Free The Solomon Scroll by Alex Lukeman

with an interest in my affairs."
    "It's possible," Rhoades said. "I'll look into it."
    "Something else. There is another scroll," Al-Bayati said. "I want you to obtain it. It may help us find the tomb."
    "Another? Where is it?"
    "In the British Museum. Locate it and bring it to me."
    Rhoades looked nervous. "It's too late to go today..."
    Al-Bayati laughed. "Don't worry, you don't have to go until tomorrow. You know I need you to assist me. Is everything prepared?"
    "Yes. The new moon will rise in about forty minutes."
    "The boy?"
    "In his room. He has already received the drug."
    "Good. Go over to the sideboard. You'll find what you need there."
    Rhoades walked over to the sideboard and picked up the foil wrapped ball. He popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.
    "Get the boy ready and bring him to my bedroom."
    Rhoades left the room and Al-Bayati leaned back in the comfortable chair and closed his eyes, feeling the power of the ancient drugs begin to lift him into a different realm.
    The formulas Al-Bayati used to create his heightened awareness dated back thousands of years, to a time when Carthage had been as great as her rival Rome. Nazar believed he was descended from a high priest of Carthage. It was as his father had taught him, as his father had been taught as well, going back in an unbroken line through the millennia
    Carthage had long since turned to dust but the true religion had been kept alive in secret throughout the centuries. There had always been worshipers and priests to serve the god. Now, most of the followers were gone. Nazar was the last of his line, the last who knew the true mysteries. He'd been unable to sire a male heir. If there was one thing in his life he regretted, it was that. Not long ago he had come to the realization that time was running out for him. The women he had coupled with in the past had failed to produce a male child, always it was a girl. The women disappeared. He'd found another use for the girls who were born.
    No one had ever bothered to ask what happened to the women. They wouldn't have dared. People didn't ask Nazar Al-Bayati about things like that. He had his eye on a new candidate. If she didn't produce, Al-Bayati had come to the conclusion he would have to choose a successor not of his blood. It was a difficult realization, one he did not want to accept. Tonight's sacrifice would be special, meant to draw the god's favor to him. Surely, his prayer would be answered.
    He stood and swayed for a moment as his body adjusted to the drugs.  Everything in the room glowed with light and color. The soft touch of his silk robe was like a caress. He could feel the blood coursing through his veins and heat in his groin. The god was not jealous. The boy's virginity was not a requirement.
    The power of his youthful blood was what counted.
     
     

CHAPTER 16
     
     
    Selena's reputation as a renowned lecturer in ancient Middle Eastern and Oriental languages opened doors at the British Museum kept closed to the public. The museum housed one of the greatest collections in existence of Middle Eastern artifacts. There had been a time when British expeditions bent on exploration and discovery had covered the globe. Crumbling ruins no one cared about turned out to be treasure houses of statuary, treasure, carvings and cultural items from lost civilizations.
    The world had changed since the days of empire. Many of the acquisitions had become controversial. As far as Nick knew, the scroll they were interested in wasn't one of them.
    Nick and Selena were met by a man in his fifties wearing a conservative worsted suit. He wore glasses with designer frames that had probably cost close to a thousand dollars. He had a thin, aristocratic face with an expression as though there had been too much lemon in his tea and sported a thin, sandy mustache that reminded Nick of pictures he'd seen of British officers during World War I. He introduced himself as Sir Peter Wainwright. Wainwright was