VALLEY OF DEATH
Scott Mariani
Copyright
Published by Avon an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street,
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
Copyright © Scott Mariani 2019
Cover photograph, Ancient building © Katarina Hoglova / Shutterstock; Foreground path © Saeed Husain Rizvi / Shutterstock; Figure © Henry Steadman
Cover design by Henry Steadman 2018
Scott Mariani asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008235963
Ebook Edition © May 2019 ISBN: 9780008235956
Version: 2019-04-10
Join the army of fans who LOVE Scott Marianis Ben Hope series
Deadly conspiracies, bone-crunching action and a tormented hero with a heart Scott Mariani packs a real punch
Andy McDermott, bestselling author of The Revelation Code
Slick, serpentine, sharp, and very very entertaining. If youve got a pulse, youll love Scott Mariani; if you havent, then maybe you crossed Ben Hope
Simon Toyne, bestselling author of the Sanctus series
Scott Marianis latest page-turning rollercoaster of a thriller takes the sort of conspiracy theory that made Dan Browns The Da Vinci Code an international hit, and gives it an injection of steroids [Mariani] is a master of edge-of-the-seat suspense. A genuinely gripping thriller that holds the attention of its readers from the first page to the last
Shots Magazine
You know you are rooting for the guy when he does something so cool you do a mental fist punch in the air and have to bite the inside of your mouth not to shout out YES! in case you get arrested on the train. Awesome thrilling stuff
My Favourite Books
If you like Dan Brown you will like all of Scott Marianis work but you will like it better. This guy knows exactly how to bait his hook, cast his line and reel you in, nice and slow. The heart-stopping pace and clever, cunning, joyfully serpentine tale will have you frantic to reach the end, but reluctant to finish such a blindingly good read
The Bookbag
[The Cassandra Sanction] is a wonderful action-loaded thriller with a witty and lovely lead in Ben Hope I am well and truly hooked!
Northern Crime Reviews
Mariani is tipped for the top
The Bookseller
Authentic settings, non-stop action, backstabbing villains and rough justice this book delivers. Its a romp of a read, each page like a tasty treat. Enjoy!
Steve Berry, New York Times bestselling author
I love the adrenalin rush that you get when reading a Ben Hope story The Martyrs Curse is an action-packed read, relentless in its pace. Scott Mariani goes from strength to strength!
Book Addict Shaun
Scott Mariani seems to be like a fine red wine that gets better with maturity!
Bestselling Crime Thrillers.com
Marianis novels have consistently delivered on fast-paced action and The Armada Legacy is no different. Short chapters and never-ending twists mean that you cant put the book down, and the high stakes of the plot make it as brilliant to read as all the previous novels in the series
Female First
Scott Mariani is an awesome writer
Chris Kuzneski, bestselling author of The Hunters
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Praise
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Read on for an exclusive extract of the new Ben Hope thriller by Scott Mariani
Keep Reading
About the Author
By the Same Author
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
Kabir removed his pilots headset and began flipping switches on the Bell Rangers instrument panels to shut down the rotors. He turned to grin broadly at Sai in the co-pilot seat, then at Manish sitting behind.
Ready to make history, guys? he said over the falling pitch of the turbine.
Kabirs two associates beamed back at him. Manish said, Lets rock and roll.
As the helicopters rotors slowed to a whistling whip-whip-whip, the three companions clambered out and jumped down to the rocky ground. It had taken less than an hour from the urban hubbub of their base in New Delhi to reach the remoteness of Hisar District, Haryana, out in the middle of nowhere twenty miles north-west of a once barely-heard-of village called Rakhigarhi.
Kabir stood for a moment and gazed around him at the arid, semi-desert terrain that stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions. Far away beyond the barren escarpment of rocky hills behind him to the north-east lay Punjab, the Land of the Five Rivers; in front of him lay the wide-open semi-desertified plains, arid and rocky with just a few desiccated shrubs and wizened trees scattered here and there and offering no shade. It was mid-September, and the merciless heat of summer was past its worst, but the sun still beat fiercely down, baking the landscape.
Kabir was hardened to the heat, because of the outdoor demands of a job that often took him to difficult and inhospitable places all across the ancient Near East. Unlike his elder brothers, one of whom spent all his time in air-conditioned big-city boardrooms, and the other who, for reasons best known to him, had chosen to live in chilly, rain-sodden Britain. Very strange. Though if it was the life he shared with his beautiful new wife that kept him tied to London, Kabir couldnt entirely blame the guy. She was something, all right. Maybe one day he, too, might be lucky enough to find a woman like her.
For now, though, Kabirs sole devotion was to his work.
Kabir stepped back to the chopper, reached into a cool box behind the passenger seat and pulled out three cans of Coke, one for him and one each for Manish and Sai. His two bright, trusty graduate students were both in their early twenties, only a few years younger than Kabir, who happened to be the youngest professor ever to teach at the Institute of Archaeology in Delhi. With his warm personality and winning smile, he was widely held to be the most popular, too though he was far too modest to admit it.
Sai rolled the cold can over his brow, then cracked the ring and look a long drink. That hit the spot. Thanks, boss. Sai never called him Professor.
No littering, please, Kabir said. This is a site of special archaeological interest, remember. Or soon to be.
Doesnt bloody look like it right now, Manish said.
Sai finished the can, crumpled it between his fingers and surveyed it with a thoughtful frown. Just think. If I chuck this away among the rocks, four thousand years into the future some guy like us will dig it up and prize it as an ancient relic of our culture, wondering what the hell it can teach him about the long-lost civilisation of the twenty-first century.
Kabir smiled. Thats history in action for you. Now lets go and see what we can figure out about the people who lived here four thousand years ago.
I dont think they drank Coke, Manish said.
Nah, something else killed them off, Sai joked. Question is, what?
It was one of the puzzles that Kabir had spent his whole career trying to answer, and it was no joke to him. Nor was he the only archaeologist whod devoted endless hours to solving the mystery, to no avail. He tossed his own empty Coke can back into the cooler, then took out his iPhone and quickly accessed the precious set of password-protected documents stored inside.
Those documents were the single most important thing in his life right now. The originals from which they had been scanned were a set of three old leather-bound journals dating back to the nineteenth century. Not particularly ancient, as archaeological finds went and yet their chance discovery had been the most significant hed ever made. And he was hoping that it would lead to an even bigger one.
Outside of Manish and Sai, Kabir trusted virtually no one with his secret. The precious journals themselves were still back in the city, securely locked up in his personal safe while their new custodian travelled out to this arid wilderness, full of excitement and determined to find out if the amazing revelations of their long-dead author were indeed true.
Only time would tell. Sooner rather than later, he hoped. His eagerness to know the truth sometimes bordered on desperation. Yes, it was an obsession. He knew that. But sometimes, he reminded himself, thats what it takes to get the job done.
Shielding his eyes from the suns glare, Kabir slowly scanned the horizon. The chopper was parked on a rocky plateau from where the ground fell away into a rubble-strewn valley. Heat ripples disturbed the air like tendrils rising from the ground, but he was able to make out the curve of the ancient dry river bed that wound for miles into the far distance. Millennia ago, a mighty waterway had flowed through here, nourishing the land and raising lush vegetation all along its banks. Now it was so parched and dusty that even looking at it made Kabir thirsty for another cold drink.
He looked back at the iPhone and scrolled through the selection of documents until he came to the scan of the hand-drawn map from one of the journals. The hundred and eighty-plus years it had lain undiscovered had done considerable damage. A lot of the pages had been nibbled around the edges by mildew and rodents. Others were so badly faded and water-stained as to be barely legible. Kabir had used specialised computer software to enhance the details, and a UV camera to photograph the worst-affected sections. Hed been pleased with the results. The digitised map now looked as sharp and clear as the day the journals author had sketched it. The only modification Kabir had made was to insert modern GPS coordinates in place of the original latitude and longitude figures that the author had calculated using the tools of his day, stars and compass.
The maps key feature was the undulating, meandering curve of a river whose line, as Kabir stood there comparing the two, closely resembled that of the dry bed that stretched out in front of him.