Seven Ancient Wonders (25 page)

‘A religion?’ Big Ears asked. ‘Which one?’

Wizard said simply: ‘The Cult of Amun-Ra, my friend, is the Roman Catholic Church.’

‘Are you saying that the Catholic Church—
my
Catholic Church, the church I have attended all my life—is
a Sun-cult
?’ Big Ears asked in disbelief.

Very Irish and hence very Catholic, he spun to face West—who just nodded silently, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Come on,’ Big Ears said. ‘I read
The Da Vinci Code
, too. It was a fun book and it had a great conspiracy theory, but this is something else.’

Wizard shrugged. ‘Although its everyday followers don’t know it, the Catholic Church is indeed a thinly veiled reincarnation of a very ancient Sun-cult.’

Wizard counted the points off his fingers:

‘The virgin birth of the Christ character is a direct retelling of the Egyptian legend of Horus—only the names have been changed. Look at the vestments Catholic priests wear: emblazoned with the Coptic Cross. But 2,000 years before that symbol was the Coptic Cross, it was the Egyptian symbol,
ankh
, meaning life. Look at the Eucharistic chamber on any altar: it is in the shape of a dazzling golden
Sun
. And what is a halo? A Sun-disc.

‘Go to Rome and look around. Look at all the obelisks—the ultimate symbols of Sun worship, pointing up at their deity. They are all genuine Egyptian obelisks, transported from Egypt to Rome by Pope Sixtus V and erected in front of
every major church
in the city, including St Peter’s Basilica. There are more obelisks in Rome than any other city in the world, including any Egyptian city! Why, Liam, you tell me, what word do you say at the end of every single Catholic prayer you utter?’

‘Amen,’ Big Ears said.

‘The Ancient Egyptians had no vowels in their writing.
Amen
is simply another way of spelling
Amun
. Every time you pray, Liam, you intone the most powerful god of ancient Egypt: Amun.’

Big Ears’s eyes went wide. ‘No way. . . ’

Zoe brought the conversation back to the point: ‘But the Artemis verse says that its Piece is
worshipped every day
in the Cult of Amun-Ra’s
highest temple
. If what you say is true, then the highest temple of the Roman Catholic Church would be St Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican in Rome.’

‘That is my conclusion too,’ Wizard said.

‘Welcome to Problem No. 1,’ West said. ‘If the Artemis Piece is in St Peter’s Basilica, it could be
anywhere
in there. The cathedral itself is a behemoth, the size of about seven football fields, and beneath it is a labyrinth of tombs, crypts, chambers and tunnels. For all we know, it could be on display in a crypt, worshipped every day by only the most senior cardinals, or it could be embedded in the floor of the main cathedral, twenty feet underground. Searching for a golden trapezoid in there would be like searching for a needle in a mountain of haystacks. It could take years, and we don’t have years.’

‘And Problem No. 2?’ Zoe asked.

Wizard said, ‘The Zeus piece. As you said before, this verse gives us absolutely nothing. Beyond the usual legends
we have no way of knowing where it is
.’

A silence fell on the room. This situation had not been anticipated. The Callimachus Text had served them so well so far, none of them had thought that it would completely fail them on the later Pieces.

‘So what do we do?’ Zoe asked.

‘There is one option,’ West said solemnly. ‘But it’s not one that I’d take lightly.’

‘And that is . . . ?’

‘We get outside help,’ West said. ‘Help from an expert on the Capstone, perhaps the greatest living expert on it. A man who has
devoted his life to pursuing it. A man who knows more about the Seven Ancient Wonders than anyone else alive.’

‘Sounds like a guy we should have consulted 10 years ago,’ Fuzzy said.

‘We would have if we could have,’ Wizard said, ‘but this man is . . . 
elusive
. He is also psychotic, clinically insane, in fact.’

‘Who is he?’ Sky Monster asked.

‘His name is Mullah Mustapha Zaeed. . . ’ West said.

‘Oh no, this is outrageous—’ Stretch sat upright.

‘The Black Priest of Kabul—’ Pooh Bear breathed.

West explained for the others.

‘Zaeed is Saudi by birth, but he’s been linked to dozens of Islamic fundamentalist terrorist groups as far afield as Pakistan, Sudan, and Afghanistan, where he was sheltered by the Taliban until September 11, 2001. A qualified mullah, he’s a teacher of fundamentalist Islam—’

‘He’s an assassin,’ Stretch spat, ‘responsible for the deaths of at least twelve Mossad agents. Zaeed’s been on the Red List for fifteen years.’ The Mossad Red List was a list of terrorists whom any Mossad agent was permitted to shoot
on sight
anywhere around the world.

‘If the Mossad can’t find him, how on Earth are we going to find him at such short notice?’ Zoe asked.

West looked to Stretch as he spoke: ‘Oh, the Mossad knows where he is, they just can’t get to him.’

The tight-lipped expression on Stretch’s face said this was true.

‘So where is he then?’ Pooh Bear asked.

West turned to Stretch.

Stretch practically growled as he spoke. ‘Mustapha Zaeed was picked up by US forces during Operation Enduring Freedom, the invasion of Afghanistan after 9/11, the one that toppled the Taliban regime. In early 2002, Mustapha Zaeed was taken to Camp X-Ray, the temporary terrorist prison at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. He’s been there ever since.’

‘Guantanamo Bay,’ Zoe repeated. ‘Cuba. The most heavily
guarded, most secure military compound
in the world
. And what— we’re just going to stroll in there and walk out with a known terrorist?’

West said, ‘Naval Station Guantanamo Bay is designed for two things: to keep the Cubans from retaking it, and to keep prisoners
in
. Its guns are pointed landward and inward. That leaves us one open flank—the sea side.’

Zoe said, ‘I’m sorry, but are you seriously thinking of sneaking into Guantanamo Bay and busting out one of its inmates?’

‘No,’ West said, standing. ‘I’m not planning on
sneaking
in at all. No, I suggest we do the one thing the Americans least expect. I suggest we launch a frontal assault on Guantanamo Bay.’

GUANTANAMO BAY, CUBA
17 MARCH, 2006
3 DAYS BEFORE TARTARUS

NAVAL STATION GUANTANAMO BAY SOUTH-EASTERN CUBA 17 MARCH, 2006, 3:35 A.M. 3 DAYS BEFORE THE ARRIVAL OF TARTARUS

Naval Station Guantanamo Bay is a true historical oddity.

Born out of two treaties between the United States and Cuba made in the early 20th century—when the US had Cuba over a barrel—Cuba essentially leases a small chunk of its south-eastern coast to America at the obscenely low rent of US$4,085 a year (the actual price mentioned in the treaty is ‘$2,000 in gold per year’).

Since the treaty can only be terminated by the agreement of
both
parties—and since the US has no intention of agreeing to such a termination—what it amounts to is a permanent US military outpost on Cuban soil.

The Bay itself is situated at the extreme southern tip of Cuba, opening onto the Caribbean Sea, facing away from America. Occupying both of its promontories is the US base, and it is very very small—maybe six kilometres deep by ten kilometres long, its twisting and turning landside fenceline barely 25 kilometres in length.

After all that, its most well-known feature (apart from appearing in the Tom Cruise movie
A Few Good Men
) is its status in International Law: for as far as International Law is concerned, Guantanamo Bay does not exist. It floats in a kind of legal limbo, free of the constraints of the Geneva Conventions and other troublesome treaties.

Which was exactly why the United States chose it as a prison for the 700 ‘stateless combatants’ that it captured in Afghanistan during Operation Enduring Freedom.

The Bay itself bends northward like a fat slithering snake, bounded by dozens of inlets and marshy coves. Its western side is known as
Leeward
, and it contains little of interest except for the base’s airstrip, Leeward Point Field.

It is on the eastern side of the Bay—
Windward
—where all the real activity takes place. This is where the various Marine barracks and prison complexes are situated. An inactive airfield, McCalla Field, occupies the eastern side of the harbour entrance. Further inland, there are administrative buildings, a school, shops and a housing estate for the Marines who live on base.

Further inland still, at Radio Range, in the dead heart of Naval Station Guantanamo Bay, you will find Camp Delta. (Camp X-Ray, with its notorious open-air chain-link cages, was always intended to be temporary. In April 2002, all of its detainees were shipped to the newly constructed Camp Delta, a more permanent complex.)

Camp Delta is made up of six detention camps: Camps 1, 2, 3, 4, Echo and Iguana. Camp 3 is the ‘SuperMax’ facility. Only the most dangerous prisoners live in Camp 3.

Prisoners like Mullah Mustapha Zaeed.

In short, Camp Delta, nestled in the centre of the world’s most heavily fortified base, is a maze of cinder-block buildings and chain-link fences, all topped with razor-wire and guarded by stony-faced US Army Military Police.

It is a forbidding installation, one of the bleakest places on Earth.

And yet after all that, only 500 metres from the Camp’s outermost razor-wire fence is something you would find only in an American military base: a golf course.