The God Resurrection by Kevin Tumlinson
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 2.9 MB
Kevin Tumlinson is an award-winning and bestselling thriller author, with books available in hundreds of countries worldwide.
ANCIENT MYTH MEETS DARK SCIENCE, AND GODS AND KINGS WILL RISE AGAIN
Dr. Dan Kotler finds himself embroiled in a plot that turns out to be “the family business.”
Kotler’s grandfather—Richard Kotler—has resurfaced, along with thirty-six genetic samples, stolen from various archaeological dig sites worldwide.
Using a new, dark science, and the resources of an ancient order bent on world domination, Richard intends to resurrect gods and kings, and unleash them on the world.
Kotler and his FBI partner, Agent Roland Denzel, race to Göbekli Tepe—the Turkish dig site harboring the oldest known temple in the world—to track down one last key to stopping Richard’s plot.
Will they unravel the mystery in time? Or will the gods once again walk the Earth?
According to everything the man had read, it was the oldest temple in the world.
Older than Stonehenge. Older than the pyramids. Older than anything the man had ever known or read about or seen before in his life. Older than anything he’d ever before put his hands on. He was touching history. True history.
The man, shrouded in darkness and hidden from the view of guards or archaeologists or anyone else, rested both palms on a stone pillar and felt the gritty texture of the stone, the embossed and carved designs of bulls and lions, and that of a human figure with the wings and head of a bird.
So much history in this stone. Ancient and enigmatic. And so well preserved, buried for nearly twelve-thousand years, here in “Potbelly Mound”—the English translation of the Turkish name, Göbekli Tepe.
The site had been a series of large, bulbous mounds that had lain untouched for eleven and a half millennia, until the 1990s. During that decade, archaeologists discovered that the stone slabs and lithics found on the surface of the mounds only hinted at a deeper secret—of a temple built in a time before recorded history. And now, section by section, mound by mound, it was being excavated, cataloged, and then reburied to continue its preservation.
Some sections—such as the one the man found himself standing in at this moment—had been uncovered and reburied once before.
Simply by existing, Göbekli Tepe had upset the apple cart of modern theories on human development. It had also become an inspiration for dreaming about what new and incredible things might be discovered—what hints of bygone cultures might be uncovered, layer by layer within the Earth, or perhaps under its oceans. There was more history hidden right beneath our feet than we ever imagined possible.
The man could understand why this site was so intriguing. Such grandeur. Such beauty. Such history.
He stepped away from the stone pillar, bowed his head slightly out of respect for that history, then gripped the wooden handle with both hands. He raised it above his head, and brought the head of the sledgehammer down with a solid, immutable strike directly to the base of the pillar. It took three more strikes to rend the stone to rubble, and to break through.
The man glanced around. This was noisy work, and he needed to remain unnoticed and undisturbed.
The site was protected by a contract security team—not much better than mercenaries for hire, in the man’s opinion. But they were currently being distracted on the site’s far perimeter, pulled away by the antics of children using American fireworks to put on a spectacular show. The man occasionally heard the pop and bang and saw the burst of colorful light from a bottle rocket exploding in the Turkish sky. It was like American Independence Day. Glorious.