Serpent's Kiss. Alex Archer
of images around the base.
The images were sculpted to lead one into the other. The image next to the one of Shakti on the tiger showed her at court with several ladies-in-waiting fanning her. Still another showed her in battle with Shiva, her lover. The final image showed her sacrificing herself on a funeral pyre to Shiva.
“Makes you wonder how long the Shakti cult was here,” Jason said.
“It does,” Annja admitted. “But it also makes you wonder how wide the belief in her was spread.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did this come from the dig site? Or was it brought in from the sea?”
“You think someone threw it away?”
“No.” Annja struggled for patience. “I think the naga and the pot could have been part of a ship’s cargo.”
“Cool,” Sansar said. “You mean you think there’s a sunken treasure ship loaded with gold out there?”
“No,” Annja said. “I don’t.”
B UT THE OTHER MEMBERS of the dig site were quickly convinced by Sansar and Jason that the ocean shallows were burgeoning with gold just waiting to be scooped up. They’d taken a break to go get bottles of water and quickly spread the news of their find. When they’d returned, most of the dig site members had returned with them.
The students split into groups and prowled the water like children on an Easter-egg hunt. Jason and Sansar had stopped arguing long enough to locate a fishing net that had washed up. They weighted the bottom with stones and were dragging the ocean bed.
Annja reluctantly admitted to herself that the two were definitely inventive.
“Not exactly the most organized effort, is it?” Lochata asked.
“Not even,” Annja agreed. Her headache had gotten worse. Despite the pain and the frustration she felt, she worked in the journal she was keeping for the Shakti dig.
She sketched the bay area’s general geographical characteristics and marked the site where the clay pot had been found. The spot where the naga statue had been found had already been marked.
“I’m surprised the pot survived the tsunami,” Lochata said.
“Not to mention hundreds or thousands of years at the bottom of the ocean,” Annja said.
“It wasn’t there thousands.” Lochata turned the pot carefully in her hands. “This was kiln-fired.”
“So it came from a city or a town,” Annja said.
Lochata nodded.
Annja flipped back through the notes she’d made prior to boarding the plane in New York. “The closest city I know of that was on the coast within that time frame was Kaveripattinam.”
“There were a few others. Smaller, but still viable. But it was Kaveripattinam that the world came to see and trade with. Until a tsunami destroyed much of it twenty-five hundred years ago,” Lochata said.
“We’re a long way from Poompuhar,” Annja pointed out. Kaveripattinam had been rebuilt over time, though so much of the ancient architecture had been lost, and it had been renamed Poompuhar.
“The pot could have come from a merchant ship, then,” Lochata said. “I’ve worked with a lot of the pottery that was found offshore there. This piece looks like other pieces that were recovered there.”
“Even the bas-relief?”
“No. I was talking about the composition of the materials and the technique used to fire it.” Lochata ran her fingers over the raised images of Shakti. “These mark the pot as something other than an everyday pot. This was probably intended for a religious service. Or as a cherished gift for a lover or a family member.”
Annja showed the professor her drawing. “The pot and the statue were found in a relatively straight line.”
Lochata nodded. “I’d noticed that.”
“It would probably help if some of the students searched deeper into the jungle. Anything that was light would have washed farther up the shore.”
“When I can get them to stop looking for gold,” Lochata said, “I intend to have them search there.” She sighed. “Provided they’re interested in continuing the dig.”
Annja glanced out at the students walking through the shallows and smiled. “I think they’re interested. We just need to find a few more things to keep them that way.”
W HEN A NNJA STRIPPED DOWN to her bikini she claimed the instant attention of every male in the dig crew. She felt a little self-conscious as she walked toward the water.
She had a good body. She knew that. Hours of work on the weight machines and StairMaster, hours spent in the boxing gym she frequented and an active lifestyle guaranteed that.
And the bikini showed off her figure. She’d worn it under her clothes so she could go for a quiet, private swim in the ocean at the end of a long hot day in the pit.
The snorkel and swim fins she carried were borrowed from one of the students whose belongings had turned up in a tree. At the water’s edge, she sat on a rock, pulled the swim fins on and settled the mask over her face. She tried to ignore the continued staring as she made her way out into the water.
She swam out twenty yards or so. From the way the seabed gradually sloped out, she guessed she was in fifteen to twenty feet of water. After a final deep breath to charge her lungs, she dived.
The crash of the surf against the cliff suddenly seemed distant. Annja felt as if she’d been wrapped in cotton. She swam cleanly as she moved her arms and legs almost effortlessly.
The ocean was clearer than she’d expected. With the disturbance caused by the tsunami she’d anticipated a lot of debris in the water. There was a lingering fog, however, that limited her visibility. She resisted the impulse to clean her face mask.
As always, the beauty of the sea overcame her. The brilliant colors of the fish in the tropical saltwater environment caught her eye again and again. Schools swam and darted in unison. Several coral growths stood proudly on the sea bottom. An eel whipsawed through less than a dozen feet away.
You’re not here on a sight-seeing tour, Annja reminded herself. She swam down to within reaching distance of the seabed.
She hadn’t swum far when she found the first gold coin. She dug it out of the loose sand and spotted three more.
In the excitement, she hadn’t paid particular attention to the tightness that strained her lungs.
When she flipped over to begin her ascent, she noticed the hull of a speedboat cutting through the water toward the shallows. She surfaced and spit out the snorkel mouthpiece, breathing deeply to replenish her depleted lungs.
The boat moved in too close and too quick. Several students had to flee the water. Four men sat in the speedboat. They laughed at the students and mimed the panicked reactions of some of them.
Annja treaded water on the other side of the speedboat. She scanned the craft and noticed the name and registration were missing or covered over.
Things didn’t look good.
One of the men brought up a bolt-action rifle and shouted something in his native tongue. Another man tapped him on the shoulder and spoke quickly.
The man with the rifle addressed the dig members again in English. “I want to talk to your boss now or I will start shooting.”
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