Dark Rising

Начало книги

‘Are you ready to witness history being written, my friend?’ Mahmud Shihab appeared from the back of the canvas tent like a ghost. ‘Salem Agha-ye, Hakim,’ he said softly and kissed the military man on each cheek before grasping his upper arms and looking earnestly into his face. ‘History being written in this, the very cradle of Persian antiquity – it is fitting, yes?’

‘Salem mamnoon, Shihab. Yes, inshallah, God willing.’ The soldier nodded and parted his dry lips in a yellow smile, showing rows of teeth stained by decades of smoking the pungent local Marlleak cigarettes.

Mahmud Shihab led Hakim to the back of the tent, where a modern metal door was embedded incongruously in the ancient stone wall. He entered a code into the recessed keypad and the heavy door swung inwards soundlessly. As Shihab escorted the military man down a dimly lit corridor carved into the interior of the ancient Persepolis ruins, a proud smile curved his lips at the thought of the design and engineering feat he had mastered beneath this once great city of the kings. Above them, its mighty stone skeleton still dominated the landscape and had survived twenty-five centuries of rain and rock-cracking heat – a powerful symbol of a time when Persia had commanded the world.

Читать дальше →