Matt looked down at the image again. “Watkins’s work was influenced by an even earlier paper by William Henry Black given to the British Archaeological Association in 1870. Black speculated that there were spiritual geometrical lines which covered the entire world.”

“Spiritual?” Abrams shook his head. “What we’re dealing with is definitely not spiritual.”

“I agree.” Matt shrugged and handed back the tablet. “But that’s what the lines represent.” He looked at his colleagues, and his brow creased. “Okay, I understand why Andy is here, and Captain Kovitz, and also Berry and Hartogg, but why am I here? It can’t be just because you need some Syrian translated. There are thousands of American Syrian speakers, some of them already in the military, so I’m assuming it must be something a little more complex.”

Abrams paced for a moment, as if thinking through his answer. “Our contact has alluded to a document, a manuscript or a book or something written in different ancient Arabic scripts. We don’t know what it is at this point in time, and he wouldn’t tell us.”

“Arabic?” Matt shook his head. “Are you sure? ‘Arabic’ includes numerous dialects and type-forms across a huge territory, stretching across the Middle East and down through much of Africa.” He pushed his hair back. “In Syria, I think we’re more likely to be looking at Syriac. That’s a Middle Aramaic language, written in the Syriac alphabet. It was spoken for centuries, but it wasn’t a literary language until around the fourth century.”

Abrams opened his arms. “You see; you’re already of value.”

“No, no, no. I know when someone’s blowing smoke. Any first-year languages student could have told you that. One more time: why am I here, Major?”

Abrams grunted. “Professor Kearns, I could not begin to form a satisfactory explanation for you at this point. You’ve seen the symbols we have been encountering in the sinkholes – Doctor Albadi has similar glyphic representations. He also said there would be critical translation work, and we needed to bring someone expert in numerous Middle Eastern dialects…and some older languages.” He held up a hand. “I don’t know which yet, but our new friend said some of the languages would be…challenging. He also said that our specialist needs to have an open mind. I’m loath to embark on speculation without something a little more concrete.”

He looked from Matt to Andy. “So, in a nutshell: we are going to meet Hussein ben Albadi, a doctor of anthropology formerly of the University of Damascus. He now resides in a small town on the outskirts of Aleppo. He has some compelling information for us – and I believe he has something worth seeing and listening to. Something that is critical to our survival.” He took a breath. “We need to hear it first hand – all of us.”

Chapter 7

Aleppo International Airport, Syria

Yellow dust and broken brick, peeling paint and miles of ochre roadway: these were the impressions Matt got as they sped away from the airport. The battered minivan continued past the city center, heading west, fast.