Soon, the Watzmann Glacier was stood majestically in our view. It stood proudly, watching over the lesser beings below. The air was chilling, and I was thankful for the thick coat I was wearing.
Kurtis stared at the glacier in sheer awe. It was truly a breathtaking sight. We began to venture up the glacier. We passed the remains of a JU-52 fighter bomber; I stood in silence momentarily to pay our respects.
"Poor bugger." I said, without really thinking.
Kurtis found this hilarious.
"You're so bloody English."
Finally, we reached the sight of the discovery. A small alcove in the ice branched out into a huge, circular room. Typically, corpses littered the ground. I stepped over them with care, disgusted at myself for finding the situation so normal. It was always the same.
I wasn't surprised to find the pedestal where the tablets would have been empty. The Taliban had definitely ensured no one could come following. Still that said, the area may still offer vital clues.
Kurtis called out, beckoning me to a section of the wall. A corpse lay close by with a bloodied finger. It had been used to write a message on the wall. It was in Pashto, I would have to translate it. Thank goodness for modern technology. One can only be fluent in a certain amount of languages.
With these ancient powers from the great god, Enlil, we will fairly govern the cosmos, and bring peace to all humanity.
I almost laughed as I translated. Inspecting the carnage about me, I could hardly believe that statement. I looked again at the Pashto, and realised that there were many spelling errors. I carefully read the translation over and over. It made no sense. The Taliban were firm believers in Allah. They would not hail any other god as 'great.' The twisted scribes of this message were by no means the Taliban.
But they were definitely trying to be. I needed to find the real thieves, and quickly.
The whole universe was at stake. I was ready to leave, but Kurtis wasn't quite finished. He was examining the corpses, trying to ascertain how exactly they had died.
"Does it matter? They're dead. It's not important."
"Just hold on, I think I'm on to something."
He lined up about ten corpses.
"Lara, look. They're all missing something. Heart, lungs, liver. It's a twisted pick and mix."
"Oh my God..."
"Lara, you look like you've seen a ghost."
"A ghost from the past. It's Karel."
Yes, that old chestnut. I couldn't believe it. I thought the Nephilim had had their day. I thought he was dealt with.
Assumptions were always dangerous in this business; Natla was the perfect example of that.
There was no time to waste; he was going to attempt to rebreed the Nephilim, again.
And we were not going to let that happen.