The door opened and Lance Corporal Donny Sikes stuck his head in.
"Sir, field-unit three is reporting a helicopter flying over the north range."
Mendenhall looked up and wondered how an unauthorized aircraft had entered the restricted area without the Nellis air police being all over it.
"Have you monitored anything on the radio from base security?"
"There was nothing on the airwaves, sir. No authorization and no order to vacate the airspace."
"Is the air force asleep up there?" Will asked as he stood and made his way into the command center.
The lance corporal went to the large bank of monitors and gestured at the correct screen. Mendenhall watched as a large helicopter circled the old World War II hangar that the Event Group used for clandestine entry of large loads into the secret main facility.
"Europa has identified the craft as an executive-style Sikorsky S-76. The number on the tail boom is 4907653, listed as corporate 310 out of Virginia. Privately owned, and the listed owner of title is Carmichael Rothman of Rothman Industries."
"I'll be damned; the chickens have come home to roost."
"Sir?" the lance corporal asked, confused.
"What ground-security team is the closest?"
"Three, sir; they have the craft covered, three Stingers are currently tracking the inbound. With the mood the colonel's in, I thought it better to err on the side of covering our asses."
"Good. Now get onto to Nellis base security and ask why they allowed a civilian aircraft onto the northern firing range, and find out why that same craft is in a no-fly zone."
Yes, sir."
Mendenhall watched as the helicopter started to settle onto the scrub of desert three hundred feet from the hangar. Gate one was a kill zone for Event security, but Mendenhall was not one to order the death of people just for being stupid, or cowardly. Instead, he watched as the large helicopter landed. As the rotors slowed to an acceptable speed, a door opened and a set of steps automatically lowered. Then a woman appeared and she was holding the arm of a man who looked unsteady on his feet. Mendenhall visually confirmed the identities of the two people and then quickly took the field radio from the desk at his side.
"Team three, observation only, safe your weapons. I repeat, safe your weapons."
"Roger, weapons safe, observation only at this time."
Will relaxed when team three confirmed that they were nowhere in sight because they were invisible against the terrain of the high desert. Dug in and deadly, as their training dictated.
As the elderly couple walked away from their transport, the large Sikorsky started spooling up, kicking up sand and scrub as it went. Carmichael Rothman held on to his hat and Martha Laughlin bowed her head as the helicopter lifted off and peeled away to the north.
Mendenhall was amazed as he saw that the man and woman were just standing there looking at the hangar and not moving. They seemed to be looking at the hidden camera just inside the old structure. Just standing and waiting.
He reached out, picked up the phone, and punched in the clean-room section, where he knew his superiors were.
"Collins."
"Colonel, you'll never guess who appeared out of nowhere at gate one. You have to see this."
"Pipe it down, Will."
Mendenhall tapped a few commands into the duty sergeant's keyboard and the live video feed wound its way to Jack in the Europa clean room.
"Got it. Fill me in, Lieutenant."
Mendenhall described everything they had on the helicopter and security situation, and as he did so, he watched the old couple on the screen. They still had not moved and they did not speak to each other. They were just waiting, just as if they knew that the Group was watching them.
"Bring them in with all due courtesy and take them to the holding room," Jack said. "I'll be right up. Inform Captain Everett to meet me there. And, Lieutenant, no one talks to them, and they talk to no one, clear?"
"Yes, sir, we'll put them on ice," Mendenhall answered, and then he said to himself, "Before they decide to split again."
Martha Laughlin and Carmichael Rothman sat in a small white room. The hoods that had been placed on their heads upon entering gate one had been an inconvenience, but they had endured it without complaint. Two large marines in blue jumpsuits removed their coats after they had walked through a body scan hidden in the seemingly simple doorway. The weapons search was conducted without the usual full-strip search.
The special room they were taken to was stun equipped, meaning that they would be gassed at a moment's notice if they were deemed hostile during their interview. As they sat and waited, another man dressed in blue overalls, this one with a U.S. Army insignia, brought in two glasses of water for the two visitors. Rothman used his water to wash down two morphine tablets that security had allowed to keep.
The door opened after ten minutes and Everett followed by Collins stepped in. They both wore the same blue jumpsuits as the other military men and women, with their officer's rank being the only difference.
Jack looked into their eyes, one face at a time, and then he punched a button on the tabletop.
"For the record, your names are Carmichael Rothman and Martha Laughlin, correct?"
"Correct," Rothman and Martha said simultaneously.
"And I assume you know you have entered a restricted area of a United States government reservation--am I correct on that point also?"
"You are."
"Can you tell us how you received permission to enter restricted airspace?"
"Not officially, no, I cannot."
"You are protecting a United States Air Force officer, I assume, namely the commanding officer of the Nellis base, but we'll take that little crime up later."
"Yes, Colonel Collins, we may, but you'll get no admission from me as to who my friends are. He happens to be a very nice young man and all I had to do was explain why we needed to be here. After all, you told us to come," the old man said and winced as he did so.
"You're in pain; may we get you a doctor?" Carl asked.
"I have seen many doctors, Mr. Everett, and they also know I'm in pain, will be for the next eight to nine months. They guarantee the pain will stop at that time."
The two officers said nothing. They understood that this man sitting before them had a death sentence over his head.
"As I said, we will talk about the base commander's impropriety at another interview. Right now, I would like to understand what kind of people would leave the men defending their lives behind when all they had to do was wait," Jack said, looking from Martha to Carmichael.
"To put it frankly, Colonel, we did not know your capabilities at that time. You were in a rather bleak situation and the knowledge we carry needed to be saved, thus it looked as if we left you in a rather bad situation. Now we understand that your abilities far exceed first impressions. Now we must get on with the business we have come to discuss. Things that could have been said last night before the Coalition tried to murder us," he said as he reached over and took Martha's hand.
"The Coalition?" Everett asked.
"The phone call last night was from a member of the Coalition," Martha answered. "I do not know exactly which member, but he was definitely Coalition."
"Again, what is the Coalition?" Collins asked.
"The Coalition is a new incarnation of an older group called the Juliai. You see, Colonel, when you look deeply into money, corporations, conglomerates, and the like, you may find that the wealthiest of these individuals are Juliai, or Coalition. They are secret and have been since the time of ancient Rome." Martha looked at Rothman for the briefest of moments. "Their aim, at least at first, was the control of wealth. With that, the control of people first, and then governments would naturally follow."
Jack had seen Martha's brief look at Rothman during her explanation at that very moment and knew she had left something out. For now, he kept his silence.
"The original Juliai started at the time of Juliu
s Caesar. It was his brainchild, Colonel. He was born unto a great family of an ancient and lost civilization. When Caesar became power-hungry, this family split into two separate entities. The Juliai, named after his own family, became lustful for true power over the world. The other faction, led by his co-counsel of Rome, Pompey Magnus, tried to stop Caesar, but the newly proclaimed emperor went to war and killed Pompey and most of his followers."
"The Roman civil war was about power between the two men," Everett said.
"History has always been shaded by those who are the victors. Surely you have learned this in this magnificent facility," Martha said as she smiled. She nodded to Rothman to continue.
"The few remaining followers of Pompey banded together. Hiding from Caesar and the Juliai Coalition was not easy. Some had to become a part of that power-mad society. Until finally they saw the Coalition's power under Caesar was rising beyond all effort to stop it. Therefore, they acted. The followers of Pompey struck Caesar down just as the history books will tell you. The history passed down to us didn't outright lie in telling it this way, they just omitted some of the facts as to the why of it."
"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 intently.
"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."
Ancients (event group thriller) Page 23