The Exfiltrator by Garner Simmons (interesting books to read in english txt) 📕

“Incredible…,” Ella half-whispered at last.  Openly excited by the shear size and scope of the paintings, she involuntarily gripped Corbett by the arm without thinking.  Placing his hand over hers to steady her, Corbett felt the same sense of wonder and awe.

“This more like what you were hoping for?” he asked.

“More… so much… Look at the way the figures have been rendered.  The minimal use of line… so simple and direct.  It’s brilliant”

“Picasso de los Pirineos.” Roberto marveled.

“Picasso, indeed,” Corbett found himself unable to look away.  “Back in the nineteen-forties when they first discovered the cave paintings at Lascaux, Picasso was among the first to visit.  He came despite the war and Hitler’s condemnation of his work. He simply had to see for himself.”

“Really… Picasso?” Ella found herself entranced by the sound of his voice.  There was something about the undercurrent of excitement as Corbett spoke that reminded her of that first lecture back in college.  It was infectious.  “I wonder what he must’ve thought.”

“According to legend,” Corbett continued, “he was supposedly so overwhelmed by what he saw that he exclaimed: ‘But they have invented everything…!’ Completely intimidated, he couldn’t bring himself to paint for a month.”

“I’m not surprised.  Look at them.  And these were created how many millennia ago?” Ella asked still marveling to the majesty of the wall before them.

“Maybe thirty, thirty-five,” Corbett replied.  “More or less.”

“All this by torchlight…?” Roberto shook his head.  “Amazing.”

“Actually, they were more sophisticated than most people think.” Corbett crossed to a large, round hollowed out stone and knelt beside it, its basin crusted black with carbon.  “For example, in all probability this would have been a lamp.”

“A lamp?” Roberto smiled.

“Current theory suggests that they would have placed animal fat in something like this and inserted a reed wick. Once lit, it could burn for hours.  Better than a torch.  Pretty ingenious when you think about it.”  Rising, Corbett stared up at the paintings once more.  “Look at the fluid way in which the figures interact.  The antelope overtaking the bison.  The horses running free.  Almost as if the artist was attempting to capture motion.  Whoever he was, that is, assuming this is all the work of single man, what’s truly remarkable is that his art transcends the ages and still speaks to us today.”

“What makes you so sure it was a man?” Ella’s question caught both men by surprise causing them to turn.  “It seems to me that while the males were off hunting or foraging or whatever they did all day, it could just as easily have been a female, stuck here in the cave day after day who decided to spend at least some of her time painting the world she remembered.”

Roberto stared at her in disbelief. “Es ridículo,” he exclaimed.  “How can you impose twenty-first century feminism on what we know to be a primitive, male dominated culture that existed thirty thousand years ago?”

“Just because that’s always been the conventional wisdom doesn’t make it true.  It’s all just educated guesswork.  And I’d say my interpretation is as valid as yours,” Ella replied, refusing to back down.

“Good point,” Corbett nodded, impressed by her willingness to challenge the status quo.  “Could have been a woman… or women.  You’re absolutely right.”

Roberto rolled his eyes. “You must be joking.  Between cooking, caring for children, preparing hides, and just generally seeing to the needs of her clan, what woman would have had the time to paint?”

“Obviously a talented one,” Ella replied.  Stung, Roberto shook his head but decided to let it drop as she turned to Corbett.

“How soon can I get my cameras down here?”

“As soon as the winch is up and running and we’ve set up the lift, we’ll run some lights and get you started,” Corbett answered, checking his watch.  “It’s getting late.  Better start heading back.”

But as they began to retrace their steps, Ella hesitated. “What’s that sound?” she asked, cocking her head to one side to listen.  The others stopped to listen as well.

“Water…  an underground river, no?” Roberto looked to Corbett.

“Probably the source of the stream near base camp,” he replied.  “Once we’re set up down here, we can check it out.”

Moving back the way they had come, they could see the late afternoon light high above sifting through the entrance to the cave.  Having rappelled down, they now had to climb back up. Using the harness and the rope attached to the anchor bolt above, one at a time, they managed to make their way to the surface once more.

*****

It was nearly dark by the time all three had emerged from the depths and stood again beyond the cave’s entrance.  Sebastian had been waiting, his face filled with concern.

“We were afraid something might have happened.  You were gone so long.  I was beginning to think we might have to send down a rescue party,” he said, half joking.

“Sorry,” Corbett replied.  “Sensory deprivation. Lost track of time.”

“It was like being in a darkroom,” Ella agreed. “You go in to develop a couple of photos and the next thing you know, it’s midnight.”

Given the hour, Hector had had Gorka prepare a thermos of coffee and tapas that were waiting for them.   Famished, they ate quickly while Sebastian pressed them for information.

“So tell me,” Sebastian asked. “What did you actually find down there?”

“It’s still too early to tell, or course, but from what I we’ve seen so far,” Corbett replied, “it might potentially rival Altamira.”

“Wait until you see the wall paintings,” Ella added, clearly still excited by what they had discovered. “So rich. Like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“Excelente.  I cannot wait to go down,” Sebastian smiled.

“And then there’s this,” Corbett added, fishing the painted shell from his jumpsuit pocket and handing it to the older man. “Roberto unearthed it just as he was rappelling