“How do you know all of this?” Jack asked.
“It was our group that broke away from Caesar. Jackson Keeler, his father, his brother, they were our people.”
“What separates you from the rest of the world?” Everett asked.
“Let’s just say for the moment that we are different from you and the Colonel here.” A light seemed to come to Martha’s eyes, as if she’d hit on a thought. “For instance, the artifacts your men confiscated in New York? Well, in a way they belong to us, Carmichael and myself, that is.”
“You’re the real owners of the stolen artifacts?” Jack asked.
“Yes … well—”
“For the sake of argument, yes, we own them,” Rothman answered for her. “Now, the newspaper accounts of the attack on your facility in New York stated that only hard artifacts were stolen—armor, swords, pottery, things of that nature. The news reports never mentioned anything about histories, scrolls, maps, or diagrams. Please tell me that they were not present in New York.”
Jack did not answer their question. He was far from satisfied that these two people were being straight with him. He just watched the pair.
“Colonel, this is most important. Last night you proved to us that you are indeed capable men; let us prove to you that we are also of some value. Do you have the scrolls?”
“Yes.”
Everett and Collins saw the relief on their faces when Jack answered.
“In that case, we can prove to you the fantastic story we have to tell,” Martha said, squeezing Rothman’s arm.
“Who in the hell are you people?” Jack asked calmly but firmly.
“Last night Carmichael and I reached a rather bleak crossroads. Our kind has always been content to allow your people to deal with the Coalition in their own ways, using your own devices. We were never brave, not like you and the captain here. We just wanted to live and blend in. Carmichael made me see last night after we left you and your men behind that this cowardice could not continue. We have had renegades in our family before who tried to help the world in small ways fight against people such as the Coalition, but they were few. But Carr convinced me your Group could be trusted with the truth of things.”
Jack and Carl exchanged a look that begged the question, What in the hell is going on?
“Carr is dying; I imagine you have guessed that. I am doomed also. We are the last of our kind. The Keelers were the last family that was capable of having children, Jackson being the last. Our line may have continued a bit further, but Jackson Keeler lost his brother in 1941 at Pearl Harbor. He may have been capable of having children like his grandfather, but we’ll never know.”
“This is making no sense at all,” Everett said, frustrated.
“We are the last people of Pompey, the group that split off from the Juliai over two thousand years ago. Now, we have inbred with other Pompey families until the practice weakened our bodies’ ability to reproduce.”
“I find your story hard to believe,” Collins said, wanting to stand up and leave these two nuts alone with their fantasies.
“We knew you would. Nevertheless, you will believe, Colonel. We will make you.” Martha looked at Carmichael and gathered strength. “The Coalition is entering its final days also. They may have one or maybe two generations left to them, but they are finished, just as we are.”
Jack finally made at least the edges of the puzzle fit together.
“You are one and the same, the Coalition and you, the same bloodline.”
“That is correct. However, it is not the whole tale. As I said before, the scrolls in a roundabout way belong to Carr and me. The Coalition can claim them as theirs also. It was our ancestors who made the scrolls you have in your possession. They made them as far back as fifteen thousand years ago.”
“You’re not saying—”
“I’m saying exactly that, Colonel. You saw the large relief map in New York, I presume.” She stopped and looked at Rothman, hesitating before saying it, hoping the old man would relieve her of that burden.
“What Martha wants to say, Colonel Collins and Captain Everett, is that we and a few members of the Juliai Coalition are the last descendants of a civilization that dreamers and fanciers of fiction call Atlantis.”
Jack and Carl were patient as they listened to the strangest story they had ever heard. They were stunned at the history Martha and Carmichael recounted as to how two thousand of their ancestors had been hidden away as small children, saved from the destruction of Atlantis. Their small society had learned to blend in with humankind as a whole, but kept themselves separate and pure through inbreeding. With the initial intent not ever again to allow such arrogance to enslave the lesser people of the world, the Atlanteans became observers of the destructive societies around them. Until, that is, the start of the Juliai, who remembered the power of rule.
They had made minor attempts to sway power to their side of the game board many times, but had never chosen a proxy wise enough to handle the money and power they offered. From the Holy Roman Church, to Spain, England, Napoleon and Hitler, they had failed at every attempt. While race purification is a goal of the Coalition in all its forms, it never was the intention of the ruling body to eliminate races as a whole. In their eyes, that would have been foolish. Why eliminate those who can best serve the ruling class? Keep them fed and allow them their liberties and they will fall in line. Theirs was a class system of master and surf. If you know you are the master race, does it take a brilliant mind not to say it to those who are not? Alternatively, is it not far wiser to allow the illusion that all people are of equal value?
Jack and Carl exchanged looks of incredulity when Martha stopped her version of a world-history lesson.
“We need to bring the people that murdered your friend, his employees, and our people to justice. Not the ravings of a subsociety that could never pull off what you are suggesting. The murder of innocents is what concerns me,” Jack said.
“No, Colonel, there is quite a bit more that should concern you,” Martha said as she offered Carmichael another morphine tablet. “We suspect the Coalition is bypassing a proxy nation this time around and making a play for their form of domination directly. One that makes mankind rely on them instead of governments.”
“Time is now growing short, young man. They are already replacing world leaders with their own people, two already and more to come. It is right there in the newspapers.”
“What are you talking about?” Collins asked.
“The assassinations in Germany and Japan—link those with the earthquakes and then the murder of Jackson Keeler. The pieces fit.”
“In your warped Picasso-painted puzzle, maybe,” Everett said.
“The explanation is not a simple one, Captain. All of our lives, from childhood to adult, stories have been passed to us. Tales from our ancestors handed down word of mouth, generation by generation, that told how our ancient civilization was lost beneath the sea. One was the tale of a great weapon that used the very power of the earth to destroy its enemies. A machine that was capable of making the earth tremble and move under the feet of whole armies and destroy them.”
“We’re getting a little off the beaten path here. I mean, fairy tales? Now, come on,” Everett said, but Jack placed his hand on Carl’s arm as he started to rise and leave.
“Continue, Martha.”
“The scrolls were originally found by a man, an archaeologist who was part of our society. He sought out the financing of the Coalition in a vain attempt to bring the two sides together in a mutually beneficial endeavor—his archaeological dig to find the hidden scrolls. Well, he did exactly that: he found them. They were unearthed in Spain, right where the old tales said they would be. Only in the scrolls, the Coalition discovered the design for the Wave of the Ancients, the very same device of legend and the very weapon that destroyed Atlantis thousands of years before.”
“Are you buying this, Jack?” Carl asked, but he saw that Collins was listening inte
ntly.
“The device was going to be built and tested. At least that was what this simple man of science suspected from his financial backers, the Coalition. The design was incomplete because of three lost items that control the device used in creating earthquakes. They were known as the Atlantean Keys. Industrial blue diamonds that were so large that none has ever been unearthed to match them. Two of these diamonds were lost with our civilization, while one other was buried in secret …” Martha looked at the two men closely in hopes of a reaction, “in Ethiopia.”
Everett suddenly became still in his chair. The story had just taken a more realistic turn toward the area of believability.
“The discoverer of the scrolls knew that he could not allow this device to be constructed. Therefore, he absconded with the map found with the scrolls. A bronze plate imbued with strange properties that held the exact coordinates of where to find the buried Atlantean Key. The plate map was sent to America.”
“The family Keeler,” Jack said.
“Correct, Colonel; the father of Jackson Keeler, to be more precise. Well, after the disappearance of the only means to discover the hiding place of the last Key, the poor professor was murdered and the scrolls disappeared until you uncovered them in your daring raid. However, that did not stop the unscrupulous men of the Coalition. It is told that a German industrialist built the audio-wave weapon anyway. Only instead of using the giant blue diamond, he used a crystal and based the Atlantis design in that. Without looking at the scrolls We know nothing of the details of the engineering. His experiment occurred on a small island in the Java Sea. A place called Krakatoa.”
Jack glanced at Carl and allowed him to state the obvious.
“I take it you really need that blue diamond in order for it to work?”
“Yes. However, Carmichael and I believe they are not waiting for the Key to be unearthed. We were told that the weapon would work on a small scale and still be able to target areas indirectly. We have learned this from Coalition members that have left their society from time to time. The earthquakes in the Middle East, the strikes in North Korea and Russia—coupled with the murder of Jackson, it adds up to Coalition involvement.”
“Wait. You’re basing all of this speculation from a story handed down to you? You’re just guessing at this weapon’s strength and the entire story on just hearsay. That’s a stretch,” Everett said.
“Normally I wouldn’t expect you to believe it, Captain Everett, but in this case it’s just a bit more than mere hearsay. The professor that discovered the maps and the scrolls and studied the designs in detail was named Peter Rothman—Carr’s grandfather. The man the Coalition murdered in their pursuit of the weapon.”
Everett remained stock-still and Jack nodded in understanding.
“Okay, so it’s a little more than hearsay. Sorry to hear about your grandfather,” Everett said, feeling like an ass.
“What would be the gain if North and South Korea went to war?” Jack asked, to get the conversation moving again.
“The gain is a weaker United States, Colonel, one that would no longer have the moral high ground on any world matter. With the harvest failures in Russia and China and their capitals and major cities leveled by earthquakes by the Atlantean Wave, the governments would not survive unless they were propped up by someone, or some entity.”
“The Coalition,” Jack said.
“Correct.”
“Why the murder raid on Mr. Keeler’s office?”
“That is the point we need to get to,” Martha said. “As you know, the plate map was sent to Jackson Keeler’s father. Just before the Coalition traced it to him with the help of the Nazis, he sent it away to a secure location. His son was the first recipient and then it was given to another Ancient for safekeeping.”
“Who was it given to and where is it?” Carl asked.
“Where it’s been for the past seventy years, young man: in a safe.”
“Where’s the safe?” Jack asked.
“Aboard a warship of the U.S. Navy—the very ship Jackson Keeler’s brother was assigned to. Lieutenant Keeler did as instructed by his father and passed it to a secret member of the last family of Atlantis—the captain of his ship. The plate map remains onboard to this day.”
“What warship is still active where the plate could be after all of these years?” Jack asked, perplexed.
“The USS Arizona,” Martha answered.
Jack and Carl looked away from the two old people and stared at each other for a moment. Collins wanted to say something but was speechless. Everett, on the other hand, was not.
“Jesus, Jack.”
Collins and Everett were almost running down the hallway to get the information to Niles in Washington, when they heard a female voice call out from behind them. Jack saw Sarah McIntire running toward them, but the two military men did not slow down. Collins just waved her forward.
“Don’t have time, McIntire,” was all he said when she breathlessly caught up to them. “You’ll be given a new assignment as soon as we clear it with Virginia and Niles. You’re going to start reading some ancient scrolls.”
“But, Jack, we have a sound theory about the earthquakes. We now know that they were possibly manmade and they may be caused and activated by—”
“Sound?” Jack said, cutting off her dramatic news.
Sarah skidded to a halt. “How in the hell did you know that?”
“Two Ancient Atlanteans told us,” Everett said as he continued walking. Sarah watched the two men hit the elevator button and she ran to catch up.
“I think you have to explain that ‘Ancient Atlantean’ crack to me, boys.”
Virginia felt out of place as she sat at Nile’s Compton’s desk. She was looking at a monitor that showed the faces of Martha and Carmichael and shook her head as Jack explained.
“And you’re convinced they’re speaking the truth?” Virginia said, not taking her eyes off the old couple.
Jack tossed a rubber-band-restrained scroll of paper onto her desk. “According to voice-stress polygraph, yes.”
“We have to get this off to Niles and hope he can convince the president of its validity.”
Virginia finally turned away from Martha and Carmichael on the wall-mounted monitor and tapped in her commands on the computer. After a moment, another monitor came to life and Niles was there, looking haggard and worn.
“What have you got?”
“Niles, as you know, Sarah here has come up with the way the earthquakes could have been initiated. But Jack here has just confirmed the theory and the people responsible for it.”
“What?”
Collins stepped to Virginia’s side to see Niles. Sarah was biting her lower lip as she looked at Carl, who stood grim faced.
“Niles, get to the president and make him understand that we now know something of the people who are responsible for all the unnatural phenomena happening around the globe. They are also the ones that hit our team in New York and also murdered Agent Monroe and his wife.”
“I’ll do my best, but Jesus, this is like something out of a bad spy movie.”
“Maybe, but I believe them, Niles.”
Niles just nodded and then the picture went blank.
An hour later, Alice brought in coffee for the four people in the conference room. She stood next to her seat and looked from Sarah to Jack to Carl.
“You three did a good job. If you don’t need this old woman, I think I’ll stroll down to security and take our guests Martha and Carmichael to the cafeteria. I’m sure they think our hospitality is left wanting to some degree.”
“Just call and ask them to meet you there; they just may already have the keys to all the doors anyway,” Carl quipped.
“What do we do now?” Virginia asked, as she sipped her coffee and grimaced, finding out that she didn’t want it at all.
“We have alerted the National Parks Service in Honolulu and they will add on extra security until a detachment of marines arrives on
station. The navy will provide around-the-clock surveillance and backup, and Carl and I are going there in about thirty minutes. Carl has asked for SEAL Team Six to standby also. These people do not mess around when it comes to getting what they want. Ask Niles to get his old friend the president to get clearance to dive on the old girl. The Parks Service is cooperating fully but is still very picky when it comes to the Arizona.”
“Well, it is a naval gravesite,” Sarah said.
“Nonetheless, we have to dive on her. We must secure that plate map for two reasons. One—it proves that the Coalition is behind this mess, and two—we can’t let these power-mad people get their hands on it.”
“Good luck. In the meantime, I’m sure the FBI and the rest of law enforcement are going to be quite anxious to get the names of the men and women of this so-called Juliai Coalition,” Virginia said as she finally slid her coffee cup away.
“Carmichael and Martha only have the name of one American Coalitionist that they know of through rumor only, a William Tomlinson. They think he’s a pretty high up in their ranks, but are not sure. That’s it.”
“Lieutenant Mendenhall is about to throw the hatches of this place down tight, no one in or out. We just don’t know how much knowledge these people have and what information they gained by torturing our people in New York. We have to base our reactions on the message left to us at the warehouse,” Everett said, as he and Jack stood to go.
“We have redistributed the brain power around here now that we’re relieved of the earthquake question. Sarah and the rest will be put to use with historical forensics, engineering, and reading ancient languages and deciphering the scrolls and maps. We need to know exactly what kind of science we are dealing with here.”
“Well, if anyone can get a jump on fifteen thousand years of history, it’s this Group,” Jack said, standing up to leave.
“You two be careful, I know how much bullets are attracted to you. One of these days one may get up close and personal,” Sarah said as she locked eyes with Jack.
Ancients: An Event Group Thriller Page 24