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Hindu. The name means ‘Mound of Dead Men,’ but we’ll come back to that. Built in the 26th century BC, it was the largest and most advanced city of its kind. It had urban planning and superior civil engineering. For almost four thousand years, the ruins of this once-great city remained undocumented. The buildings were constructed of mortared and fired brick and wooden superstructures. The sheer size of the city alludes to a high degree of social orderliness. They had public baths, a central marketplace. Wastewater was drained through covered channels to sewers. Some buildings had two stories, and this was four thousand years ago.”

“Is this a reference to Atlantis?” Jemma asked.

“Not exactly, but it is intriguing. But Karachi and Mohenjo-Daro aren’t the reason for the vile shrine, and neither is this continent. It is the suggestion that, twelve thousand years ago, nuclear weapons were unleashed here.”

Bodie froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Say that again?”

“To be fair, the evidence is highly refuted, but since Karachi and its environs have been subject to centuries of excavations, and the archaeologists have dug deeper and deeper, there is trace evidence of radiation below the city, radiation that could only have been released in an explosion. The ley line that runs through this continent dissects both Mohenjo-Daro and Karachi, so we’ll be forced to decide on the correct placement.”

“Why is that city called the Mound of Dead Men?” Bodie asked.

“Imagine what you get after a nuclear explosion,” Lucie said. “That’s one of the theories.”

“My gut tells me we should go to the supposed source of the Hindu civilization,” Bodie said. “At least, that’s proven. Or as proven as it can be. The radiation is unknown. Where are these ancient causeways you mention?”

“Built along the path of the ley lines, they were cobbled roads, leading to and from places of high importance, to burial sites, or palaces.”

“Won’t they be built of the perfect ore?” Bodie said. “Since they’re basically physical ley lines.”

Lucie nodded. “I agree. And the only ancient causeway in Pakistan is in Mohenjo-Daro. One of the few remaining in the entire world. It’s a protected dig site now, but I can’t see it presenting too many obstacles.”

Bodie winced. “And you’ve just jinxed it. Please don’t do that again.”

*

An hour later, they were northbound out of Karachi, en route to the age-old ruins, the five of them crammed into a dusty old Land Rover and hating every minute of its backbreaking steel shell and lumpy ride. The windows were fully open to allow airflow, but it was still roasting hot inside.

To take his mind off the ride, Bodie asked Lucie to go over any research she’d completed regarding the poem that had started the Illuminati down this treacherous path.

Lucie nodded. “Ten sanctums to seek along ancient causeways. Five vile and five worthy, their purest life-blood to the crucible, to reap the reward of the Ishtari, and reign through His glorious power.”

“The Ishtari sound more like a tribe than a secret society,” Cassidy said.

“That’s because they were,” Lucie said. “Very early, very advanced. It was the Ishtari who built this Hades place, wherever that is, and saw the advantages of building and planting along ley lines. I assume they built the crucible too, which appears to be a tool capable of sampling and mixing ore.”

“Any luck with that... or Hades?” Bodie asked.

Lucie shook her head. “Truthfully, I haven’t had chance to get properly stuck into it yet. The Ishtari however... there’s practically no information out there. You know...” She bit her lip, thinking hard. “You know when there’s an internet figure, a billionaire, and let’s say he’s Instagram famous, and yet there is not one single photo of his face anywhere? That’s power. That’s incredible reach. I think the Illuminati performed a similar feat with the Ishtari. They scrubbed almost their entire history, even their very name from history.”

“Why would they do that?” Yasmine asked. “I mean, if Bacchus is to believed, they weren’t interested in this quest until they lost almost everything at Olympus.”

“Because they’re the founding fathers,” Lucie said. “The roots of the Illuminati. Today, everyone thinks the Illuminati started with Weishaupt in 1776. And, of course, today’s Illuminati have turned out very differently from his vision. The Ishtari are—or were—kind of like that grandparent you’re a bit embarrassed by. An aunt who chews her food with her mouth open. A—”

“We get the idea,” Cassidy said.

“Of course. The Ishtari may have been like the people who built Mohenjo-Daro, or even Atlantis at a push. Advanced for the time. Godlike, when compared to other civilizations. I wish we knew more about them.”

“Well, when we see Bacchus again you can ask him,” Cassidy growled, hanging on to a worn leather strap as the Land Rover bounced along a single-lane road. “Preferably through the sights of your gun.”

Bodie liked that description. It had a nice, satisfying ring to it. Lucie turned away, dropping the conversation and studying her phone. “The ley lines I mapped intersect with Mohenjo-Daro about five miles north of here,” she told Jemma who was driving. “I’d say we’re close.”

Bodie knew what that meant. The Illuminati and their Hoods could be out there, nearby. Jemma drove off the beaten track for a couple of miles, apparently seeking out every rut and fold in the road, and then pulled up on the blind side of a tall jumble of rocks. The tires came to a stop with a grinding of gravel and threw a plume of dust into the air. Bodie cracked the door.

A wall of heat rushed in at him, the desert climate offering its greeting. The team took five minutes to grab their gear and prep their guns before starting out, following Lucie’s directions and Yasmine’s compass.

The ruins of Mohenjo-Daro were impressive. Years of archaeological digging had unearthed some incredible architecture

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