CHAPTER 8
“That my friends is The Great Platform of Baalbek!” he announced.
Michel and me just looked at him bemused.
“The platform of what?” I asked.
“The Great Platform of Baalbek,” Jean repeated. “One of the greatest archaeological mysteries of all time. Mon Dieu, I can’t believe it!”
“Baalbek. I’ve heard of this place. It’s about a hundred kilometres from Kfar Hazir,” said Michel.
“Well at least we know we’re still in Lebanon,’ I said. “Whether that’s a good or bad thing I’m not sure though. I take it you know a bit about this place then, Jean?”
Jean had a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. He looked like a kid who had just stumbled into a fully stocked candy shop. “Know about it! I have been studying about this place for years but I’ve never managed to visit it due to other personal and professional commitments. There have been many theories bandied about regarding what it was originally created for, one of them being that it was a landing platform for spacecraft. Another theory is that Baalbek was created by giants. These assumptions have always been fobbed off by the mainstream archeologists but after what we’ve just seen and done I think you’ll agree that this was almost certainly built by the people of Ra.”
With a pointed finger Jean guided the our attention to the side of the platform. “You see those massive foundation stones up there. They are one of the greatest mysteries of the ancient world. Sitting on top of them is what is called the Grand Terrace. The courtyard of the Roman temple of Jupiter was built upon that platform during the height of the Roman Empire. You can see the huge outer wall of the temple at the edge. Now look at the lower courses of the outer wall. They are formed of huge, finely crafted and precisely positioned blocks. Each one weighs approximately four hundred and fifty tons each. There are more of them on the south and west sides. The three much larger blocks of stone above them are called the Trilithon. They weigh approximately one thousand tons each, are sixty feet in length and about fifteen feet high. Another even larger stone lies in a limestone quarry a quarter of a mile from here. It’s known as the Hajar el Gouble, the Stone of the South, or the Hajar el Hibla, the Stone of the Pregnant Woman, and it is the single largest piece of stonework ever crafted in the world. It is lying at a raised angle with the lowest part of its base still attached to the quarry rock as though it were almost ready to be cut free and transported to its presumed location next to these other stones of the Trilithon.”
“So, what’s the significance of them?” I asked.
“No one knows. Well ……..” Jean corrected himself. “I should say, no one knew, until now. My God! We are probably the first people on Earth to have figured it out. These stones have been an enigma to contemporary scientists, engineers and archaeologists since written records began. No one has ever been able to understand how ancient civilisations could have quarried, transported and precision placed them because it is quite simply beyond the technological ability of any known builders, ancient or modern. Because they couldn’t understand it they decided that they must have just been dragged here from the nearby quarries. The problem with that concept though, as you can see, is that the route to the site of Baalbek is uphill, over rough and winding terrain, and there’s no evidence whatsoever of a flat hauling surface ever having been created in ancient times. Then there’s the problem of how the mammoth blocks, once they were brought to the site, were lifted and precisely placed in position. It’s been theorised that the stones were raised using a complex array of scaffolding, ramps and pulleys powered by large numbers of humans and animals.”
“You mean, like the Pyramids were supposed to have been built?” I asked.
“Yes, kind of,” Jean concurred, “but even that monumental task is still inconceivable to have been done by humans and animals so they based their theories on more modern times, specifically, how the three hundred ton Egyptian obelisk in front of St Peter's Basilica in Rome was erected. There the builders used about forty huge pulleys, eight hundred men and a hundred or more horses. But it’s no comparison really because that obelisk weighed only three hundred or so tons, whereas the trilothon stones are more than three times that weight. Also, the area where the obelisk was erected in St Peter’s Square is completely different than here. It was and still is, a great open space that could easily accommodate all the lifting apparatus and the men and horses pulling on the ropes. As you can see for yourself, there’s no such space available here to place stones this big. The hills slope away from where lifting apparatus would need to have been placed and no evidence has ever been found of a flat and structurally firm surface having been constructed and then mysteriously removed after the lifting was done. Also, these giant stones are precisely placed side-by-side. There simply is no conceivable place where a huge pulley apparatus could have been stationed here to do such a thing.”
“Look at those stones,” Jean said, pointing at the lower section of the structure. “It was built to withstand a severe amount of weight and pressure. Perhaps it was a landing pad for spaceships, or a transfer platform for sending things to the moon. That duct we just climbed up through; it has something to do with the structures far below ground.”
“You could well be right,” I agreed. “Maybe we’ll figure it out at some point but right now if this is Baalbek then we’re very close to the Syrian border. We need to head West and get to the coast as fast as is humanly possible.” As I spoke I looked towards the Eastern horizon. “It’ll be dawn in about two hours. I don’t know about you two but I for one would like a hot bath and some decent food.” I added.
To cover our tracks we replaced the stone slab we’d crawled up out of and filled in the mortar cracks with sand and earth. When we were satisfied that the entrance hole to the shaft below was suitably covered and disguised we set off towards the town of Baalbek.
When three bedraggled characters, covered in dust and looking like they’d just been dragged down the street by a horse and cart walked in to the foyer of the Palmyra Hotel the proprietor did a double take. The first thing out of his mouth (in Arabic) didn’t sound very hospitable. Michel understood a little Arabic. Apparently the man thought we were Syrian refugees and was telling us to get lost but he soon mellowed down a bit when Michel paid up front for three breakfasts and enquired about renting their largest room. He explained to the man in very broken Arabic that we were tourists on our way to visit the Baalbek ruins but that our vehicle had broken down ten miles out of town and that we’d walked all the way here in the early hours of the morning. The man seemed to accept that and immediately lightened up, profusely apologising for his previous rudeness and offering us a hot cup of coffee on the house.
After eating a hearty breakfast of eggs and sautéed potatoes we felt a whole lot better and after each taking a long bath we sat out on the balcony of the room, surveying the bustling streets of Baalbek down below while we contemplated the tumultuous events of the past few weeks.
“You know, I keep thinking about that Nazi Iron Cross you found in the Silo when we first went down there,” I said to Michel. “How did they find out about it?”
Michel just shook his head. He had no idea, but Jean did.
“The Nazi’s were obsessed with ancient artefacts, Tod,” Jean replied. “The SS in particular spent a lot of time and resources investigating such things. Believe it or not the Swastika is actually an important symbol in both ancient and modern religions. It indicates, among other things, good luck, the infinity of creation and the unconquered, revolving sun. Coca-Cola even used this symbol at one time. Carlsberg used it on their beer bottles. The Boy Scouts adopted it and the Girls' Club of America called their magazine ‘Swastika.’ Incredible as it sounds now they would even send out swastika badges to their young readers as a prize for selling copies of the magazine. It was used by American military units during World War One and it could even be seen on RAF planes as late as 1939. Most of these benign uses came to a halt in the late 1930s as the Nazis rose to power in Germany. The Nazi use of the swastika stems from the work of 19th Century German scholars translating old Indian texts who noticed similarities between their own language and Sanskrit. They concluded that Indians and Germans must have had a shared ancestry and imagined a race of white god-like warriors they called Aryans, and we all know what that led to once Hitler added his maniacal spin to it.”
He definitely had my attention now, and Michel’s.
“By the early 1920s, the swastika had been adopted as a symbol of the German Reich and although it is reviled in the West today it is still popular within Buddhist and Hindu societies.”
“So you think that they may have gotten wind of the fact that some ancient artefact was down there then?” I asked.
“I have no idea but it seems likely. I can’t think of any other reason why the Nazi’s would be digging down there. I’m just glad the British drove them out before they found anything.”
“Who needs Google when we’ve got you!” I remarked.
Michel then mentioned something else that had been on his mind since our encounter with Him-she. “Have you two given any actual though about what we’re going to do now?” Michel asked.
It was a genuine question and not without reason.
“To be honest, no,” replied Jean. I have thought about it many times since we surfaced at the Baalbek ruins. I cannot think of anything effective to undo the trap we are in. We are in effect prisoners. The apparatus that controls the entire human race, and that includes us, is advanced in the extreme. You heard what that creature said. There is no solution to something like that.”
I however had also given it some thought. “I don’t believe that, Jean,” I retorted. “Where there’s a will there’s a way. That’s what my old Mum used to say to me. I know this may sound a bit over the top but hear me out, okay.”
“I’m all ears my friend,” replied Jean.
“Me too. What’s on your mind,” added Michel.
“Okay, the way I see it is this: One thing’s for sure, we are very likely the only people alive on this planet who know about that place down there.” I stopped talking for a moment to gather my thoughts. “Jeez Louise! Who’d have thought I’d ever hear myself talking like this,” I gasped. “I sound like some kind of unhinged prophet on an LSD trip! Anyway, bear with me here,” I continued. “That metropolis down there or ‘city of the damned’ as we like to call it is inhabited by some very nasty characters who mean the human race nothing but pain, toil and trouble. Now if that city were physically destroyed or if the creatures operating it were rendered incapable of functioning the operation would shut down, right?”
“Ok, I’m following you,” said Jean.
“Me too, I think,” Michel added.
“With the enslavers, or whatever they call themselves out of the game, the human race would no longer be subjected to the same horrific fate they have been for aeons.” I said.
Jean and Michel had been listening carefully to my hypothesis and were beginning to get where I was going with this.
“So let me get this straight, you want to destroy or somehow shut down that operation down there and incapacitate every living creature in it?” said Michel.
“In a nutshell yeah,” I replied.
“What about Him-she?” Michel asked.
“Not much we can do there; collateral damage, I’m afraid,” I replied.
“But Him-she’s the reason why we got out of there. We can’t just wipe him - her - it out along with the rest of them!”
“And exactly how do you suggest doing something like that?” Jean interrupted.
“Not sure about that for the moment but it’ll come to me, don’t worry,” I asserted.
“I took you for a builder, not Ghengis Khan!” mocked Michel.
“Maybe I was once,” I joked. And despite the ridiculously hopeless situation we were faced with, the three of us broke out into uncontrollable laughter.
“Maybe you were, mon-ami! Maybe you were!” replied Jean, slapping me on the back as he laughed himself silly.
That night we all slept like babies. The next morning we woke with a spring in our step. The cleaner knocked on the door and returned our clothes which had all been washed and ironed.
While Michel ordered a taxi to take us to Beirut I phoned Gerard to see if he’d gotten anywhere with the sphere. By the sounds of it he definitely had. My old friend was very happy to hear my voice and relieved that I’d come to no harm. Reports on the news about the fighting in Syria and the refugees pouring across the border into Northern Lebanon painted a grim picture and when he couldn’t get in touch with me he’d feared the worst. But if he was happy to hear from me again he was even more ecstatic about the sphere. During the past few weeks he’d done pretty much nothing else but investigate, research and experiment with what he called ‘this fascinating artefact’ and he was desperate for me to get back to London ASAP so he could explain to me what he’d discovered in detail.
Michel had booked the next available flight to London and the very next day we were all standing in Gerard’s workshop in Battersea while he relayed his findings to us.
To be continued ........................
Edited by toddyboy, 25 March 2020 - 09:26 am.