Forget it if you don't want it to be the last thing youll ever see in your life! A storm is coming and in a short time the cave will be completely under water!
Those words stabbed me in the heart.
Alright! I replied with resignation.
I knew I would have to set off back along the wall using the gaps in the rock face that were much nearer the surface of the water, even allowing my foot to go below the surface of the water once or twice. So, I shouted across to Kalisteas.
Do me a favour, Kalisteas. Start distracting the creature!
How?
Throw rocks into the water to attract our friend's attention! As soon as you see him approach you, tell me!
Got it!
A few moments later on seeing the creature approach, Kalisteas shouted. From the ripples in the water at the other side of the lagoon, it was clear that he had attracted the creatures attention. At that moment, I got into the water and started to swim the short distance to the point where there were an abundance of gaps in the wall close to the waters surface.
I did not look back as I emerged from the water and immediately started ascending the rock face. Just as I had cleared my feet from the waters surface, I could hear a swishing sound in the lagoon close behind me; a sound that grew more ominous as I started to put a few more inches between myself and the lagoon surface below.
With my heart pounding and with a greater familiarity of the handholds and footholds I had already used to get to that point, I climbed back along the wall at more than twice the speed I had come. All my previous caution had been thrown to the wind as I now started grabbing hold of any crack, or putting my foot in any gap I could, as pure adrenaline was pumping through my veins.
The thunderous noise outside continued to increase as I reached the other side, my hands torn and bleeding through the effort I had made and the chances I had taken.
The Greek hurried us back through the shafts, passageways and tunnels until we reached the cave. The water had risen so high that as we entered the water to swim out, our heads barely protruded above the surface as there was only just enough room between the water and the cave ceiling.
We were already in sight of the exit when the cave became completely submerged. Just before the exit, we all took a final deep breath and had to dive below the surface in order to cover the final stretch. Finally, we emerged into the sunlit lake overcome with relief as we saw the ferryman waiting for us.
The trip back had a bittersweet taste. We had made the greatest archaeological discovery in human history but had brought back no evidence to support this. And worst of all, we would have to wait for a whole year in order to try again.
Chapter 1
London, 1922
I was on my way to an exhibition being held in the main function room of the British Museum. Unfortunately, I was running late and had had to catch a taxi on the corner of White Hart Lane. All the writers and reporters for the most prominent newspapers were going to be there to cover the news of the year. For the first time, the most acclaimed archaeological discovery of recent years could be seen in London. No reporter worth his salt would miss this event.
By the time we had reached Piccadilly Circus we had run into a horrendous traffic jam, and for ten minutes we barely advanced twenty yards.
If I was late, I could consider myself fired.
How much? I asked the taxi driver.
Two shillings and tuppence he replied turning to me.
I paid him and got out.
After walking across Trafalgar Square in the drizzle, I hurried down several side streets until I came to Great Russell Street.
The atmosphere of expectation was even greater than I would have imagined. Hundreds of photographers, policemen and multitudes of onlookers were crowding around the entrance to the British Museum. Despite its enormous dimensions, even the museum appeared to be too small for the occasion.
Luxury Rolls-Royces kept pulling up out the front. I could not recall such a stir since Valentino had made an appearance at the Albert Hall a couple of years earlier.
Two large spotlights made the impressive Doric columns of the buildings façade shine as the statue of the goddess Athena at the front seemed to come to life. The building sparkled that night as if it were the most beautiful neoclassical jewel.
I went to the front gate, presented my press accreditation and, after an exhaustive search through the lists of invited newspapers, the museums officials finally let me in. Apparently, imposters had been constantly trying to sneak in using all manner of false press passes. I then climbed the wide staircase and stood at the designated spot on the corridor overlooking the main entrance.
Hey Paul! Youre wet through! exclaimed Tom, the Northern Star correspondent.
It was impossible to get anywhere near this place by taxi and I left my umbrella at home, I answered glumly. Has the man of the moment arrived yet?
No. Just the mayor, but thats nothing to shout about! he replied smiling.
In the background a great murmur was heard as even more people began to crowd at the main entrance.
I think that may be our man now, Tom announced as he reloaded his camera.
We did not have to wait too long. A few moments later, we saw an Aston Martin convertible come to a stop outside the front steps carrying the star of the day.
A shower of flashes immortalized the moment as people shouted the name of the most sought-after man on the planet as he was getting out of the car. Howard Carter, accompanied by his beautiful and elegant lady friend, stepped onto the red carpet rolled out for the occasion, and proceeded to greet cheering fans and well-wishers on either side as if they were two movie stars in the age of the silent film.
Mr. Carter! Mr. Carter! all the correspondents shouted in unison.
A few words! I shouted to him as he climbed the staircase and approached my position.
As Howard Carter came over, I put down my camera and took out my notebook from my coat pocket.
Tell me, Mr. Carter, what was the most difficult part of the whole expedition?
The hardest part was finding the tomb, he joked.
Everyone laughed out loud.
Seriously though, he added, the hardest thing was to maintain the intense search over a number of years.
Thank you, Mr. Carter.
Carter and his companion then approached the Prime Minister, the Director of the British Museum, and other dignitaries who were waiting to shake his hand.
During the visit, he explained to all those present how the discovery of the chamber that housed Tutankhamun's tomb had come about. They were able to admire photographs and some of the smaller pieces from the burial chamber, while most of the larger pieces remained in Egypt.
Afterwards, Carter and the rest of the dignitaries went off to a cocktail party they were throwing at one of the city's most fashionable restaurants. Meanwhile, we were able to examine the photographs taken inside the burial chamber of the incredible discovery that Carter had made. Judging by the photographs, the objects within the chamber appeared to be in perfect condition. It was a true miracle that grave robbers had not desecrated such an incredible treasure throughout the centuries.
That night I went back to the newsroom to prepare the article that would appear on the front page, trying to give it a personal touch so as to differentiate it from those of my fellow professionals.
The next morning, I returned early to the newspaper offices housed in a modernist five-story building constructed at the turn of the century. I went up its wide staircase to the second floor and found, as ever, an incessant movement of people who were all coming and going. I crossed the hall filled with the deafening noise of typewriters, the sound of telephones ringing nonstop, the continuous shouts of correspondents and a strong smell of tobacco that had made the atmosphere almost unbreathable.
I opened the door and entered the chief editor's office, a sixty-year-old Scotsman with an aquiline nose, thick sideburns and a lean face. On that morning he had assembled several reporters.
Come in and close the door, he said sulkily. Since Ive stopped smoking, I can't bear the smell of tobacco.
Yes, sir, replied Sarah, the feature writer.
She had overdone it with her French perfume that day.
Weve got a lot of work on this morning. Sales of the newspapers Sunday Edition have dropped alarmingly in the past two months, he said banging his fist on the table. If we continue like this, the Sunday Edition will collapse. We need something new to boost sales.
We could add a police story, said one reporter who had recently come over from a rival newspaper.
Too hackneyed, said the Scotsman. Thats already been tried at other newspapers and it has been a failure. All the writers think theyre the next Arthur Conan-Doyle.
A young correspondent who had started work the week before took out his pipe, filled it with tobacco and lit a match. The Scotsman went over to him and took the pipe out of his mouth.
Werent you listening before?
The boy turned pale and we all held back our chuckles. He didn't know who he was messing with.
Any other ideas? he growled.
Maybe a gardening section, Sarah added.
Everyone in this country is a gardener, he replied with a dismissive gesture. If youve got nothing worth saying, keep your mouth shut, he added with a threatening look. We need something innovative.
They all fell silent for a few minutes without knowing what to say. I went to the teapot and poured myself a cup of tea. I had had an idea the night before, but I was uncertain about saying it out loud. Finally, I plucked up the courage.
I may have something interesting, I announced as I put the teacup down on the table.
Lets hear it!
Carter's discovery in Egypt could turn out to be a gold mine. It has made people forget about the horrors of the war.
What are you getting at?
People have an insatiable appetite for reading about the stories of our great explorers.
Chronicles of those expeditions can be found in any public library.
Thats true, but we could surprise them with some little-known accounts. There must be thousands of interesting stories just waiting to be published.
Hmmm. Im not sure, he replied as a look of doubt crossed his face. And where do you plan to unearth these little gems?
We could start with the British Museum Library, I suggested.
He was silent for a few moments, pondering the idea, after which he added:
Well, if nobody has a better idea, see what you can come up with over the next few days.
The meeting was adjourned and we left the office to get on with our normal daily work.
The next morning when I awoke, the window was covered in a white blanket of snow. It was the first snow of winter and the streets were full of children throwing snowballs at each other. As I made my way to the British Museum, I saw a couple of passers-by slip on the treacherous surface; the ice had made several streets impassable and workmen had already begun to scatter rock salt on the ground.
Despite this, the museum's library was crowded as usual. An endless stream of people were coming and going through its doors: students, readers, tourists and researchers, all of whom would spend hours within its walls.
I climbed the front steps carefully so as not to slip, then crossed the main hall and arrived at the atrium: a large circular reading room with space for more than a thousand people. Some of the oldest volumes in the country could be found there.
I had to wait in the queue at the reception desk until a pretty librarian with medium-length blonde hair and wearing a navy blue suit pointed out where I could start my search.
We have three types of inventory, she explained, peering above her tiny pebble glasses with her pretty eyes, topographical, chronological, and business.
Im searching for any journals detailing archaeological expeditions from the last fifty years.
The librarian sighed and said:
You can start your search by looking under SUBJECT. Then, you could proceed by looking up CARTOGRAPHICAL STUDIES. From there, you could refine your search chronologically. In other words, to the period of time that you wish to investigate.
Does that mean I have to search through more than one whole classification or section?
She nodded with a half-smile.
This was going to take more time than I had bargained for.
I went up to the second floor and after walking down several aisles full of bookshelves, I found a section replete with manuscripts.
I asked the person in charge of that section for the documentation I was looking for, and he proceeded to deposit a mountain of files on the table that exceeded my height.
Will that be all for today? he asked without a flicker of emotion.
I hope so, I replied, the tone of resignation quite obvious in my voice.
If you don't manage to get through it all, we have some shelves in reception where researchers can store any materials they are working on for the following day.
Thank you very much. Thats most kind of you to suggest it.
I turned on the small green lamp that was present on each table and opened the first dossier; a process I repeated many times over the following days.
After a few days into the research, I was beginning to regret my proposal. This wasnt going to be as easy as I had imagined. The information seemed endless, and it would take years to study it properly.
I found out about all manner of explorers, from those who had discovered the most remote places in Africa, to archaeologists who had unearthed the historical legacies of the Middle East.
Around mid-morning, while turning a few pages, I looked up and noticed a man watching me from a few tables further up. I wasnt sure if I knew him, or if he was looking at me for some other reason. A moment later, I looked up again, but he was gone.
After lunch, I went through the library shelves. It felt like a real privilege to run my fingertips over those volumes that held so many centuries of history: Stanley's personal diary of his odyssey through Africa until he found the sources of the Nile and his subsequent encounter with Livingstone; the hardships of Arctic explorers led by Shackleton when his ship was trapped in the ice for months and they had nearly frozen to death; the race for the conquest of the South Pole between Amundsen and Scott in which he tragically ended up losing his life; as well as various archaeological discoveries made by our most acclaimed explorers.