Adriana perked up first. "Who was the pilot that flew Sean and Tommy to Alaska?"
"Perkins. Sam Perkins," Emily said. "I've known him a long time. Good pilot. Good man. Why?"
"Call him, and find out what he saw at the airport. If he was there, he'd have seen what happened."
Emily's eyes opened wide. "Of course. Perkins would have seen everything."
"He wouldn't have demanded to stick around until the authorities arrived?" Dawkins asked.
"I'm sure Sean was pretty insistent they get out of Dodge," Emily said. She picked up her phone and started dialing.
"He flew all night. You think he'll answer?"
"It's late in the morning out there. He should."
The phone rang five times before a groggy man's voice came through the earpiece.
"Hello?"
"Perkins, it's Emily."
"Oh, hello Director Starks. I hope you don't mind if I get a little more sleep before you ask me for another favor."
"I'm not calling for a favor. Can you tell me what happened at the airport in Clinton last night?"
The man sniffled and then yawned. "Sure. I got to the airstrip about a half hour before your friends. Then there was a shootout. Some guys in a car tried to take out Sean and Tommy. They returned fire. Then out of the blue some Russian fellow plowed into their car. I assume everyone inside was killed. My copilot and I got the three of them out of there as fast as we could. Figured discretion was best."
The pilot's explanation brought up more questions than answers.
"You said a Russian guy killed the three in the car?"
"Yeah. I'm assuming he's Russian. Said his name was Yuri when I went into the back of the plane to get some rest while my copilot took over."
"What was a Russian doing at the airfield?" Emily asked, more thinking out loud than expecting an answer.
"That I don't know, Director Starks. Your boy Sean looked like he was giving him a good once-over while I got the plane ready for takeoff. I figured if Sean trusted him enough to let him on board, he was okay."
Sean wasn't the most trusting person in the world, so the fact that he allowed this Russian to fly with them did speak volumes.
"By the way," Perkins said, "thanks for sending me that copilot. He did a great job. Not a very talkative guy, but he's a machine. Only took some rest when we stopped for fuel. In fact, I don't think he ever left the cockpit. Guy was a workhorse."
Emily frowned. "I didn't send a copilot. I thought you were arranging for that."
"Nope. The plan was to get halfway to Anchorage, stop for an hour or so to refuel and take a nap, then fly the rest of the way. Thanks to him, we didn't have to stop long at all."
"This guy, did he have a name?"
"Sure. Said his name was Drew. Didn't catch his last name. Said he'd been working for you for a while, though."
Emily's face flushed white like she'd seen the devil himself. "Where is this Drew now?"
"I don't know. He got his own room here at the hotel. Said he had to grab some things in town before he came back to sleep."
"Thanks, Perkins. I've gotta go."
"You're welcome."
She ended the call and turned to face Adriana and the president.
"What's wrong?" Adriana asked before Dawkins could.
"I think I just found out where Porter went. Sean and Tommy could be in grave danger. Mr. President. I'm going to need a plane."
Chapter 36
Denali National Park and Preserve, Alaska
Two armed guards waited just around the first bend in the mine. They pointed their weapons at the approaching intruders, malice filling their eyes.
"You're trespassing on government property," one of the guards said. He motioned to Porter. "Put down your weapon immediately."
"Tell your boss that Drew Porter caught these three snooping around outside," Porter said.
The guards looked at each other, suddenly thrown off by the order.
"Do it," Porter said in a stern tone. "He knows who I am."
The guard on the left pressed a button on his earpiece and did as told. He listened closely, looking down at the ground as the response came through. A few seconds later, he looked up at the four intruders and waved them on.
"You may proceed," he said. "He'll be waiting for you down below."
The three captives trudged by the guards and into the dimly lit tunnel.
They pressed on, marching ahead for fifteen minutes, seeing nothing more than a bunch of old mining tools, wooden beams supporting the ceiling, and some side tunnels the branched off in perpendicular directions. Those were blocked off by flimsy wooden boards.
"What's all this about?" Tommy asked as they marched through another bend in the tunnel. "You abandon your country to work for some madman? And for what, money?"
"Everything is about money," Porter sneered. "Countries, even this one, have murdered millions of people for nothing more than profit. I see no reason why I shouldn't get a piece of the pie."
"You have no idea what's down here, do you?" Sean said. His statement was half button-pushing, half feeling out their captor.
"Honestly, Sean, I don't. I have no clue what we're about to see. My former employer is down here. You'll probably recognize him when you see him."
"We already know about Secretary Foster. He'll be tried for high treason, not to mention attempting to murder the president of the United States."
"Along with like forty other charges," Tommy added.
"I don't care if he is or not," Porter said.
"Because you've gone rogue?" Sean asked. "You think that's going to keep you safe?"
"Oh, I am safe. And Foster will do as I say, or he'll burn. But there's no reason why he and I can't be civil. After all, the right amount of money can mend the most jagged of rifts."
The sounds of machines began to echo through the corridor. They whirred and hummed with an occasional clanking sound. The noise grew louder as the group progressed farther into the mine.
"Sounds like generators?" Tommy said.
Sean thought the same thing but kept quiet. His mind was already working on how to get away. If they rushed Porter, he'd mow them down like tall summer fescue. They'd have to wait for the right moment, when Porter lowered his guard. Since the man was CIA, that was going to be tricky.
They rounded another bend to the left and were greeted by a giant opening in the tunnel. Bright light poured into the corridor from beyond. Ahead was the most astonishing thing the four men had ever seen in their lives.
"That's...impossible," Tommy said as he stared at the giant structure.
The mine tunnel opened into the largest underground room they'd ever seen. The ceiling was easily two hundred feet high, and the circumference took up acres of space.
In the center of it all was something that didn't belong anywhere near that part of the world.
The four smooth sides of the structure rose dramatically to a single point at the top. From the looks of it, the top piece was made of pure, glimmering gold.
"It looks just like one of the pyramids in Giza," Sean said.
Yuri said nothing. He merely stared in disbelief.
Giant floodlights were positioned all around the cavernous room, pouring bright white light onto the ancient structure. Cables and wires ran along the walls and disappeared into other tunnels. Where they went, the four visitors didn't know.
Their tunnel veered to the right and wound its way down to the ground floor about fifty feet below. Down at the base of the pyramid, dozens of men in hard hats were working at computers, checking cables and running control panels with hundreds of buttons and knobs. One was running through a checklist on a clipboard, making an occasional note as he did so.
A gray trailer was parked off to the side. It looked like ones Sean had seen at construction sites. On the opposite side of the room, far away across the massive interior, was an electrical power station. Power lines ran from somewhere inside the pyramid out to the sta
tion, which then ran lines into some of the other tunnels.
"This is unbelievable. What is that pyramid doing here?" Tommy asked.
"It's a generator," Yuri said.
Porter looked at him like he was crazy. "A generator?" He hadn't engaged with his prisoners much since entering the mine.
"He could be right," Sean said. "I've read several studies about how the ancient Egyptians were able to harness electricity from various natural sources. The hieroglyphs at the Hathor temple in Dendera show an image that looks like a lightbulb attached to a simple battery."
Tommy nodded. "There's speculation that they were somehow able to harness geostatic electricity. I read a book that theorized that was how the Ark of the Covenant worked."
"That doesn't explain what this thing is doing here,” Sean said.
"I don't care how it got here," Porter said. "Where's the gold?"
It was a good question. If there was a large cache of gold in the mine, they couldn't see it except for the pyramid's golden top.
"Get moving," he grunted a moment later. Sean and the others could tell Porter was irritated. Finding an ancient pyramid in an abandoned mine wasn't what he'd planned.
He motioned with his weapon toward the narrow path leading down below.
His prisoners obeyed and reluctantly started down the trail. As they rounded the first turn, some of the workers below saw them approaching. One ran hurriedly over to the office trailer and disappeared inside.
A minute later, he reappeared with a similar weapon to Porter's and stood at the trailer's front door.
A man in a gray sweater and black pants appeared in the doorway. As Sean and the others walked slowly across the main floor, the man in the sweater moved closer.
He stopped a dozen feet away, surrounded by men in hard hats with submachine guns. They all wore stern faces and kept their weapons pointed at the trespassers.
"Mr. Secretary," Sean said. "Interesting little operation you have here."
Kent Foster crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side. "Yes, Sean. It's impressive, isn't it?" He turned and looked up at the pyramid towering over them. "I have to say, I only get out here a few times a year, but when I do it's still quite the imposing figure. I never really get used to it."
"I caught them trying to get in, sir," Porter interrupted.
So that was his angle. Sean figured he'd play it that way. Porter wasn't the inventive type.
"I see that, Porter. My question is, what are you doing here? Who is this guy? And how did you find this place? You realize I'm going to have to kill all of you, don't you?" Three of the men with submachine guns stepped closer, leveling their weapons at their waists.
"He's a Russian spy, sir," Porter said as calmly as he could. "He's working with Wyatt and Schultz. As to your other question, I followed them, told their pilot I was the copilot, and flew out here with them. They never knew I was on board. You should know, however, that if you kill me, this entire story goes public. You'll lose everything: your position, your company, whatever all this is. You'll be tried and executed."
Foster tilted his head back, sizing up Porter's eyes, searching for a sign of bluffing.
Sean and Tommy frowned. They were puzzled as to when Porter could have gotten aboard the plane in Clinton. Then they remembered the shootout. The whole thing had been a distraction to get them away from the aircraft so Porter could climb on board. The plan nearly fell apart when Yuri showed up and killed his three men.
Foster appeared uncomfortable for a moment. He saw no sign of dishonesty in Porter's story. Then he stiffened and motioned to some of his guards. "Take these three, and put them down below. Porter, you may come with me."
Four of the guards surrounded the three captives. One of them waved his hand for them to follow.
Sean, Tommy, and Yuri resisted at first, then one of the guards elbowed Sean in the lower back and he stumbled forward.
The guards ushered them toward an opening on the side of the pyramid. A path was carved into the rock, leading down at an angle into an open doorway. Tommy followed the lead guard as they moved single file down into the belly of the pyramid.
Inside the megalithic structure, they found themselves in a remarkably preserved corridor. Hieroglyphs colored both walls of the hallway, featuring people, animals, and scenes of agriculture. Presiding over all of the artwork were some of the more famous Egyptian deities, all of which Sean and Tommy recognized instantly.
The path turned sharply and then went down at an even steeper angle than the one leading into the pyramid. It did a 180-degree turn at a landing and then continued downward, deeper and deeper into the base of the mountain.
"How far down does this thing go?" Sean asked, not expecting an answer from any of the guards.
"These pyramids are like icebergs," Tommy said. "Beneath the tip is a labyrinth of tunnels, rooms, and secret chambers."
"Thanks, Nat Geo," Sean said. "I was looking for a more specific answer from the guys who work here. Not that they'll answer."
The procession went down another two levels before they arrived at the bottom. It was a square room with doorways leading in all four directions. Floodlights lined the floor, casting their radiant glow on more ancient artwork.
In the center of the room, a long cable hung from a hole in the ceiling. It stretched down to a tall stack of gold bars sitting a few feet off the ground, held up by a wooden platform. Wires and cables spread across the precious metal like spiderwebs.
"That your gold?" Sean asked Yuri.
The Russian stared with wide eyes at the incredible treasure. A sign was posted on every side of the platform that read High Voltage. "Dah," he said—the Russian word for yes.
Tommy followed the main cable up into the ceiling where it disappeared into the upper parts of the ancient structure. "So, this is how he does it," he said. "He's harnessing the power of geostatic electricity—just like Yuri was saying."
To the men standing in the center of the room, it felt like the entire structure was vibrating.
"In there," one of the guards said to Tommy.
Before he could resist, the guy shoved Tommy in the back and sent him sprawling forward into the empty room.
Sean and Yuri were directed to separate but similar rooms, each with a guard watching over the doorway.
"I'm going back up top," the lead guard said. "Keep an eye on them until we have further instructions."
The other three nodded and turned to face their prisoners, fingers wrapped tightly around their weapons.
Sean looked across the center room at his friend who stood in the doorway. "Not going according to plan, huh, Schultzie?"
"When does it go according to plan?"
"Maybe next time we need a better plan or at least a backup."
"That would be good."
"Quiet, you two," one of the guards said. "I suggest you try and relax. Mr. Foster will be down to deal with you shortly."
Chapter 37
Denali
"What is it you want, Porter?" Foster said as he slid into the leather chair behind his desk.
The room was decorated with wood panels and bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling. For an office trailer, the interior appeared more like something one would find on Capitol Hill.
"What does anyone want, Mr. Secretary?" He asked the question with a snide glare on his face. "I want to retire on a beach, maybe have a cabin in the mountains. Women, cars, all of it. That's what I want."
Foster bit his lower lip and nodded, taking in a long breath through his nose. He turned his chair at an angle and looked up at the ceiling. "Or I can kill you right now and no one will be the wiser."
Porter snorted. "I guess you forgot what I said. If I don't get back aboveground in the next hour, my partner is going to tell everyone what you've done. You'll be finished. There won't be a safe haven for you anywhere in the world. You can't run to where they won't find you."
"I think you underestimate the power I wield, Porter
. We are everywhere. We control everything."
"Yeah, well, that doesn't change the fact that in one hour my man goes live with everything we know about you. You may be able to lie low for a bit—a year, maybe two—but eventually someone will find you and take you down. President Dawkins is a beloved leader. The agencies might not find you, but one of his fanatics might."
Foster seemed unimpressed. "Very well, Porter. What do you want?" He folded his hands in his lap and returned his gaze to the man across the desk.
"A hundred million," Porter said in a flat voice.
Foster's eyebrows shot skyward. "A hundred? Really? That's a considerable sum of money, Agent Porter. What makes you think I have that kind of coin lying around?"
"Don't play dumb with me, Kent," Porter said. He kept his eyes level with Foster's. "I know how much Transcorp is worth. You netted billions last year. From what I've read, the next fiscal year will be even better. The environmentalist nut jobs love the company because of its green energy. A hundred million is a drop in the bucket. Now that I think of it, maybe I should ask for two hundred."
He waited for a reaction from Foster, but got none.
"I'm not greedy, though, Kent. There's only so many things you can buy before it gets boring. I know that. I just want to live comfortably for the rest of my life. A hundred million should take care of that."
Foster tapped his fingers together. He drew in another long breath and once more looked up at the ceiling as if searching the tiles for an answer.
"Very well, Drew," he spat Porter's first name with bitter derision. "A hundred million it is."
Porter did his best to hide his surprise. He didn't think it would be that easy. In fact, he expected Foster to see through his bluff. There was no partner topside. And he had no connections to break the story about the secretary of state's betrayal. Yet here he was, about to be wealthier than he ever dreamed.
"I'll make the necessary arrangements," Foster said, standing up. "It will take a couple of days to get the money moved around. That large of a sum doesn't get shifted quickly. I'll need your account numbers, that sort of thing."
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