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The Alkano Letters: Erin and Craig Books, #1
The Alkano Letters: Erin and Craig Books, #1
The Alkano Letters: Erin and Craig Books, #1
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The Alkano Letters: Erin and Craig Books, #1

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THE ALKANO LETTERS is the first in a three book series following the exploits of archaeologist Erin Mathews and retired Major Craig Johnson.

In this story, Erin and her team have discovered twenty-four ancient letters whose content she believes has the potential of undermining the foundation of modern-day Christianity.

Believing the assignment will involve little more than a way to earn some easy money; Craig accepts a position to supervise a contingent of mercenaries charged with protecting Erin and her team on the tiny Greek Island of Alkano. Trouble begins almost immediately. Craig discovers that an ancient religious sect knows the esoteric message hidden in the letters and is sworn to protect it at any cost. At first, the team encounters suspicious mishaps meant to serve as a warning. When the warnings go unheeded, the threats turn deadly.

A journey to Egypt and Israel, where some of the letters were discovered, becomes critical to the analysis of the documents. Craig and Erin soon learn that they have not escaped the dangers posed by their adversaries. A desperate chase through the back streets of Jerusalem leads to Erin's abduction. Craig searches in vain, but only with the aid of a mysterious priest is he able to rescue her.

What begins as a straightforward task has become a complicated mission. The beautiful woman draws Craig into her search for the truth. The only thing that will ensure their safety is solving the two-thousand year old mystery; but time is quickly running out.

This story of intrigue, conspiracy and romance concludes with the astonishing resolution of the mystery of the letters, written between Jesus and members of his family.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 18, 2012
ISBN9781452447001
The Alkano Letters: Erin and Craig Books, #1
Author

Kenneth Joel Teicher

Having grown up in a home where reading was treated as not just a pastime but also a true pursuit. I have been reading many genres all my life, from historical biographies to science fiction. I have also learned to love the craft of writing. After years of diligent effort, I self-published my first book in 1991. Trips including historic sites, during a period of more than forty-five years, have always fascinated me - from the Roman Forum and Pompeii in Italy, the Acropolis in Greece, Stonehenge and the Roman Baths in England, the fantastic ancient city of Ephesus in Turkey, the ruins of Carthage in Tunisia, the fabulous Great Pyramids and Sphinx in Egypt, various sites in Israel, the fabled city of Machu Picchu in Peru, the Mayan ruins at Chichén Itzä in Mexico, The Terracotta Warriors and the Great Wall in China, and countless other locations around the world. These adventures have strengthened my fascination with the wonders of ancient civilizations and my growing amateur interest in the study of archaeology. They also triggered my desire to create a series of stories that have developed into the Erin and Craig action/adventure series. These stories are based on many of the locations noted above. I am currently working on the fifth book in the series. Future trips to other exotic and historic locals will, I hope, provide additional stimulating sites on which to base future stories in the series. My other passion is the fanciful world of science fiction. Over the years, I have sought to add my own work to the field. I am currently editing the seventh addition to this part of my collection.

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    The Alkano Letters - Kenneth Joel Teicher

    THE ALKANO LETTERS

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    (The Last Secret)

    Copyright 2005 Kenneth Joel Teicher

    Smashwords Addition

    This is a book of fiction. Descriptions of locations are based on the author’s recollections and altered or enhanced to suit the story. None of the characters are intended to portray real people. Names and incidents either are the product of the author’s own imagination or are fictitiously used and any resemblance to any actual person, living or dead is entirely by coincidence. Historic information is the result of the author’s research and has been modified or altered to enhance the needs of the story.

    No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronically or mechanically, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing by the author.

    Craig and Erin action-adventure series

    The Carthage Connection

    Carved in Stone

    Mystery of the Kukulcan Temple

    Science Fiction Stories

    The Mission

    A Matter of Time

    The Yesterday Tree

    Solitude

    Temporal Consciousness Transposition

    Gateway The Shula Intervention

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    PROLOGUE

    Pushing back the flap allowed a strong breeze, always blowing inland off the waters of the Mediterranean, to swirl around the interior of the tent. Involuntarily bringing his hand up to cover his face, the young man felt the coarse beard of his unshaved face. He wondered if he looked more like a common beggar than a simple weary traveler.

    Dismissing the thought, he turned and retrieved his small pack. He walked outside a short distance to the flat stone he noticed the day before. Sitting cross-legged, he opened his pack and withdrew one of the parchments he purchased in Jerusalem. After carefully spreading it out on the stone, he reached back into the pack and pulled out an old, ink-stained quill and a small jar of ink, purchased in the local market the previous day.

    Closing his eyes, he thought about what he would write. Realizing there was little he could say, he still felt obliged to honor his promise to write his mother. He began his communication with a brief statement of his condition but realized it would not be prudent to include his location. As he continued to produce the small, neat letters, he heard the sound of marching men.

    Looking up, he saw a patrol of Roman soldiers moving toward the rise that hid the city from his view. One of the soldiers had stopped and was watching him with a sinister stare. Diverting his eyes, the man looked down at his letter and completed the current word. A sound resolving itself into the laughter of several young women, already deep into their gossip of the previous night’s activity, drew the attention of both men.

    The women gathered just outside the city wall to draw the morning water from the well. After a long, narrow eyed stare, the solder turned and rushed to catch up to his comrades. The man allowed a low sigh to escape his lips as the soldiers disappeared over the rise.

    A new sound, from behind him, now drew his attention and he turned to see several men exit the tent where he had spent the night. One of the men came to stand by his side. The men spoke in hushed tones, using the local dialect, a strange mixture of Hebrew and Aramaic.

    Have you completed your letter? the fellow asked in a pleasant voice.

    The man looked up and smiled at his friend. Almost. Are you leaving so soon?

    Yes, we must begin before the day grows hot. We should reach our next destination by midday so that we may trade with the local merchants and acquire supplies.

    Not waiting for a reply, the fellow joined the others where they had left their camels and began loading their trade goods. The man, once again, turned back to his letter and added something about the friend that had promised to deliver the parchment to his mother. It would take the caravan many weeks to reach their final destination. He hoped his friend would have little trouble locating his mother in the small synagogue, the only one in Memphis.

    Having completed his letter, he closed the small inkpot, returning it and the quill to his pack. He then picked up the parchment and permitted it to flutter in the morning breeze, allowing the ink to dry. Carefully rolling it into a tight tube, he took a bit of rough cloth from his pack and wrapped the letter. Finally, he withdrew two short strips of animal hide, tying each end of the cloth to make a secure package.

    He stood up and slung his pack over his shoulder. Kicking out the sand that had crept into his sandals, he looked around for his friend. The men had left the area, but their voices carried over the rise from the well where they were filling their skins with water for their trip. In another moment, they returned to sit in front of their tent.

    A woman carrying some clay dishes appeared from one of the other tents. The man joined the others and was handed the last of the plates. Another woman came to them. She was carrying a large pot with a mixture of meat and vegetables sloshing around in a thick broth. Moving from man to man, she ladled some of the mixture into each plate. As she deposited some food into his plate, the man looked up and smiled at her. She stared at him for a long time, finally returning his smile. She seemed to recognize him but, thankfully, decided against acknowledging the fact.

    The men finished their meal and began talking about the best trail to use for the next leg of their trip. Soon the woman returned to collect the plates. Some of the men walked to the tents and began dismantling them. Others walked to where their camels were tethered.

    The animals, as if knowing what was expected of them, began to rise. First on their forelegs and then their hind legs, they rose to more than the height of a man. Few of the camels would carry a human cargo, being far too precious for such work. They were loaded with impossibly heavy cargo, which swung forward and back precipitously as the animals walked. His friend came to stand over him.

    So, your letter is ready?

    Yes, it is. Are you certain this will not be a burden to you?

    Of course not, we will arrive in Memphis before the next moon and I know where the old synagogue is located. Rest assured I shall deliver your letter without any difficulty.

    And what if you are stopped by a Roman patrol?

    Although they may stop the caravan, I am confident they will have no interest in searching our trade goods. I will hide your letter well and you need not fear it being discovered.

    I will be forever in your debt.

    Think nothing of it, my friend. It is the least I can do for you.

    Will you be returning to Judea soon?

    Once our trading is complete, we expect to return directly to Jerusalem. Will you remain in the area? I only ask this thinking your mother may wish to send a letter back with our caravan.

    No, I plan to travel to the north, he replied, careful not to reveal any more precise information.

    Yes of course, the Romans are everywhere. There is much tension, so you must be very careful. News from the north is scant, but I have heard that the Romans have little interest there. Most of them are bivouacked in and around Jerusalem and Caesarea.

    Do you know of caravans traveling north?

    Yes of course, there are many. Tyre is a major area of trade. From there many ships depart for Rome and Greece carrying goods acquired all along the trade routes.

    The man nodded his understanding but gave no indication that he planned to travel to that city. There was little to be gained by his friend’s awareness of his planned route and much potential danger. He handed over the letter and walked with his friend to one of the camels. The wrapped letter was carefully inserted deep within a large bundle of fabric and then the covering cloth was pulled down and tied securely. Feeling confident that his letter would be delivered, the two men embraced warmly and slowly separated. He began his trek north, turning one last time to wave good-bye.

    CHAPTER 1

    Craig felt himself being pushed farther along the edge of the conveyor while he looked for his old brown suitcase to appear. His lanky frame ached from the eighteen-hour Denver–to–New York–to–Athens’s flight. What a relief to unfold his body and stretch his legs in the modern air-conditioned terminal. He was worn out, but happy to be away from home, away from the memories of his recent divorce.

    The long black tongue of the luggage chute remained motionless, and his thoughts wandered to the strange meeting that brought him here to Greece. Back at his Colorado office, he had replayed the message several times before deciding to respond. The speaker sounded Italian, but flavored with an Eastern European accent he could not identify.

    The message stated only that the caller had an assignment for him, and would pay upfront. He’d been dreading having to borrow more money from his brother he never dreamed a divorce could cost as much as it did so he dialed the number.

    The heavily accented voice introduced the caller as Mister Quadropili. At least that is what it sounded like. His irregular phrasings made him difficult to follow, but his point was clear: The guy wanted to meet as soon as possible. Craig reluctantly agreed and a meeting was arranged later that day. The man sat alone at an isolated table at the back of the restaurant, dressed in a wrinkled wool overcoat, out of place for a Denver July.

    As Craig approached, the man stood, revealing a short, heavy frame, ruddy complexion, drooping mustache, and incredibly full eyebrows that made him look all the more foreign. Thick, black-framed eyeglasses hung tightly over his large ears, and long curly black hair did not hide the bald spot reflecting the fluorescent restaurant lighting.

    You are Mister Craig Johnson?

    Craig nodded and took the offered hand. As their palms came together, he felt clamminess. The fellow was nervous about something. Craig took the seat opposite and waited.

    You excuse me please, the man said, removed his glasses, and wiped a hand across his weary face. I have only recently flown from Rome and am not, how do you say, adjusted to time. Not important. My office is to arrange to engage you for a very important situation.

    The man fell into an awkward silence. Okay, Craig said. What are you hiring me to do, where’s the mission, and what’s the payment arrangement?

    Ah, good, to the point. Yes, yes. Permit me to explanation, Quadropili paused for a moment, as if he was not sure how to proceed. Finally, he cleared his throat and continued. The employer only identified himself with the initials ‘CV’. The assignment location is in Greece. The duration one month, or as many as six months. It will be up to you to determine the timeline. When you are successful, you will be finished. And the payment will be part in advance, the balance guaranteed on success. After taking a breath, he fell into silence, waiting for Craig’s response.

    Craig thought about the lack of details but clearly, Quadropili had no more information. The money was not exactly upfront, but this type of arrangement was not unfamiliar to him. In his line of work, success was all that mattered.

    The man reached into his suit pocket, withdrew an envelope and slid it across the table. The cashier’s check was for a sum triple his normal rate. Good. No money worries for a while. Also a business-class ticket for a non-stop flight to JFK Airport, then to Athens International.

    Unfortunately, no matter how much pressure Craig applied, the man was scant with additional details. Sorry, CV provided little more, he said. I can present to you that employment is to protect a group of archeologists, led by a Professor Bannington, on the island of Alkano. I am with no other information.

    Long ago, in another life, under pressure from his father to do something, anything with his life, Craig managed to get a degree in ancient history. But what did mercenary work have to do with archeology? Guard duty? That’s it? How the hell can I accept an assignment when I know nothing about it?

    Startled, the little man replied, I have only also to tell you, you will be working with another whom you know. Pausing to search his memory, he added, Thaddeus Theodosius. That the name.

    Craig leaned back against the booth’s lumpy cushion, feeling doubt slide off him. Thaddeus would not have accepted the assignment without enough information. Thaddeus would fill him in. There was also the very generous retainer, and the free ticket to Greece, a country he’d never visited. And working with a former, and most important, trusted partner. Yeah, this will work.

    And after that eighteen-hour flight, it had better. A random assortment of luggage began emerging from the chute. The carousel’s stainless steel blades brought his old suitcase into view. He grasped its one good handle, pulled it off and headed through the crowded corridor to passport control. When his turn came, he passed his documents through the narrow opening. The security guard’s eyes grew wide while he thumbed through the well-used passport.

    What is the purpose of your stay? the man asked without looking up.

    Craig never knew who might be on someone’s payroll. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing in Greece anyway. Visiting friends, he lied.

    He was prepared to use Thaddeus’s name, but he didn’t need to. The officer forcefully stamped one of the few remaining boxes and pushed the passport back through the window. Craig stuffed it inside his suit pocket and made his way to the exit. Once outside, he dropped the suitcase and took off his jacket; the dry summer heat made beads of sweat quickly collect on his face and arms. Could living in the Mile-High City have caused his body to change so much it couldn’t tolerate a little heat?

    Craig, how the hell are you, old friend?

    The booming voice preceded a big, well-tanned man with a massive head of black hair and an equally oversized mustache, striding toward him as if he owned the airport. The man flung his arms around him, forcing the air out of his lungs.

    Thaddeus, let go, Craig gasped, you’re gonna crush the life out of me!

    Oh please, you’re not so frail, my friend. Come, we can talk in the taxi, we have much traveling to do.

    Before he could answer, Thaddeus grabbed him and pulled him to the short taxi line. When their turn came, instead of getting in, Thaddeus raced around the side and began an animated conversation with the driver. Craig allowed his lips to curl into a smile. His understanding of Greek was nonexistent, but it was a treat to watch Thaddeus, who spoke almost as much with his hands as with his mouth. After a bit of yelling, Thaddeus came back to the curb and grabbed the old brown suitcase. Pulling open the trunk, he threw the bag inside and slammed the lid shut with a loud thud.

    What was that all about, Thad?

    During my trip to the airport, I noticed a big accident on the other side of the road. I was trying to persuade the driver to take another route. He finally agreed, but said it would cost extra. Damn taxi drivers, they’re all thieves. Come on, get in. We haven’t much time to reach the Piraeus Harbor, and we must catch the ferry to make our next connection.

    The taxi sped off for the airport exit. Craig, having never been to Greece, stared at the passing scenery. Thaddeus opened his window and leaned forward to catch the breeze. The taxi must have been traveling at least fifty miles an hour, but even at that speed, with the window wide open, the breeze did little to evaporate the sweat on Craig’s forehead, neck, and arms.

    Thaddeus offered a broad smile. How have you been, my friend? The last we saw each other was in Costa Rica.

    An interesting assignment.

    Yes it was, but I must say I think you were a bit too ruthless. I did not see the need to chase those men so far over the border.

    Oh come on Thad, we were hired to do a job. Teaching those people a lesson was in order. I doubt the locals will hear from them for a long time.

    Thaddeus gave a dismissive shrug. In the past now anyway. What have you been doing since?

    Not very busy. A couple of small security set-ups, that’s about all. Not really my line of work, but they pay the bills. And now this.

    An interesting job, I hope.

    His friend’s face was as clueless as Craig felt. Surprised, he said, Don’t you know what it’s all about?

    Not a clue. I’ve been to Alkano exactly one time, to help get the troops settled in. Yes, more of us. Heavily armed, too. That odd professor, what was his name? Oh yes, Bannington. Professor Bannington refused to tell me anything. Said he wanted to wait for your arrival, no point in repeating himself. I still can’t see why we need twenty-four men ... twenty-six, counting us.

    Craig nodded. A lot of manpower to watch over an archeological site. What the hell are they doing there?

    Your guess is as good as mine, as you say. But it must be something extremely important. Our employer has spared no expense for men and supplies. But enough talk of business, how’s Mindy?

    No way could he keep up a front with Thaddeus. You know we divorced. There was just no way she would put up with me leaving for months at a time. And ... I can’t blame her.

    His friend’s face fell as though Craig had told him Mindy had died. But ... I thought you two had patched things up.

    No. We tried. I guess only being together for a total of thirty-two months in five years isn’t really a marriage. Yeah, she kept a record. It wasn’t just that. She was desperate to have a family. I’m terrified of having children.

    Thaddeus’s face showed shock. That’s the silliest thing I ever heard you say. Having a family? The best thing you can do. It is, without question, the only thing that makes you feel truly whole.

    Sorry to say, we both agreed it was best to make a clean break.

    Thaddeus’s voice was full of concern for his friend. Are you really all right with this?

    Well. I’m getting used to it. How about you? How are Alcina and the kids?

    Beaming, Thaddeus said, Ah, the love of my life grows lovelier with each passing day. And the children? Growing up quickly. Too quickly. They looked at me with such long faces when I left this time. I must remember to bring home wonderful gifts for them, or I shall be forced to face their tears for many days.

    Tears. Before it was over, Craig and Mindy had shed plenty. The next swallow of air saved him from going down that dark road; it told him they were approaching saltwater. On the crest of the next rise, he could see small sailboats skipping across the Aegean’s crystal clear water. It was easy to change the subject.

    Traffic began to build, forcing the driver to slow, at one point coming to a measured roll to allow an elderly man time to creep across the road. Craig opened his mouth to say something inconsequential, that pedestrians seemed the same everywhere. He never got the chance. A hulking black car came racing around the corner, heading straight at them.

    To avoid hitting the car head-on, their driver gunned the motor and drove over the curb. Evading a tree, he turned the wheel hard to the left, swerving back as the black car sped past. The taxi stopped with its front wheels on the road and the rear wheels on the sidewalk. The driver pressed the gas pedal again and cursed when the rear tires found no traction.

    Craig and Thaddeus got behind the vehicle and manhandled it to the point where the driver was able to drive fully onto the road. As they drove on, Thaddeus turned to Craig. Did you notice the driver was a priest?

    Craig wiped the sweat from his forehead. No. Guess everybody’s entitled to a bad day.

    Did you notice how he was dressed?

    Confused, Craig said, Not really. Is it important?

    I guess not. Although, his clerical outfit was that of a Roman Catholic. Greek Orthodox priest vestments are different. Perhaps he was a tourist who got lost.

    Neither man said anything more about the near-collision. Another few minutes and they stopped in front of a freshly painted building. Thaddeus threw some bills at the driver while Craig recovered his suitcase and slammed the trunk closed. While Thaddeus disappeared into the building to purchase their ferry tickets, Craig looked around the large modern port. Several ferries were at various stages of loading or unloading passengers and, at some of the larger boats, cars.

    Farther from their location was the cruise ship area, where Craig counted three majestic white ships. Interspersed along the large pier was an uncountable number of private pleasure craft of all sizes and descriptions.

    Craig was enjoying the sight so much, he forgot for a moment why he’d come to Greece. And then, he recalled that he didn’t yet know. It bothered him more that even Thaddeus had not yet been told.

    Thaddeus burst from the building, clutching their tickets in his fist, and led Craig passed a group of buildings, emerging at a wide concrete dock. A boat, looking more like a cruise ship than the ferry Craig had envisioned, seemed to be swallowing a never-ending line of cars. Thaddeus led him to the upper deck and found two seats near the bow.

    Here, outside, we can catch a breeze, Thaddeus explained, dropping into one of the few vacant seats, his burly body overflowing onto the one meant for Craig. Have a seat, relax. In an hour and a half, we will arrive at Aegina.

    Though still curious about their mission, they spoke of other things until the crowded ferry began turning toward an island so rugged, it looked recently erupted from the sea floor. Once off the boat, Thaddeus found a taxi and told Craig, Quick, get in. The water boat only makes its runs to Alkano once a week until the real heat settles in, and it’s fifteen minutes to the other side of the island.

    Water boat, what’s that?

    The island we are going to is tiny. Just enough fresh water for their farms and a few animals. There are ancient wells. Unfortunately, most of the water has a high salt content. They may only use it for showering or to flush toilets, not for drinking. What little that is good is used for the small farms. For potable water, the people rely on the water boat to make up the difference.

    The ride brought them to the far end of a long semicircular pier at the foot of a colorful town, whose streets snaked up the side of a steep hill. There was no time to linger at the site. Suitcase in hand, Craig followed Thaddeus around the dock to the aged water boat, low in the water, its tanks filled with its precious cargo.

    As soon as they sat at the stern, the deckhand cast off the lines and yelled to the invisible captain. The engine coughed a few times before beginning a constant rumbling that rushed through Craig’s body, adding to his jet lag to make him a bit nauseous. Now, keeping his stomach calm seemed more important than talking to Thaddeus, or anyone.

    They left the dock and continued toward what looked like little more than a hill reaching out of the water. The engine vibration thankfully ceased as the boat glided to stop at a creaky wood pier where two bare-chested men waited. A plastic pipe, held up by an old rusted chain, was already being pushed out over the water.

    After making the connection to a heavy gray hose dragged out by a man on shore, the deckhand waved to the man. An engine sputtered to life and the hose jerked against the sudden pressure of water being sucked from the boat to the tanks on shore.

    Craig, watching, felt Thaddeus clap his shoulder. Come along, it’s not far but we must walk.

    A dusty path around the island first led to the pleasant little village Thaddeus had mentioned. From there, a brisk twenty-minute hike brought them to an overgrown field, one side of which held a grouping of tents.

    That is the place we’ll call home for however long this assignment lasts, Thaddeus said. Six four-man tents for the troops, another for us. He pointed to a cluster of tents about twenty yards from the main group. The others are for Professor Bannington, his assistants, and the equipment. Over there are the dining and food preparation areas. Our meals are quite simple. Usually cereal for breakfast. The locals provide our other meals, supplemented by food the professor purchases at least weekly.

    Thaddeus led the way to their tent and held the flap open, allowing Craig to enter first. The old wooden planks that made up the floor were marred with nail holes, making them look as if they had seen duty in several other places. He noted the black metal cots, at their feet open trunks with an assortment of neatly folded khaki clothing, and a gun rack that held two clean, oiled M-16s. Identical gun belts hung over the rack, heavy 45mm automatics snapped into their holsters. A pair of green-metal ammunition cans, the white markings almost completely rubbed off, stood on the floor.

    Some trouble those guns gave me, Thaddeus announced, seeing his friend’s questioning look. The Greek authorities? So very strict about weapons. Apparently, our employer knows people. Even so, it took me several days and trips to God knows how many offices to get the paperwork squared away. That’s why I’ve only been here once.

    Craig grinned at him. If anyone could accomplish all this, it would be you.

    Laughing, Thaddeus began unbuttoning

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