Tuesday, May 29, 2012

Opening sentences of 3 ancient Egypt adventure thrillers


Open a world of adventure and forbidden secrets from the ancient past.

The Smiting Texts
THEY INTERCEPTED him as he came out of Baltimore-Washington Airport, two men wearing suits and an air of officialdom like a brisk cologne. 
“Mr Anson Hunter, the British Egyptologist?”

The Hathor Holocaust

AN EMAIL arrived at his hotel, giving him an address in South Kensington and a caution:
‘Come alone. Take care you are not followed. Change trains or taxis.’
It was a message from a mysterious young woman who had ambushed him on a train to London.

The Ibis Apocalypse
“SORRY ANSON. Your search for the stela ends here.”
The voice of the woman funneled down the underground passage, the echoes fluttering off the stone like startled bats. Anson Hunter, alternative Egyptologist and theorist, felt a chill as the words reached his ears. It was caused as much by the emotional separation in her voice as by its distance.


Roy Lester Pond (Amazon Kindle and Paperback)

Now a fifth novel in the series



‘Egypt Eyes’ –  “Be my eyes in Egypt,” she says to him. The celebrated young Egyptologist and space archaeologist Dr Constance Somers had once explored ancient Egypt from space. But now she is legally blind. She hires controversial, alternative Egyptologist Anson Hunter to be her guide on a Nile cruise. ‘Show me the hidden Egypt of your imagination,’ she says. But does she have a darker purpose, planning to use his unique skills to help her penetrate a secret and dangerous site that she found?
And why are agents of the US National Reconnaissance Office, a secret Intelligence agency in charge of satellites and overhead security, suddenly taking an interest in the work of the space archaeologist? Has she made a discovery in her satellite archaeology that has global security ramifications?
Anson must face unexpected enemies at every turn and use his skills to survive the dangers of a lost underground sanctuary as he tries to unlock its shattering secret.
‘Egypt Eyes’ is groundbreaking adventure and mystery fiction with an Egyptologist’s blogs and photos.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

What drives alternative Egyptologist Anson Hunter to seek out hidden dangers from Egypt’s past?

Anson Hunter, fiction's alternative Egyptologist, is a driven hero

Was it a desire to save the world? He recalled the same question being put to him by the Egyptian man and the antiquities girl. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll trigger an apocalypse?”
Was it simply a hunger to feel the crackle of the numinous, to find the great source of Egypt’s power heka? Heka was the magical power behind the civilisation of Egypt, behind every idol, every execration text and smashed jar, every sweating wax effigy in the flame, every stabbed, trampled and spat upon image, every prayer to a god, every amulet and love spell.
He certainly did not want power for himself, only perhaps the power that could come from knowing that such power existed, because if that power existed and could be held in his hands, then so did another power.


Saturday, May 26, 2012

What is that mysterious 'feel of ancient Egypt' that adventure fiction readers love?


Something mysterious that draws you in and won't let go of you

The novel "has that feel of ancient Egypt that I love” said a reader. 
What is that feel? 
Maybe it's an intangible quality like Egypt’s mystery itself.

Discover it for yourself.  




 Update July 2012. NEW



‘Egypt Eyes’ –  “Be my eyes in Egypt,” she says to him. The celebrated young Egyptologist and space archaeologist Dr Constance Somers had once explored ancient Egypt from space. But now she is legally blind. She hires controversial, alternative Egyptologist Anson Hunter to be her guide on a Nile cruise. ‘Show me the hidden Egypt of your imagination,’ she says. But does she have a darker purpose, planning to use his unique skills to help her penetrate a secret and dangerous site that she found?
And why are agents of the US National Reconnaissance Office, a secret Intelligence agency in charge of satellites and overhead security, suddenly taking an interest in the work of the space archaeologist? Has she made a discovery in her satellite archaeology that has global security ramifications?
Anson must face unexpected enemies at every turn and use his skills to survive the dangers of a lost underground sanctuary as he tries to unlock its shattering secret.
‘Egypt Eyes’ is groundbreaking adventure and mystery fiction with an Egyptologist’s blogs and photos.

Goodreads. "It had that Egyptian feel that I love! Amazing... Adventurous."





The Mummy’s Revenge now on Kindle

Goodreads...

"This was a fun book to read. It was especially good seeing it had that Egyptian feel that I love! It was fun, it was amazing, it was adventurous! It's a definite must read in my mind!" - Noelle Walsh.

*****
"Our library used to have a battered paperback copy of this book, and I loved it. That copy is, I'm pretty sure, gone now, and I'd forgotten the title, but I just looked it up online because I want to reread it. And it looks like there are sequels!" - Nic


Here are the Mummy sequels on Kindle (Roy Pond)

And for adult readers (Roy Lester Pond)

The Smiting Texts
Goodreads

"A really fun read, lots of romping through Egypt at various archaeological sites" - Kim Switzer


Thursday, May 24, 2012

Does the fiction you first wrote bear much resemblance to what you write today?

I was thrilled as a young writer to be in the same issue as Ian Fleming
My first story was a secret agent tale in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine
Now I write archaeological adventure thrillers set in Egypt!

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Does US Intelligence fear a 'smiting' weapon from Egypt's ancient past?

An ancient weapon, a modern conspiracy


“YOU WANT me to what?”
“Help us find what appears to be an ancient weapon,” she said.
“Ancient weapon?”
“I know it sounds incredible,” the academic said.
“It does, even in my alternative, parallel universe.”
“Yet, astonishingly, this is what our authorities have been forced to consider.”
“You’re going to have to unpack that a bit,” he said.
The man in the big blue suit, who bulked up the small meeting table, and who sat flanked by young, careful-faced men, spoke up.
“Very few of us believe in remote killing, of the kind you’ve been describing, anyway, but we all believe in remote listening. We have intelligence that something ancient, called ‘the mother of revenge’ is being levelled against our country from the land of the Nile.”
“Maybe it’s a pharaonic submarine,” Anson said helpfully.
“Why not?” Dr Melinda Skilling said with a mocking smile, “some alternative theorists seem willing to believe that the ancient Egyptians possessed helicopters, fixed-wing aircraft and armoured tanks, but submarines probably weren’t of much use in the shallower reaches of the Nile.”
This Egyptologist could dig in more ways than one, he observed.
He understood her allusion.
“You mean those mysterious symbols under a lintel in the Temple of Osiris in Abydos that seem to show an arsenal of modern weapons?” he said. “I may be alternative, but I’m not a crank. Nor am I a fan of aliens, or of pyramid and sphinx builders from Atlantis, although I like the way they exasperate Egyptologists. I’m sure there’s a more mundane explanation for the symbols and so I’ll leave that to you.”
“I don’t do mundane, Anson. I’d rather be working on the exhibition I’m curating than doing mundane, but the intelligence wires are humming and it’s apparently alarmed our government enough to request professional advice.”
“Then why ask me?”
“You’re special, not only because of your grasp of arcane Egyptian knowledge and practice, but because of your standpoint. I must confess that mainstream academics, restrained by what has been termed the ‘agnostic reflex’, are somewhat in the position of outsiders looking in, careful to keep an objective distance from Egyptian religion, mystical texts and esoteric practices. You, on the other hand, are a phenomenologist, one who believes that you must grant value and credibility to the sacred and engage with it experientially in order to appreciate it fully. I have a certain sympathy for that position.”
A certain sympathy. Was she trying to be nice? Perhaps. She’d certainly earned points from him for her candour.
But the blunt instrument in the big blue suit didn’t try for points. His words came down on Anson like a mallet.
“Frankly, to many people you’re just a wild theorist. And that gives you a lot more freedom to operate in. Nobody listens to you - and nobody watches you. We can hide behind you.”
“You couldn’t.”

Sunday, May 20, 2012

4 global conspiracies with the their roots in ancient Egypt


The secret of Egypt's Great Lost Labyrinth of pharaoh 
Amenemhat III... and the conspiracy of The Smiting Texts

Can a renegade Egyptologist stop a New Age conspiracy to trigger the return of an ancient apocalypse in The Hathor Holocaust?


Egypt's forbidden Stela of Thoth.... a threat to the world emerges in the conspiracy of The Ibis Apocalypse
A boatload of the world's Egyptologists - what secrets do the masked and armed invaders want to discover?


"A heady mix for mystery adventure thriller readers"...

Here is a mixture of enthralling Egyptian archaeology, the discovery of forbidden artefacts, dangerous conspirators including New Agers, radical Islamists and Christian fundamentalists eager to bring on the end times... plus the involvement of the Intelligence agencies of the USA, Israel, Britain and Egypt, who turn to a renegade Egyptologist for help. 
 The Smiting Texts, The Hathor Holocaust and The Ibis Apocalypse. In Kindle and paperback.

NEW


 Update July 2012. NEW



‘Egypt Eyes’ –  “Be my eyes in Egypt,” she says to him. The celebrated young Egyptologist and space archaeologist Dr Constance Somers had once explored ancient Egypt from space. But now she is legally blind. She hires controversial, alternative Egyptologist Anson Hunter to be her guide on a Nile cruise. ‘Show me the hidden Egypt of your imagination,’ she says. But does she have a darker purpose, planning to use his unique skills to help her penetrate a secret and dangerous site that she found?
And why are agents of the US National Reconnaissance Office, a secret Intelligence agency in charge of satellites and overhead security, suddenly taking an interest in the work of the space archaeologist? Has she made a discovery in her satellite archaeology that has global security ramifications?
Anson must face unexpected enemies at every turn and use his skills to survive the dangers of a lost underground sanctuary as he tries to unlock its shattering secret.
‘Egypt Eyes’ is groundbreaking adventure and mystery fiction with an Egyptologist’s blogs and photos.

You can buy the trilogy - and other Egypt adventure - fiction here.

Saturday, May 19, 2012

The Ibis Apocalypse fiction - Who was Egypt's ibis god of wisdom and words of power Thoth?

Egypt's mysterious ibis god Thoth



“You believe the Stela has appeared in history at times before struggles and suffering? In the time of Rameses and the suffering of the Hebrews... and in Hitler’s Germany?”
Suffering - Old Testament - a young Jewish woman. Did that account for her interest? She searched his face as he answered, her eyes almost level with his. The intensity of her gaze made him flinch. She was quite rangy, he noted, almost matching his lanky height.
“I’m sure of it,” he said. “In fact, I believe its message is about to resurface, if it hasn’t already done so.”
“This tablet would be very ancient,” she said.
“Exceedingly. It comes from the womb of history – from an age that the ancient Egyptians called Zep Tepi.”
“Zep Tepi,” she said after him. She played with the words.
“An age before the pharaohs, when divinities like Thoth were supposed to have reigned over Egypt.”
A frown briefly disturbed the smoothness of her forehead.
“Yes, but pre- the invention of writing, surely?”
“Not necessarily. They keep pushing back the date of Egypt’s invention of hieroglyphs with new discoveries. I believe writing goes back further than Egyptologists believe.”
“I forget. You’re alternative. But people always called it a scroll - The Scroll of Thoth.”
He shook his head.
“The first books, like the Ten Commandments, were in stone and Egyptian stelae were books in stone. So-called papyrus Scrolls of Thoth appeared later in the New Kingdom.”
“Okay. But to believe in the Stela of Thoth, you’ve got to believe in Thoth. An Egyptian god with a bird’s head.”
“We don’t know who, or what, Thoth may have been,” he said. “But even putting aside the question of whether or not a race called the Neteru, or the gods, actually existed at some distant age, consider it a case of inspired agency. Like the Bible. Egyptian religion and mythology tells us that Thoth was the first example of the divine mind, the logos, or the ‘word’ of creation as Christians call it. He was known as the master of wisdom, writing and time, symbolised by both the sacred ibis and the dog-faced baboon.”
“A bird and a baboon as the god of wisdom?”
“Not so unexpected. Have you ever looked at an ibis? The curve of its beak echoes a crescent moon, or perhaps the rim of an eclipse. Watch the measured way an ibis strides, picking out small fish, snakes, frogs and insects like a master scribe judiciously selecting his words. Thoth was also the god of time and measurement. Picture the way the ibis strides the fields of Egypt, pace by measuring pace, like a scribal surveyor of ancient times re-measuring the land and setting boundaries after mud from the inundation covered the river banks.”

(Excerpt from The Ibis Apocalypse 2nd in the Egypt adventure series.)

Friday, May 11, 2012

Pharaohs who cast menacing shadows in my Egyptology adventure fiction series



Did Pharaoh Akhenaten once activate an ancient holocaust sun? (The Hathor Holocaust?)


What was the dangerous secret of The Lost Labyrinth of Amenemhat III (The Smiting Texts)

Did the son of Rameses II trigger the plagues of Moses? Egyptian legend tells that his magician son Khaemwaset found the forbidden, magical Book of Thoth (The Ibis Apocalypse)

Senusert III - was his Vizier the Bible's Joseph, and what was their apocalyptic secret? (The Anubis Intervention)  











Thursday, May 10, 2012

My renegade Egyptology fiction hero Anson Hunter has his demons...









Egyptology's demons (British Museum)


It’s little wonder my archaeological hero Anson Hunter has a healthy respect for both seen and unseen dangers from Egypt’s ancient past – as this malignant little collection of underworld demons in the British Museum shows.
Anson has other demons too.
- A fugitive desire for acceptance by Egyptology for his controversial theories, for some kind of validation so that he does not spend his life gnashing his teeth in outer darkness.
- A willingness to experience the ancient sacred in spite of
wrestling with a faith.
- A weakness for the divine feminine and the allure of ancient Egypt.
- A demon of flexibility that gets him into danger and trouble and into dangerous company, including intelligence agencies, fundamentalists (Islamist and Christian), occultists and New Age and New World Order conspirators.

He should be afraid.

See the Anson Hunter archaeology thriller series on Amazon Kindle (and paperback)

Monday, May 7, 2012

The Hathor Holocaust Egypt fiction ... return of an ancient holocaust sun?

Premise for the latest doomsday thriller or not?

This newspaper headline today echoes an ancient event in Egypt's mythology and a present danger today for alternative Egyptologist, investigator and theorist Anson Hunter in The Hathor Holocaust. (Second in my Egypt adventure quartet.) 





Saturday, May 5, 2012

How do investigations of an Egyptologist attract US Homeland Security, British Intelligence, Mossad and more?

Conspiracies involving the dangerous secrets of ancient Egypt

Anson Hunter is an alternative Egyptologist who theorises about dangers from the ancient past.

How do his investigations attract the attention of US Homeland Security, Mossad, British Intelligence - as well as Egyptian authorities, US New Age groups,  neo-pagan organisations and fundamentalist Christian organisations?


Discover why in the Egypt adventure series on Kindle and in paperback.

Wednesday, May 2, 2012

A massive, lost ancient Egyptian pyramid field? An Egypt fiction author muses…


More echoes of ancient Egypt in Australia's inhospitable heart

As I continue my fiction writing on the road, I find more echoes of ancient Egypt in the heart of Australia’s outback.
No, these mounds are not pyramids. They are actually mullock heaps left by opal miners and their digging, as if an army of berserk moles have gone to work on the outback... over 250,000 claims at last count. 


In search of the precious stone, miners labour in the dust and heat of one of the most inhospitable places on earth.
Perhaps only the ancient Egyptians digging for turquoise in the shimmer of the Sinai had it as tough, as my alternative archaeological hero Anson muses in one of his blogs…

Chapter 28
‘The Other Egypt’ – Anson Hunter’s blog
WE TRAVELLED back to Abu Simbel airport in the mini bus, gazing out at the blinding waste of the desert that stretched away on either side. I found myself thinking of the goddess who regarded Nubia and all foreign lands as her property, Hathor.
From time immemorial Egyptians had penetrated the desert in search of her sacred stone, turquoise, particularly in the Sinai where mining expeditions built a distant shrine at Serabit el-Khadim, dedicated to the patron goddess of miners and quarrymen. The turquoise droplets must have seemed like a mockery of moisture to the ancient criminals and captives of war who dug the nodules out of fissures of sandstone in the desert. These same men prayed for the protection of Hathor, ‘Mistress of Turquoise’, ‘She who shows her loveliness when the rock is split’.
Would the goddess have cared that they gave their sweat and lives to mine her precious stones, so that rich ladies in Egypt, her devotees, could grace their necks with sumptuous broad collars of turquoise, their arms with turquoise bracelets, their fingers with rings inlaid with turquoise? Did the captives, dazed with thirst and heat, ever raise their eyes from their work in the mining camps to the turquoise sky and rock-strewn horizon and imagine that perhaps they glimpsed Hathor overlooking them from the dazzle? Did they picture her as an ardent young woman under a sycamore tree, or in the form of a lioness of the desert, Sekhmet-Hathor? Perhaps I am in an apocalyptic mood, but as I travel through Egypt with this group I am thinking more and more about the story of Hathor. Hathor-Sekhmet was the goddess with two faces, one, Hathor, the Sweet One, goddess of sexual love, joy, music and intoxication, the other, Hathor-Sekhmet, the terrible lioness of annihilation, sent by Ra to destroy humankind, when he uttered his smiting execration to punish them for their rebelliousness.
In her marauding stage they called her The Confused One in the Night.
Were there times when Hathor slipped from one state to another? One phase, goddess of love, shining in her beauty, and the next a wild and dreadful lioness of destruction. What would it have been like to come across Hathor, the young woman, and not know that she hid another side?
For those with a mythological bent, I am uploading a piece of speculation about what it might have been like to run into this volatile and apocalyptic female entity and share her company, unawares

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

A dog in the land of the god-dog… a scene from the Egypt adventure thriller ‘The Smiting Texts’.

g
A stray dog leads to a shattering archaeological discovery



I had to say goodbye to a beloved pet, our dog Seti, not so long ago. Thinking about Seti again, reminded me of a  scene from my novel The Smiting Texts.
An Egyptologist Emory Hunter, father of the hero, Anson Hunter, makes a shattering discovery in the desert, all thanks to a stray dog…


A dog came limping out of the haze. It flopped down in the shadow of a stone.
“Too hot for you, Wep?” the Egyptologist said.
Wep was a nickname, short for Wepwawet, the dog-god Opener of Ways. He was a stray black mongrel that Emory had started feeding. Stray dogs were as much a part of archaeology in Egypt as flies, sun and boredom, but they came in handy. Give them a feed and their powerful territorial instinct kicked in. They turned into instant watchdogs, barking at any strangers who approached the camp.
The heat was having an effect on Wep today. He whined, gave a dry, rattling cough and then lay still. Just like that. Wep died in front of Emory’s eyes. Why had he chosen to end this life right near him and in this place of all places...?
Emory tipped a shovelful of sand over a growing pile beside a hole.
The load of silicate spilling from the blade turned the heap into a pyramid with shifting sides that glistened in the afternoon sun. It was just a dog, an abandoned creature that nobody in the world cared about except me, he told himself.
Dogs, old bones and death were a part of this desert landscape and it had been that way since the age of the dog gods Wepwawet and Anubis. He reminded himself that in modern Egypt, around thirty-five dogs were slaughtered every day of the year. Cairo’s dog culling was a national scandal. They had recently shot or poisoned 4,000 dogs in just one five month period. Mostly they shot dogs. Official policy allowed just one bullet per dog. But Cairo dog shooters were haphazard. Their first shot often maimed the animal, instead of killing it, and they simply tossed the animal onto the back of a truck along with the dead ones.
The shovel handle slipped. Emory paused and wiped sweaty fingers on his sleeves.
‘I guess these drops of sweat are the only tears you’ll get from me, Wep,’ he thought.
He wanted the dog back, so that he could run with it again and drum the dog’s strong ribs with his open palms and see the almond shaped eyes spark and the tongue loll from his snout.
Emory gripped the wood more tightly. Keep digging, old man. You don’t want jackals or wild dogs to find him. You owe him that.
Just keep thinking of all the dogs that ever died in Egypt. Millions of them and millions mummified, many of them ending up in museum display cases.
But this wasn’t about dogs, was it? It was about one dog, Wep, who had somehow chosen to end his days with him. Things just came into your life like that, unasked for, and for no reason. And things went out of your life in the same way. Like his son, Anson, even though he was to blame in the boy’s case. Sorrow came up in a wave that scalded the base of his throat and burnt across his shoulders and went deep into his chest and with it came anger.
The dogs of Egypt didn’t ask for their predicament. Neglected and abandoned. Allowed to breed on rubbish dumps, the only place where they could scavenge a scrap to eat. Wep didn’t deserve to die either. Emory paused and did a slow turn on his heel to take in the landscape. The sandy, rock strewn plain vibrated in the heat. He saw glints like an ancient army with weapons out there. Just reflections on sun glazed stone. The landscape was empty.
He lifted the dog, the body wrapped in a blanket. The animal felt lighter already as if something had left him. He put the stiffened form in the hole. The wavy stripes on the blanket dazzled his eyes like the desert. He spent a moment to fix this last image in his mind. Then, following some primal instinct, he dropped a chipped clay bowl into the hole. It was a bowl he had used for feeding the dog. A blue, heka frieze pattern ran around the rim.
Tomb goods and I don’t even believe in an afterlife! he thought, shaking his head. He began to fill the hole. A pile of sand left his spade.
In mid air, another shovelful crossed his and two streams coalesced and showered down together.
“Thanks.”
“It has to be the most awful job in the world burying a favourite dog,” Kalila said.
She had come, even though he had asked to be left alone.
“If you’re too upset you feel you’re being sentimental. And if you don’t feel sad, you feel guilty.” She set to work beside him, putting her back into it. She was a strong girl. When they’d finished, she said. “You’re allowed to say a prayer for him.”
“You can’t pray to an empty universe. Just leave me here for a bit.”
“Okay. I’ll try to rustle up some coffee.”
Wep was gone, covered. Only the freshly turned sand memorialized his life.
He deserved better than that, Emory thought. In the creation beliefs of the Egyptians, the earth rose from the primordial waters of Nun to form the first primeval mound, and the idea of a mound or a tumulus continued into the erection of mastaba tombs and pyramids.
Wep needed a mound. He set to work again with his shovel, building up a small pyramid of sand. That’s when his shovel blade hit something hard, jarring his arms and shoulders. Stone.
Curious. He knelt, tossing the spade aside. Just a rock? On all fours, he clawed away sand like a dog, showering grains behind himself.
More stone appeared under his scratching fingers. Smooth, dressed stone!
He kept going.
A bit more digging revealed the curved tails of two crocodiles on a broken stela. It was like finding an ancient road sign.
Crocodiles were revered in the Fayoum and were particularly associated with the Labyrinth of Amenemhat, where the sacred crocodiles were said to lie.
A sign of the Labyrinth, here?
It’s a good thing I’m on my knees,’ he thought. His entire body trembled.
But it wasn’t only his bodily reaction that surprised him. His behaviour surprised him too. He decided in that moment to check his excitement, resisting the urge to call out for Kalila or for his Head Man.
Could he have shouted out even if he had tried? It was as if sand had choked up his throat.
The words of the Greek historian Herodotus rang in his brain as if announced by a herald amid a fanfare of trumpets. A glittering procession of possibilities now streamed through his mind and with it the greatest dream of all, the prospect of a find greater than the pyramids. ‘They decided to leave to posterity a memorial and caused to be built a Labyrinth a little above Lake Moeris…'This Labyrinth I actually saw, a work greater than all power to describe... Inside are two groups of chambers, one group underground, the other group above on top of them, three thousand in number, fifteen hundred of each type... where lay the tombs of the sacred crocodiles.’
Could this be the most astounding discovery in the long long history of Egypt? A history-making, history-exploding discovery that would dazzle the world?
Slow down.
Cold reality halted his imaginary cavalcade.
Two things would happen if he was right. First the Supreme Council of Antiquities would swoop. Then Egyptian bureaucratic delay would fall like a dead hand over the dig.
This was his discovery – his and Wep’s and he took the further step of deciding to keep it that way, at least for now, until he could savour it, reflect on it and think through the implications.
Would this site prove what he had always thought, that the Lost Labyrinth had never been found. It was never so much lost as misplaced. Egyptologists believed that the Labyrinth was attached to Amenemhat’s pyramid at Hawara, but how could such a vast structures, with sepulchers beneath, have vanished without trace?
Emory glanced almost fearfully over his shoulder. Relief swept him. Nobody was watching.
The secret was still his. He went on digging like a dog, but this time a starving dog that had smelt the whiff of carrion bone.
“Speak to me, stones! Say what I want to hear.”
Text, on a pale fragment of stone appeared. Carved hieroglyphic characters. With each scoop of sand removed, living words swarmed up like insects to reveal themselves.
‘Oh god.’ He recognized the name in a cartouche as easily as he would recognize his own signature.
Maat-en-Ra, son of the sun, Amen-em-hat.
The name resonated like a mallet blow on stone.
Emory covered it over impulsively like a greedy dog burying a bone to be certain of keeping it from others.
Gone. Hidden again.
How long could he keep this from the world and fit it together with all the other clues he had found?