Buried Secrets by Kristi Belcamino (best ebook reader for surface pro TXT) 📗

After she tapped for a few seconds, she handed Dallas the phone. On the screen was a Stele.

“Is this the one in the Cairo museum?”

“No,” Safra said. “This one was pulled from the sea along with the others and then mysteriously disappeared before it made it to Cairo to be logged by the Minister of Antiquities office.”

“But you have a photo?”

“One of our members had infiltrated the project and had managed to take some pictures before it disappeared.”

“So, what does it say?”

“It contains both a curse and a promise. It states that a powerful curse protects the location of Cleopatra’s body, but that the one who is able to find her body will reap treasures untold and will be given the power to rule the world.”

“That’s it?” Dallas frowned. “Seems kind of vague. And a pretty big promise. Do you believe that?”

Safra laughed. “I’m not sure about the power to rule the world, but I don’t discount it either. There are some who believe in the Illuminati.”

“But there are true Illuminati, outside of the conspiracy theorist fictional ones,” Dallas burst out She immediately felt guilty for interrupting and clamped her lips together

“Yes. There are historical Illuminati, the Bavaria group founded in 1776 to fight abuse of power and superstitions, but there is also—some believe—another group—a secret society that controls the world.”

She paused. This time Dallas waited to speak.

“That’s the one I’m not sure I believe in,” Dallas said.

Safra smiled. But gave no indication whether she believed it.

“What not very many people know,” Safra continued, “is that some believe that Cleopatra was the founder of the Illuminati—the secret group that controls the world. And that she held the knowledge to control others. That is how she became the greatest woman of her time and one of the most powerful people in the world. Yes, most know that she was the most educated and cunning woman in history, but she also had something else—the ability to control powerful men and have them do her will even if it was 180 degrees different than they’d planned before they met her.

“That knowledge—the secret to her ability to influence the most powerful men in the world—is supposed to be contained in a special book. There is speculation that Cleopatra smuggled the bulk of her wealth, and more importantly, the book, out of Alexandria when Octavian attacked. The theory goes that she was able to stash it in a secret location before he invaded. The stela indicates that the map to her treasures—and the book—is somewhere on her body”

Dallas thought about what she had said.

“Let me get something straight. Are you for or against the tomb being found?”

“Excellent question.”

But she didn’t answer the question. Dallas raised an eyebrow.

“It’s complicated,” Safra said. She stood and began pacing the porch. Dallas watched her, the anticipation building.

“I will not lie,” she said. “We want that book with that power.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But not to control the world,” Safra continued. “We want control of the book so we can keep it out of the wrong hands. The group I am speaking of will use it to fuel hatred and war and destruction on a level we haven’t seen since the Holocaust. The murder of your crew member proves their intent, does it not?”

Dallas nodded. “What if the book does nothing? And people have died over it?”

“I’m afraid to say it wouldn’t be the first time people have murdered over a book,” Safra said.

“Now I’m even more determined to find Cleopatra’s Tomb,” Dallas said.

“You are?” Safra raised a curved eyebrow.

“Yes!” Dallas said. “I’ll do anything to find it. That’s why I’m here. I don’t know where else to turn. I need answers. I need some way to get my permit approved. I don’t know how, but I’m going back to Egypt and I’m going to find where Cleopatra is buried.”

As soon as Dallas said it, she knew it was true. Everything suddenly had become crystal clear. Something about being in Sedona? Or just that she’d wallowed in self-pity long enough. She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She remembered sitting outside the minister’s office crying and how she refused to give up. She was still that child her father loved—the one who didn’t give up. And her father’s words: “Anything worth having in life is worth working for.”

“I don’t care if it takes the rest of my life, I’m going to find that tomb,” Dallas said, throwing back her shoulders.

Safra laughed. Dallas looked up, startled, but then saw admiration in the woman’s eyes.

“Dallas Jones, I have no doubt. I believe that you can do anything you set your mind to.” She nodded toward the door. “But for now, why don’t we get some sleep and talk more about this in the morning. Why don’t you grab your belongings and I’ll show you to your room. It’s late and I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Dallas didn’t argue.

Her room was adorable. Small but comfortable with a tiny dresser, single bed and small bathroom. The bedspread was light green with little pink roses and the sheets smelled like a summer breeze. Dallas showered and then crawled into the bed and was asleep within minutes.

The next morning Dallas woke and dressed and then ventured downstairs to the main room.

Safra greeted her with a cup of coffee and introduced her to the other women. They sat down at the same long tables on the back porch and Dallas dug into scrambled eggs and toast.

In between bites, she asked Safra if this branch worked as a commune.

“In a way, yes. We are more like a co-op. I’ll show you when we are done eating.”

After breakfast, Dallas got a tour of the farm. The house was surrounded by fields with lettuce, broccoli, spinach, cauliflower, cabbage and melons.

The chapter members not only lived off sales of the produce they harvested, but the food comprised the bulk of their diet, Safra told Dallas. They did occasionally go into the town of Sedona and shopped at the market but they mainly