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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781462047123 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 09/21/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 220 |
| File size: | 309 KB |
Read an Excerpt
Icejacked
By Adrian L. Hawkes
iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Adrian L. HawkesAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-4711-6
Chapter One
On My Way to Work
By tomorrow, my life would never be the same. Today was the start of a mystery that would echo and re-echo across the world of history and science. Oblivious, I pushed my specs up my nose, ran my fingers through my hair, and locked my front door.
Audis are such comfortable cars. This was my idle thought as I nosed out into the early morning traffic to drive from my apartment in St. Gallen to Universität Zürich, the largest university in Switzerland. It was my normal route, and today was no different, but for some reason, I was appreciating the comfort more than usual. I smiled fondly as I ran my hand across the steering wheel, remembering the gratitude I had felt as my parents proudly handed me the keys to the A4 on the successful completion of my history degree.
"Gerhardt," my father said, beaming first at me and then my mother, "you have made us so proud, and we want to show you just how much."
I was delighted to get my own car and especially pleased it was an Audi into which my lanky frame could fit with comfort.
I liked living in St. Gallen. I had a cheap apartment and access to the incredible library in the Abbey of St. Gall. This wonderful place contained books dating from the ninth century, and as a history buff, this was a magnet to me. When researching, the cleaners would often find me hunched over some dusty tome in a far corner of the library. They would bustle me out, muttering that the library had been closed hours ago.
When the jibes came from my fellow university students because some got there a year earlier, I avoided socialising at their facile events. They thought I was fixed in the past and a loner.
I always consoled myself with this all-consuming thought: I will show them. I was determined I would make it one day. One day, I would be rich and famous.
I wasn't thinking much about anything this morning as I navigated through the slow-moving traffic. It was a cold day, but I was cocooned and comfy as I flicked on the radio to catch up with the latest news and views. It was rare that news grabbed me, a history major. The nature of my work kept me buried in the Roman past, my specialty.
But that morning, as the radio chattered away, a news item suddenly caught my attention. I quickly turned up the volume. I didn't want to miss a word. A few days ago on a Tyrolean mountain, a search party, while seeking missing climbers, had stumbled upon a body totally encased in ice. The report went on to state that an investigation had been launched to discover the identity and origin, as no one was missing. The climbers being sought by the search and rescue team had been found safe and well. They had returned via a different route.
Ötzi the Iceman came to mind, and I wondered, Could this be a similar find? Ötzi was found in the Austrian mountains in 1991. At the time, I was still in school and read everything I could find about this ancient man. As long as I could remember, history had fascinated me. I wondered if this newly found body was perhaps from the same era, not a recently lost climber, but someone similar to Ötzi, who became encased in ice fifty-three hundred years ago.
The traffic was crawling, but my thoughts were racing. Would this be an Ötzi II case? If so, would the university let me join the investigation? Would Archiv History be interested?
I kept retuning the radio to Italian, French, and English stations to hear their take on the story. I needed to get some facts before I ran ahead of myself. What if it is as I suspect? My imagination was gripped, and my pulse was racing. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself and resolved to do some intense research on the story as soon as I reached the office. Anticipation filled me. I was full of thoughts about my iceman. I had claimed him already! I had even given him a gender, for heaven's sake. I needed to calm down.
Chapter Two
In the Car Again
Audis are such comfortable cars, aren't they? This thought encouraged me as I headed out of St. Gallen. I needed that comfort. I was at the start of a four-hour drive to Bolzano in Italy.
Yesterday, I felt as if I had the phone glued to my ear all day. It's amazing how much you can do in a single day if you really try. As soon as he was available, I met with the head of the university to discuss the iceman find and my plans to get involved. It was hard to keep a lid on my excitement. It quickly became clear that he shared my enthusiasm and was keen to have a representative from Zurich University on this case. He gave me the three-month release I requested and agreed it was fine to feed in material from wherever I am based and have it count toward my future studies and doctorate.
The thought did cross my mind that, once my name was all over the newspapers, my detractors would have to eat their words. Unlike Indiana Jones, who was able to roam the world at the drop of a hat or crack of a whip, no expense spared, in the real world, I had to face up to the boring and practical issues of how to finance my three-month trip.
I called up the guys at Archiv History, the small Schaffhausen-based magazine to which I regularly contributed, and explained my plans. I was delighted to discover they wanted the story. They quickly saw it was a big plus for them to have a man on the spot. This made my negotiations easier than I had expected.
They agreed to pay me three months up front. The deal was that I would continue to write my weekly column, plus a regular iceman special. I even squeezed a higher rate out of them.
I called my parents to give them the good news, and still more pieces of the financial jigsaw fell into place. They offered an early transfer of my quarterly allowance, gently extracting a promise from me to keep them in the loop with news of my iceman. When you add on the three-month break from paying my doctorate fees, I was in business.
It was long after midnight before I got everything completely sorted. I had never stayed so long at the university. Who says men can't multitask? I was talking on the phone, sorting papers, surfing different language websites, and making copious notes all at the same time. I hope the researchers are correct that mobile phone radiation does not fry your brain.
I achieved my main goal of becoming a member of the iceman team. I wasn't sure what I would be doing. It would probably be a very junior role, and I sincerely hoped it wasn't making tea. After a furious eighteen-hour scramble, my normal day-to-day routine was now on hold. I was off to Bolzano, where my man now resided in the local morgue.
From my extensive phone calls and research on the various language websites, the first impressions were that he wasn't as old as Ötzi. The description of the clothing and other items found alongside the body indicated he was a much more modern man, perhaps only two thousand years old. My expertise should come into its own here.
The blurry view they initially had of his clothing mystified the rescuers a little. They assumed he had died recently and possibly got lost on his way home from a fancy dress party. But would you really go climbing in the Tyroleans dressed like that? Highly unlikely if you had any sense!
When Ötzi was discovered, they dug him out very crudely with a small jackhammer. Unfortunately this punctured his hip. Ice-cutting technology has advanced dramatically in the last fifteen years, and this time around, the salvage team quickly cut this new iceman free, keeping him safe and sound. The extraction was simplified further because he was not completely buried, but in an ice protrusion requiring only one vertical cut. He was then winched into a helicopter and transported to Bolzano, snugly contained in the ice block.
Unusually, the epidermis was intact. This body still seemed to have its original skin on, which was extremely rare. Perhaps that was why they initially assumed he wasn't very old. It was incredible how quickly the bloggers, news feeds, and forums had gathered information about this new iceman. Some of it might have been conjecture, so I was keen to see for myself what was fact and what was reporting hype, hence my urgency to get there. Even after such a long day and a very late night, my adrenaline was still pumping, and I found no trouble at all in making an early start.
Since my childhood, I had been fascinated with Ötzi, so being part of a similar investigation would be incredible. Also perhaps it would make me famous. And as always, there was my underlying determination to prove my peers incorrect about my style of operation.
The drive, although long, was uneventful. When I finally arrived, I managed to book into an incredibly cheap hotel. It was just a bed and place to wash, but that was all I needed at the moment. I pushed open the door to my room and found there wasn't much room to move. It was long and narrow. The single bed was pushed against the far wall; a tiny shower room was in the opposite corner. Squeezed between the bed and the shower was a small desk complete with a reading lamp and Wi-Fi connection. Alongside that was the smallest wardrobe I had ever seen.
I unpacked my battered suitcase and carefully hung up its contents. I precariously placed my toiletries on the narrow shelf in the shower room. I glanced in the mirror. My blue eyes were red-rimmed with purple smudges underneath from lack of sleep. I ran my hand through my bushy, sandy hair and shrugged. I badly needed a haircut, but never seemed to have the time. I brushed my teeth, grabbed my notebook, and left for the morgue.
I was so keen to take my first look at the body, but as I pulled to a stop in the car park, I started to worry that all my phone calls yesterday might not give me the access I needed. I began fretting that the messages had not been passed on as promised. It would be tedious and terribly disappointing to have to start again.
My anxiety was raised further when I entered the reception and the girl behind the desk viewed me suspiciously. But after scrutinising my university ID and Archiv press pass, her demeanor changed dramatically.
She beamed and said, "Hello, Mr. Shynder. We have been expecting you."
She picked up the telephone, punched in a number, and spoke into the receiver, "Mr. Beck, Mr. Shynder is in reception." She replaced the phone. "He'll be with you in a moment, and I think you will find he has rather surprising news for you."
I was relieved that all the messages got through without a hitch, but a new worry now beset me. I had just completely altered my entire life and driven for four hours. Anticipation filled me at being part of this amazing project.
Are all my hopes about to be dashed at the outset? It all seems to be going far too smoothly. My genes, unfortunately, predisposed me to the half-empty glass syndrome. I sat restlessly, pushed my hair out of my eyes, and chewed at my nonexistent nails.
A tall, bearded man strode in and shook my hand. "Good morning, Mr. Shynder. Good to meet you. I'm Mr. Beck, the manager here." He turned to the girl on reception. "Could you please rustle up some coffee?"
I followed him to his office, and we both took a seat. He shuffled some papers on his desk and stroked at his beard. He eventually looked up.
"Well now. This is a very strange case."
"You mean because the epidermis is intact?"
"That is part of it, but there have been some rather curious developments, to put it mildly."
"Can we go and have a look at the body?" I tried to mask my impatience.
"Well, no. I'm sorry, but you can't. There isn't a body any longer, not in the sense that we in the morgue understand that word."
I was rather bemused. I opened my mouth to speak, but he held up his hand and stopped me before I could begin.
"Let me tell you what has happened. Then you can make up your own mind about what to do next. When the body came in, we put it in a specially prepared container in the morgue, and the ice began to melt. We noted the skin seemed to be normal. This could be clearly observed as the ice became thinner. The body seemed to be in very good condition. We were also able to observe the clothing that looked like a Roman tunic. Once the ice had fully melted, the body started to warm up. We had specialists on standby with the necessary equipment. You know how quickly these types of artifacts deteriorate when not properly preserved." He paused to gauge my reaction.
I simply nodded, keen for him to continue.
"As it warmed, we were very surprised at how supple the body was, so we decided we could actually remove the clothing, which I have to tell you we wanted to do as it smelt so poorly."
The receptionist discreetly entered the room and placed cups of coffee and biscuits on the desk between us.
"What did it smell of?" I asked.
She looked at me quizzically. I smiled at her confusion.
"Thanks for the coffee," I said. "Don't worry. I'm referring to some clothing."
She smiled with relief and left the room. I was grateful to get a caffeine fix and gulped at the hot liquid.
"Well, at a guess, I would say urine," he replied. "We have sent it to the university for the boffins to examine. We can't be sure at this stage."
"Urine would make sense if the body were of Roman origin, particularly if they were reasonably well-off Romans. They had a very strange custom of often washing their clothes in the stuff."
Mr. Beck nodded at my comment and continued, "After removing the clothing, we had placed the body on a slab, and I was dealing with some urgent phone calls. You could imagine the stir this is causing. I was speaking to the university and the museum and sorting out the details for your visit, Mr. Shynder."
"Thank you. I really appreciate how quickly you organised this for me, but please continue."
"One of my junior associates was with the body, carrying out some standard tests, and he shouted for me to come. He was so insistent that I cut my call mid-conversation. When I joined him, he had his hand on the heart of the iceman and looked at me in consternation. He told me he thought he could feel a heartbeat. Of course, I laughed and told him this was impossible. This man has been frozen for thousands of years."
"He was so agitated. He beckoned me to feel for myself. To humour him, I put my hand on the body, and to my amazement, Mr. Shynder, I felt something. It was weak, but it was definitely beating!"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My iceman dreams were melting away. I started firing off questions. "What are you saying? Is this is a recent missing person who has been found on the mountain? What fluke is this? How can he still be alive even though he was encased in ice?"
Again, he held up his hand to check my inquisition. "We don't know what to think. We have reached no conclusions. We have moved him to Bolzano General Hospital."
"He's been moved to the hospital!" I checked myself. I was close to losing it.
"Yes," he spoke quietly, as if trying to calm me down. "We packed up his stuff—the belongings we found alongside his body, his odd little purse, and the peculiar money—and put it into his strange little bag. We arranged for an ambulance to transfer him."
"I see." I regained control with great difficulty. "What now?"
"We only deal with dead ones here. For anyone with a beating heart, this is not the place to be. I'm sorry, Mr. Shynder, there is nothing more I can do for you. You need to continue your investigation at the hospital."
"Thank you for your time," I said and wandered out into the late afternoon.
I was confused, bitterly disappointed, and at a loss about what to do next. I suddenly felt utterly weary and ravenous. I drove slowly back to the hotel. The streets were busy with commuters on their way home. They all seemed to be walking with direction and determination. They had plans. They had homes to go to. They had fulfilling jobs and a sense of purpose and direction. The car behind me honked impatiently, letting me know the lights were green. I shook myself mentally and decided the best medicine for this pity party was to find a cozy restaurant, eat something comforting, and down a few beers.
The hotel room, which seemed so ideal for my purpose this morning, seemed bleak and comfortless this evening. I showered, shaved, and unsuccessfully tried to make my hair look less like an overgrown bush. I promised myself I would find a barber the next day.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Icejacked by Adrian L. Hawkes Copyright © 2011 by Adrian L. Hawkes. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Foreword....................ixPreface....................xi
Chapter One On My Way to Work....................1
Chapter Two In the Car Again....................3
Chapter Three The Hospital....................10
Chapter Four The Hospital and the Priest....................19
Chapter Five Three Months On....................29
Chapter Six Out of the Hospital....................37
Chapter Seven The Service Station....................42
Chapter Eight The Drive to St Gallen....................45
Chapter Nine Universities and Magazines....................51
Chapter Ten Meet the Press....................57
Chapter Eleven The Press in the Shape of Julie Bright....................62
Chapter Twelve Visit to Rome....................68
Chapter Thirteen The Tour....................76
Chapter Fourteen Change of Plan....................84
Chapter Fifteen Londinium....................88
Chapter Sixteen Tour Two....................96
Chapter Seventeen Saturday....................108
Chapter Eighteen Talking Our Way around Britain....................113
Chapter Nineteen Talking on a Train....................119
Chapter Twenty Bad News....................125
Chapter Twenty-One The USA....................131
Chapter Twenty-Two Bureaucracy Can Ruin the Best Plans....................143
Chapter Twenty-Three It Is Who You Know....................150
Chapter Twenty-Four What a Time....................160
Chapter Twenty-Five Tel Aviv-Yafo....................167
Chapter Twenty-Six The Coliseum....................172
Chapter Twenty-Seven Switzerland....................180
Chapter Twenty-Eight The Reunion....................186
The Back Pages....................197