The Guardians of Eden: Book One: into Prophecy

PROLOGUE

City of Akhetaten, 1336 BC

Here, drink this. The royal physician has prepared an elixir to make you strong.

Go away.

Mother, please. Open your eyes and rise. You have not moved for three suns. I am worried about you.

My heart has shut down. My beloved has been forced to flee our royal city to avoid death at the hands of the priests. He is lost to us now. Despair is my only friend. May the dark jackal come for me on my bed.

No! Not since the death of my sister, Princess Meketaten, have you said these things. Please, sit up and drink this, it will give you life. Then come with me and bathe in the sacred river so the sun of Aten can warm your heart.

My daughter, you are young but indeed wise. Hand me the refreshment.

The great royal wife Nefertiti raised herself up from the silk-draped bed and looked at her child. Beautiful, tall, black hair, golden skinned, much like her father.

You look better already, Mother. How long will he be gone? I have heard many things being said in the palace, and I am afraid.

My child, he is not coming back. There is a new king now. All things have changed for us.

But my brother can’t be king, can he, Mother? He is only ten years old. I will not do as he says. He shall have no rule over me. Send your trusted guard to find Father and tell him to come home.

He will not be found. He has gone to the mountain, far from here.

Why are you giving up so easily? I thought you loved him. I shall go find him myself, then. I shall demand of Tutankhaten he grant me horses and supplies.

"You are a brave little girl, of true royal blood. Come, sit with me for I have a secret to tell you. There will come a time when our beloved pharaoh shall return to us, but not again on this journey of ours. At a time far beyond the moon and stars we see at night. A time when earth is not all sand and river. This is true, and you must trust my words. Aten is his guardian protector, and there is but one thing we can do: be vigilant and wait. For his return is ordained by the heavens, and this we must carve in our hearts.

Go now. Gather all the daughters of my loins and return here, quickly. Do not rouse suspicion. It is time for you to know what the oracle of Aten delivered unto your father at the hour of his final initiation. For this will be yours to carry. Go.

February 11, 2011

The arrangement seemed simple—only one a year—but this was their third clandestine mission in seven months, and they were exhausted. There was an urgency now in the communiqués as the Council demanded more of them in less time, effectually rushing the work they had agreed to. And as scientists—not operatives—they were edgy and frayed.

Night in the town of Tel-Amarna was hot and dry. The earth’s temperature had barely cooled a few degrees as they waited for a signal from across the street of their hotel. Then three quick flickers from a disposable lighter told them that the security guards at Akhenaten’s royal tomb had locked the gate and left for the night. All that remained was a chain-smoking local packing a gun, who would end up sleeping through most of his shift.

Slipping into their rental car, they drove down the empty street to the parking lot at the back of a petrol station. Putting on their headlamps and packs, they silently followed the fence line to the side of the ruin, scaled the simple chain-link barrier, and made their way to the entrance of the ancient tomb, finally pausing to catch their breath.

With the layout well etched in their minds, entering the passage stairs was easy. Switching on their headlamps, they proceeded down the stone corridor and past the other crumbling rooms to the king’s burial chamber at the back of the structure. Checking and measuring, they eased themselves along on their bellies where the ceiling had collapsed, and came to a pile of rubble in front of them. With great effort and determination, they moved the stones and debris from their path, finally exposing a tiny inner sanctum off the pharaoh’s final resting place.

Ladies first, he whispered.

Crawling on all fours, they made their way into the small, enclosed space barely able to accommodate two adults and their gear. Positioning the headlamps to illuminate the stone wall, their eyes fell on the three carved panels before them. Without saying a word, they nodded to each other and started pulling items from their packs: digital camera, filament paper, and charcoal. They worked swiftly and precisely, first taking multiple photos to send to the Council, then positioning the paper to create an exact rubbing of the ancient relief for analysis and verification later. And just before dawn broke over Tel-Amarna, Egypt, they had successfully retrieved 3,300-year-old evidence so controversial that it could shatter the beliefs of the modern world. The Council would be pleased. And hopefully, their raids on ancient sites finally over.

Back in the car, the light from her cell phone cast an eerie glow on her leathered face. Typing carefully, she sent a quick text: Horse and Camel heading to barn.

CHAPTER 1

The monitor on the mother’s belly signaled fetal distress, and her cervix wasn’t dilated enough to deliver. The grainy image from the ultrasound showed the obstetrician what she had suspected: the umbilical cord was wrapped around the baby’s neck. And although this was a fairly common event, because the fetal heart rate was dropping, a decision needed to be made. Without hesitation she gave the order—prep for a cesarean.

Daniel Muhlebach, father-to-be, immediately felt the shift in the birthing room. Support arrived from all directions, and his frightened wife, Carrie, was quickly positioned for transport—wires and tubes and patient wheeled down the hallway to surgical suite number 2. Not knowing where to be, Daniel was left staring after the parade of people hurrying her away. Then reality hit him, and his mind scrambled to process the myriad of potentials that lay ahead.

He first called his parents with an update, and then found the waiting area where he left his name at the desk and took a seat. He felt as if he were a mere extra on a soundstage built to resemble a busy hospital. And although it was surreal and chaotic, he intuitively knew that everything was in perfect order, including the medical drama of his wife and child. Expectantly waiting for news, it dawned on him: today was November 11, 1999, a magical day, no doubt, especially since the baby was two weeks premature.

Beyond the sense of urgency, the delivery procedure was actually quite routine. After the surgical incision was made, the doctor carefully unlooped and clamped the cord that was wound around the baby’s neck, removed him from the womb, then handed the slimy newborn to the nurse. Once he was cleaned and examined, the baby would be taken to the nursery while the incision was closed and Carrie wheeled into post-op.

As the labor and delivery nurse, Devi Suresh, cradled the sleeping infant, she felt a strange energy surge through her spine, starting at her tailbone and flowing up and out the crown of her head. Stopping in the noisy hallway, she shivered and stared at the bundle of baby in her arms and knew she needed to find the father as soon as the boy was safely in the nursery.

Taking one last long look at baby Muhlebach asleep in the bassinet, Devi headed for the waiting area check-in desk, inquired about Daniel, and then hurriedly went to where he was sitting. Daniel stood up. Devi, speaking rapidly, began to tell him about his boy.

Mr. Muhlebach? Devi Suresh. Congratulations, you have a son. Mother and child are doing just fine. You’ll be able to see him in the nursery in just a few minutes.

She looked around and lowered her voice.

"I need to tell you something, and it might sound rather crazy, but I’ve been delivering babies for over eight years, and I just had the strangest experience while carrying your newborn. Mr. Muhlebach, your son is not an ordinary boy. In fact, in my country, he’d be called a mystic, a bodhisattva. I know it, I felt his energy.

That child is somebody special, and he definitely has a great divine purpose. I don’t know what you believe, Mr. Muhlebach, but honestly, this boy will change the world. And you now have a very big responsibility since he’s chosen you as his guardian… umm, his father, for a specific reason. I can’t explain it, I just know it. This is a very special day… for all of us!

Devi reached for his hand and shook it aggressively. Stepping back, she placed her palms together and bowed slightly. Namaste, she whispered reverently. Turning on her heels, Devi hurried to the nurses’ lounge, grabbed her cell phone out of her locker, and headed outside to make the call of her life, anxious to relay the news of the boy’s birth to her mentor in the Order. This was the day a dwindling few had pledged their lives to, and waited for, for over three thousand years.

Daniel looked around the room. Everything seemed just as it was, just as ordinary as before Devi delivered the pronouncement. Shaking off his bewilderment, he headed for the nursery to meet his son. He had no idea how auspicious this moment truly was. The birth of Ethan Edward Muhlebach on November 11, 1999. Time: 3:08 p.m. Weight: six pounds five ounces.

Within the second week, after mommy and child were settled back home, Daniel impulsively returned to the hospital to find and talk with Ms. Suresh. Curiously, her supervisor said she had tendered her resignation and left for home.

CHAPTER 2

At first they called it postpartum depression, but after a while, Carrie’s inability to cope with the demands of marriage and motherhood revealed a more severe mental illness. There were times when she felt like hiding, running away, or even hurting the baby. She cried a lot. She gained weight. On some days, she wouldn’t even talk. She was exhausted. She just wanted to sleep… and never wake up. Three times in two months Carrie became a danger to herself and the child and required intervention. Daniel was scared as their finances and friendship dwindled fast.

Grateful to be off work early, he hurried home to surprise his wife. But before he had unlocked the door, he heard the baby screaming. Once inside, he saw the kitchen full of smoke. Racing to remove the burning pan of rice and to open the windows, he didn’t notice his wife stretched out on the couch, well dressed and dead. The coroner, a close friend of the family, ruled it accidental overdose, but the empty pill bottles and fresh makeup seemed purposeful to everyone.

Daniel’s world was shattered. Even the tincture of time was no antidote for the loss he endured: his wife and his career. Moving back to Cyprus and immersing himself in research felt selfish and puny now. With the mantle of responsibility weighing heavy on him, he took an adjunct position at the local university and spent his spare time caring for Ethan while trying to manage his emotional ups and downs. His family was a godsend, and he relied on them heavily to help with child care and an occasional meal.

By the time Ethan was twenty months old, the stress of the situation had taken its toll, and Daniel languished in Utah, unfulfilled and lonely. In the hours after putting Ethan to bed, he would keep company with online friends, read blogs from archaeologists in the field, and scan news feeds to pass the time. He did what he could to keep his mind fresh and his interest high, but he lacked inspiration and hope and needed some sort of lifeline back to his passion.

CHAPTER 3

Institute of Archaeology and Antiquity. How may I direct your call?

I need Dr. Duprey. This is Dr. Lambroise, University College, London.

Please hold. I’ll transfer you now.

A light and lively British accent greeted the caller, slightly disarming her.

Holly? Is that you? I can’t believe you decided to dust off your hands and play with modern technology. Wonders never cease.

Hello, Christine. Been awhile, hasn’t it? Listen, I only have a few minutes, and I need a favor. My colleague at Hebrew and I are involved in a rather sensitive project and want to recruit a top-notch assistant. Ideally, this would be a person new to the field, eager to contribute, with a strong background in biblical research. The biblical part is a must. I know your program there at Birmingham, and I figured you could recommend someone. Well? Is there a doctoral student or postdoc that comes to mind?

Gee, Holly, still haven’t changed, have you? Okay, let me think a minute… Yes, actually, I have a former student from the States who would fit your profile fairly well. As a matter of fact, finished his PhD in ’99, just as his son was being born. The guy has a real passion for the field, great intuition, and an amazing knowledge of Old Testament artifact. He did his field work at three different sites in the Holy Land, including Masada. Maybe you’ve met him? His name is Daniel Muhlebach, slender man about thirty years old.

Never heard of him. How do you spell the last name? Is he teaching? On a dig site? What has he published? Can he be trusted? He sounds interesting enough. Where can I find this guy? Lambroise drummed her fingers on top of her desk, staring at the name she had just written and circled on her yellow pad.

Christine took a long breath and a quick sip of her tea. Daniel had been one of her brightest stars and had kept in touch with her until the unthinkable had happened. Now, she hadn’t heard from him since he last wrote about his wife. Certainly she wanted to help his situation if she could, but working with Dr. Barracuda was not for the faint of heart.

Listen, Holly, I’m a little protective of Daniel. His wife passed away just six months after their son was born. I can’t imagine something so horrible. I really haven’t heard from him since that, but I’m sure his career is not a high priority right now. Even you can see how being a single dad with a grieving heart is a full-time job.

How does he pay his bills? You don’t become a barista with a PhD.

I heard he’s done a few consulting jobs and some lecturing at a local university, but that’s about it. I know he’ll bounce back one of these days. He has such a keen mind.

Got it. Just have to make the pot sweet enough.

Never mind, he’s not your man. I’ll ask around the department and see if there’s another name to give you.

Sounds perfect to me. Can you arrange an introduction?

Didn’t you hear anything I just said? Leave him alone.

Sorry, gotta go. He’ll be great. I’ll take it from here. Holly hung up the phone.

Damn her! Christine slammed down the receiver and kicked her wastebasket, kicking herself as well. Back in Giza, Lambroise went right to work—searching Daniel Muhlebach on the Internet, making two phone calls, and composing a letter inviting him to Southern California.

It was midmorning in the middle of October, and Daniel had arrived at the airport earlier than necessary. With his carry-on luggage at his feet, he drank hot coffee and fidgeted. Thrilled and shocked to get the letter, he allowed his imagination to play with the potential even though he had no idea why these two distinguished researchers had picked him or what they had in mind. This was the first ray of hope he had felt since Ethan was born and the first time he had worn a suit since his wife’s funeral. He made a mental note to write Dr. Duprey and thank her, if all went well.

Reaching inside his shoulder bag, he pulled out the letter from Dr. Holly Lambroise, director of archaeological science for the Giza Plateau Mapping Project. After the formal introduction, Lambroise stated she had gotten his name from Dr. Christine Duprey at Birmingham, who recommended him highly and without reservation. Although never stating a specific reason, the letter went on to invite him to the Fullerton Art Museum in San Bernardino to view an exhibit of rare artifacts from the Petrie Museum of Egyptian Archaeology. Furthermore, as the guest of Dr. Lambroise and Dr. Yassid Cohen of Hebrew University, this all-expense-paid trip would include a dinner and discussion immediately following the exhibit. The letter, signed by Dr. Lambroise, requested an immediate response and had arrived as certified mail. Guarding his hopes, he now waited to board the plane.

Both the museum and the exhibit were quite impressive, and he moved through the crowded displays with a keen eye for detail, taking cryptic notes as he browsed. Then he felt someone standing beside him.

Sorry to interrupt, but you might be the person I’m looking for.

Daniel turned to greet the voice. Hello. Daniel Muhlebach. Are you…

Name’s Cohen. Fumbling with the ID badge hanging around his neck, he read it out loud. ‘Dr. Yassid Cohen, Hebrew University Archaeology Department.’ How’s that for an official introduction? The middle-aged gentleman with silver hair and tanned face reached to shake Daniel’s hand.

Dr. Cohen, pleasure to meet you, and thank you so much for the generous invitation to come here. Looking around, he added, Is Dr. Lambroise with you?

She’ll be joining us for dinner. I thought I’d come by and visit with you first. See what makes you tick, so to speak. I’m sure you understand. He patted Daniel’s upper arm in a fraternal sort of way and smiled. How do you like the exhibit?

Daniel shrugged. I love it. Been away from the field for a while, so seeing all these amazing pieces really brings back the excitement.

Seeing’s one thing, but there’s nothing quite like getting your hands dirty under the hot sun, right? Please, go ahead and look around, and when you’re finished, come find me in the bookstore. I’d like to ask you a few questions before we meet up with Holly.

Yassid Cohen was an Israeli archaeologist whose primary research was in confirming the Exodus story of the Old Testament. He had earned tenure and an associate professorship soon after publishing his second body of research on the lost twelve tribes of Israel. And then the tide of sentiment had shifted, and Dr. Cohen had fallen under department suspicion for falsifying data. It was during this low point in his career that he had been approached by Lambroise to work on a highly sensitive project requiring absolute secrecy. Admittedly, he needed the money, and more importantly, she had said it would redeem his good name.

Tell me a little about your background, Daniel, Yassid asked as they headed out to the lawn in front of the museum.

Well, I graduated magna cum laude in Middle Eastern studies from a private college, and then did a Fulbright in Cyprus. I speak Turkish and a little Arabic, and can read elementary Hebrew. Once in grad school I did excavations in Masada and two other sites in the Holy Land. As you probably know, I completed my doctorate at Birmingham under Dr. Duprey in October of ’99 with an emphasis in biblical research. Since moving back to Utah, I’ve dabbled in Native American artifacts, particularly from the Four Corners region. I don’t know about you, but to me, archaeology is like one big treasure hunt, and I love following the clues and connecting the dots.

Impressive credentials. But there certainly can’t be many biblical excavations going on in Utah. So how is it you aren’t making a name for yourself on some overly inflated dig or holding down a prestigious teaching position where all the action is?

In a word: fatherhood. Ever since my wife passed away, I’ve been a little preoccupied with raising my son. Unexpectedly, Daniel’s eyes began to tear, which he quickly covered up with a fake sneeze. Cohen could feel the young man’s pain and allowed him a moment to regain his composure. In a way, Muhlebach was much like himself: smart and loved the work but tragically prevented from being a superstar.

Daniel, the reason Holly invited you here is because we’re collaborating on a little project that could use someone like yourself. But obviously, we need to make sure it’s a good fit before we get anyone’s hopes up. I really can’t say more. Dr. Lambroise is the leader of this particular effort, for now.

That makes sense. So basically, this is an interview for a job I haven’t applied for.

Yassid laughed. You could say that. So my first question is, what are your two best attributes?

Determination and discipline.

Good, good. And number two: how do you see traditional field research and data reporting fitting into a more global, integrated perspective of history?

By that are you asking me about a multidisciplinary approach to archaeology? Or the appearance of related themes and similarities that emerge from seemingly independent cultures and their artifacts? Daniel shuffled his feet and fidgeted with his lanyard.

The latter. What I’m getting at is, are you more traditional in your academic approach to, say, biblical archaeology, or do you consider broader brushstrokes, maybe even controversial ideas when working with ancient information?

Daniel smoothed back his hair, looked across the lawn and wondered what was behind all the heavy questioning. Yassid, on the other hand, wore an enigmatic smile, knowing Muhlebach was his man. Then piercing the silence, his wrist alarm started beeping before Daniel could give his reply.

Dammit. Time’s up. We should get going. As you’ll soon figure out, Holly Lambroise isn’t one you keep waiting.

Inside the restaurant, the men found Lambroise already seated and drinking a martini. Even before introductions, she launched into Yassid for being late. Turning her attention and charm to their guest, she began a lively interrogation of Daniel Muhlebach. Daniel paid no attention to the time, the server, or even the plates of food as they came and went. Holly, however, missed nothing, and took mental notes on the way Daniel’s mind worked, how his life was structured, and his intense longing to make a difference in the field.

While coffee and dessert were being served, she abruptly asked Yassid to excuse himself as she wanted a word with Daniel alone. Glaring at her, he hesitated, then quietly placed his napkin on the table and headed for the men’s room.

Daniel, how well do you know Yassid Cohen?

The question seemed both ridiculous and riddled with complexity, and Daniel was hesitant to answer her.

Seriously? I just met him about six hours ago at the exhibit. We chatted a little before meeting you. Why do you ask?

I figured he would try and speak to you first. Listen, Daniel, you’re rather new to the field and have been out of circulation for a while. There have been a few concerns raised within our tight community about some of Dr. Cohen’s research activities. Looking intently into Daniel’s eyes, she continued, A word to the wise: be careful with whom you associate. I’ve been around this work a long time, Dr. Muhlebach, and I would hate to see your reputation tarnished before it even got started.

Okay, thanks for the advice. But I thought you two were friends, at least colleagues, working on some big project together? Why the warning?

Let’s just say that Dr. Cohen might try to recruit you for his own personal gain. Of course, you’re free to do as you wish, but I see a very bright future for you.

Lambroise let her hand drift over the top of his and lowered her