“Not to mention the Vinca sacred script of old Europe,” Griffin added, tracing a particular swirl pattern on the side of the monolith.
“So, what happened to this civilization?” Cassie urged.
Their guide shrugged expressively. “The same thing that has happened to so many other lost civilizations around the world—flood.”
Griffin continued tracing the geometric script on the stone. “Given what we know about the super-floods at the end of the last ice age, one or more of them might have been severe enough to raise global ocean levels. They might well have destroyed any coastal cities in this region.”
“There are ruins scattered all over the floor of the Altantic,” Oluoma said. “Canyons where there should be no canyons. Trees where there should be no trees. Pyramids, roads, all underwater. For those who believe in the inundation of Atlantis, the lost civilization of Nigeria is no more fanciful.”
“Less and less fanciful every day,” the scrivener observed. “Now that we have more sophisticated means of detecting objects far underwater, new architectural anomalies are coming to light all over the planet. Perhaps soon something will be found off the coast of Nigeria to prove your theory.”
“Or better yet, archaeologists will make some progress on what is buried beneath our feet,” Oluoma retorted. “Thus far, very little has been accomplished. That’s one of the issues my team is here to assess—the state of archaeological discovery in this country. For example, we know the Nok culture created sophisticated terra cotta figurines and had the technology to smelt iron in 1400 BCE, but nobody knows where their knowledge came from.” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “It’s all speculation because so little digging has actually been done in this region.”
While they were speaking, Cassie had wandered off to another monolith tilted forlornly against the base of a huge tree. The elements had worn away its carved features and given them a spectral quality. The figure’s wide-eyed expression and gaping mouth seemed comically ghostlike. Cassie laid the palm of her hand on the figure’s head. She felt nothing.
Swatting languidly at the mosquitoes that seemed to sprout from the oppressively humid air, she drifted back to her companions. They were still engaged in a lively debate about the current state of archaeological research in West Africa.
Glancing in the pythia’s direction, Oluoma said diplomatically, “But none of you came here to listen to my stories of lost cities. Perhaps we should search these monoliths for the Minoan symbols you told me about.”
“It wouldn’t help,” Cassie murmured.
They all turned to look at her with blank surprise.
She gave a half-hearted smile. “The Minoans haven’t been here.”
“Then we should go to the next village,” Oluoma urged. “There are monoliths scattered all around this area.”
Cassie shook her head. “No, I mean the Minoans haven’t been within a hundred miles of here. I can feel it.”
Her listeners traded uncertain glances.
Erik kicked irritably at the grass underfoot. “That’s just swell. I can’t wait to call Maddie and tell her. I’ll be deaf by the time she’s through with me.”
Griffin sprang to his feet. “There’s no need to contact her just yet. Why not wait until we have some useful information to convey?”
Erik was silent a moment, considering the possibility. “There are some stone circles in Senegal and Gambia. We should check those out next. Maybe we’ll catch a break.”
The scrivener frowned. “I rather think our best chance would be to have a look at the monoliths around Bouar in the Central African Republic. After all, they lie at the geographic center of the continent and were erected as part of an ancient survey done thousands of years ago. They seem the more likely prospect.”
Both men turned questioningly to the pythia.
“Cass, do you get any vibe about which way we should go?” Erik asked hopefully. “What’s it gonna be? West or east?”
The young woman rubbed her head distractedly. “I’m not picking up anything right now but a whole lot of static. I think I need to step back. Give me the night to sleep on it, and maybe tomorrow morning I’ll get a feel for what we should do.”
It was a tribute to Cassie’s hard-won credibility that no one even bothered to question her hunches anymore. Wordlessly, they all trudged back to the car for the long return trip to Calabar.
Chapter 17—Accomplice After the Artifact
Daniel strode up the escalator two stairs at a time. He glanced at his watch. It was already eleven in the morning. Surely, today David would be back at his post in the ancient history section of the library. Daniel’s eagerness was motivated by something more than the desire to see his friend. He had an important question to ask. He headed for the reference desk without his usual hesitation. His pulse quickened when he spied David standing behind the counter, engrossed in reading a catalog.
Daniel’s eyes immediately gravitated to the librarian’s apparel. He had begun to pay attention to attire now that he’d spent more time in the outer world. Although the scion was no great judge of such matters, the words that best described David’s style of clothing would have been casual elegance. Today he wore dark woolen trousers and a moss green cardigan which Daniel recognized as cashmere. Beneath it was a striped button-down shirt left open at the collar to reveal a small gold necklace. Ruefully thinking of his own black suit, white shirt, and black tie, Daniel recalled that Leroy Hunt referred to such garb as a “funeral suit.” He no longer felt inclined to disagree with the mercenary. He wished he knew how to dress better.
The fashion plate looked up and smiled when he saw who was approaching. “Hey there, stranger. Long time no see.”
Daniel shifted his attention from his friend’s clothes to his physical attributes. The librarian’s eyes were a shade of blue which Daniel had only seen when gazing out over the Aegean Sea. The young man’s hair was a mass of golden waves worn just
