How were the Stone Age villagers of ancient England able to haul sarsans weighing 80,000 pounds over 20 miles of rough, hilly terrain? How did they manage to lift 18,000-pound lintels 20 feet off the ground and set them perfectly into place? Moreover, what mission could possibly be so important as to motivate these prehistoric people to complete such an incredible endeavor?

There are no written records left behind to identify the builders of Stonehenge, but one popular (though absurd) legend points to Merlin, the magician of King Arthur’s court, as being the brains behind the brawn. It is said the bearded wise man designed the temple to function as a cosmic observatory and celestial calendar, as well as a place of communion and worship, until it was mysteriously abandoned in 1500 BC.

While Pierre returned to London, Maria and I left Stonehenge to explore the large moundlike tombs surrounding the monument, hoping to find the remains of elongated skulls that would link the Central and South American sites to this ancient burial ground. The largest tomb in the area is a 340-foot-long subterranean burial mound, also constructed of sarsans. Within this tomb lie the skeletal remains of 47 individuals. For some reason, the bones have been anatomically segregated into different chambers.

What we found was not as startling as what we didn’t find—at least a dozen skulls belonging to the largest individuals were missing!

We spent the next four months moving from tomb to tomb, always finding the same results. Eventually we arrived at what many archaeologists believed was the holiest of the sites, a fortification of stone located beneath a burial mound in Loughcrew, a remote area in central Ireland.

Carved within the sarsan walls of this tomb are magnificent hieroglyphs, the premier design being a series of spiraling concentric circles. I remember watching Maria’s face in the lantern’s light as her dark eyes focused upon the bizarre emblems. My heart leapt as her face lit with recognition. Dragging me from the tomb into daylight, she ran to our auto and began tearing open boxes containing hundreds of photos we had taken together in a hot-air balloon over the Nazca desert.

“Julius, look, it’s here!” she had proclaimed, thrusting a black-and-white photo to my face.

The photo was of the Nazca pyramid, one of the older desert drawings we believed to be of extreme importance. Within its triangular borders were two figures: one, an inverted four-legged animal, the other, a series of concentric circles.

The circles were identical to the carvings found within the burial tomb.