Wexler’s blunt, straight-to-the point opening words had Wattling offering a half-hearted smile. ‘Well, you better sit down then, hadn’t you,’ he said, his accent North American. ‘I’m sorry to say I’m not as sanguine as Michael about this whole business.’
His words caused Harker to stare at him curiously, and Wattling added, ‘I’m guessing maybe Michael hasn’t given you the full picture.’
‘Actually, it’s been fuller than we’d expected,’ Harker replied. ‘It has something to do with a flood and… a ninth planet?’
Wattling gave a gentle nod. ‘Overly informative, that makes a nice change, Michael. OK, then, you’ll have to forgive us, Professor, but what I’m about to tell you is something that we’ve been keeping – how do you British say it? – under our hats for some time now.’
Harker could tell that the man was prickly, on edge, and he sought to soothe his nerves straight away. ‘Perhaps it’s best if you start at the beginning.’
‘Very well, though I don’t suppose it matters – not anymore.’
Wattling leant to one side and waved over towards the bartender. ‘Another double Southern Comfort on the rocks, and…?’
‘Not for me, thanks,’ Harker replied, and Michael shook his head.
However, Doggie said, ‘I’ve got a hankering for a crème de menthe, please.’
‘A hankering? Wow, you really are an old-school Brit, aren’t you?’
‘Quite,’ Doggie replied, as Wattling ordered the drinks, then turned his attention back to Harker.
‘I’m an astrophysicist by trade, graduated from the University of Colorado. I’ve worked at NASA and more recently at the European Space Agency.’ Wattling now looked over at Wexler. ‘Michael and I are old friends, so when he came to me a few months ago and asked if I would run some simulations on a picture he’d found…’ Wattling paused and wagged a finger at Harker. ‘He showed you that picture of the planets and their orbits which they took from the pyramid, right?’
‘Yes, he showed us.’
‘Good. Well, I charted an exact orbital for that little ninth dot, in relation to the aforementioned image, and it turns out that the conspiracy nuts were right.’
‘You found it? A ninth planet?’ Harker asked, noticing that Wattling was slurring his words ever so slightly. He wasn’t yet totally soused, but definitely on his way.
‘Oh, I found it all right, and discovered that it orbits the sun every eleven and a half thousand years, before it then spins off back into space – until it returns the next time. It also comes a lot closer to Earth than anyone could have imagined.’
Wattling went suddenly quiet as the bartender approached their table and delivered the drinks, before returning to his station.
‘How close?’ Harker pressed, as Wattling took a hefty swig from his glass.
‘It passes right between Mars and Jupiter.’
‘Well, that’s pretty far away, isn’t it?’ Doggie remarked, taking a generous chug of his own drink.
‘It’s not the planet but what it hits that’s the problem.’
‘The asteroid belt,’ Harker guessed, feeling his stomach beginning to tighten.
‘Bingo. It clips the edge of it, sending rocks flying off in all directions, including towards this little blue planet of ours.’
Harker and Doggie sat in stunned silence as Wattling took another swig, then began to manoeuvre his hand like a plane flying in front of him.
‘And when they hit… BOOM. Humanity gets sent back to another Stone Age… if we’re lucky.’
As Harker sat there feeling numbed by this revelation, Wexler leant over the table towards them.
‘Don’t you see? This is what caused the Great Flood ancient history tells us about. During the Ice Age, eleven and a half thousand years ago, these asteroids rained down onto Earth, turning billions of tonnes of ice into a global flash flood that swept across the planet, and almost wiped out the human species in the process.’
Harker felt like he was about to throw up, and he turned towards Doggie, who was also looking petrified, his mouth hanging open slightly.
Meanwhile, Wexler proceeded with his reasoning. ‘Only last year they discovered a thirty-one kilometre wide impact crater underneath the Greenland ice sheet and, relying on the depth of the ice cores they’re drilling, they are putting the impact date to around—’
‘Eleven and a half thousand years ago,’ Harker interrupted, though in no more than a whisper.
‘Correct,’ Wexler replied, with a smile that to Harker seemed unwarranted. ‘I believe the last one wiped out the previous civilisations, those same ones who contrived to build the pyramid you recently visited. A civilisation we didn’t even know existed… and who knows how many civilisations before that, in a recurring cycle of destruction and then rebuilding, over and over again.’
‘Then why isn’t there any other evidence of it?’ Harker asked.
‘Who’s to say there isn’t? Think about it. During the Great Flood how much would have been swept away, and is now quite probably underneath tonnes of seabed? We’re taking about a flood that would have carved canyons within hours all over the planet, annihilating everything in its path. And ask yourself how much archaeology is carried out underwater… not much at all. There could be a treasure trove of evidence down there, just waiting to be discovered.’
The man’s explanation was still far too loose for Harker, who was already shaking his head. ‘But wouldn’t NASA know about this? Wouldn’t one of the observatories have picked it up by now?’
Wattling now stared at him in disbelief. ‘Do you know how many objects are observable in the night sky? Hell, a meteor big enough to wipe out the planet could hit us and it’s possible we wouldn’t even know about it until the last second. Besides, maybe NASA and world governments do know but are keeping quiet. I mean, there’s not much they could do about it at such short notice.’
Wexler seemed unmoved by his colleague’s appraisal of the situation. ‘Or is there?’ he said, tapping the table with his finger. ‘Could I see that coin again, please?’
Harker reached into his pocket and placed the disc on the table. Wexler picked it up and ran his finger across the inscription.
‘Marsouk and myself spent months investigating this writing. It’s a kind of cuneiform, although there are discrepancies in some of the letters.’
‘Well, damn it, man, what does it say?’ Doggie said impatiently, banging his glass down hard on the table.
‘Please try to stay calm, Dean Lercher. I realise this is a lot to take in,’ Wexler said before returning to the inscription. ‘We weren’t able to translate it all but basically it reads: “Before the chaos…. when the planet returns… the power to stop the rising tides… faith in the gods and the wisdom to prevent. Trust in the Annunaki.”’
Wexler looked around them excitedly. ‘I think they were aware of what was coming. Maybe they were far more technologically advanced than we can imagine. And maybe they even possessed the technology to stop it happening again.’
Wattling had remained quiet, focusing on his drink, but now he finished it off and rolled his eyes. ‘Christ, Michael, will you give it a rest? This previous civilisation of yours, this shadow civilisation, they were not aliens. But for argument’s sake, let’s say they were, and that they had technology advanced enough to halt an asteroid… and remember that’s a monumental assumption. Why didn’t they use it to save themselves?’
Wexler looked unfazed by his friend’s disbelief. ‘I don’t know, Nicholas, but what we do know is the Sumerians clearly believed that after the flood the gods set about seeding the rebirth of civilisation. It would have taken hundreds if not thousands of years to track down any survivors around the globe, before they could reach a point where rebuilding might begin again with their help. It wasn’t just some religious tale they were describing. These beings appeared specifically to help mankind rebuild. And then, when they had passed on their knowledge, they disappeared back into the shadows, wa
iting until needed again… And we need them now.’
No one said a word. But despite the horrendous possibility of a cataclysm taking place within days, Harker couldn’t help but smile cynically and shake his head. It was a response that Wattling echoed as he placed his empty glass back on the table. ‘And if you believe that big pile of steaming bullshit, you’ll believe anything. There’s no secret Ark of Knowledge waiting to be found, no aliens waiting to offer us their help with technology able to stop a meteor, for fuck’s sake. The only truth is that, in just under a week, civilisation as we know it is going bye-bye and there’s nothing we can do except find somewhere to hide. Which is exactly what I intend to do. I’m going to drink myself stupid over the next twenty hours or so, enjoy the two beautiful observatories above us before they’re gone, and then head underground and wait this whole shitstorm out. And with the grace of God, maybe, just maybe, we might emerge to see what’s left.’
‘Underground?’ Harker asked, sounding more desperate than he intended. ‘Where?’
‘What many people don’t know about Switzerland is that it not only takes the prize for the best chocolate, although I’m sure the Belgians would disagree, but also its underground nuclear bunkers. During the Cold War thousands were built here because this country has always stayed neutral in times of conflict. I know of one, where we’ve been stockpiling food and water to keep us going… if we survive the initial impact, that is.’
‘Where?’ Doggie asked, already gearing up to ask for a place.
Wattling looked hesitant at first, because he knew exactly where this question was leading, but after glancing at Wexler he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Nearby, at a friend’s. It’s pretty deep and so offers us a chance – but depending where the asteroids strike that may count for nothing. Still, it’s better than nothing… and no, we’re already full up before you ask.’
Doggie expelled a nervous sigh and even though the gravity of the situation was suffocating, Harker couldn’t help but think the other two men were being far too calm about the whole threat. Especially Wexler.
‘If all this is true, and the world is about to end, then I have to ask why you both are looking so relaxed about it.’
Wexler maintained his smile and it was Wattling whose expression changed, and with his eyelids drooping lazily, he offered a grunt.
‘Do I seem relaxed?’ he replied and signalled to the bartender for another drink. ‘As for Michael, ask him yourself… No, Michael, why don’t you just enlighten our new friends about your warped philosophy regarding the meaning of life?’
Wexler patted his friend on the shoulder, then licked his lips in anticipation of giving an answer.
‘Yes, I’ll agree that I felt some trepidation when I first discovered what was about to happen.’
‘You’re not wrong there, buddy, you were close to tears,’ Wattling confirmed, now tapping at his empty glass impatiently.
‘But after that I came to the conclusion – more an acceptance, really – that this is all part of the galactic plan, God’s very will, and therefore I can live with it.’
‘Or die with it, as may be the case,’ Wattling added as the bartender dropped off his latest drink and collected the empty glass.
‘No, Nicholas, humanity survived last time around, and I think – no, I believe – that we will make it through this too, and see the new world that’s then offered to us. And if the worst does come to pass, I can honestly say that not only have I enjoyed a wonderful life, but I will die in the knowledge that I – amongst only a few – have learnt the true history of this beautiful planet.’
Wattling was already shaking his head miserably as Wexler continued. ‘As an archaeologist, what more could I ask? The price may well be high but I have learnt more about our ancient past in the last few months than my predecessors discovered in the past hundred years.’
This explanation helped Harker not a bit, and as he watched the still smiling, now annoyingly upbeat Wexler, he rested his chin on his hand and slumped forward. He realised he was actually buying into this stuff and felt truly terrified of what might come next. What about Chloe, Brulet, his former students… even Doggie and everyone else he knew and cared for? Wiped out with recurring accuracy on a galactic timetable that cared nothing about life or morality, but instead only obeyed the laws of astrophysics. What made things worse was that sinking feeling in his bones that there was nothing he could do about it. He and everyone else was now at the mercy of the universe, and it made him feel pathetically helpless.
As Harker sank deeper into despair, he began grasping at straws… something, anything. He needed to do something, no matter how crazy, other than simply accept it.
‘Michael, you said you believe that these Annunaki – these gods of the earlier civilisation – possessed the power to withstand such a cataclysm. Why?’
Wattling rolled his eyes and stared into his glass as Wexler replied eagerly, clearly pleased that someone wanted to hear what he had to say. ‘It was that fresco back at the dig site that got me thinking,’ he began, resting his elbows on the table. ‘It was the central scene depicting light, or maybe energy, pouring upwards from the tip of the pyramid and surrounding the burning sun like a yoke. Is it possible the Annunaki somehow managed to harness technology that we haven’t? And if you consider the possibility of them being aliens, then who knows what majestic delights they might possess in their arsenal. Problem is that even if it were true, we’ve no idea where that arsenal is now. Flight of fancy, I suppose, but fascinating to consider.’
Or completely depressing, Harker reflected. Although Wexler was burning with bright-eyed enthusiasm, it did nothing to put Harker’s mind at rest. He stood up and stretched. ‘I think I need some fresh air.’
‘Can’t say I blame you,’ Wattling said.
Wexler pointed to a green door at the back of the restaurant. ‘There’s a terrace out there. I’m not going anywhere, though.’
‘Thanks,’ Harker replied.
Doggie finished off his crème de menthe and stood up likewise. ‘Think I’ll join you.’
Harker headed towards the green door with Doggie in tow, exuding all the energy of a weary backpacker. With shoulders hunched he opened the door and they ventured out into the dark night air. It was freezing as they made their way past rows of glowing ornamental lights to lean against the wooden railing overlooking the Alpine peaks.
‘At least the moon’s come out,’ Harker remarked, trying to sound cheerful.
‘They could be wrong, you know,’ Doggie said, still apparently rattled by the apocalyptic news.
‘I’m thinking that too. So we need to get another opinion.’ Harker found himself thinking of Chloe. ‘If they’re right, then so much for the wedding.’
‘Yes, I never thought you’d go to such lengths to stop me being your best man.’
They both chuckled at that, letting out steamy breaths which evaporated in the cold night air. Even though they had been outside for just thirty seconds, Harker was already yearning for the warmth of the restaurant.
‘We need to get more information out of Nicholas if we’re going to verify all this for ourselves. Know any astrophysicists?’ Harker asked.
‘Quite a few, actually, all connected through the university. But let’s say for argument’s sake that it’s true, then who do we tell?’
Doggie’s question was pertinent but Harker didn’t really have an answer. ‘If we call the media it will become bloody chaos. Can you imagine? The social fabric of entire countries would break down within days, with armies being deployed… sheer anarchy.’
‘I think you’re probably right, but we have to tell someone – at least give people a chance to find somewhere to hide. Nicholas said himself he has no idea where the meteors will hit, and so thousands, if not millions, might survive.’
Harker thought about that for a moment, then he gave an accepting nod. ‘We need to confirm it first, but then probably the British government is the place to start, and go on fr
om there.’
Just speaking about this made everything they had been told feel all the more real. Harker expelled a deep breath. ‘Jesus, it’s so hard to even contemplate.’
‘I know. What a time to be alive. Just a hundred years earlier and we could have lived out a long life completely oblivious to this approaching destruction.’ Doggie was now looking understandably glum, and Harker gave him a gentle nudge. ‘You, living in Victorian times? I can see that – you’d have fitted right in. You’d probably have got yourself elected a member of parliament.’
Doggie looked offended by the very idea. ‘Do you mind? I’m a decent and respectable man.’
They both laughed out loud and Harker turned away from the railing. ‘Come on, let’s get whatever information we can out of Nicholas, and then make some calls.’
Doggie nodded in agreement, but as he turned to follow, he spotted something moving in the dark and nudged Harker, pointing out a man dressed in black creeping towards the hotel’s front entrance.
‘Well hello, it looks like we’ve got ourselves a ninja.’
Harker focused his attention on where his friend was peering, and noticed not only the oddly behaving individual but now he spotted others all dressed the same, who were emerging from the rocky outcrops surrounding the hotel. They remained hunched as they began to skulk towards the hotel.
‘What are they doing?’ Doggie gasped, seeing the leading figure now raise something in front of him.
Before the dean’s question could be answered, all hell broke loose.
Chapter 18
The sound of gunfire cut through the crisp, and the muzzle flash from four barrels lit up the hotel building sporadically as Harker flung himself and Doggie down on to the terrace floor. Shattered glass crashing to the floor could be heard from the front entrance, before the sound of panicked yelling took its place.
The Shadow Conspiracy Page 16