W hen Stacy and Tyler had decided that their next step was to fly to England, she imagined heading back to Sea-Tac Airport and going through all the hassle and pain of eight hours of traveling by commercial airliner to Heathrow. Instead, barely ninety minutes after Tyler had explained to Miles why they needed a plane, she was now taking off from Seattle on her first private-jet flight, lounging in a spacious leather seat, and accompanied by only two other passengers, Tyler and Grant.
Despite the near-death experience on the ferry-or maybe because of it-Stacy reveled in the luxury. She could get used to this.
“You fly like this all the time?” she said to Tyler as the engines spooled up and the plane began its takeoff roll.
“No,” he said. “I’m usually in the cockpit.”
“You’re a pilot, too? I don’t remember that from when I prepared for my interview with you.”
He shrugged as if he thought it was no big deal. “It didn’t seem relevant.”
“Are you kidding? A handsome engineer who’s also a pilot? My viewers would love that kind of detail.”
Grant leaned toward Stacy. “He may have a PhD in mechanical engineering and be able to dispose of bombs and fly jets, but don’t let that fool you. He’s a secret Star Trek nerd.”
“What about you?” she said. “I suppose that in addition to being a former pro wrestler, an electrical engineer with a degree from the University of Washington, and an Army SEAL-”
“Hey, hey, hey. I won’t stand for that kind of insult. SEALs are Navy. I was a combat engineer, then a Ranger.”
“Pardon me. In addition to all that, I suppose you fly jets, too.”
“Me? Hell, no.”
“Thank God. I thought I was in a meeting of Overachievers Anonymous.”
“I just got my license to fly helicopters, though.”
Stacy rolled her eyes. “Maybe we should have you on the show next time.”
The jet lifted off, heading toward cruising altitude. Tyler cleared his throat. “I’d love to add to Grant’s resume by telling you all about his addiction to trashy dating programs-”
“Hey!” Grant protested.
“-but we’d better figure out what our plan will be when we reach London and then get some shut-eye.”
The three of them unbuckled and gathered around a table. They opened a laptop so they could search the file with the translation of the Archimedes Codex.
“What time do we land?” Stacy asked.
“Around 2 p.m. local time,” Tyler said. “Should give us enough time to get something accomplished.”
“I knew you were a workaholic.”
“Just trying to be efficient. In fact, I think we should split up when we get there.”
“Whoa,” Grant said. “Can we just back up here? I came in late at the house. Why, exactly, are we going to England?”
“Do you want the long answer or the short answer?” Stacy said.
“We’ve got a few hours before I can sleep, so I’ll take the long answer.”
“Have you heard of the Antikythera Mechanism?” Stacy asked.
“Tyler mentioned it when he was fabricating the geolabe.”
Through the plane’s Web connection, she brought up a photo of three pieces of corroded bronze, the biggest about the diameter of a grapefruit. In each of the pieces, intricate gearing could be seen.
“Looks like somebody left their clock in the rain for about a thousand years,” Grant said.
“About two thousand years,” Tyler said. When they’d been discussing it earlier, he told Stacy that he’d researched the Antikythera Mechanism because he realized how similar it was to the geolabe he was hired to build.
“They found these bits in the shipwreck off the Greek island of Antikythera in 1900,” Stacy said. “For years nobody paid much attention to them until an archaeologist realized that the gearing predated anything else as sophisticated by fifteen hundred years. Some people refer to it as the world’s first analog computer. It would be like finding an IBM PC hidden in the dungeon of a medieval castle.”
“What does it compute?” Grant asked.
“Debate has raged for years, but most scientists think it was used for astronomical prediction of some sort. Planetary movements, solstices and equinoxes, perhaps even solar eclipses. Ancient planting cycles and religious worship depended on knowing important calendar events, and this device might have been used to calculate them.”
She brought up another photo, this time of a shiny bronze mechanism behind a protective glass. The face of the device had two circular dials like a clock, and a knob on the side. The sides were transparent, so that you could see the gearing inside. Some of the points on the dials were etched with Greek lettering.
“That’s a replica at the National Archaeological Museum in Athens,” Tyler said. “Built from what they could glean from X-rays of the recovered pieces.”
“Looks like the geolabe you built,” Grant said.
“They’re very similar, but the markings on the face of mine are complete, and it has two knobs on the side instead of one.”
“So this codex seems to be an instruction manual for building an Antikythera Mechanism,” Stacy said.
“Or something along those lines,” Tyler said. “But the most exciting part is that the codex provides evidence that Archimedes may have been the one who designed it.”
Grant grinned. “You mean, the guy who yelled ‘Eureka!’ when he created the Archimedes Death Ray?”
Stacy could tell by his smirk that he knew very well he was conflating two well-known stories about the inventor, engineer, and mathematician. “You are so close,” she said.
According to legend, Archimedes was in the bathtub pondering how to solve a problem for the king of Syracuse, his patron on the island now called Sicily. The king was given a crown that was supposedly made of gold, but he wanted to verify the claim without destroying the gift. When Archimedes realized that the material’s displacement in water could be used to discern its density, he ran into the street stark naked yelling, “Eureka!” which translates to “I found it!”
The king also called on Archimedes to design weapons of war to repel a Roman siege during the Second Punic War in 214 B.C. Historians of the time recount a death ray Archimedes invented that focused the sun’s light with such intensity that it made the enemy ships in the Syracuse harbor burst into flames. His feat couldn’t be duplicated in spite of many attempts, including experiments by students from Tyler’s alma mater, MIT, and TV’s MythBusters, so it’s assumed that the claims were exaggerated.
Nonetheless, Archimedes’ reputation as an inventor and scientist was so great that even such wild assertions were given credence.
“Not only does the codex describe how to design the geolabe,” Tyler said, his excitement obvious, “but it could be the only known copy of his long-lost treatise called On Sphere-Making. It has designs for dozens of mechanisms, not just the geolabe.”
Stacy wished she could be as excited as he was, but she was more worried about how they could use the geolabe to free her sister.
“This is all very cool stuff,” Grant said, “but what in the hell does it have to do with old King Midas?”
Tyler glanced at Stacy, and she shrugged for him to answer.
“We think the geolabe somehow leads to a map-a map that will show us where the treasure of King Midas is buried.”
Stacy pointed at the laptop screen. “This line says, ‘He who controls this map controls the riches of Midas.’”
“Ah, treasure!” Grant said, rubbing his hands together. “Now we’re talking. How does it work?”
Stacy leaned back and laced her hands behind her head. “We don’t know. There are two pieces of the instructions missing.”
“Remember when we were building that Swedish modular home-entertainment center you bought?” Tyler said. “The one with the missing instruction page? Same problem.”
“It’s good we’re engineers, otherwise it would’ve taken us more than a half hour to realize we’d put it together backward.”
“In this case, the missing pieces explain how to operate the device,” Stacy said. “The first step was to get all three dials pointed to the noon position, like calibrating a scale. Solving the Stomachion told us how to do that, but now we don’t know how to proceed. The codex talks about how there are three keys to deciphering the geolabe, and that they form some kind of safeguard so that the owner of the codex wouldn’t be able to find the map without the other two keys.”
“Like a password and fingerprint scanner on the same security system,” Tyler said.
“So the first key is the instruction manual for building and calibrating the geolabe, which we think may also be a version of the mysterious Antikythera Mechanism?” Grant said.
She nodded. “Now that we have the device built and we figured out how to calibrate it, we need the other two keys to operate it.”
“And the other two keys are…?” Grant said.
Stacy highlighted another section. “This part talks about a message that’s hidden. This word is steganos, which means ‘covered,’ and this one is graphein, which means ‘writing.’”
“Steganography.”
“Literally, ‘concealed writing.’ Whatever the message is, it’s concealed, and I think I know where.”
“The wax tablet that was separated from the codex before the auction,” Tyler said. “That’s the second key.”
“Let me guess,” Grant said. “The tablet’s buyer lives in England.”
“Right. The tablet was bought by a holding company called VXN Industries, which also happens to lease an estate in Kent.”
“Think the buyer will let you take a look at it?”
“That’s what we’re hoping. Stacy and I will drive out there to make our plea in person.”
“While I look for clues in as many pubs as possible?”
Stacy liked these guys. Even in a situation as dire as this, they lightened the mood to keep their spirits up.
“You wish,” she said, joining in. She scrolled to another part of the codex. “Here’s where it mentions the third key.”
“So what’s that mean for me?”
“You’re going to the British Museum,” Tyler said.
“A museum?” Grant said, as if he’d been asked to wade through a Dumpster full of trash. “What for?”
“Orr said that the tomb of Midas is somewhere under Naples,” Stacy answered. “The codex says that the third key will be revealed by ‘the room of the ancestor of Neapolis.’ Neapolis is the Greek name for Naples.”
“Is the British Museum the best place to learn about Naples?” Grant asked.
“Not necessarily, but it does have experts on the Elgin Marbles.”
“So?”
“The Elgin Marbles are marble statues and sculptured panels that were taken from the Parthenon in the early 1800s by Lord Elgin. They’re currently on display at the British Museum.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I think Archimedes was being clever,” Stacy said. “Neapolis was originally called Parthenope, making Parthenope the ancestor of Neapolis. So when Archimedes said ‘the room of the ancestor of Neapolis,’ he could have meant ‘the room of Parthenope.’ Parthenope means ‘the virgin city,’ so we can further reduce it to ‘the room of the virgin city’ or more simply ‘the room of the virgin.’”
“I think I’ve got it,” Grant said. “The third key will be revealed by ‘the virgin’s room.’” He thought about it for another second and shook his head, “Nope. I still don’t get it.”
“The Greek word for a ‘virgin’s room’ is Parthenon. ”
Grant laughed in disbelief. “As in the temple on top of the Acropolis in Athens?”
Stacy pointed to the manuscript. “In essence it says, ‘Take the geolabe to the Parthenon. The seat of Herakles and the feet of Aphrodite will show the way.’”
“But what does that mean?”
She shrugged, both frustrated and embarrassed that she didn’t know the answer, particularly with her sister’s life on the line. “My specialty was classical literature, not architecture. That’s why we need an expert. I don’t know how or why, but the third key to finding Archimedes’ map is the Parthenon.”