The Cleopatra Cipher: An Archaeological Thriller (Adrian West Adventures Book 1), page 1
THE CLEOPATRA CIPHER
ADRIAN WEST ADVENTURE BOOK 1
L.D. GOFFIGAN
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Author’s Note
Stay in touch!
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 by L.D. Goffigan
All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Cover Design by Mibl Art
PROLOGUE
Alexandria, Egypt
Royal Palace of the Ptolemies
August 12th, 30 BCE
Cleopatra knew that death was coming for her.
That young Roman upstart, Octavian, was already marching into Alexandria. It was only a matter of time before he would arrive at the palace to seize her and her children.
She had already sent away her eldest, Caesarion, to India with his tutor Rhodon, a man she trusted with her life. Her youngest children, Alexander, Selene, and Ptolemy were here in the palace with her. She had wanted to send them away, but they were still so young, and she had hoped . . .
Despair seized her, but she closed her eyes and willed it away. She was the last ruling Ptolemy, queen of Egypt. She was determined to keep the Ptolemaic legacy alive.
The Ptolemies had ruled over Egypt for centuries, ever since the great Alexander marched his armies into Egypt. She would not be the one to fail them. As long as her children, heirs to the Ptolemaic wealth and legacy, were alive, there was hope of preserving the dynasty.
Now was not the time for despair. Had she not triumphed so many times before? When she was a young woman of twenty-one, her brother-husband had forced her to flee Alexandria. At the advice and counsel of his tutors, he had tried to set her aside and have her killed, to rule Egypt alone. Had she not made Julius Caesar her ally and eventual lover, restoring herself to the throne and holding her position, even as the threat of Rome continued to loom?
She had, and she would triumph again. She had already prepared for this moment, all the while hoping that it would not come to this.
But she still had loyal followers. She still had her beloved children.
Straightening, she moved toward a chest in the corner of her chamber where she kept her most precious jewels. Most had already been spirited away during the war she and Marc Antony had raged against that upstart, but she had kept some pieces with her.
Grief skittered through her at the memory of Antony. What was once an alliance of convenience, as it had been with Caesar, had turned into love. Now he had gone to join the gods, leaving her and their children alone.
She forced away her grief, blinking back tears. She opened the chest, taking in the jewels until her eyes landed on one of the simplest pieces. It was an amethyst ring, passed down to her from the mother she had never known, one that even the most fashion-conscious Roman was likely to overlook. It would fit perfectly on her daughter’s finger.
Lifting the ring, she sent a silent prayer to the gods that her plan, long in the making, would work.
Her kingdom, her throne—her family’s very survival—depended upon it.
Moments later, Cleopatra stood in the center of her chamber, waiting for her children to arrive, after sending her most loyal servant, Charmion, to fetch them.
As they entered, rushing to her, her heart clenched. While her oldest looked like his father Julius Caesar, her youngest three children were the spitting image of her beloved Antony. The twins, her sun and moon, Alexander Helios and Cleopatra Selene, had inherited his dark eyes and curly hair; her baby boy Ptolemy already possessed his beauty that was still so inherently masculine. They would always remind her of him.
She sank down as her children ran into her arms, allowing herself several long moments to rest her cheek against their curls, to stroke their soft skin. Now that all was on the verge of being lost; her children were all she had.
“Mama?” Selene asked, her tear-filled gaze meeting hers. “I overheard the guards. They said the Romans are here, and they’re coming to the palace.”
Cleopatra met her children’s eyes, fighting to keep her own rising panic at bay. Now was not the time to heed her instincts as a mother and soothe them; she had to be honest with them. She did not have much time.
“Yes. The Romans have entered the city; they will be here soon. And that is why I want you to listen carefully to what I am going to tell you.”
While her youngest, Ptolemy, was too young to understand, Selene and Alexander listened intently to her words, their eyes wide as they grasped the enormity of what she told them.
When she finished speaking, one of her trusted guards appeared at the door to her chamber.
“My queen,” he said, bowing his head respectfully. “Octavian and his army have arrived at the palace gates. They have sent a messenger ahead. He wishes to meet with you.”
Cleopatra gave him a nod, turning back to her children.
“Remember what I have told you, my loves,” she said.
“We will,” Alexander promised, though his lips trembled. He was trying so hard to appear as strong and brave as a man, but he was still a boy. She reached out to touch his face.
“Give your mother a kiss,” she said, trying not to let her voice waver. “I will send for you when I can.”
They dutifully kissed her, and she again allowed herself several moments to just breathe them in. Her instincts as a mother and a ruler battled for dominance; the mother in her wanted to hold them and never let them go, the ruler in her knew that they must. She had to force herself to stand, watching as Charmion led them out of her chamber. A sudden unfathomable grief seized her at the thought of never seeing them again.
I will, she thought with determination. Gods willing, I will.
She prayed they had heeded what she had told them, and that they would succeed. They will, she told herself firmly. They must.
Cleopatra turned to the guard, who still hovered in the doorway. She was glad she had taken the time to dress in her finest. Even at the moment of what seemed like her greatest defeat, she had taken care to make certain she looked every inch a queen. She wore a mantle of purple silk, earrings made of lapis lazuli, and a diadem that adorned her dark curls, marking her Greek royal lineage.
She would not allow this Octavian to defeat her. With her children and her plan in place, victory could still be hers.
Determination flowed through her veins, and she stepped out of her chamber to face her enemy.
ONE
Present Day
Rome, Italy
8:16 P.M.
Sebastian Rossi inhaled the brisk spring night air as he strolled down the cobblestoned streets of the Trastevere neighborhood, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
He was still buzzing with adrenaline after delivering a lecture on the various languages spoken in Ptolemaic Egypt, one of many lectures held during the annual Languages of Antiquity conference. It was a lecture he had given many times back in the States, and it was one of his most popular ones, covering the languages spoken in Cleopatra’s Egypt, from the Greek of the royal quarter to the Egyptian spoken by the natives. Given that one of his academic specialties was the Ptolemaic royal family, he’d fielded many questions afterward about the most famous Ptolemy’s command of multiple languages . . . Cleopatra.
The interest in Cleopatra had grown in recent weeks due to a recent explosive archaeological find—and then theft—in Rome. A team of archaeologists had found a cadre of hidden items believed to belong to a wealthy Greco-Roman woman during renovations of an old home near the Palpatine Hill.
The artifacts weren’t just any artifacts, and the woman not just any wealthy woman.
EXPLOSIVE FIND IN ROME!
LINK TO CLEOPATRA DISCOVERED IN ROME
IS CLEOPATRA’S TOMB NEXT?
Those
Based on several artifacts linked to Cleopatra, mainly an amethyst signet ring written about in antiquity, other items of jewelry found were believed to come from Egypt, specifically the royal quarter of Alexandria. Historians had determined that the jewelry likely belonged to Cleopatra’s daughter during her years spent in Rome.
Their theft had turned an already explosive find into a highly publicized mystery. The theft had occurred just one week ago. Given his area of expertise, Sebastian had reached out to the Art Crimes division of the FBI, who were helping the local Italian authorities, along with other law enforcement agencies from all over the world, which wasn’t surprising given how high profile the theft was. Sebastian had offered his expertise should they need it, but they had politely turned him down.
He’d not told them his fear that there may be another motive behind the theft.
Icy fear crawled down his spine at the thought. He’d only told two other people his theory, and he trusted them. Ever since the theft, he’d told himself the thieves were just after the artifacts for their value, which was in the range of hundreds of millions of dollars.
But doubt niggled at him. Did someone else know what they could yield?
None of that is your concern, he told himself. The authorities were working on locating the artifacts; he just had to pray they were found before they got into the wrong hands. If they weren’t already.
Forcing the unpleasant thoughts aside, he turned onto the bustling Viale Trastevere, making his way toward his hotel. The conference organizers had offered him a car to take home from the conference, which was held at the American University of Rome, but he’d opted to walk instead, wanting to enjoy the streets of Rome at night.
It was one of those perfect late spring evenings, with the city buzzing around him, the lights of Rome highlighting the modern and ancient buildings alike. Rome in the spring was his wife Mira’s favorite, and he felt a pang, wishing that both Mira and their seventeen-year-old daughter, Celeste, were here with him.
They were currently in Milan, where Celeste wanted to do some shopping, and Mira, an art enthusiast, wanted to take in some of the galleries there. Just before his lecture, Mira had texted him a photo of her and Celeste. They were making faces at the camera, their joy infectious.
He smiled at the memory. It was good to see them so close after a tense few weeks. Celeste wanted to go to college in California, something Mira had ardently opposed as it was far from their Upper West Side Manhattan home. Their home had been a bastion of tension during the past few weeks, until he’d suggested they take a side trip to Milan for shopping and sightseeing while he attended the conference in Rome, hoping it would force them to reconcile. It looked like his plan had worked.
Sebastian stopped abruptly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with sudden awareness.
Someone was watching him.
He turned, his gaze sweeping over the various passersby, but no one paid him any mind. He shook off the sensation and continued on until he reached his hotel, though he kept up a periodic scan of his surroundings.
“Doctor Rossi,” the hotel’s doorman, a friendly Italian by the name of Lorenzo, who knew him from his previous stays, greeted him with a wide smile. “How was the lecture?”
“It went well,” Sebastian replied. “I didn’t put too many people to sleep.”
Lorenzo chuckled as Sebastian gave him a wry grin, heading toward the elevator.
When Sebastian entered his dark, spacious hotel room, he decided that tonight he’d enjoy a nice glass of red wine on the balcony, a Sangiovese. His wine drinking was a tradition of sorts, a treat he gave himself after delivering a guest lecture or finishing an exhaustive piece of research.
Placing down his bag, he entered the small kitchenette, flipping on the light. He beamed at the sight of a brand-new bottle of Sangiovese with a note stuck to its front on the counter. He peeled it off.
Best of luck tonight. Love, Mira and Celeste.
He smiled down at the note, his heart swelling with love. His Mira knew all about his ritual and must have had the bottle sent over. Still smiling, he decided to place a FaceTime call to his girls before his celebratory drink.
But as he turned to exit the kitchenette, he froze, spotting a movement out of the corner of his eye.
In the other room, a shadow had moved.
Heart hammering, he stood still for a moment, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. His mouth dry, he took a cautious step forward and flipped on the light.
Light flooded the room, and he scanned the corner where he’d seen the movement. There was nothing there other than a bookcase and a tall plant.
He shook his head, silently scolding himself. First that sensation of someone watching him while he’d walked, and now this. Maybe he needed to start on that wine now.
He turned to head back to the kitchenette, but he halted. He heard something, and this time he was certain he hadn’t imagined it.
Several steady footsteps, and a loud click that seemed to echo off the walls. The light that had flooded the room went out, and a tidal wave of panic swept over Sebastian.
Flee, his mind screamed. Get out. Now.
But as he whirled, on the verge of racing toward the door, a tall figure emerged from the shadows, and a heavily accented voice murmured, “I wouldn’t do that, Doctor Rossi.”
Sebastian cried out as a blinding pain throbbed behind his temples. The intruder had struck him from behind.
As Sebastian’s world went entirely black, he thought, with a swirling sense of dread . . .
Someone knows.
TWO
Rome, Italy
2:15 A.M.
As Adrian’s cell phone buzzed on the nightstand, penetrating her haze of sleep, she assumed it was her mother again.
She’d steadfastly ignored her mother’s calls for the past two days. She didn’t need to listen to the voice mails to know what the calls were about. It was the same call she got every year around this time. As if I could ever forget what happened on this day ten years ago.
The day that had changed her life forever.
She kept her eyes closed, determined to ignore it and get back to sleep, but almost as soon as the cell stopped buzzing, it started up again.
Heaving a sigh, she sat up, reaching for her phone, and froze when she saw who it was.
Though she hadn’t spoken to her former FBI partner in years, she still had his number programmed into her phone. Nick Harper.
Why would he be calling her in the middle of the night? She swallowed, unease gripping her as she answered the call.
“Adrian. It’s me.”
His voice was exactly as she remembered, a calming, deep baritone. When they were partners, he’d used that voice on suspects to lure them into a sense of ease before springing the trap. She used to joke that he had the voice of a hypnotherapist.
“I’m sorry to call you in the middle of the night, but I think you’d want to know about this.” There was a long pause before he continued. “It’s Sebastian Rossi. He’s gone missing from his hotel room.”
