'The Sumerians had lots of gods…lots of goddesses； too；' Kline went on as if nothing unusual had occurred。 'A whole team of 'em。 Anu； god of the Heavens； Su'en； the Moon god； Enlil； god of Water； Markuk； god of Babylon； Ea； one of the good guys； and the goddess； Inin； later known as Ishtar…now she was something else。 She was a whore。 Then there was Bel…Marduk； the one they came to despise。' His smile had bee venomous。 'They misunderstood his cruelty； you see。 But there was always someone…excuse me； some deity…to pray to for any cause； or to blame for any wrong。 Delegation was the idea； spreading the load。 Don't put too much pressure on the one god or goddess in case they get vexed and turn nasty。 Or was it because they didn't believe in putting all their trust in one master？ Maybe a lesson learned from their past。 And that's the weird thing about these people； Halloran： we know hardly anything at all about their origins。 Now； like I said before； that's odd； considering the Sumerians invented the written word。' Halloran scarcely heard； for he was still numbed by the strength of the vision of moments before。 And tiredness also was beginning to weigh heavily upon him。
'It seems；' Kline continued； his enthusiasm not curbed by lack of interest from his audience； 'that kings； princes…maybe even the high priests…hid or destroyed all records of Sumerian early history。 Yet they'd been setting things down as cuneiform writing on clay tablets since 3000 BC！ What d'you suppose they needed to hide？ I mean； to wipe out centuries of their past like that； they must have had some terrible dark secret they wanted to keep from the rest of the world； don't you think？' He was leaning forward again； hands resting on his knees； his face bright in the glow from the fire。
Halloran struggled to rouse himself； the room's warmth and Kline's almost mesmeric tone abetting the weariness。 'There's something more I need to ask you；' he said； and then had to concentrate to remember what it was。 In the gloom of the far corner； the stone woman's eyes seemed larger。
'Even one of the greatest archaeological finds ever failed to turn up any evidence of what went on in Sumerian society much before 2500 BC；' said Kline； ignoring the pending question。 'That was when Sir Leonard Woolley discovered a gigantic grave site near the city wall of Ur in the 1920s。 Thousands of the graves had been plundered； but something spurred on the old boy to dig deeper； and what he found underneath that cemetery staggered historians all around the world。' Halloran pinched the corners of his eyes with thumb and forefinger。 What the hell was Kline rambling on about？
'Know what was there？' Kline gripped the arms of the chair as if unable to contain his excitement。 'Stone tombs。 Sepulchres！ Can you believe it？ Woolley's team got to them by ramps leading into deep shafts。 Inside those chambers they found intact skeletons of Sumerian kings； queens； princes； princesses； and members of the high priesthood； all decked out in full regalia of gold and semi…precious stones…and that's why it came to be known as the Royal Cemetery。 Around them were golden cups； steles and statues； beautiful vases； silver ornaments…all kinds of valuable ；tuff。' Kline gave an excited laugh。 'And know what else； L Halloran？ All their servants and attendants were buried right there with them。 Court officials； soldiers； priests…even oxen with their wagons。 No signs of violence； though。 Those people had accepted their fate without argument。 They'd taken poison and allowed themselves to be sealed in with their masters and mistresses。' He grinned。 'How's that for loyalty？' Halloran experienced a peculiar sense of relief when the other man turned away from him to gaze at the fire； as though Kline's intensity was a parasitical thing。 Some of his tiredness lifted and he remembered the question he had meant to ask。
But Kline was speaking once more。 'For twelve years Sir Leonard worked that site； delving； dusting； probing； digging； yet nowhere did he find anything that toed him of the early Sumerians。 Some historians surmise that everything was destroyed at the time of the Great Flood…if there ever was such an event。 No one's ever been sure whether or not that was only a myth； and one borrowed by another religion； incidentally。 For Noah； read Utnapishtim； a hero of Sumerian legend。 Anyway； no matter； flood or not； something should have survived from that catastrophe unless those old boys didn't want it to。 But what could be so bad； so diabolically awful； that they'd want the knowledge of it obliterated from their history Answer me that。' His head slowly came around so that he was facing Halloran again； and there was a meanness to his smile。 The flames of the fire had died down； the room considerably darker。 Halloran felt oppressed by the shadows； as though they were drapes closing around him。 ；And the weariness had returned； resting on his eyelids so that they were difficult to keep open。
The question。 Not Kline's but his own。 What was the question？ Kline had reminded him。 Underneath the cemetery。 Under。 Heath。 Kline had even emphasised the word。 He thought of the sturdy oak door that led to the cellar。
'Curious about what's down there？' said the other man。 'Under the house？ Down in the cellar？' But Halloran hadn't voiced the question。 His head sagged with tiredness。
'Not falling asleep on me； are you？' said Kline。 'Ah well； it's been a long day； so go ahead； close your eyes。' He didn't want them to； but his eyes closed。 Halloran stirred in the chair； his limbs leaden。 Sleep was approaching and it was irresistible。
'Not just a cellar；' he heard Kline say from a great distance。 'Something more than that。 Down there is where I have my very own sepulchre。 Did you hear me； Halloran？' Barely。 Kline must be a long way ；away by now 。 。 。 。 。 My sepulchre Halloran 。 。 。
。 。yet the words were suddenly near； a whisper inside Halloran's mind。
27 A DREAM AND BETRAYAL
'Liam。 Wake up。' He felt a hand shaking his shoulder and consciousness quickly drew him away from the unreality of his dream。 Halloran's body was tensed and ready before his eyes opened； his fingers instinctively curling around the butt of his gun。 Cora was leaning over him； her face anxious。
'Liam； we have to go back to London immediately。' He looked past her at the empty chair opposite。 Only grey ashes were in the fireplace and daylight did its best to penetrate the heavy curtains over the windows。 Stone eyes still watched him from the corner of the room。
'Liam；' Cora urged。
'It's all right。' He stood； all drowsiness gone； his senses fully alert。 He was angry with himself when he glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was nearly 8。40。 Why the hell had he allowed himself to fall asleep in this room； and why hadn't one of the bodyguards woken him at the proper time？ 'What's the problem； Cora？' he quickly asked。
'Felix has just had a call from Sir Victor。 He has to return to Magma right away。'
'On a Sunday？' She nodded。 'It's serious。' He made towards the door； but her hand on his arm stopped him。
'Last night 。 。 。' she said。
So much had happened the night before that it took him a second or two to understand what Cora meant。 Her expression was so solemn； her eyes so grave； that he couldn't help but smile。 'We'll talk later；' he told her； then kissed her cheek。 They left the room together。
The streets of the City were empty； save for the few tourists who took the occasion of such quietness to view London's financial sector。 Light drizzle soaked the pavements and roadways； freshening them for the onslaught they would take during the rest of the week。 Glass towers glistened as though newly varnished； while older buildings hued darker as they soaked up the dampness。
A convoy of three cars； a black limousine； a Mercedes and a Granada； sped through the deserted streets； the drivers of each checking their surrounds and rearview mirrors each time they were halted by traffic lights。
Halloran was in the back of the second car； the silver…grey Mercedes； sitting next to Felix Kline； prepared to cover his client with his own body should anything untoward occur。 Janusz Pa