Raising Atlantis a-1
Page 25
Serena stood up to leave. She looked down at him, eyes tender but her body stiff with resolve. “Oh, lucky man.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “God’s angels were watching over you.”
“Please, don’t leave.” He really meant it. He was afraid he’d never see her again.
She turned, hand on the doorknob. “Take a word of advice from Mother Earth, Conrad.” She spoke bravely, but he could tell she was fighting back tears. “Go back to the States, bang some more coeds, and stick to university lectures and cheap tourist haunts. Forget about everything you think you saw here. Forget about me.”
“Like hell I will,” he said as she closed the door.
He stared into space for what felt like an eternity, thinking about Serena. Then a nurse entered and the spell was broken. “There’s a phone call for you,” she said. “Oh, and the doctor said it’s OK for you to drink coffee if you’d like. It took me forever to find that thermos you wanted.”
“Sentimental value,” he said as the nurse placed the green thermos on the nightstand. “It was kind of Doctor Serghetti to keep it for me. I hope you replaced it as I requested.”
“I packed her one just like it with your little gift inside,” she said. “I’ll come back and pour your coffee for you in a couple of minutes.”
“Thanks,” he said as she left.
He looked thoughtfully at the coffee thermos, then awkwardly picked up the phone with his mitts for hands.
It was Mercedes, his Ancient Riddles of the Universe producer in Los Angeles, laughing on the line. Everything about their last encounter in Nazca was forgiven and forgotten. “I just saw the wires on the Internet,” she said. “What happened down there? Are you all right?”
Conrad cradled the phone on his good shoulder. Somehow he felt strangely content. “I’m fine, Mercedes.”
“Awesome. When are you going to be mobile?”
The door was cracked open and Conrad could see a couple of U.S. Navy MPs posted outside. “Give me a couple of days. Why?”
“The sweeps are over and the networks are looking for filler. We’ve cooked up a special that’s right up your alley. How does Luxor sound?”
Conrad sighed. “Been there, done that.”
“Picture yourself standing among the ruins of a slave city,” Mercedes said. “You’re revealing to the world how the Exodus is true. We’ve even got a Nineteenth Dynasty Egyptian statuette of Ramses II to prove it. You’ll get twice the usual fee. Just make sure you patch things up with the Egyptians. When can you start?”
Conrad thought. “Next month,” he told her. “I have to stop over in Washington first.”
“Awesome. By the way, this Antarctica thing. Is there a story?”
“No, Mercedes,” said Conrad slowly. “No story.”
40
Dawn: The Third Day
Rome
Serena’s plane from Sydney came into Rome as dusk was setting in. She was met by Benito in a black sedan and taken to the Vatican for a debriefing with the pope. They talked in private until almost three in the morning. At the end, His Holiness placed his trembling hands on her forehead and uttered a brief prayer.
“Well done,” he said simply. “The city is buried, the Americans know only half the story and will keep it to themselves, and now the U.N. can focus its energies on more productive causes. And since Colonel Zawas is gone, all evidence has been swept away.”
For the most part, Serena thought, this was true. But the memories were there all the same. And she doubted she could ever sweep those away.
The pope looked her in the eye. “What about Doctor Yeats?”
“He won’t talk,” Serena said. “If he does, nobody will believe him. I have his digital camera and the original Sonchis map.”
Serena reached into her pack and produced a green thermos. The pope leaned forward expectantly as she felt for the outer shell and frowned. There was no outer shell. It was a different thermos.
“Problems?” His Holiness asked.
Serena thought back to her visit at Conrad’s bedside and the teary good-bye. “He stole it!”
The pope’s craggy face broke into a wide grin, and he laughed harder than she had ever heard him laugh. So hard, in fact, that he began to cough and required a gentle pat on the back.
Serena didn’t find anything funny about it. “I promise I’ll find a way to get the map back.”
The pope, breathing easier now, waved her off with his gnarled hand. “I believe that’s his plan, Sister Serghetti.”
“Sister?” she repeated. “Your Holiness, I have-”
“Been reinstated, if you so desire.”
Serena paused. This was an incredible offer, a second chance that would not be repeated in her lifetime.
“But why, Your Holiness?” she asked him. “Why now?”
“I don’t have long to live, Sister Serghetti,” he told her. “And I do not know who will follow me. But for as many days as the Lord sees fit to keep me here on Earth, I will extend to you all the privileges of such reinstatement, including unfettered access to the Vatican Archives.”
“The Archives?” she repeated in wonder. Only two or three men-and they were all men-enjoyed such access. His Holiness would be sharing with her the Church’s most cherished-and cursed-secrets. “You tempt me, Your Holiness. You tempt me with knowledge, much like the serpent in the Garden of Eden.”
“This is no temptation, Sister Serghetti, I assure you,” the pope said. “This is a trust. This is a gift. And if I were you, I would accept it. For the one who follows me may not be as accommodating to you as I have been.”
Serena understood, but hesitated. To officially declare herself a bride of Christ again would permanently keep her from Conrad and cut off any possibility of them ever consummating their relationship.
The pope seemed to sense her inner conflict. “You love Doctor Yeats,” he said.
“Yes, I do,” she replied, shocked to hear the words come out of her mouth.
“Then surely you must know he is in greater danger now than ever.”
Serena nodded. Somehow she had sensed this ever since leaving Antarctica.
The pope said, “You will need all the resources of Heaven and Earth to protect him.”
“Protect Conrad?” she said. “From what?”
“All in good time, Sister Serghetti, all in good time. Right now, we have more pressing duties.”
What could be so much more pressing? she wondered when the pope showed her the front page of the International Herald-Tribune.
“Four nuns were raped and murdered in Sri Lanka by Hindu nationalists with ties to the government,” he told her. “The crimes against Muslims have now turned against Christians once again. You must go there first thing in the morning and do what you do best, plead our case with the world watching.”
“But it is the morning, Your Holiness.”
“Yes, you must be tired. Rest a few hours.”
Serena nodded. The concerns of the real world were too overwhelming, so overwhelming that they crowded out even thoughts of a lost civilization buried under the ice. There were larger battles to consider, she realized, battles against hate, poverty, and disease.
“I will go as you request,” she told him, pausing for a moment. “First I will go to Sri Lanka to document the crimes. Then I will go to Washington, D.C., and press this issue with the American Congress before I take it up with the United Nations.”
“Very well.”
She let Benito drive her to her apartment overlooking the Piazza del Popolo. It was a plain room, nothing more than a bed and nightstand. But she felt better back in her own world, the one in which she first took her vows.
Next to the French doors that framed a pale moon was a crucifix on the wall. She knelt before the crucifix in the early morning light. As she looked up at the figure of Christ, she confessed to God her arrogance in thinking that she knew more about suffering and loss than he did, and she thanked him for his provision for humani
ty’s sin in Jesus.
Then she stepped out onto the balcony and looked across the piazza at the Egyptian obelisk brought to Rome by Augustus two thousand years ago.
The monument reminded her of another obelisk, one buried in a pyramid under two miles of ice in Antarctica. And she wondered: was it really Christ’s redeeming work on the cross that broke the curse of the ancient “sons of God” and saved the world? Or was it the selfless act of a godless man like Conrad, who sacrificed his life’s obsession and returned the obelisk to the star chamber? In the end, she concluded that the latter could not have happened without the former.
As she listened to the cheerful sounds of traffic in a city that never slept, she reached into her pocket and removed the lock of hair she had cut from his head. In time, if she could ever let it leave her grasp, it would be analyzed.
For now she simply prayed for the immortal soul of Conrad Yeats, whoever he was, and for the forgiveness of her own, knowing in her heart of hearts that, one way or another, they would meet again.
The Facts Behind Raising Atlantis
A thought-provoking blend of mythology and religion, archaeology and science,Raising Atlantis is a work of fiction-but many of its revelations are based upon facts. The National Science Foundation has acknowledged that several plot points of the book are indeed true. These include:
* A commonly shared legend of an advanced civilization destroyed by water-as evidenced in the myth of Atlantis and the Great Flood of Genesis.
* The discovery of a mysterious “anomaly” in Antarctica.
* The use of American military personnel to construct a secret base near Lake Vostok in East Antarctica. * The existence of at least one volcano that some believe could melt the ice cap and wreak a global cataclysm.
There’s more to the story of Atlantis than a lost continent-there’s also a centuries-old global conspiracy. Author Thomas Greanias believes that it was the volcanic destruction of Thira - modern-day Santorini that inspired the ancient Greek philosopher Plato to pen the original story of Atlantis nine hundred years later. However, Plato’s fourth century B.C. account claimed that Atlantis sunk nine thousand years earlier. Taken literally-and combined with recent revelations-Plato’s ancient clues suggest that Antarctica may, in fact, prove to be the site of the legendary Atlantis.
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Document creation date: 27.11.2010
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