The Mayan Legacy (A Simon Gray Thriller Book 1)

by Edward G. Talbot

  “Yeah, my people originally lived in Atlantis before it sank. From what I hear, there's a plan to raise Atlantis again in the next couple weeks, something about the tectonic plates being in the right position. We will finally restore the land of our ancestors and the humans will be too worried about the virus to stop us.”

  The proto's eyes turned glassy with emotion. Simon exchanged a glance with Riccio, surprise written on his face. What the hell would come next?

  “I can't believe I'm saying this, but let's not worry about Atlantis for now. First we have to find out anything we can about stopping the virus. Ms. Riccio, can you tell us what you know about their layout, security, that kinda thing? Before you do, hold on a minute, there's a couple people who should hear this.”

  He called over his shoulder. “Andrea, Crowder, come on over here and listen to this.”

  Andrea and Crowder walked over, the former pausing her examination of the wounds on the dead caiman, and the latter coming from a position guarding the shoreline.

  “Ms. Riccio, this is Andrea Schmidt and Sergeant Mike Crowder. Sergeant Crowder is the marine leading our force. Andrea was a soldier, but also led the security team of the Guatemalan guy who set off the nuke. Before you ask, we think Jaime's friends were manipulating the Guatemalan. It's complicated. Just tell us what you can.”

  “Okay, as long as you call me Gabby instead of Ms. Riccio.”

  She went through everything she'd seen, which she ruefully admitted wasn't much. A long tunnel, one turn into a short tunnel and then a cell. The others interrupted with questions, and she did her best to answer them. When she had finished, Simon looked at Jaime again.

  “Seems consistent with what you told us, Jaime.”

  Cortez spread his hands and exaggerated his normally minimal accent. “Hey man, I been tellin' you this all along.”

  Andrea said, “So nothing's changed, right? The only difference is now we know exactly how to find the entrance. So when do we go in?”

  Crowder looked at his watch, “Well, Andrea, one other thing changed—they're gonna be on alert after Gabby's escape here. I gotta call Braxton in ten minutes, and he'll have to check with Richards. Wouldn't surprise me if they stall us while they toss it around. So I don't know the answer to your question.”

  “Damn it, do they want to find a cure or not? This is our best shot!”

  Simon shrugged. “Preaching to the choir, Andrea, you know how it works. We can't operate in Brazil without commander-in-chief approval.”

  He turned to Crowder. “Okay, Mike, when you make your call, make sure you add one new piece of information. The mind-reading.”

  They both looked at him in confusion. Simon smiled, and put his arm around Cortez' shoulder as if they were the best of friends. “Okay, Jaime, why don't you tell them all about it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  December 16, 2012: Washington D.C.

  “So, is the cure working?” President Richards had arrived back in Washington a day earlier, and had spent most of the subsequent time getting up to speed on the Amazon operation. Now her eyes bored into Carlson Perkins, Director of the CDC.

  Vice President Davidson felt for the man. He was out of his depth, and Richards never showed mercy. Davidson himself normally didn't get involved in major issues, but he remained part of these meetings to deal with the crisis. She needed him now after being out of the loop for three days. Mostly he'd remained silent, but he sensed that he'd need to speak soon. Richards was not acting rationally.

  Even with the chill of December in Washington, small beads of perspiration dotted Perkins' forehead as he answered. The stakes here were high. “It's too early to tell, but all the reports so far indicate that inducing a fever kills the virus. By tomorrow morning, we should know for sure.”

  “That's excellent news, Doctor, glad to hear it. Let us know if any new information comes in on that. And now we have to discuss something for which you aren't cleared.”

  Davidson considered protesting, but held his tongue. The stakes were high, and Perkins might have some valuable insight on what to look for down in the Amazon. He knew Richards would never back down, and he doubted any of the others would back him up.

  Perkins left the oval office, and Richards directed her focus to Dennis Braxton. “So, Dennis, what's the word from Brazil?”

  “We've had some developments. You may recall that our source knew the general area where we need to search. Apparently a group of archaeologists discovered it several days ago. They were captured, but one of them managed to escape, and she ran into our team.”

  Richards snorted. “Seems like a neat coincidence. How do we know she isn't some sort of spy?”

  “I thought the same thing but she was a second from being eaten by a giant crocodile when the team saved her. No way it could have been faked.”

  Richards shook her head. “A giant crocodile? I can't believe I'm hearing this.”

  “Yes, ma'am. There's more, though, and it's even more weird. This group has a whole civilization in caves deep under the ground. And the archaeologists were interested in them because they aren't even human, they're a different species.”

  At first, Davidson wasn't sure he'd heard right. The others must have had a similar reaction, because no one said a word, not even Richards. Finally, he broke the silence.

  “Dennis, forgive me, but that sounds like science fiction. A different species?”

  Braxton swallowed. “I know, and to be honest, I don't totally buy it. But the scientist who escaped told us how to access her findings on some new DNA matching software that's in testing at a bunch of different universities. We had our experts look at it, and unless there's a lot of falsification going on, they say she could be telling the truth.”

  Richards sounded subdued, her voice lacking its normal arrogance. “Dear God, this is twisted. Let's figure out a plan of action here. Is there any more to the story, Dennis?”

  Braxton shook his head, but Davidson thought he detected some hesitation. Maybe the CIA man was still holding something back. Before he could ponder it further, Richards ploughed ahead.

  “Okay then, the question is what do we do now? Do we go ahead with sending in the team or do we change the plan?”

  Braxton said, “I think we move forward. Nothing we've learned makes the insertion more difficult, and we still need to find out all we can about the virus.”

  Richards frowned. “Do we, though? Didn't Perkins just say we're pretty sure we have a cure? I don't want to risk the lives of those marines if we don't have to.”

  Davidson had to stifle a groan. She didn't care about nuking an American city, but she worried about a handful of soldiers? No, there was something else on her mind, probably a desire to take her failure out on someone.

  “So I think we might be better off just bombing 'em. Use those bunker buster things we dropped on Sadaam.”

  No one even dared exchange glances, though Davidson suspected that most realized the rashness of the suggestion. Before his brief time as acting President, he might have kept his mouth shut, but now he knew he had to speak.

  “Madame President, I'd advise against that. Dr. Perkins did say we won't know until tomorrow whether the proposed cure is gonna get the job done. The team can go in, and if there is anything more to find, they can find it.”

  He paused for a moment, then decided that Richards would already be pissed, so he might as well say it all.

  “Something else occurs to me. I share the Director's skepticism, but if this really is a new species of primate, it's one of the greatest discoveries in history. Surely they pose no immediate threat that won't allow us to wait a few days before destroying them?”

  Richards barely allowed him to finish. “No immediate threat? Tell that to the tens of thousands already dead from the virus and the blast in Montana. Or if you prefer to get technical about it, what about the two nukes that are still missing?”

  Davidson took a deep breath. “Exactly my point, Madame Presiden
t. Until we know where those missing nukes are, we shouldn't drop the bombs. There's no reason to do it now, except maybe a desire for revenge.”

  Richards reddened and came up off her position on the edge of the desk. She put her hands on her hips as she stood over him. “I think you're forgetting who's in charge now, Oscar. I'm sure it was nice being king for a day, but I'm calling the shots again. You're at this meeting because I need to make sure I don't overlook something that happened while I was away, but you should watch your mouth.”

  Davidson said nothing. He'd endured a lifetime's worth of tension in less than a week, and her outburst paled in comparison. The worst she could do was kick him out. He didn't quite smile when he answered her, but he felt as calm as he sounded.

  “I apologize for offending you, Madame President.”

  She stared at him, then returned to the desk. “Okay, any other thoughts on this?”

  Davidson blinked in surprise at the next voice, that of Powell, the National Security Advisor.

  “Madame President, as much as I think the nuke and the virus deserve a response, I think we can hold off on the bombing for a little while longer. We could get more intelligence, maybe find out if this group is truly alone in all this. What do we call these people again, Dennis?”

  “Um, I believe the term the scientists are using is ‘proto-humans.’”

  Richards laughed. “Sounds like a bad movie, but we gotta call 'em something. All right, folks, here's what we'll do. Dennis, send your team in as soon as possible. They have one mission and one mission only, to get intelligence about the other two nukes and about the virus. They need to do it ASAP because tomorrow morning at ten, we'll hear from Perkins again.

  “If he confirms the cure is working, we'll bomb them by ten-thirty, nukes or no nukes. We need to take them out, if nothing else to serve as a message that we will not tolerate these kinds of attacks on Americans. This meeting is over.”

  She moved from the edge of the desk back to the chair behind it. Braxton, Davidson, Powell, and Blanfield shuffled out of the oval office. Davidson gently tugged at Braxton's sleeve and spoke in a low voice right next to his ear.

  “Dennis, why don't I ride back to Langley with you?”

  Braxton met his eyes and nodded. They didn't say another word until they arrived at Braxton's armored Lincoln. For a moment Davidson worried about the press getting a picture of him leaving in the same car as the Director, and starting God knew what kind of speculation. But he didn't want to let this wait any longer.

  In the car, Braxton took out his bottle of pills and swallowed a couple of them. Davidson knew about the man's heart condition, and after the stress of the past week, he could sympathize.

  “Dennis, there are a couple things we need to talk about.”

  “I'm listening, Oscar.”

  The men barely knew each other, and the use of the first names felt forced, but Davidson went on. “Well, the big thing is Richards. Who else knows that she staged the kidnapping?”

  “This is a dangerous conversation. Richards declared that fact a matter of national security, and discussing it violates her directive. I never thought of you as someone who would rock the boat.”

  “I never used to be, but a few days in the top job gave me a different perspective. I know everything is political in this town, but sometimes you have to tell it straight. I sort of got the sense that you felt the same way. If we don't do anything about it, who will?”

  Braxton looked at his watch and shifted in his seat.

  “Aw, man, don't try that on me, okay? Here's what I know. Aside from you and me, Yarrow knows. Assuming she hasn't told anyone else, there's the marines and the three civilians who rescued her, plus an FBI agent, Jason Andrews, and probably a small number of Secret Service agents also.”

  Davidson furrowed his brow. “Hmm, that's enough people, that it's bound to get out, don't you think?”

  “Not really. Anyone who talks will be ridiculed and discredited, and Richards will go into overdrive with her media contacts to squash it. The press still loves the first female President, even though she lost the actual election.”

  “Damn, you're probably right. I feel like we gotta do something. We invaded two goddamn countries for 9-11, and that was nothing compared to a nuke and staging your own kidnapping. She can't get away with it.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Come with me to talk to the Attorney General.”

  “Are you nuts? We've been specifically forbidden to talk to anyone. Technically, he'd be required to arrest us as soon as we opened our mouths.”

  “Yeah, but he won't. He doesn't care about politics and he doesn't like Richards. He only cares about the law, and he'll know that a president giving that kind of order to protect herself has to be illegal. I can think of one or two Constitutional arguments to support that, and I'm sure he can think of more. And he'll want to take our side, Dennis, as long as we aren't clearly in the wrong.”

  Braxton reached into his pocket and removed the pill bottle again. He didn't open it, just rolled it around in his right hand. Davidson was reminded of the movie the Caine Mutiny, where Humphrey Bogart played a paranoid captain who fiddled with three ball-bearings when he got nervous.

  “I wish I could argue with your logic, but I can't. Okay, you win, we can go talk to him. But we gotta be careful. I bet Richards has assigned some extra Secret Service to cover him and is monitoring who he meets with. I don't want her finding out unless he agrees to move forward with some sort of case.”

  “That's why it's a good thing you run a spy agency. You can come up with a way to get him a clandestine message, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess I can. I suppose you want me to do this as soon as possible, right?”

  “The sooner we can stop her from damaging our country, the better.”

  “All right, I'll get you a message in two or three hours. I'm not confident we can talk on the phone without being overheard, so I'll do it the old fashioned way and send a courier. Richards might be curious, but she won't know what it's about.”

  “I appreciate it, Dennis, truly.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Look, I assume you don't want to come down to Langley, can I drop you off somewhere?”

  “That would be great, but remember there were two things we needed to talk about.”

  “Why do I think I won't like this one, either?”

  “Because I think you left something out of your briefing earlier. Something about these proto-humans or the virus or that underground civilization down in Brazil. It's just you and me here, tell me what it is.”

  Braxton once again met his eyes. “Are you sure you're just a farmer from Iowa? Because you don't act like one.”

  Davidson laughed. “Look at it this way. Who has more experience with the odor of BS than a farmer?”

  “Funny. All right, the reason I didn't say anything is because it's too ridiculous and I was afraid she'd ignore everything else if I said it. These proto-humans have an extra sense that we don't have, something that makes dealing with them a little different.”

  “An extra sense? Jesus, I'm almost afraid to guess.”

  “Yeah, well, the proto-humans don't have to guess. They can read minds.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  December 16, 2012: The Amazon

  Gonzales sensed the failure several minutes before Merveen's return. Merveen had made a rare journey to the surface to find out what had happened to Riccio, taking a different route than the long tunnel through which she had escaped. They expected to leave these caves for good within the next several weeks, after Atlantis had risen. Riccio's escape might force them to accelerate their plans.

  Even without looking into Merveen's eyes, he could feel the disappointment flowing from the younger man. Fear as well. He opened his mind to help calm his friend.

  “We will survive, Merveen. Please tell me what you discovered.”

  “Ronin, she made it to the shore. A caiman nearly caught her, but she
was saved at the last second. By some American soldiers.”

  Gonzales struggled to maintain his positive emotions before finally allowing the fear to take over. On rare occasions like these, he missed his time among humans, where his own negativity wouldn't be fed by anyone else. Both men felt the gloom wash over them.

  “That is a problem. Did you see how many there were and how they were armed?”

  “Less than a dozen as far as I could tell, with typical machine guns and grenades. I didn't see any containers on their boats that suggested large weapons, but they could easily have smaller explosives. The worst thing, though, is that Jaime was with them.”

  Gonzales felt a wave of anger, and he breathed in several times to calm himself. Here was confirmation that Jaime had betrayed them. He didn't know why it had happened. Maybe they'd sent him to the Maya at too young an age, and he didn't have the same sense of loyalty as the other protos. In any case, their situation was now dire.

  “I'm disappointed, but not totally surprised. We must leave as soon as possible. I fear that we will no longer be able to escape down the river as we planned. We'll head for Akahim.”

  Akahim was a myth, and the protos had started using the word almost as a joke. The name referred to a fabled city hidden behind a waterfall near the border with Venezuela. In the 1970's, a German posing as the leader of a lost tribe convinced the world that it was real and had originally been populated by aliens. As with all good myths, the story contained a small grain of truth. The general location of the city corresponded with an exit from the protos' system of tunnels and caves, and they used the name to refer to the area.

  To reach this spot, they would need to travel several hundred kilometers underground. Gonzales could feel Merveen's disappointment shift into something more like resolve.

  “Yes, Ronin, you are correct. How long do you think before we'll be ready?”

  “Only a few hours. We need to make sure the carts are charged and move the supplies down from the staging area. Then we—”