The Milestone Protocol

by Ernest Dempsey

  “I would never.”

  “Look,” Sean cut them off, “we can find a way into the country. Right, Magnus?”

  “It shouldn’t be a problem. I have connections there.”

  “See? He has connections. But we have another question we need to address before we go anywhere.” He paused, waiting to bring it up until he had everyone’s undivided attention. “Why didn’t this Saint Alexius simply destroy the rose stone when he had the chance? The riddle is telling us to do it, but he couldn’t? Why?”

  “Or wouldn’t?” Magnus pointed out.

  “Exactly. Why didn’t he destroy it? Why all the riddles and clues and instructions when he could have simply dropped it into the ocean or cast it into a fire or…I don’t know, smashed it to pieces?”

  The question drove the room into a tailspin of utter silence. The only sounds came from the clocks on the wall as the second hands monotonously ticked away.

  No one had an immediate answer. Magnus scrunched his face into a scowl, which he immediately relieved with a sip of scotch.

  Then a thought crashed into Sean’s mind and lit up his face like the lights of a Major League Baseball stadium.

  “The pyramids,” Sean said. “The ones we found.”

  “What about them?” Tommy asked, taking a sip of tequila from his own glass.

  “They were harvesting energy. Well, the one in Alaska was. But what if Saint Alexius knew something no one else knew?”

  “Such as?” Magnus wondered out loud.

  “If the pyramids are a vast network that spans the globe, it might be that they were constructed for two reasons. The Cult of Thoth follows a series of prophetic and mathematical calculations.”

  “The protocol,” Tommy said.

  “Yes. If the pyramids are some kind of ancient, global secret weapon, what if they could serve two purposes? What if this array could provide vast amounts of power to regions all over the globe? Over six hundred million people don’t have access to electricity in sub-Saharan Africa. Imagine what that could change for an entire continent, and the world, to get cheap or free electricity to everyone?”

  Tommy’s face darkened. “But the cult’s purpose is supposed to be to monitor humanity’s progress and only strip away the population when it is clear the numbers are going to be too great according to their timeline? What you’re proposing—”

  “Could change all that,” Kevin finished the thought. “It could propel the global education level by 30 or 40 percent. More education means more scientists with more ideas.”

  “Information available through the internet in places that could never have imagined it before,” Sean added.

  “Knowledge will increase, and men will run to and fro,” Magnus said, quoting a scripture from Revelation.

  Sean wasn’t sure how that exactly figured in, but he didn’t mention it.

  “I don’t understand,” Kevin confessed. “If this group is supposed to help humanity, no matter their sick processes of doing it, why would they not use something like this to help the world? Why would they only be intent on wiping out a huge chunk of the population?”

  “Same reason any tyrant or tyrannical organization does anything,” Sean answered. “Control.”

  “Control of what?”

  “Everyone.”

  24

  Atlanta

  Alex stopped the Camaro in front of the middle school playground and looked around. Desmond and his two friends watched from behind the slides until they were certain it was the two researchers from the IAA.

  “That’s them,” Corin determined. “They said they would be in an old black Camaro.”

  “How can we be sure?” Diego asked.

  His sister and Desmond looked at him with a scathing glare.

  “Seriously? How many black 1969 Camaros do you think happen to show up at this exact middle school playground this time of night, precisely when we asked them to meet us?”

  “Good point.”

  The three emerged from their hiding place and waved to the two inside the muscle car.

  Tara and Alex climbed out and hurried over to the three kids. They met near the fence.

  “You guys okay?” Tara asked, sounding like she expected the worst.

  “We’re fine,” Desmond answered. “But we need to get out of here.” He looked back toward the forest. “There were some agents at my house. They drove what looked like government SUVs, and there were two guards standing outside the front door.”

  Tara and Alex shared a concerned glance.

  “Are your parents in some kind of trouble?” Alex asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. They’ve never done anything illegal in their lives. Except for speeding.”

  “And that’s the issue,” Diego added. “Why would those agents be there?”

  Alex looked around the playground and motioned to the car. “Come on. We should probably get out of here and discuss this on our way.”

  “On our way where?” Corin pressed.

  “Somewhere safe. Outside the city,” Alex answered. “Let’s just say you weren’t the only ones who got a visit from some strange federal agents today.” He kept going before the kid could ask more about that. “We have a few friends in Cartersville. Coworkers, actually. Just so happens that they’re home from assignments right now.”

  Desmond’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “How many people you got working at IAA, anyway?”

  Alex chuckled as they reached the car. He opened it and pulled up the front seat so the kids could climb into the back.

  “Nice wheels,” Corin said, running her eyes over the length of the vehicle.

  “Thanks,” Tara said with a wink. “We keep it on hand in case of emergencies. Harder to track the older rides like this one.”

  Once the kids were in the back and buckled, Tara slipped into the driver’s seat and revved the engine. To the audience in the back seat, the growling motor sent a shiver through their spines as the thrill of riding in a real muscle car coursed through their veins.

  Tara steered the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the road.

  “So,” Alex resumed the previous conversation, “did you see any of the other people who claimed to be feds?”

  “No,” Desmond said. “We only saw the two guards. Their SUVs looked like something the FBI would drive. And the jackets the guys outside the front door wore had those big yellow letters on them. I figured they were legit.”

  Tara smirked at the use of the term.

  “But you think maybe they aren’t really FBI?” Alex continued.

  “Don’t know.” Desmond shrugged. “But what I do know is my parents don’t do anything illegal. Why would they?”

  “Fair question,” Alex admitted. He chewed on his bottom lip as he considered the issue.

  “Just because the FBI was there doesn’t mean they were arresting your parents,” Tara offered. “You didn’t see them come out in cuffs, did you?”

  “Well, no,” Desmond drawled. “But why the two guards out front? I don’t know. It didn’t feel like they were just there to ask questions.”

  “But you guys don’t even know the worst part,” Diego chimed. He waited for a couple of seconds to make sure he had everyone’s attention. Tara turned onto another side street and passed a sign pointing the way to the interstate. “They showed up after we sent Tommy something about the explosion at Brown Mountain.”

  Tara and Alex passed each other a questioning glance.

  It didn’t slip by any of the kids in the back.

  Corin addressed it first. “You two didn’t hear about that either?”

  “No,” Alex said. “What explosion?”

  Desmond fished the phone out of his pocket and produced the image of the article they’d seen earlier. He handed Alex the phone and sat back.

  Alex looked over the bits of the article he could see as concern darkened his face. “I can look this up on my phone to see the rest of it.” He started to hand the device back to Des
mond, but the kid shook his head.

  “That’s just it. You can’t. The article was deleted shortly after we noticed it.”

  “Makes you wonder,” Corin offered. “Why would they delete an article like that?”

  “Could have been a mistake,” Tara countered. “Fake news happens all the time, and all over the world. Usually, it’s used in a political way, a method to dismantle opposition. In this case, though, there is no opposition. Not that we know of.”

  “Exactly,” Diego agreed. “It’s just a weird archaeological spot where we found those glowing…things.” He didn’t know what else to call the anomalies, so things felt right.

  “The Quantium,” Tara clarified with a grin.

  “Yes. That stuff.”

  “It does seem strange,” Alex surrendered. “Everything we’ve studied and learned about Quantium doesn’t suggest it spontaneously combusts.”

  “Aside from what happened in Bolivia,” Tara said.

  “True. But in that case there was a bunch of it around, and the whole portal thing probably caused the explosive reaction. Too many variables to reach a definitive conclusion yet.”

  They stopped talking and realized that three pairs of wide eyes were staring at the two of them from the back of the car.

  “Um, Alex?” Tara whispered.

  “Yeah,” he said, looking into the back seat. “So, any chance you three didn’t hear any of that?”

  The three kids absently shook their heads at the same time.

  “Right. Of course you heard it.”

  “Wait,” Corin said, “that glowing blue stuff from Brown Mountain explodes?”

  “And you found some in Bolivia?” Desmond added.

  “And what did you mean by portal?” Diego asked.

  Tara pressed her lips together knowing she and Alex had backed themselves into a corner there was no way out of.

  She turned right onto a ramp and accelerated onto the interstate heading north toward Chattanooga, Tennessee.

  “Okay,” Alex said after a minute of thinking through his answer. “Yes. Quantium, it seems, can explode, but not in its natural state. And from the analysis we’ve run, it doesn’t seem like there is anything in our reality that can make it do that.”

  “What do you mean by our reality?” Corin arched her right eyebrow as she asked the question.

  Alex exhaled, frustrated. “Right. So, let me go backward. No explosions by natural occurrence. So, you three were safe at Brown Mountain when you first discovered the cave. We had no reason to believe that the cave or any of the Quantium inside would have the capability to blow up. Okay?”

  The kids nodded, albeit reluctantly.

  “Second, yes, we were in Bolivia tracking down a guy who’d managed to accumulate quite a bit of it.”

  “And that plays into the portal question,” Tara explained before another query could be made.

  “Right. This guy was part of a secret society. You three know what that is, right?”

  They all nodded.

  “Of course we know what that is,” Diego said matter-of-factly.

  “Well, I don’t know,” Alex replied, sounding a tad defensive. “I didn’t have a clue what secret societies were back when I was in eighth grade.”

  “We’re in seventh grade.”

  Feeling even more inadequate, Alex went on. “Fine. Seventh grade. Jeez. What are they teaching you guys in school? Never mind. You didn’t hear conspiracy-theory and secret-society stuff there.”

  “Anyway,” Tara took over, “this guy believed he was going to be able to open a portal into another dimension, potentially a place with more advanced technology than what we have here.”

  “And that’s why you said something about a portal,” Desmond realized.

  “Yes. But we managed to stop it and blow up the ancient gate he was trying to use.”

  The story took the air out of the car for a minute and left everyone alone to their thoughts.

  “That said,” Alex finally spoke again, “there is no reason that a bunch of Quantium would explode unless there was a catalyst. Even with a bunch of it around, we don’t believe there is any way that could happen unless something else stimulated the blast.”

  “That begs the question, who wanted to blow up the cave? If that article is correct, and there was an explosion in the mountains of North Carolina, we need to find out why and who did it.”

  Alex didn’t know the answer, but he did have an idea. If things were going to get hairy, he and Tara alone might not be able to protect the three middle schoolers. Joe and Helen were more than capable. The two of them had their own dossiers packed with dangerous adventures. Even so, something huge was going on, and Alex couldn’t ignore the grating feeling in his gut that they were going to need more help.

  While the others continued talking, he took out his phone and sent a text message to a new ally. “You in the area? We could use some help.”

  The response came one minute later. “I’m in the 423. What do you need?”

  Alex looked up from the device, pondering what to say and how to say it. He decided to be as plain as could be. “We’re heading to the McElroys’ place. Three minors in tow. May need an extra gun.”

  The next reply was almost instant. “I’ll be there in one hour. Send me the address.”

  25

  Stockholm

  Adriana walked confidently toward the motorcycle rental desk near the Stockholm airport, then abruptly remembered it was winter and hardly prime weather for riding. She veered away from the temptation and the lonely desk attendant who was probably not going to have any business for another five months and made her way to the car rental desk just down the row.

  She paid cash for her rental, ponying up a little extra for a Jaguar XE, and after signing a few documents under a fake name she took the keys and her tactical bag and walked out of the airport into the parking lot.

  Outside, winter slapped her across the face. Adriana sighed. It didn’t get this cold back in Madrid, or in Las Vegas, or in Atlanta for that matter. The sterile, dim yellow lights only made it seem colder. Their eerie, emotionless glow almost felt as chilly as the air itself.

  She pulled her black winter Marmot coat around her and zipped it all the way up. The coat’s thick insulation almost immediately locked out the cold from her torso. Her tight jeans didn’t do nearly as well against the elements, but she would be in the car soon enough. Adriana pulled the orange beanie down on her head a little tighter to cover her ears as she continued through the aisle of cars, pressing the key fob along the way.

  Eventually, lights blinked from a black sedan at the end of the row to her left.

  She tossed her bag onto the front passenger seat, slid into the black leather behind the steering wheel, then pressed the ignition button. She thought something moved in the rearview mirror and froze for a breath as she waited to see if it was just her imagination or if someone was really there.

  She glanced at her bag to the right, wishing there was a weapon of some kind in it, but she knew there wasn’t. She cursed the inability to bring a weapon with her but knew she’d be able to pick one up soon—or soon enough, she hoped.

  Suddenly eager to leave the confines of the rental lot, she stepped on the gas and exited through the nearest gate. Once out onto the main street, she pulled up the navigation on her phone and checked the address for Magnus Sorenson’s place. Based on the directions and the map, it would take her around forty minutes to get there.

  Adriana turned on the seat warmers to get comfortable while the heater slowly caught up and kicked out hotter air. The engine hummed under the hood, and she enjoyed how the car responded to her driving.

  It was late in Stockholm, and few people were out driving, especially in the cold. Most were probably at home by their fires or in front of televisions, snuggled up on the couch watching a late show. More, she figured, were cozy in their beds.

  She blinked wearily and realized how tired she really was from all the tra
vel and from the long conversation with Miyamoto and her father. The information they’d given her was staggering, to say the least. None of it was easy to swallow.

  She still had difficulty grasping the fact that she and her father were part of an ancient order of Shinobi who’d branched away from the main faction. The information swirled in her head, as it had for the last several hours.

  A yawn forced its way out of her mouth, and she cupped her hand over her face out of habit. Shaking off the weariness, she sat up straighter and leaned toward the wheel. How long had she gone without a good night’s sleep? She thought back to the night before, the last several nights, and shook off that possibility of blame. Adriana always slept well at her father’s estate. There truly was no place like home, and whenever she went back to the manor outside of Madrid, it felt like the walls wrapped their arms around her and held her close.

  Another round of fatigue crept up on her, as it had before when driving late at night. She remembered when she was younger, a time in her life when she never felt tired behind the wheel. Back then, she could drive for hours into the earliest parts of the morning without batting an eye. Age, she assumed, was catching up to her.

  She fought off that thought, telling herself she was still plenty young. Only in her late thirties, Adriana still considered herself to be in her prime.

  Keeping to the right lane except to pass slower drivers, she took deep breaths every now and then when she sensed her breathing growing shallow, monotonous, sleep-rhythmic. Fifteen minutes away from her destination, she looked out the windows at the lights of Stockholm. Adriana imagined the colorful homes, shops, and cafés painted in bright reds, yellows, blues, and greens. She’d walked the promenades between the high-steeple churches on a few occasions. It was a lovely city, full of warm, friendly people. Adriana had considered moving there more than once, or at the very least establishing another residence, but her time was limited, and she was already stretched so thin she almost never had the chance to visit her Nevada mountain home.