Ancients (event group thriller)

by David L. Golemon

  "It's a torn piece of paper. Looks like four names here; it's hard to make out," the assistant said, holding it in front of the ME.

  Jack looked at Everett and they both made for the door.

  "Ryan, you and Will go get the car started and meet us out front."

  The ME was just reaching for the torn piece of paper when the door opened and two men in black windbreakers stepped in.

  "Don't touch that, Doctor, please," Jack said.

  "Hey, you can't be in here, there's an autopsy going on!" the assistant said as he tried to step in front of Everett, who just picked the smaller man up and set him aside.

  Jack snatched a pair of rubber gloves from the counter and pulled the right one on and easily removed the paper from the shocked ME's hand.

  "Call security and get these men out of here!" he said as he watched Collins hold the paper up to the light.

  The assistant looked as if he wanted to follow the orders of his boss, but Everett was still standing in front of him with his brows raised.

  "ATF, Doctor. We'll need this," Jack said as he lowered the paper and made for the door, followed quickly by Everett.

  "What is it, Jack?" Carl asked as he caught up with Collins.

  "Names; I can't make them out, but they are names. Keeler obviously didn't want his killers to have them, so he stuck them in his mouth before he died."

  They were ten feet from the door when the large Boston police captain entered with the detective that who had given them the tour of the law office; they stood toe-to-toe with Jack and Everett.

  "Hey, stop those men! They just took evidence from the autopsy room!" the whiny little assistant cried from the open door of the examining room.

  "Okay, give it--"

  That was as far as the police captain got, because right at that moment Jason Ryan pushed the double doors open as hard as he could, sending the two policemen sprawling onto the green tiled floor. Everett and Collins did not wait to offer apologies and followed the smaller Ryan out of the door and into the car, and Mendenhall sped away as if they had just robbed a bank.

  As their car took off, another vehicle, this one a white van, pulled out and sped along in pursuit.

  EVENT GROUP CENTER

  NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

  Sarah had called a two-hour break for the science teams so that they could recharge their batteries. Thus far, the group had come up with no theory that would pass muster as to the validity of the manmade-earthquake theory. Virginia was very close to calling Niles at the White House and informing him that in the opinion of the Group, while not impossible to do, the expense and labor-intensive problems would be too much to overcome with today's technology. Which in and of itself was not gospel, but close to it, with the minds they had working the problem.

  Virginia and Alice sat next to Sarah in the large cafeteria. They both had tea and they looked at Sarah's unfinished sandwich.

  "Are we interrupting something?" Alice asked with her pleasant smile.

  Sarah snapped to as if she had been in deep thought.

  "Oh, hello, ladies. No, you're not interrupting anything more than the contemplation of failure."

  "Failure? I wouldn't say that, Sarah. You weren't ordered by the president to start a manmade earthquake, only to prove if it could possibly be done by others. You failed at nothing."

  Sarah looked from Virginia to the face of Alice and she smiled sadly.

  "You know, this may sound strange, but I think it could be done. Oh, I know the North Korean claims are probably just a smokescreen, but I think the answers are out there and we just failed to find them."

  Alice patted her small hand. "Well, don't take it so hard. You should spend the rest of your break down in the artifact-cataloging room--that's where the excitement is happening."

  "Yeah, I was down there earlier and saw that large map and the other one with the strange lines running through it," she said, taking her spoon and playing with her cold soup.

  "Not only that, but they came across scrolls from Rome. Julius Caesar, of all people," Alice said as she lifted her cup of tea and sipped.

  "Caesar? Why would his scrolls be mixed in with the ancient texts? Don't tell me Jack and Carl screwed up when they crated them and just threw everything together?"

  "No, no. That collector had them cataloged like that. Everything placed together by date. They're working on them now. There is really a lot of excitement, especially about those scientific scrolls and other things that are definitely strange," Virginia said. "So even if your team fails to come up with a way to start earthquakes, we still have plenty for everyone to do."

  Alice and Sarah noticed that Virginia had lowered her tea and looked distant.

  "What is it?" Sarah asked.

  "Oh, I just realized how ridiculous all this is when you think about what's happening in the world around us. I mean we have kids, American boys, dying, and here I sit acting like a schoolgirl about a bunch of stuff that really means nothing when compared to the lives of people."

  "Now who's being hard on herself?" Sarah said as she patted Virginia's hand.

  "No, sometimes the foolishness of people makes me want to scream so loud I could shatter that glass."

  Sarah smiled, but then a strange look crossed her face.

  "What did you just say?"

  "Oh, please, I could go on forever about the foolishness of--"

  "Shatter glass," Sarah said instead of waiting for Virginia to finish.

  "Excuse me?" Virginia asked.

  Sarah picked up her water glass and looked at it. She then set it down and looked at Virginia and Alice in turn.

  "What happens to a glass when an opera singer hits a certain decibel level?"

  "Well, I've heard that they can ..." Virginia trailed off as she thought about what Sarah had asked. "You mean sound?"

  "Sound and earthquakes, Sarah?" Alice asked, lowering her teacup.

  Sarah stood up and smiled.

  "Excuse me, ladies, I have some calls to make."

  BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS

  "Dammit!" Jack exclaimed from the front seat.

  "What?" Will asked as he took a corner as fast as he could without losing traction.

  "We should have brought a laptop so we could tie in to Europa!"

  "Wait a minute, Will; pull over here by those kids," Ryan said from the back.

  Mendenhall pulled into the curb and Ryan jumped out. Everett, Collins, and Will watched as Ryan spoke animatedly to them about something.

  For the past fifteen minutes they had been trying to read the names on the wet paper, and now they thought they finally had all four: Henry Fellows Carlisle, Davis Cunningham Ingram, Martha Lynn Laughlin, and Carmichael Aaron Rothman. None of them recognized these names, but they meant something to someone, that much was clear. Jackson Keeler had wanted them protected enough to die for, and the people who had killed him had ruthlessly sought them.

  "What in the hell is that flyboy doing?" Everett asked as Ryan finished with the young teenagers and then trotted back to the car and jumped in.

  "Third and Argyle," he said, settling into his seat.

  Everett looked at Ryan with a blank stare. "You need a patch-in to Europa--well, there's a cyber cafe on the corner of Third Street and Argyle."

  "You navy types never cease to amaze me," Jack said as the car sped away into traffic.

  The man who had taken the photographs of Jack and his team at the law firm sat in the back of the white van and directed the driver to follow them into the heart of downtown Boston. The white lab coat he had used and the ID he had taken from the police forensics technician lay crumpled on the seat beside him. He was using a portable film developer on the pull-down table in front of him. The first photo of the man came out crystal clear as he pulled the still-wet eight-by-ten from the mouth of the machine. He snapped on an interior light and examined the face. He now knew for sure that it was the same man he'd seen in the warehouse.

  He bypassed the five other sho
ts on the reel, setting them aside as he placed the photo of Collins inside a scanner and closed the top. Then he opened his laptop and examined the black-and-white photo more closely. He centered the cursor on the identification badge and zoomed in a hundredfold. The name came into focus.

  "John Harriman, ATF," the long-haired technician mumbled under his breath. "Let's just see if you are who you say you are, John."

  The man picked up a cell phone and made a call. He gave the name and the department of the subject and then waited.

  "There is no John Harriman at Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, huh? I kind of suspected that; this guy is a little too efficient for government work." The man thought for a moment. "Look, can you get a trace-visual ID on this man and see if you can come up with any matches? I'll wait."

  The person he was speaking with was a deep-cover operative run by Dahlia and used sparingly because of his position in the federal records division. You didn't burn someone who was in a position to give you that kind of information.

  The cell phone rang.

  "What have you got?" He listened as he wrote down the information. "That's all? Colonel Jack Collins, U.S. Army Special Forces on detached service, and then nothing? I'll pass it along to Dahlia you were a great help," he said angrily.

  "They're pulling over in front of that cyber cafe," the driver said.

  "Park somewhere nearby and for God's sake don't be seen. These guys are starting to make me a little nervous."

  The man opened the cell phone and hit a single number.

  "Keyhole here. I'm faxing you some photos. Our friends from the warehouse are back. They went to the law offices and then to the morgue and they left there in one hell of a hurry. Listen, Dahlia, I used our source in federal records and we're dealing with an unknown here--a Colonel Jack Collins was ID'd. U.S. Army and a former Special Operations guy who is on detached service to an unknown entity, and I believe he and his men may have uncovered something from the coroner's office because they left there in one hell of a hurry. I'm going to keep a tail on these guys but I need some major backup. Is the Boston strike team still in town? Thank you. Now I'm going to see if I can eavesdrop on what they're doing. I'll call back."

  The man shook his head, knowing that Dahlia failed to realize that somehow she had allowed a possible federal agency of unknown prowess to tag her movements. Oh, she acted calm enough, but then again she was safe in New York, while he had his ass hanging in the wind, tagging a damn Green Beret and his people who scared you just by looking at you.

  "Damn, this is just too much," he mumbled as he brought his telephoto lens up to his eye and started perusing the cafe, looking for Jack Collins.

  Jack felt exposed as he and Carl made the link with Europa. Everett kept an eye on the cafe's patrons to make sure no one moseyed by for a look-see. Luckily, most of the cyber kids were their doing homework or chatting up on MySpace and none of them seemed interested in the two adults. They were stuck in at a table that faced the rear of the cafe, so Everett kept most of his attention focused on the people nearest the plate glass window as Jack started his conversation with the Cray computer in Nevada.

  Jack typed the names they had read on the piece of paper and asked Europa for any sort of record on them. It did not take her long on the first two.

  HENRY FELLOWS CARLISLE, DECEASED, 81 YEARS OF AGE, DIED 1999. FORMER CHAIRMAN OF THE FELLOWS GROUP OF COMPANIES.

  "Damn! Strike one," Jack said.

  DAVIS CUNNINGHAM INGRAM, DECEASED, 90 YEARS OF AGE, DIED 2004. FORMER CEO OF INGRAM FIREARMS COMPANY, CEO INGRAM METAL FABRICATION, FORMER CHAIRMAN OF THE ADALAY SHIPYARDS IN MARYLAND.

  "Strike two."

  MARTHA LYNN LAUGHLIN, 1932-? CHAIRPERSON OF LAUGHLIN LABORATORIES, FOUNDER OF DEELEY PHARMACEUTICALS.

  "Okay, that's better," Jack said, as he copied down the information. CARMICHAEL AARON ROTHMAN, 1921-? FORMER CEO OF ROTHMAN INDUSTRIES, FORMER BOARD MEMBER GENERAL DYNAMICS CORPORATION, FORMER BOARD CHAIRPERSON LOCKHEED MARTIN AERONAUTICS.

  "Whoa, that's a couple of heavy hitters," Everett said as he looked over Jack's shoulder.

  "They sure are. They were the last two names on the piece of paper that Keeler hid in his mouth and also the only two that are alive."

  "You think our attorney friend kept a list of his friends?"

  "Or enemies. These two may be responsible for his death, and he wanted the authorities to get their names."

  "Well, we're not in authority, but finder's keepers, Jack," Everett said.

  Collins typed in the two bottom names and asked Europa for their current addresses.

  "Virginia. So I guess we're headed south, huh?"

  "Why not? Let's just go and ask them who in the hell they are and why their names are connected with over sixty-five deaths in the last twenty-four hours," Jack said as he terminated the secure connection with Nevada.

  "Now, this should be interesting," Everett said as he led the way out of the cafe.

  The man in the van had barely caught the last two names on the list and their addresses in his telephoto lens. He wrote them down and then picked up his cell phone and punched the one number as before.

  "Martha Laughlin and Carmichael Rothman--mean anything to you?"

  "I will pass this on to my employer."

  "I suspect they're heading to the airport," he said to the driver. "Follow and confirm and then we're done here; Dahlia can have them."

  HEMPSTEAD BUILDING

  CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

  William Tomlinson had decided to stay at the office and work on the final plans for staging the Wave operations from the sunken city where the Coalition would be protected by two miles of water and another half mile in seafloor. Ever since Caretaker had left for the night, he'd felt more at ease. He supposed that he would have to get used to the old man looking over his shoulder, but when you were used to privacy it was hard to take. As much as he needed some new rules and changes for the Coalition, he knew the value of tradition, and Caretaker was at least that.

  His private phone line buzzed. He took a deep breath, tossed his pen onto the seagoing-operations plans for the Mediterranean, and picked up the phone.

  "Yes."

  "I'm afraid we have a problem that was not foreseen in your plans."

  "I thought we had eliminated most of the obstructions, Dahlia."

  "I have, but the items that were missing from Keeler's journal have turned up."

  "Okay, Dahlia, bury them. And good work, by the way. How did you uncover their whereabouts?"

  "They were hiding in plain sight in Virginia. We gave them too much credit for subterfuge."

  "Live and learn. Get to them before they acquire the needed courage to do some name-dropping. Keeler's death may have made them nervous."

  "William, we did not uncover the names."

  Tomlinson sat forward in his chair. "What?"

  "The people that showed up at the warehouse in New York--it was confirmed by my source that it was they who recovered the two names and addresses. They are on their way to Virginia as we speak."

  The new chairman of the Coalition eased back in his chair.

  "Salvageable. Hit these men in Virginia when they show up there. I want these pests out of the way. No, wait ... I want to know when they arrive and enter one of the houses. I want to say good-bye to the two Ancients and to this ... what is the man's name?"

  "Collins; Colonel Jack Collins."

  "I think it appropriate that I terminate this last threat. Very good, and I can finally say, very thorough work, Dahlia."

  Dahlia ignored Tomlinson's snide comment.

  "Now, I suppose you are off to Hawaii?"

  "Yes, I leave within the hour. I will have my strike team in Virginia inform you on when to make your call. Good night, William."

  RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

  It had taken just two hours to fly south to Richmond. Jack had decided to go to Carmichael Rothman's house first, for no other reason than that Rothman was the last listed.

  Th
e countryside was beautiful as Mendenhall drove them through rural areas of large and very expensive houses. It was a full thirty minutes until they found the right address. The house was set deep in the woods and had a long concrete drive leading to it. The large iron fence coursed around the manicured lawns. There was a small building next to the thirty-foot-high gate and they could see two guards sitting inside.

  "Tell me what-all you see, Lieutenants," Jack asked Ryan and Menden-hall.

  "Ah, the test continues," Ryan said. "Well, besides the two guards, the gate is crash-proof. There are two-foot-thick steel posts descending from the gate to the cement, anchoring it firmly."

  "There is a laser-security perimeter around the entire property. They didn't hide the power source well enough, as it can be seen coming directly out of the gatehouse to the first laser reflector. Knock out the gate-house, take the property," Mendenhall said as he pulled into the drive and stopped.

  "Very good. But you failed to notice the small building across the street. It has no business being there. No house, no drive," Collins said as he watched the first guard come out to greet them.

  "But plenty of extra guards ready to take back the gatehouse you guys just took," Everett finished for Jack.

  "Oh," Ryan said. "How--"

  "Separate power source. See the generator at the side of the building? No reason for that in a neighborhood like this. In addition, can you see the landline leading from the gatehouse to the structure across the street? This Rothman character takes his security seriously. But hey, you guys are learning the craft ... almost," Everett said, looking at Ryan.

  Mendenhall rolled down his window as the well-uniformed guard approached. Jack saw that the second guard had disappeared from the window.

  "Can I help you?"

  "We're here to see Carmichael Rothman," Jack said from the backseat.

  The guard shook his head. "Mr. Rothman does not accept visitors. No exceptions."

  Jack thought for a moment. "Inform Mr. Rothman we're here to see him about the death of Jackson Keeler."

  The guard looked into the car. "I will inform the housekeeper. Please remain in the vehicle."

  The four watched the guard turn and head back into the gatehouse and saw him pick up the phone. The other guard was still nowhere to be seen.