“Family?” Smith asked, arching an eyebrow.
“I’m speculating, of course. Listen, is there any word on the president’s condition?”
Both agents shook their heads.
Sandy Yeats spoke up. “It’s not unreasonable to assume Congress will utilize the Twenty-Fifth Amendment to swear the vice-president in, at least on a temporary basis. Kennedy’s assassination in ’63 was a big part of the reason it was created in the first place.”
“She’s right,” Kay said, a sudden pang of fear engulfing her. “And that’s exactly what the conspirators were banking on. To remove President Taylor from office in order to slide Vice-President Millard into power.”
“That’s what the video purports to show,” Smith said. “But it isn’t up to us to act. We can only bring the evidence to the DOJ and have them force a legal injunction.”
“Yeah, but what if they’re in on it too?” Kay shouted. “I mean, once Vice-President Millard gets sworn in it’ll be too late. Don’t you see? They want to throw everything we have against that spaceship. They think the president’s plan to head underground isn’t going to work and they tried to kill him for it.”
“Ma’am,” Smith said, his hands raised defensively, “I need you to just relax. Right now, our job is to find out as much as we can about your confidential source.”
“Yes, that’s right, shoot the messenger,” Kay fired back. “Can’t you see there are whistleblowers on the inside trying to expose one of the biggest conspiracies in our country’s history? And the two of you want to keep sniffing around for an ironclad case before you act. This type of bureaucratic thinking was precisely what Millard and his goons were counting on. Hell, who am I kidding? Maybe none of it will matter anyway. If the president’s plan moves forward we’ll all hide while the earth is engulfed in a giant fireball. And if the conspirators win, we’ll live in a radioactive wasteland.”
“Kay, go cool off,” Ron shouted, his normally pale face pink with anger.
Kay did as he said, bursting through his office door and into the newsroom. “I’m sorry about that,” she heard Ron saying to the agents as she was leaving. “She can be hotheaded, but her heart’s in the right place.”
The reporters around her stood staring. Kay marched past them and pulled out her cellphone. Even if the VP and the other top cabinet officials conspiring alongside him were right, killing the president to get your way was inexcusable. Surely there was another man or woman within the line of presidential succession better suited than a bunch of cut-throats in fancy suits. If the agents in the building weren’t going to listen, then maybe she would find someone who would. Kay dialed Ramirez’s cell phone. It rang half a dozen times before going to voicemail.
“Hi, this is Special Agent Ramirez with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Please leave me a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
“Hey, it’s Kay. Listen, I’m sure by now you’ve heard. Things are spinning out of control back home. I know you’re on assignment in India, protecting that scientist, but the Feds here aren’t in a hurry to stop the VP from getting sworn in. I need you to contact the head of the bureau again and do what you can to push things along. Too much is riding on what we do in the next few hours.”
Kay hung up and flipped through the texts she’d received earlier. Five of them were from her father. Her mother was dreadfully sick with Salzburg and he wanted Kay to come home.
Home. Right now the word sounded about as foreign as retirement or sending her non-existent kids off to college. And yet with the country—heck, the world—crumbling around them, there was no place Kay would rather be.
Chapter 25
Greenland
“We don’t have time for this,” Captain Mullins complained, no longer trying to hide his impatience. He and the rest of the C-17 crew stood in the middle of the wide road. There, Mullins paced anxiously, eyeing the enemy tracks laid out in a dusting of ice particles.
“This may not look like much to you,” Grant told the captain, “but you should know you’re standing within the greatest archeological site ever found. So you’ll have to forgive us if we take a few minutes to look around.”
“We may not like it,” Jack said begrudgingly, “but Mullins is right. We need to keep moving.” When Jack reached Gabby, he saw she was standing between two buildings, speaking with Tamura. The two of them were staring down at something on the ground.
“Not more dinosaur bones,” he said.
“No,” Gabby replied. “But I wanted to get your take on this. Make sure I’m not losing my mind.”
He stooped to find a large pile of rust-colored flakes frozen in the ice. Protruding up from them was a thick piece of something black. He eyed it carefully before he dared finish the thought and then broke off a piece. Could it be rubber? “Add this to our samples,” he told her, handing it over. “And see if you can’t chip out a few of those rust flakes while you’re at it.” He handed her the black drinking straw and soot particles he’d collected. Jack returned his attention to Gabby’s find. He often had to fight with everything he had to avoid the delicious impulse to jump to conclusions, but right now he just couldn’t help himself. Shaking his head, Jack said, “What are the chances we’re looking at some sort of vehicle?”
Jack’s statement drew others from the science team.
“I have noted three other deposits of rust flakes alongside a hardened black substance,” Anna told them.
“Have you found any indoors?” he asked.
“Only outside, Dr. Greer.”
Of course, Jack understood that outside was a relative term, given they were standing within an enormous ice cave.
“None of this is exactly definitive,” Gabby said, “but it certainly lends weight to the idea the people living here had a primitive form of technology.”
“Vehicles?” Dag burst in. “Primitive technology? Do you know how crazy you sound? You’re talking about a civilization millions of years old. You’re talking about the stuff of Saturday morning cartoons.” He pointed at the row of blockhouses. “I suppose this was Fred Flintstone’s house and this here was where Barney Rubble lived. I enjoy a bong hit just as much as the next person, but come on.”
“No one is saying any such thing,” Jack hit back defensively. “And I know it sounds crazy. I’m simply adding up everything we’ve seen in the short time since we got down here. And like you, all of us are struggling to put the pieces together.”
“Let’s just all calm down,” Gabby said, taking Jack by the forearms and forcing him to look in her eyes. “There’s a chance the bones outside the walls may be giving us a false impression.”
“Exactly,” Dag blurted out. Paleontology was his area of expertise, so it was hardly a surprise he was insistent on ensuring the proper methodology was being followed. Jumping the gun with wild theories wasn’t going to help anyone. “I can’t tell you how many summers I spent up in the Alberta badlands. Did you know you can hardly throw a rock without hitting a dinosaur bone? It’s that easy, man, I’m not kidding. And there’s a darn good chance this city was built on the remnants of a Cretaceous rainforest.” Dag took in a deep breath and flashed them a weak, almost desperate smile.
Anna stepped into Dag’s field of view. “I have always found that whenever the facts are at odds with agreed-upon reality, it is wise to return to what is known.”
“Anna’s right,” Jack said. “The only other pre-Columbian settlements on Greenland we know of were the Inuit and later the Vikings during the tenth century. The latter clung on for over four hundred years until a change in the climate drove them to abandon their foothold.”
Gabby rubbed her hands together. “We also know that Greenland has been covered with an ice sheet for millions of years. Given this site is located in the center of the island we can infer that whoever built this wasn’t human.”
Grant set down the two cases he was carrying. “Then you’re suggesting a civilization existed on earth that predates
humans?”
“It sure as heck is starting to look that way,” Gabby replied, searching from one person to the next. “I mean what other explanation fits the fact pattern we’re seeing?”
“You call it a civilization,” Jack said. “What if it was merely a colony?”
“Colony?” Rajesh repeated, uncertain he heard him right. “You mean like Jamestown in the seventeenth century?”
“He means alien colony,” Tamura threw in, eyeing Jack for confirmation.
“Yes, I’m saying, have any of you considered the possibility, however remote, that the Ateans had another ship that crashed into the earth, maybe the same one which released the blast wave we detected last week? And that instead of staying onboard, this time they decided to explore and set up a place to live on the surface?”
“But stone walls?” Dag said, incredulous. “Wouldn’t they build some kind of dome like you see in the movies?”
“Build a dome made out of what?” Jack countered. “Think about it. They’re light years from home, and stuck using whatever local resources you can scrape together on earth. Hmm, imagine for a moment you’re stranded on a desert island. Are you going to build a smart house? Course not. You’re going to use your trusty Swiss Army knife and slap together a crude but effective shelter made from palm leaves and driftwood.”
The group grew silent as they contemplated Jack’s idea.
“Astronomers knew of black holes because the mathematics predicted their existence,” Eugene said. “Yet by their very nature black holes sucked up all the light around them. So how could we ever expect to spot one in the blackness of space? Instead of looking for black holes directly, we learned to search for their effects. Sure enough, signs of their existence soon began to emerge. I guess my point is that every civilization leaves clues behind of who they once were long after they’re gone. I suspect ours won’t be any different. It’s enough to tie your brain in knots.”
“Whatever the answer is,” Jack said, “I’m sure we’ll come across the evidence. Whether we allow ourselves to believe it is another matter entirely.”
•••
The team pressed on after that, following the tracks left in the ice and dust. Before long, they found signs that the enemy party had also stopped from time to time. The small piles of trash they left behind were well hidden—sometimes on the second or third stories of buildings, other times stuffed into what the team discovered were sewer drains. Unfortunately, none of this did much to clarify who the assassins were or what specifically they were after. For Jack, he was growing increasingly certain they were members of Sentinel. Of course, the shadowy organization was not the only player in town eager to get their hands on advanced technology. But they were one of the few players who didn’t need to worry about creating an international incident. And yet the impending end of civilization opened the door to any number of other possibilities. How many countries or organizations cared about maintaining good relations when the whole enchilada was about to go bye-bye?
They decided that for every three hours of walking, the group would rest for thirty minutes. It would be just enough time to grab a power nap, choke down a tastebud-assaulting MRE or snoop around for additional clues about the original occupants of this sprawling ancient metropolis.
Wincing, Tamura eased herself down next to Jack.
“How’s the shoulder holding up?” he asked.
“It only hurts when I move or breathe,” she said, grinning. “But the meds are helping.” Both of their helmets were off and Jack appreciated being able to see her face without thick visors between them.
There was no wind down here, but he relished the cool air brushing against his cheek all the same. It also gave him a chance to utilize another sense he had largely been ignoring since their descent. Smell. Jack drew in a lungful of air. It was earthy. Like cut stone, mixed with something else. Was that ash? It lay all around them, a light dusting, sometimes locked beneath the ice and the cold. Since the roofs were all gone, the second or third floors often had it too.
“You know, this place sorta reminds me of Machu Picchu,” she said, brushing crystals off her knee.
“That’s funny,” he replied. “I was thinking Pompeii.”
She looked at him. “Have you been there?”
He nodded, the corner of his mouth rising ever so slightly. “Years ago, as a graduate student. As the story goes, while excavating the ruins, they kept finding these air pockets. Then one day someone got the bright idea of pouring plaster inside and letting it set. When they cracked it open, they were amazed to find the cowering bodies of young children or pregnant women or a boy and his dog. After Vesuvius blew its top, it created a pyroclastic wave of hot ash, killing every living thing and entombing the city for centuries.”
“How horrible,” she said, grimacing. “What do you think happened here?”
Jack shrugged. “Hard to say exactly, but there are no bodies lying in the streets. At least we haven’t seen any yet. I’d like to think whoever lived here chose to relocate.” Jack clapped his hands together, feeling a tiny shockwave rustle his hair. “It’s all rather strange, don’t you think?”
Tamura paused before she said. “I think it’s fascinating and beautiful.” Her eyes sparkled with life. Her features were soft and angular and when she smiled, her generous cheekbones became even more prominent.
“Do you have a scientific background?” he asked, trying hard not to sound like he was questioning Tamura’s credentials or her enthusiasm.
“I have an advanced degree in engineering,” she explained. “I’m with the Army Corps of Engineers. We were sent in to dig the tunnel through the ice sheet and install the elevator system. There were so many more of us at the beginning. Most of them had already left to make room for you folks when the attack came.” A momentary look of sadness filled her face before it was replaced with anger.
Jack put his hand over hers. He decided to change the subject. “Gabby says you’re from Idaho.”
She nodded. “Twin Falls, our family moved there after the war.”
“Which war was that?” he asked. He hadn’t intended the question to sound comical, but that was how it had leapt past his lips.
“World War II.”
Jack’s eyebrows made a little dance. “Oh, the big one. That was a long time ago. Are you from a military family?”
“No, not at all,” Tamura said, quickly. “And my grandfather didn’t serve, he was locked away.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack said, fighting the uncomfortable memory that his biological father had also done time.
“I just figured as an archeologist, you knew about the camps.”
Jack sat up straight. “Camps? Well, first of all, I’m a geophysicist, not that that’s any excuse. But when you say camps do you mean…”
Their eyes met in the dim light. “The Japanese internment camps set up during the war,” Tamura said, the muscles of her jaw tensing and relaxing, working like an angry fist. “They were established a few months after Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. Seems back then everyone just assumed my people would jump for joy if America’s shores were ever invaded.
“By May of ’42, it was a crime for a person of Japanese descent to walk the streets of Oakland, California. A sweet elderly family living next door took pity on my grandparents and their three small children. My mother was the youngest of those three and used to describe in detail the fear they experienced living in that couple’s basement, never knowing if and when the authorities would find them. Although by then much of the damage had already been done. My grandfather had been forced to sell his dried goods store for pennies on the dollar.
“A month later, a vengeful woman across the street had caught wind of what was going on and called the cops. They hauled my grandparents away and fined the couple who had been harboring them. Within a week they’d been transported by cattle car to a local race track set up as a temporary depot. Made them sleep in the horse stalls, still reeking of ma
nure. My grandmother couldn’t take it and cried all the time. This only made things worse for my grandfather. My mother did what she could to comfort them, but as a child she felt helpless. By the time they were relocated to one of the internment camps, his health had already started to fail him. In June of 1944, as the Allies were storming the beaches of Normandy, my grandfather was being buried.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, feeling the inadequacy of the words. “It’s a testament to your character that despite everything your family went through, you still chose to wear the uniform.”
Tamura closed her eyes and Jack watched as tears rolled down her cheeks. He put an arm around her, pulling her close to him.
•••
Not long after, Grant came by to continue to feed samples into the portable mass spectrometer.
He’d been at it for nearly fifteen minutes when Jack asked, “Anything so far?”
Grant looked up, startled. “Oh, yes, indeed,” he replied enthusiastically. “Turns out those metallic flakes on the ground are an unusual steel alloy I’ve never seen before. My guess is it’s stronger than the steel used on the Golden Gate Bridge or the Empire State Building.”
“And here we were thinking steel was a modern invention,” Jack said, shaking his head.
“The Chinese were making a form of steel sword at least as far back as the Han dynasty,” Tamura told him, “but the modern industrial version was the product of the Industrial Revolution.”
Grant laughed. “I can see Jack loves it when you talk dirty.”
Tamura blushed.
“Don’t listen to the dirty old man over there,” Jack said, playfully scolding him. “Even if he is built like a heavyweight boxer now.” A second later—“Anything else?”
Grant flipped through the tiny display screen, scrolling through the results. “The black chunk near the metal flakes you broke off is indeed a type of rubber compound and the thing you were calling a straw is plastic.”
“Plastic was invented in the twentieth century,” Jack said, shocked and amazed.
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