might have broken our necks and I’ve tossed down sacks to cushion our landing. I’ll go first.”
