Atlantis

Chapter 32

“What do you mean, you found the door?” Avery searched Krueger’s eyes for signs of deceit, or even humor, but his gaze held firm.

“You’ve heard of Herodotus?” he asked.

“The Greek historian,” Sofia supplied.

“Also known as the Father of History.” Avery felt pleased by the others’ surprised faces. “I was a history professor. Give me a little credit.”

“Herodotus traveled in Egypt sometime after 464 BC,” Krueger continued, “and wrote extensively about the nation and its history. In the course of my research, I came across a single piece of his writing that I’ve never seen anywhere else. It was part of someone’s private collection. I don’t think the man even knew what he had. To him, it was just another piece in his collection.”

“I assume we’re talking about a black market collector?” Sofia asked.

“Is that really important right now?” Krueger replied. “Anyway, in this scroll, Herodotus wrote an account of a massive temple complex he called the labyrinth. He said it contained 1,500 rooms and many underground chambers he wasn’t permitted to enter.”

“I’ve heard of a labyrinth being uncovered at the Hawara pyramid near the Fayyum oasis,” Sofia said.

“One and the same.” Krueger drained his coffee and headed to the kitchen for a refill. “Anyone need a warm-up?” he asked, sticking his head through the doorway and holding up the coffee pot.

Avery suspected he was stalling for some reason. Willis apparently had the same feeling, because he stood and began pacing back and forth in front of the windows overlooking the dusty street.

Krueger noticed their discomfort immediately.

“I know I’m dragging this out. The truth is, I’m not a people person, but I do enjoy company every once in a while, and this is the first chance I’ve had to talk shop with anyone since I went into hiding. I’m having fun.”

“We understand,” Sofia said. “Can you tell us how Hawara connects to Giza?”

“Funny you should ask. It connects in a literal sense.” Kruger pulled a battered notebook down from a shelf and turned a few pages. “Here’s what Herodotus writes

“There I saw twelve palaces regularly disposed, which had communication with each other, interspersed with terraces and arranged around twelve halls. It is hard to believe they are the work of man. The walls are covered with carved figures, and each court is exquisitely built of white marble and surrounded by a colonnade. Near the corner where the labyrinth ends, there is a pyramid, two hundred and forty feet in height, with great carved figures of animals on it and an underground passage by which it can be entered. I was told very credibly that underground chambers and passages connected this pyramid with the pyramids at Memphis.”

“Memphis?” Willis asked.

“The ancient capital of Lower Egypt,” Sofia said. “As Alexandria rose, it declined. The Giza Plateau, where the Sphinx and Great Pyramids are situated, was a part of Memphis.” A tone of skepticism colored her words. “That sounds pretty far-fetched. After all, Herodotus was also called the Father of Lies.”

“That name wasn’t entirely deserved,” Krueger said. “Yes, he had a habit of occasionally presenting his findings through the accounts of fictional eyewitnesses, but he collected folk tales and legends as much as historical fact. Also, many of his claims, even the ones that seemed most doubtful, have proved true. Take Gelonus, for example. No one believed Herodotus when he spoke of a city a thousand times larger than Troy, until it was rediscovered in 1975.”

“We can debate Herodotus later,” Avery interrupted. “Tell us how this relates to the Hall of Records.”

“At first, I was as skeptical as Doctor Perez, so I continued my research and found even more accounts. The historian Crantor spoke of underground pillars that contained a written record of pre-history, and said they ‘lined access ways connecting the pyramids.’” Krueger turned a page in his notebook and went on. “I found account after account: Pliny, Marcellinus, Altelemsani, and more. But these are the most powerful.” He turned another page. “It’s by a Syrian scholar named Iamblichus.

“This entrance, obstructed in our day by sands and rubbish, may still be found beneath the forelegs of the crouched colossus. It was formerly closed by a bronze gate whose secret spring could be operated only by the Magi. It was guarded by public respect, and a sort of religious fear maintained its inviolability better than armed protection would have done. Beneath the belly of the Sphinx were cut out galleries leading to the subterranean part of the Great Pyramid. These galleries were so art-fully crisscrossed along their course to the Pyramid that, in setting forth into the passage without a guide throughout this network, one ceaselessly and inevitably returned to the starting point.”

He paused, glancing up from his reading, as if to see if they were impressed.

“And this I found on an ancient Sumerian cylinder seal:

“The knowledge of the Annunaki is hidden in an underground place, entered through a tunnel, its entrance called Hawara, hidden by sand and guarded by a beast called Huwana, his teeth as the teeth of a dragon, his face the face of a lion, is unable to move forward, nor is he able to move back."

He closed his notebook with the solemnity of a liturgist.

“What’s the Annunaki?” Engrossed by Krueger’s tale, Willis had left his post by the window and now stood behind Avery. “I never heard of them.”

“Mesopotamian deities,” Sofia said. “Their name means, ‘royal blood,’ or ‘princely offspring.’ In the Epic of Gilgamesh, they are the seven judges who punish the world before the storm.”

“Wait a minute.” Avery sat up straighter. The connections were rapidly coming together. “The Epic of Gilgamesh is a flood story. And your translation of the codes indicates that the Atlanteans, for some reason, decided to flood their subordinate cities.”

“Precisely!” Kruger said. “It all connects. And when I saw the inscription on Herodotus’ tomb, I was convinced he’d had a life-changing experience at, or perhaps somewhere far below, the Sphinx.”

“What was the inscription?” Willis asked.

“Herodotus, the son of Sphinx.”

They lapsed into silence, with only the low hum of an engine somewhere in the distance to disturb the quiet.

“So, you think there’s a door at Hawara that leads to the Hall of Records?”

“I know there is,” Krueger said. “In fact, I found the entrance to the hall.” His smile vanished in a blink, alarm spreading across his face. “Oh my God. They found us.”