The Mayan Legacy (A Simon Gray Thriller Book 1)

by Edward G. Talbot

  “Now he's gone off the deep end. A nuke is bad, but the world can survive it. The virus could threaten everyone. That's what made me finally decide I had to tell someone.”

  Braxton took out his phone. “We'll deal with the virus later. First let me call Yarrow. She needs to know this. Next I gotta call the AG. We're lucky he's left over from the previous administration and hates Richards. The new administration coming in next month makes this even more complicated.”

  He dialed the number and let it ring five times. He left a message on Yarrow's voice-mail. “Yeah, Linda, this is Dennis. I've just received intelligence about a credible and imminent threat against the President. I'm not saying any more over the phone, but you need to call me back ASAP.”

  Simon said, “Maybe you better call her office, too.”

  Braxton dialed another number and his lips turned in a frown as he left the same message. “OK, that's strange. No one answered. No secretary, no one. Even on her private number, it rings out to her admin.”

  Andrea paced down to the end of the car and back. “I wonder if it's happened already. The kidnapping is supposed to be tied to the nukes, some sort of ransom or threat. If the President was gone, that could explain the Secret Service not answering their phones.”

  Simon shook his head. “Wouldn't they be waiting for a call with information? Actually scratch that, I can see how they might not. They're a pretty pro-active group, they're probably out looking for her.”

  Braxton nodded. “Yeah, but don't you two remember what's happening in about half an hour? Richards is talking to that joint session, no one knows what about. Why would she do that if she wasn't gonna be there. Unless …”

  They all looked at each other, realization dawning. Braxton put his head in his hands, then looked back up.

  “Oh no. They wouldn't. Would they?”

  “Come on Dennis, Andrea told us he's got a virus that will wipe out humanity. You think he'd worry about setting off a nuke in Congress?”

  Braxton opened the door to his car and got in. “Jesus, I gotta get back to Langley. And call Congressional security.”

  “But Dennis, you'll be heading through where we think the bomb is. And Langley's not gonna be much safer.”

  “That may be. But I have a better chance of stopping it in either of those places than in a fast food joint in suburbia.”

  He reached in his jacket pocket for his bottle of heart pills. Then he closed the door and put the car in gear. He rolled down the window and looked back at Simon and Andrea.

  “We need to talk about the virus tomorrow. Assuming we all survive.” He rolled up the window and drove off.

  Andrea looked at Simon. “So what about you? Do you have a better chance of stopping it in D.C. or even Langley?”

  “I've got no chance of stopping it. Who would listen to me that wouldn't listen to the Director of the CIA? I'd head back there in a minute if I thought I could help. But I can't.”

  “So what do we do next?”

  “There's an old saying. Sun Tzu, I think, the Art of War. ‘He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will emerge triumphant.’ Dennis has my number and he'll call if he thinks I can help. In the meantime, I'd like to get as far away from ground zero as possible. We can't do anything about Cimil if we get killed.”

  “I'd like to say you're a coward, but that makes sense. One odd thing occurred to me, though. Cimil said the blast wouldn't be set off until tomorrow. Now we're thinking today. Which one is it?”

  “Who knows for sure. I wouldn't surprised if he lied, would you?”

  “No, I wouldn't. Listen, before we go, I gotta pee. Maybe even pick up a Big Mac. I haven't been in the States in a long time.”

  “Sure, I could use some food myself. But let's not dawdle. We need to start heading north in a hurry.”

  “Don't worry, they call it fast food for a reason.”

  They headed into the restaurant. After using the rest-rooms, they got in line to order. Andrea was second from the counter when she felt someone bump into her from behind. “Hey, Simon, watch it, will ya?”

  “Ms. Schmidt. We need you to come with us and answer some questions.”

  Her body tensed and then she heard Simon.

  “They got me too, Andrea. Just give up, there's too many to fight.”

  She turned to see the man who had bumped her. Nearly everyone in the restaurant stared at the scene, with half a dozen FBI agents surrounding Andrea, Simon, and the other patrons in front of the counter.

  “Listen to him, Ms. Schmidt. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

  “About what?”

  “About your brother. Amos.”

  “Amos? I don't understand.”

  “Please, come with us and we'll explain everything.”

  Simon asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Back to headquarters.”

  “Listen, I know this will sound crazy, but that's not a good idea. We'll go with you, but we should go north. You have a field office in Baltimore, let's go there.”

  For the first time, the agent seemed unsure. Jason Andrews stepped in and regarded Simon. “What difference does that make?”

  “Look, we just finished meeting with someone from the Agency, and a major attack is gonna happen in D.C. tonight. We don't wanna be there.”

  Andrews moved his face close to Simon's. He showed no anger, just curiosity. “As it happens, we know you met with Director Braxton. But I'm not sure I'm buying this attack story. Why haven't we heard anything about it?”

  “It's complicated. You see—”

  A loud voice from back in the grill area stopped him. “Holy shit, you gotta see this!”

  Two men burst into the front, carrying a beat-up nineteen inch television. One of them wore a name tag reading “Manager On Duty.” He put down the TV, attached a coaxial cable from under the counter, and plugged it in.

  One of the agents put his hand on Andrea's shoulder, making sure she didn't bolt. All other eyes fixed on the screen. The picture showed the Chamber of the House of Representatives, filled to overflowing. The scene was like none ever witnessed in that august setting. The legislative branch of government had descended into chaos.

  Then the scene shifted, and they saw two figures. One was familiar to all, President Susan Richards seated in a chair. Simon and Andrea recognized the other man, but no one else in the restaurant did. He stood over her, a man with dark hair and brown eyes. Yum Cimil. A grin spread across his face as he spoke. “But enough distractions. Madame President, which city will it be?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  December 12, 2012

  Adam Stern allowed his feet to shuffle as he walked along the paved trail in Pictograph Cave State Park. Darkness already prevented him from seeing the rock paintings adorning the sandstone walls, but he didn't care. He could close his eyes and picture them in his mind. He liked it here, surrounded by ancient history. He imagined the voices of prehistoric hunters carrying along the base of the cliffs.

  Stern worked for Montana Fish, Wildlife, and Parks, or FWP. This park remained closed to the public for all of the winter months, but his responsibilities included making the rounds of the area. Sometimes teenagers would find the location convenient for a secluded rendezvous, despite the snow and the frigid air. Stern understood, but he didn't want anyone in the space when he was on duty. In point of fact, he rarely confronted trespassers. Most nights, he experienced only the refreshing solitude.

  He looked up at the sky. To an easterner it would have seemed impossibly huge. On a clear night like this, the stars were so dense in places that you could scarcely distinguish the space between them. To Stern, raised on a ranch with the nearest neighbor fifteen miles away, the sky here fell a bit short. The looming cliffs cut off a certain amount of the horizon, and the lights of nearby Billings dimmed the celestial brilliance. He'd still rather be here, with what he thought of as “his” paintings.

  He needed to get home soon. His wife would be wai
ting with their ten-year-old son, holding dinner for him. So when he came to the end of the path, he made his way to the park gate. He was closing it behind him when a blinding light assaulted his senses. So powerful that he fell to the ground, grabbing his eyes in pain.

  Adam Stern died a short time later when the blast wave hit him. He didn't see the initial fireball spread out into the characteristic mushroom shape. He didn't see the earth being sucked into the cloud. He didn't even hear the wave that killed him, because it traveled faster than the speed of sound. At eight miles away from ground zero, his life was measured in seconds after detonation.

  In Washington D.C., no one knew about Adam Stern. Not even Yum Cimil, whose two countryman sacrificed themselves to set off the device. Everyone knew only one thing for sure, though. Billings, Montana had ceased to exist.

  At the McDonalds in Springdale, everyone crowded around the counter to watch the television. President Richards refused to pick a city, and Cimil slapped her again.

  “I can see that obedience is not one of your strengths. I'll just have to pick the city myself. A pity. Let me see here, what booming metropolis shall I destroy? How about Billings, Montana?”

  Many of the customers gasped. A couple of people moaned, “Noooo.” Simon, Andrea, and the FBI agents remained silent. On the screen, Cimil opened his phone.

  “It's Billings, Montana. Do it now. You'll be forever remembered for your service.”

  Cimil's face disappeared from the television screen, replaced by the image of a city, taken from higher elevation some distance away. Simon felt nausea sweeping through his gut as he realized what they were watching. An instant later, the city blew into a fireball, followed by a slowly expanding and rising cloud. At least, it looked slow on the screen. He knew that was an illusion. Sobs and screams punctuated the air around him at the restaurant, but his eyes remained fixed on the television.

  Maybe thirty seconds later, Cimil came back on. Simon shared a glance with Andrea, nodded and motioned to the door. They began to move out of the crowd, though they could still hear Cimil's voice.

  “Is everyone still with me? I wouldn't want to think you got bored and went to nuke something in the microwave. I've now demonstrated that I can kidnap your leader and blow up a city. You might be asking yourselves what I want. That is an excellent question, but one I'm not prepared to answer right now. Rest assured, though, I'll be in touch.”

  “Ms. Schmidt, where do you think you're going?” Jason Andrews put a hand on her shoulder as she reached for the door handle. She turned, her hand slashing towards Andrews' arm.

  He pulled it away and shook his head. “Look, we need to talk? After what we just saw, I think it would be a good idea.”

  She glanced at Simon, who shrugged and tilted his head sideways. She looked back at Andrews. “OK, you win. But I expect you to do most of the talking.”

  “I can live with that. Look, everyone's still watching the television, let's head over to a couple of those tables in back and keep our voices low. I don't feel like freezing my ass off outside, and I assume you wouldn't be interested in talking in our cars.”

  “You assume right.”

  They sat down in the corner. Andrews began.

  “Ok, I can't tell you everything. I shouldn't tell you anything, but I gotta make something happen. What I can say is we've been investigating a killer. So far, we've kept things out of the papers, but this guy has us all very concerned. There is also a potential threat to President Richards, so Secret Service Director Yarrow is involved. Your name came up in conjunction with a person of interest in the investigation.”

  Simon chuckled. “You mean a suspect.”

  Andrews said nothing. Andrea nodded as if she finally understood. “You mean my brother.”

  “Yes, your brother. You understand I can't go into the details. But we started researching his background. And then we found out about you.”

  She considered her response. “I won't lie to you. Amos is a sick man. But what does any of that have to do with me?”

  “Ms. Schmidt. We found out about Arthur.”

  Her breathing slowed. For most people, stress triggers an adrenaline response, but a combination of genetics and training made her different. “Arthur. I haven't heard that name in a long time. Let me guess, you went back to Cool and looked for the original birth certificates?”

  “We did. I'm not ashamed to say we're pretty confused.”

  “That was sorta the point. You guys are law enforcement, so let me say I've never killed anybody in your jurisdiction.”

  Andrews narrowed his eyes. “Our jurisdiction is the entire United States, as well as certain situations involving U.S. citizens elsewhere. That statement sounds like waffling to me.”

  “I was in the Army, remember? I'm sure you discovered what my specialty was. I can't say I never killed anyone.”

  “All right, point taken. Listen, I said we were confused. You don't exist. And your brother's DNA is showing up in places it couldn't have been.”

  “There are explanations, but like I said, I can't get into it.”

  “Right now, we have no case. I don't know if your explanations will help, but they can't hurt. Look, let me just ask your whereabouts on a few dates.” He reached into his jacket pocket for a battered notebook.

  “Let me save you some trouble. I haven't been inside the United States for over five years.”

  Andrews stopped. “Oh. Well, I guess that does answer one set of questions. What about Mexico eight months ago?”

  Andrea said nothing.

  “I'll take that as a yes. Though now I'm even more confused than before. His DNA was—wait a minute, here's another question. What happened to Arthur?”

  “Arthur's dead. A long time ago.”

  “Dead? We found no record of that. How did he die?”

  “That's one of the things I can't go into.”

  “Look, I'm trying to be nice, but this is an investigation involving multiple homicides with a possible threat to the President, and—”

  Simon cut him off. “This is getting us nowhere. You wanted to talk about what we just saw on TV, right?”

  “Okay, Okay. For now. One last question. Can anyone verify that you haven't been in the U.S. recently? Have you been working in a foreign country, maybe your boss can do it?”

  Both Simon and Andrea laughed at the same time.

  “What the hell's so funny?”

  “My boss? You know that guy we just saw on TV, the one holding the President? That's my boss.”

  Andrews dropped his elbows on the table. His shoulders slumped. He looked at Simon for any sign that they were pulling his leg, but saw none.

  “Oh Jesus. Maybe you better tell me about it.”

  Simon said, “First let me call Director Braxton. He won't be back to Langley yet, let's see if he'll agree for us all to get together. I don't think your investigation overlaps with ours, but at this point I suspect the danger is in sharing too little, not too much. Same problem they had before and immediately after 9/11. Also, this all ties into Richards, so we'll need Secret Service involved, too.”

  “I've been working with Linda Yarrow on this case, if that helps.”

  “Perfect, you give her a call while I call Braxton.”

  Two minutes later, they both had answers. Yarrow had almost hung up until he told her Simon had some information on the kidnapper. He told her to call Braxton about a meeting. Braxton had told Simon to continue on to Langley with Andrews but no other agents. Given the recent kidnapping and explosion, he wanted a secure environment. The threat of a nuke in the Capitol seemed lower, but Simon still wondered if heading south was the right move.

  He stood up from the table. “Braxton wants us all in one car, he doesn't want an FBI convoy. So you need to ride with us, um, what was your name again?”

  Andrews reached out his hand. “Jason Andrews.”

  “Pleased to meet you. My name's Simon Gray.”

  The plane had left U.S. airspace
a moment before Cimil began his transmission to Congress. A normal flight plan to Guatemala would involve crossing several landlocked U.S. states, but he wanted to be over the Atlantic and Caribbean the whole time. He gave a destination of Jamaica to air traffic control. He was now far enough south to descend to a few hundred feet, turn west and cross the gulf towards home. A dangerous height to fly at, but manageable for his experienced pilot.

  Everything had gone perfectly. Well, everything except Andrea, he reminded himself. But she could no longer hurt him. The whole world would be off-balance from the detonation, and the virus would not receive the attention it needed. By the time December 21st rolled around, the fourth world would be well on its way to ending.

  He smiled as he thought about the choice of Billings, Montana. They'd all be scratching their heads wondering why. Probably no one would ever figure it out. No one except Gonzales' people, of course. They'd know. And they'd be upset. But so what? He had the virus, he had the cure, and he was destined to lead his people into the Fifth World. Nothing could stand in the way of that.

  He made his way back to the private compartment he'd installed in the jet. A king-sized bed and a jacuzzi tub made long flights much more comfortable. A small tub, the right size for two because the Gulfstream engineers had warned him not to concentrate too much weight in one area. President Richards sat in the tub, bubbles obscuring all but her head. Sweat from the hundred-five degree temperatures dripped down her face as she smiled. She lifted a hand out of the water and beckoned Cimil.

  He grinned. “Coming, dear.”

  PART THREE: Awakening

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  December 13th, 2012: The Amazon Basin

  The nuclear blast had shocked the whole community, so the Council didn't gather in Gonzales' dwelling area this time. Nearly fifty thousand souls occupied the vast series of caves near the borders of Brazil, Ecuador and Peru, and the only single location that could hold that many was an arena-sized chamber known only as “The Center.”