by David Wood
“This is amazing! Seeing this firsthand, I can totally believe the stories of an outside influence on Yucatan culture. I wish I could touch it, walk on it.” Sofia sounded as if she were ready to climb out of the sub for a closer look.
“Scan’s complete,” Willis said. “Let’s move along.”
Not wanting to try Tam’s patience, Maddock followed the route he and Sofia had plotted out earlier. They passed the remains of buildings, some largely intact, and three more pyramids. Streets paved with flat, square stones ran throughout the city. No vegetation grew here, so far from the sun, and strong currents kept the streets clear of silt. It felt like a sunken ghost town which, Maddock supposed, it was, after a fashion. By the time they completed their circuit and found themselves once again in front of the first pyramid they’d discovered, Maddock had no doubt that these structures were wrought by human hands.
“What now? Want to run a grid over the whole area?” Willis asked.
“We need to go to the center of the city. There’s something we need to find.” Sofia’s excited voice rose as she spoke.
“Works for me. Time permitting, we can scout the rest of the complex afterward.” Maddock redirected the sub, ignoring the navigation program and instead following the street that ran ramrod-straight through the city. Minutes later, a high hill, ringed by several canals, appeared up ahead.
“Rings of canals,” Sofia said. “You can’t deny the connection to Atlantis.”
“It’s impressive.” Maddock was forced to admit he was captivated by this lost city that, all these years, had lain so close to his home.
“Looks like we’re coming up on the target area,” Willis said. “What’s that dark shape up there?”
“We’ll check it out.” Maddock accelerated and they swept over the canals like a bird in flight. As they drew closer, the shadowy figure swam into focus. It looked like some sort of monster out of legend.
“What is that?” Willis whispered.
“Corey, are you guys getting this?” Maddock’s heart pounded.
“We’ve got it.” Maddock was surprised when Tam’s voice sounded in his ear. “I got tired of using nerd boy as a go-between. Approach with caution.”
“I always do.”
“Right, I keep forgetting Bones isn’t with you.”
Maddock smiled, but keenly felt his best friend’s absence. He found he actually missed Bones’ constant chatter. Doubtless, if he were here, Bones would be spouting theories about aliens until he was blue in the face.
“What do you think Bones would make of this thing?” Maddock asked, but no one replied. All of them had fallen silent at the sight that lay before them.
The fine details had worn away over the years, but there was no mistaking the giant sphinx that sat atop the hill overlooking the city. Unlike its Egyptian counterpart, which lay in silent contemplation, this sphinx sat up on its haunches, its mouth open wide as if eager to devour anyone or anything that might intrude upon its watery domain. Maddock marveled at the size of the sculpture.
“This thing could eat us for lunch.” Maddock found himself transfixed by the stone beast.
“We should call him Jared.” Willis waited a few seconds. “Aw, come on. Eating a sub? Jared? If Bones had said it, you’d all be cracking up.”
“We want it to swallow us,” Sofia said. “Maddock, can you take us inside?”
“Are you serious? That seems… dangerous.”
“Do it,” Tam said in his ear. “She and I have already discussed the plan.”
“Didn’t bother to clue us in, did you?”
“I’m the boss of you, and don’t you forget it. Take it slow, and don’t get yourself into trouble.”
“If you say so.” Maddock shifted in his seat, sat up straighter, and steered Remora into the sphinx’s gaping maw.
Inside, a wide pit ringed with stone steps plunged straight down. Cold sweat rising on the back of his neck, Maddock took them down into the inky blackness.
“Okay, so maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.” Sofia’s breathy words were barely audible.
Indeed, it felt like they were descending into Tartarus. The pit seemed to go on forever, with only the steps hewn in the wall breaking the monotony. It felt like they’d never reach the bottom, but, at long last, their instruments indicated they were drawing near to solid ground.
When they reached the bottom, Maddock halted their descent and slowly turned the sub about. The walls of the pit were blank.
“Dead end. Guess we need to head back up.” Willis sounded relieved.
“Run a few scans and see what you can find.” Maddock searched the stones in front of him. There had to be something here. “Maybe we’re missing something.”
He heard Willis’ fingers tapping buttons on his console. A minute later, his friend cried out in triumph.
“That’s what I’m talking about! At ten o’clock, there’s a break in the wall that’s partially blocked.”
Sure enough, they had overlooked an opening. It was almost large enough for Remora to pass through, but a pile of rubble and silt barred the way.
“I supposed we could use the arms to clear an opening, but it could take a while.” Maddock scanned his monitors. They had an hour before they’d have to draw on their reserves of power and oxygen. He didn’t want to cut it that close, especially since they and the sub were still getting to know each other, as it were.
“No need,” Willis said.
Before Maddock could ask what his friend meant, a bright flash blinded him, debris pelted the plexiglass bubble, and a dull explosion reverberated through the pit. Sofia screamed as the sub pitched to the side.
“What the hell?” Maddock shouted, trying to blink the spots out of his eyes and struggling to right the craft.
“Sorry, y’all.” Willis sounded sheepish. “It was one of the little torpedoes. I didn’t go for one of the big ones.”
“You have got to be kidding me. Even Bones wouldn’t have done that.” Maddock knew it was a lie, but he didn’t care. “What if you’d brought the whole place down on us?”
“My bad. I’ll ask next time. But, check it out! I got the tunnel open.”
Sure enough, the rubble was gone—blasted away by the torpedo. Through a curtain of silt, the sub’s lights revealed a short tunnel and a large open space beyond. Hoping the blast hadn’t destabilized the rock, Maddock plunged Remora through the passageway.
The space beyond proved to be almost a match for the temple Sofia had discovered in Spain: a column-lined chamber a good thirty meters long. A statue stood in the center, encircled by an altar resembling a tiny Stonehenge monument.
“I remember that old dude.” Willis said as Maddock directed the lights upward.
“Poseidon,” Sofia whispered. “It’s just like the temple I excavated in Spain. This is proof that the Atlantean civilization spread across the ocean.”
“I want to make a record of this place.” Maddock tapped the console and a camera began snapping still pictures of the chamber. “Where to next?”
“Check around behind the statue. That’s where the adyton should be.”
Maddock stole another glance at the sub’s readings. They still had time, but the window was closing. “You think there’s a weapon down here?” He asked, navigating Remora to the back of the chamber, careful not to hit Poseidon or the altar.
“There it is! Straight ahead. See it?”
Inside an alcove beneath a pyramidal facade, something silver reflected the sub’s light.
“It’s a machine like the one Bishop Hadel took from the temple in Spain.”
Maddock moved the sub in to get a closer look at the gleaming contraption. It was identical to the pictures they’d seen of the weapon Sofia had found: a metallic dish suspended beneath a pyramid-shaped frame, topped by a grasping hand.
“All right. Let’s see if we can get this thing out of here in one piece.” Maddock considered the instruments he had at his disposal and formed a strategy in
his head.
“Man, you got to be kidding! This little sub can’t handle that thing.”
“It only took a few men to carry the one in Spain,” Sofia said. “It must be deceptively light.”
“We’ve got to give it a shot,” Maddock said. If the Dominion had one of these things, it could only help them to study it and hopefully learn how it worked and what it could do. It also would be a good idea to keep it out of the Dominion’s hands. If this machine truly could create a tsunami, the enemy could double the devastation should they obtain it.
He brought the sub as close as he dared, extended the robotic arms, and took hold of the device. “Watch out for old ladies crossing the street behind us.”
“Beep! Beep!” Willis chimed in as Maddock reversed the sub.
Slowly, he dragged the Atlantean machine from the chamber and out into the temple. As Sofia had predicted, it was light and moved easily.
“Now for the tricky part.” He released the machine and used the robotic arm to hook a cable around their prize. It took three tries and a rain of taunts from Willis before he got the job done, but finally, towing the machine behind the sub, he was able to lift it and carry it toward the exit.
“Be careful not to hit the…” Willis began, but before he could finish his sentence, the sub jerked to a stop.
“What was that?” Maddock glanced at the screen displaying the feed from the rear camera. The cable was snagged on Poseidon’s trident, and the statue now lay atop the device, which appeared undamaged, but was pinned to the temple floor. What was worse, there was no way he could reach it with the robotic arms.
They were stuck.
Chapter 13
Silence fell as Bishop Frederick Hadel entered the boardroom. His eyes passed over the men assembled there, taking in their expensive suits and gaudy watches, the trappings of a materialistic society. One of the many things he would change when their plans came to fruition. Wealth was a means to an end, but not an end unto itself. Until that day, he would play their game, operating his headquarters from this opulent retreat center in the Wasatch mountain range, and deliver his weekly sermons from a gilded pulpit in a lavishly-decorated church. What was it about common people that obscene displays of wealth inspired them, even when the religion they purported to follow taught against the accumulation of material possessions?
He smoothed his flyaway gray hair and slid into an oversized chair at the head of a table of dark wood polished to a high sheen, and forced a smile. Everyone beamed at him, puppies eager to be scratched behind their ears. Those assembled weren’t entirely worthless. All had some degree of power and influence in the secular world, but the men of true worth in the Dominion would not be found here, save one or two. Those men understood his vision and didn’t mind getting their hands dirty to achieve their purpose.
“My friends,” he began after a sufficient pause, “I am pleased to report that our first attempt was successful, and we are making plans for the next stage.”
The men exchanged nervous glances before Utah Senator Nathan Roman cleared his throat.
“Bishop,” he began, “we are all wondering about this next stage. Will it be similar to the last one?”
Hadel stared at the senator until the man broke eye contact. “If you are asking if we are targeting another city, the answer is yes.”
“Do you think that is wise?” Roman stared at a spot just above Hadel’s head. The others wouldn’t notice, but the bishop could tell. “Another unnatural disaster and the feds might take notice.”
“Do you think me a fool?” Hadel’s voice was like ice, though the senator’s question did not bother him in the least.
“Of course not.” Mitchell Sanders, president of one of Utah’s largest banks, spoke up.
“Then, by definition, my decisions are wise, are they not?” Hadel waited for a challenge he knew would not come. “Let them take notice. In fact, when the time is right, I intend to let the world know who we are and what we can do. I want the people frightened, with no confidence in their government’s ability to protect them.” A few heads nodded. “Look at what happened after the terrorist attacks of 2001. Yes, the United States changed the regime in Iraq, but to what end, and at what cost to the people? Americans rushed to surrender their liberties in exchange for the promise of security, surrendering freedoms the terrorists could never have taken from them. The terrorists might lose the battles, but in one sense, they are winning the war. We will capitalize on that fear, and that eagerness to be cared for at any cost.”
“What happens then?” Roman shifted uncomfortably in his seat and adjusted his tie.
“I am not ready to reveal the subsequent stages, but we have solid plans and ample resources.”
“What I would like to know is how we caused the destruction in Key West.” Steven Ellis was a dean at Southern Utah University, and had a sharp mind, though it was slanted a bit too heavily toward the world of academia. “I assumed it was a bomb, but descriptions of the phenomena contradict that.”
“I fear I am not qualified to explain the science behind it, but our researchers are preparing a report for the board, which I hope to have available at our next meeting. Suffice it to say, we have at our disposal a weapon unlike any in the world. Indeed, it is so remarkable that I can credit only the grace of God that we discovered it.” The frowns around the table indicated a degree of dissatisfaction, but no one pressed him.
“Why are we spending so much money on archaeological expeditions?” Sanders jumped back into the conversation with a question from his domain. “I can only describe these expenditures as exorbitant, with little to be gained.”
Hadel smiled. If they only knew the real number, which was much higher than the one reported to the board. “As I have explained to you before, there are a number of reasons. First, the search for Biblical relics, the discovery of which would strengthen the devotion of our flock, draw new followers to our ranks, raise our profile in the Christian world, and prove to the skeptics the truth of Scripture.
“Second, we are a church, and it is important that we act like one, or else we risk unwelcome scrutiny from the outside. Supporting missionaries and, yes, Biblical archaeologists, and even the archaeology departments of Christian universities, are some of the things that churches like ours do. I also have other, more personal reasons, that I do not wish to share at this time.” He steepled his fingers and stared at Sanders. “Repeating myself is not a good use of my time. I trust I will not be expected to answer the same questions at every meeting?”
Duly cowed, Sanders shook his head and lowered his eyes.
“We apologize for making you repeat yourself, Bishop. Understand, our motives are sincere.” The speaker was a square-jawed man with intense, green eyes. He seemed uncomfortable in his finely-cut suit, but perhaps it was merely the juxtaposition with his powerful build and GI haircut. Jeremiah Robinson was the only board member whom he had considered bringing into his inner circle. To the outside world, he was a National Guard recruiter, but he was also one of the highest-ranking members of the Dominion’s paramilitary branch. The other members of the board underestimated him, which made him a perfect mole. “Would you mind telling us which city is the next target?”
Hadel pretended to consider this. He and Robinson had, of course, planned this ahead of time. “San Francisco,” he said. “We considered New Orleans, but we want to send the message that our power extends beyond the gulf.” He made a show of checking his watch. “I thank you for your time, gentlemen. Members of my staff will meet with you individually to give you your instructions. I bid you a good day.”
They all rose as he stood and left the meeting room. Some of the instructions the board members would receive were important, but most were inconsequential, serving only to convince the board members of their value to the Dominion.
He retreated to his private office. It was not the “secret” office known only to board members, which was, in fact, a red herring, but a conference room hidden
in plain sight, where picture windows offered mountain views that calmed his nerves and reminded him of God’s majesty.
Thirty minutes later, Robinson let himself in and locked the door behind him.
“Were you successful?” the bishop asked.
“I was able to speak with each of them individually, giving every one of them a different city as the “real” target. If one of them is leaking information, we’ll know it soon enough.” He declined the bishop’s offer of a chair, instead standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
“How are we progressing on the skulls?”
“As expected, the Smithsonian skull is a forgery, and thus, is completely useless.”
“And the Paris Skull?”
“Our man on the inside failed, and the skull has been taken off display. A team is on its way as we speak to acquire it.”
Hadel rubbed his chin and watched a golden eagle ride an updraft. An omen of the Dominion’s rising, perhaps? It was superstitious nonsense, of course, but pleasant to contemplate.
“So we will have but a single bullet in our gun, should the Paris skull be genuine.”
“We have analyzed the skulls but, so far, have failed to synthesize them. We think we might have found an alternate source for crystals. A research team discovered a cave…”
Hadel held up his hand. “I don’t need every detail. Put it in a written report. Now, what about the rest of the operation?”
“Sofia Perez has gone to ground in Spain. We’ve had her passport suspended, so she can’t leave the country. We’ll find her. Until then, we have people working on translating the codex.”
“And the Revelation Machine?” Despite his best efforts at remaining calm, the bishop’s heart raced.
“No more clues than what we’ve had for a year now, but we hope the answer lies in the codex.”