The Lost Garden (The Lost Garden Trilogy Book 1) (6 page)

Alexey had shut down the entire plant and sent the chemist home, while keeping the plant managers and a few trusted Russian chemists. He had also sent for another chemist from his mother country and soon had a team working around the clock, trying to determine the nature of this oil and most importantly, its chemical makeup.

Alexey did not sleep those first few days. He was filled with excitement about the limitless possibilities this unusual oil represented. Finally, he decided he needed to meet this woman who had been found with the vial of strange oil secured around her neck.

According to the doctors, she was in an unusual state of dying, which seemed to stretch over a period of weeks, instead of days. There was nothing they could do to save her. She had been badly wounded and it was a miracle that she was still alive. No matter what steps they took to save her, her body continued to shut down, as the story was related to Alexey. Anyone else, Alexey was assured, would have died within hours. She had hung on for two weeks. In those two weeks, induced by mad hysteria and the rantings of a dying woman, an utterly amazing puzzle had been pieced together.

Pieced together, that is, by Alexey and a select few.

The moment he first saw her in her private suite at the hotel in Jibez, he knew there was something different about her. His first impression was that she was amazingly tall, just lying there in her bed that seemed far too short for her. It was her beauty, though, that transfixed him. Timeless, ageless beauty. Her appearance initially suggested someone of youth, but if you looked close enough you could see the crisscrossing of scars covering that beautifully toned body. Scars that were thin and barely noticeable, although some were massively long. Alexey suspected the healing oil had something to do with that. The scars appeared, to his eyes, to have healed many years ago. Alexey would later be pleased to find out that his initial impressions about this timeless woman would prove to be accurate.

He always trusted his initial, gut reactions and this further proved to him that his instincts were far superior to most men’s.

Then again,
thought Alexey now, as he sipped his sherry, staring into the fire.
Mother always told me I had a problem with humility.

Alexey would later discover from the hospital staff that the woman would awaken often and start babbling in many tongues, as if she was having a religious experience. Most in the hospital thought she was simply speaking pure foolishness from a mind that had suffered through nineteen gunshot wounds. That is, until some of the foreign staff started picking up on the languages. One evening, she spoke rapidly and in perfect Chinese. The nearby Chinese nurse was shocked. The nurse would later report that the woman had described how she had been on her way home to the Mountain of God, after a long ordeal in the desert, when she had been attacked by thieves. She’d killed nine of them, before she had finally been surrounded and shot.

Another time, she’d spoken in Farsi, relating an amazing tale that apparently had occurred hundreds of years ago. Still another one of the staff picked up on Hebrew. The doctor, to Alexey’s delight, started recording her multilingual rantings. Alexey immediately bought off all of the nurses and doctors who had been witnesses to the rants. A minor investment, as he saw it. One or two had to be killed, those who had been too curious for their own good. That was an even better investment. Alexey always had his men with him for such things. His bodyguards were also cold-blooded killers. Alexey loved them like his own children. Although sociopathic to the bone, the two burly Russians, both ex-KGB, followed him everywhere and were closer to his heart than anyone else.

Alexey confiscated all of the recordings from the strange woman. He sent the tapes to a well-trusted and discreet translating service with bonuses for speedy translations. He continued to record her rants as she slowly passed away.

The translating service had replied within a day. They had a record of over twenty-two known languages from the woman. Seven of them were of unknown and perhaps even had ancient origins. Alexey then sent the recordings to linguists at Moscow University. Three of them had been identified there. One was an ancient Latin, another was an ancient form of Sanskrit, and the third was ancient Egyptian. They had sent back translations as well, mystified by the woman who spoke these words. Alexey’s healthy donation to the university quieted down any further curiosity.

Alexey had shortly received fax after fax of the woman’s rants. They had turned out not to be rants at all. Or at least, they had some basis in reality. When translated, they had shocked Alexey.

From English to French to Japanese to Turkish to Arabic to even Swahili, she had related a story that Alexey could hardly believe. In fact, if not for the oil, he would not have believed it. Although there were many holes and gaps in the story, Alexey grasped enough and that was all he needed…

Alexey reached over and picked up the dark bottle of sherry, pleased to find it still mostly full. Sometimes, during his ruminations before the fire, he was known to finish an entire bottle with nary a thought. He poured himself another finger or two, and sat back. Soon, he would need to add another log to the fire. He never used gas fireplaces. It had to be like his childhood home. He sipped his sherry and thought again about the amazing story as related by the dying and delirious woman. A woman who called herself a Daughter of Eve. A woman who had stood guard over the Garden of Eden and the Tree of Life for the past twenty-two hundred years.

* * *

Her name was Ramallah IL Eve, but she was known to her people as Rama. Her people were the legendary Cherubim as mentioned in the Bible. There are a few men, but mostly, the tribe was run by women. A very powerful matriarchal society, sustaining themselves for eons by partaking of the oil from the Tree of Life, they thought of themselves as immortal and the rest of the world as inferior, for mortals had not gained their wisdom and close communion with God.

Their home base was within the tunnels of al Jabir, or the Mountain of God, in Northern Iran. Here the Daughters of Eve, the Guardians, the Cherubim, built an intricate network of tunnels within the mountain. The tunnels had an advanced defense system contained within the mountain. One of the tunnels, Alexey learned, led the way to the Garden of Eden. It was a secret tunnel that she made no more mention of, to Alexey’s unending frustration.

In short, the guardians were mighty warriors and they had upgraded to the use of sophisticated modern technology. They were limited in number by necessity, limited by both space and the need for obscurity. Their sole purpose, of course, was to guard what lay hidden within the mountain or dormant volcano.

As she happily said in her dying delirium, that was nothing short of the Garden of Eden.

Rama had been on a routine assignment, sent out into the world to acquire even more knowledge. She had been crossing the northern highlands on horseback, one of her passions, when she had come upon thieves. They had thought her weak and they had attacked. She killed most, but ultimately, could not escape their Russian AK-47s. She had been too injured to use the healing oil. With her body riddled with bullets, the thieves thought her dead and left her in the desert, until she had been found by the local shepherds.

* * *

That was all that was important to Alexey. Her recounting of history and tales of valor only bored him. He wanted the scoop on Eden, how it was protected and what to expect. He realized that the Bible was more accurate than previously assumed. She had made no mention of a flaming sword, but he had no reason not to believe in that as well. He would simply come prepared.

Later, in the hospital, she had begged Alexey for the healing oil, but he withheld it. He had felt that the oil was his and her time to die had come. He had been there when she’d finally expired and what he saw on the night when she breathed her last would haunt him all of the rest of his days.

* * *

He received an urgent call from Dr. Rashid, his well-paid doctor on duty. “She’s finally dying, Mr. Konstantin. As instructed, we called you immediately.”

Alexey rushed from the hotel suite with excitement. He suspected something unusual might happen with Rama’s passing. After all, it wasn’t every day that a twenty-two hundred year old woman died.

Soon, he was by Rashid’s side, walking quickly through the surprisingly modern Iranian hospital. The doctor spoke rapidly in Farsi, a language Alexey had mastered many years ago.

“She started going into convulsions and many of her organs began shutting down. She’s on life support. We waited for your arrival, Mr. Konstantin, before pulling the plug.”

“You will be paid well, Doctor. You and your staff, but especially you.”

Alexey had visited Rama often these past two weeks, sitting by her side, listening to her multilingual rants and seeing the crazed look in her dying eyes. She had often cried out for the oil, not realizing who actually now owned the invaluable vial. There would be no oil for her and if Alexey had his way, no more oil for any of the Guardians. After all, the time had come for a changing of the guard.

Alexey smiled as he followed the Iranian doctor into Ramadan IL Eve’s private room. She was not alone. There were two other doctors there as well as three nurses, all of whom had been bribed by Alexey. They turned and saw the Russian and appropriately stepped aside.

She was deathly pale, but her face seemed almost peaceful. The mad rants were done and she was finally dying. The woman had been on death’s door for two weeks, living impossibly long. She had been steadily weakening, and Alexey suspected the healing oil in her system was running its course. Without more oil to heal the damaging wounds, she would die a mortal’s death.

She looked beautiful and old, like an ancient alabaster statue, carved from the hands of a Greek master. She could have been the model for Aphrodite or Athena. Her face had an ancient quality to it. She looked as he suspected women had looked thousands of years ago, without the benefit of even the mild evolution of our species that had occurred. Her cheekbones were relatively flat. Her forehead had a slightly more pronounced orbital ridge than he was accustomed to. Her lips were narrow and drawn and now colorless. She looked ancient to him and yet, here she was in front of him.

She was breathing through tubes. Oxygen was being fed directly into her system through a series of life support machines that kept the rudiments of life preserved.

For the first time, he reached out and touched her arm, which was still bandaged in two places from bullet wounds. Although the bullets had struck bone, the bones had not shattered. The doctors had been shocked at the bone’s strength. Alexey had not been shocked. He stroked her smooth skin softly.

“Which plug will be pulled, Dr. Rashid?”

The doctor pointed to two light switches next to a monitor. “Depressing these two buttons, Mr. Konstantin, will stop the life support.”

“Thank you, Doctor. You and your staff may leave now.”

“But I cannot—”

“But I think you can, Doctor.” There was no mistaking the tone in Alexey’s voice. The doctor stared at him briefly and then ushered the other doctors and nurses out of the room. He closed the door behind him.

Alexey turned back to the dying woman, his hand now resting lightly on hers. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for coming into my life, but now, you must go. There is no place left for you in this world. You are a dying breed. I will see to that.”

Her hand moved surprisingly fast, grabbing hold of Alexey’s hand with crushing strength. Alexey dropped to his knees, crying out. His fingers were caught awkwardly and her hand was as big as his own. He lifted his head, grunting.

She was staring at him with her aquamarine eyes. When she spoke, she did so in perfectly fluent Russian. “We were destined to be here together, Alexey Konstantin. You were destined to kill me. I accept my destiny, but do you accept yours?”

Alexey struggled mightily with her grip and finally, using his other hand, managed to pry himself free from her Herculean grip. From his knees, he crawled backward, feeling foolish but suddenly very afraid. The woman was supposed to be nearly dead. Perhaps the last vestiges of the oil left in her system gave her this strength. Alexey wasn’t exactly a religious man, although recent events had shaken his own core beliefs. Neither was he a man who didn’t believe that one’s own fate could not be changed with a simple decision. He had always felt that Fate and Destiny were a matter of careful decision making, which left no room for the supernatural and no room for God.

She had shaken him now unreasonably.

“What—what is my destiny?”

“Why, you will be the conqueror of Eden, as it has been foretold.”

“Who foretold this?”

“The Mother Daughter foretold this.”

He knew this to be their Guardian leader, an ancient woman of virtually unknown age and origin. Alexey discovered that he was pressed up next to the life support machine. “What else is in my future, Ramallah IL Eve?”

She smiled at him. It was the first time he had seen her smile, but he barely noticed. He also barely noticed that his heart was hammering in his chest. He sensed he had tapped into a source of future knowledge and he wanted to know it all.