Atlantis Found by Clive Cussler Read Free Book Online Page B

bright light spilled through the opening in the rock ceiling. “I strung lights inside since you visited yesterday, Dr. Ambrose. The sheer walls act as reflectors, so you shouldn’t have a problem studying the writing.” Then he stood aside and helped Pat up the ladder.
    Not having been told what to expect, she was stunned. She felt like Howard Carter when he first viewed King Tut’s tomb. Her eyes immediately locked on the black skull, and she reverently approached its pedestal and stared at the smooth surface gleaming under the lights.
    “It’s exquisite,” she murmured admiringly, as Ambrose squeezed through the opening and stood beside her.
    “A masterwork,” he agreed. “Carved out of obsidian.”
    “I’ve seen the Mayan crystal skull that was found in Belize. This one is far more inspiring. The other is crude in comparison.”
    “They say the crystal skull emits an aura of light, and strange sounds are heard to come from it.”
    “It must have been lethargic the time I studied it,” said Pat, smiling. “It only sat there and stared.”
    “I can’t imagine how many years—generations most likely, without modern tools—it took to polish such an object of beauty from a mineral so brittle. One tap of a hammer and it would shatter into a thousand pieces.”
    “The surface is so smooth, it’s flawless,” Pat said softly.
    Ambrose swept one hand around the chamber. “This entire chamber is a wonder. The inscriptions on the walls and ceiling must easily have taken five men a lifetime to engrave in the rock, but not before an immense effort was spent polishing the interior surfaces. This chamber alone had to have taken years to carve out of solid granite at this depth. I’ve measured the dimensions. The four walls, floor, and ceiling enclose a perfect cube. If the interior surfaces are out of alignment or plumb, it’s less than one millimeter. Like the classic old mystery novel, we have a drama that took place in a room with no windows or doors.”
    “The opening in the floor?” Pat asked.
    “Blasted by Luis Marquez while excavating for gemstones,” replied Ambrose.
    “Then how was this chamber created without an entrance and exit?”
    Ambrose pointed to the ceiling. “The only hint I could find of an infinitesimal crack around the borders was in the ceiling. I can only assume that whoever constructed this cubicle burrowed down from above and placed a precisely carved slab atop the cubicle.”
    “For what purpose?”
    Ambrose grinned. “The reason why you’re here, to find answers.”
    Pat removed a notepad, a small paintbrush and a magnifying glass from a pack she carried on her belt. She moved close to one wall, gently swept away the dust of centuries from the rock, and peered at the script through the glass. She intently studied the markings for several moments before looking up and staring at the ceiling. Then she looked at Ambrose with a blank expression in her face. “The ceiling appears to be a celestial map of the stars. The symbols are . . .” She hesitated and stared at Ambrose with a blank expression. “This must be some sort of hoax perpetrated by the miners who dug the tunnel.”
    “What brought you to that conclusion?” inquired Ambrose.
    “The symbols don’t bear the slightest resemblance to any ancient writings I’ve ever studied.”
    “Can you decipher any of them?”
    “All I can tell you is that they are not pictographic like hieroglyphics, or logographic signs that express individual words. Nor do the symbols suggest words or oral syllables. It appears to be alphabetic.”
    “Then they’re a combination of single sounds,” offered Ambrose.
    Pat nodded in agreement. “This is either some sort of written code or an ingenious system of writing.”
    Ambrose looked at her intently. “Why do you think this is all a hoax?”
    “The inscriptions do not fit any known pattern set down by man throughout recorded history,” Pat said in a quiet, authoritative