Legend: An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  “Kids, huh?”

  “A few of them the same age as your granddaughter.”

  Jenks addressed Carl. “Low blow, Toad.” He angrily tossed the stub of cigar away. “Well, you gonna make that call or not? I need a lot of shit to complete this tub!”

  Carl made the call.

  Danielle looked Teacher over again and hoped the vessel was everything the master chief said she was. They would need every possible advantage for where they were going.

  As for Carl, he was more practical. He just hoped the gleaming white experimental boat would float.

  EVENT GROUP COMPLEX NUMBER ONE ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA

  Niles stood looking at the old computer center used by the Event Group. The complex contained custom-made filing cabinets and shelving that stored a million or more accounts of historical, mythic, or legendary events— everything from the location of Atlantis to the incredible stories of yetis, the mythical beast of the Himalayas, to the suspected ancient power sources discovered by Egypt three thousand years before.

  “Some computer center you have here, Mr. Director. A little bit behind the times, aren’t we?” Ryan asked as he ran a hand along one of the old filing cabinets.

  “The information covered in these files, Lieutenant Ryan, is the whole of our ancient and modern world. Facts and stories, even rumors are stored here. The combined knowledge of the ancient world started this facility.”

  “And you expect us to find something here, sir?” Ryan said as he brushed some dust off his hands.

  “Actually, we have the Librarian. One of the first Crays ever installed in a government facility,” Niles said as he made his way over to a small cubicle. “At first it was one of those card-wielding Univac machines that we updated from time to time, but we eventually upgraded in 1980 to a system that was called, naturally enough, the Librarian.”

  Niles used a key to open the door to the cubicle that sat in the middle of the gymnasium-size storage area. The room was dark and dank and had a musty smell that made Ryan wiggle his nose.

  “Smells like the old Librarian may have kicked the proverbial bucket, sir.”

  Niles ignored the comment and flipped on the overhead lights, illuminating the small computer station whose speakers were mounted on both sides of the large desk. There was only one chair and Niles sat in it. Ryan looked around and decided to just cross his arms and wait.

  “The auditory system was installed two years ago by Pete and me to make research easier for historians of the group. I’m afraid this voice isn’t as feminine as what we have with Europa, but it’s kind of quaint.”

  Ryan watched as Niles adjusted a microphone in front of him and pushed a small button, activating a small but adequate monitor pop-up on the right side of the desk.

  “Let’s just hope what Professor Zachary erased on Europa back home is still in here.”

  “Hello, Librarian,” Niles said into the microphone.

  The monitor came to life as the speakers did.

  Good afternoon, Dr. Compton, or would you like to be addressed as Director Compton now? the male voice asked, referring to his promotion since the last time they’d spoken.

  To Ryan it sounded disturbingly like the voice of HAL from 2001: A Space Odyssey, the same computer that went nuts and killed everyone.

  “Dr. Compton is fine. Librarian, can you access my last log-on to your sister system, Europa in Nevada?”

  Yes, Dr. Compton, I can; I enjoy interfacing with Europa. “I imagine you do,” Ryan mumbled.

  THE PENTAGON

  Rear Admiral Elliott Pierce was studying an intelligence brief, on the continuing withdrawal of Iranian armor divisions from the border with Iraq, when a knock sounded at his door. He summoned the person in and was given a note.

  “This just came in from Signal, sir.”

  Pierce took the note from the young signalman and excused him. As he read the communication, his face fell. He immediately picked up the phone and called a number at the White House. The president’s national security advisor picked up on the first ring.

  “Ambrose,” the voice said.

  “We have a problem,” Pierce said softly, for no other reason than he felt deceitful.

  “What?”

  “The Red Flag we placed on the National Archives file that Professor Zachary used, which is cross-referenced with our database, has just been activated.”

  “Jesus Christ, by whom?”

  “It says terminal 5656, but there is no terminal 5656, according to our intelligence records.”

  “So, maybe it’s a glitch,” the national security advisor said in an annoyed tone.

  “I don’t believe that much in coincidence, do you?” Pierce asked smugly.

  “Well, what can you do?”

  “My signals team was able to track the terminal’s location; you won’t believe it.”

  “We don’t have time for this. Where is it?”

  “Arlington National Cemetery—the mansion’s maintenance facility, of all places.”

  “Goddammit, what in the hell is going on here?”

  “I don’t know, but we’d better get someone over there or this could get rather sticky.”

  “Do you have access to outside nonmilitary people for this?”

  “Yes, and they’re right down the road. They can be onsite in twenty minutes with equipment that could trace this phantom computer terminal. Are you going to say anything to him about this?”

  “Hell no, just take care of it, he’s got enough on his mind already. He has a meeting with the president about an appearance at a fund-raiser for his campaign tonight. Just eliminate this problem any way you can, understand?”

  “This is getting to be too costly. We’re going to hang for this if we’re caught.”

  “Then the object here is—what? Not to get caught. And don’t inform the others about this development, they’re getting cold feet enough as it is. Eliminate whoever is snooping into that file.”

  The director of Naval Intelligence hung up the phone and removed a small black book from his desk drawer. Whoever had accessed that unlisted computer terminal wouldn’t live long enough to benefit from it.

  EVENT GROUP COMPLEX NUMBER ONE ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA.

  “Okay, Librarian, is your interface complete with Nellis complex?”

  Yes, Dr. Compton, Europa is online.

  “Good, Europa, identify last three queries, Compton, Niles, Director Department 5656.”

  Yes, Dr. Compton, formulating, the female voice answered. Last three queries made by Director Compton to Europa at Nellis complex were: Question number one, Number of the four papal medalists still alive on North and South American continents in 1874; question number two, What was name of recipient? And question number three, What, you mean the information was erased from the old Cray system?

  “Okay, Europa, thank you. Librarian, have you located said files?”

  Yes, Dr. Compton, the HAL-like voice answered.

  “Answer to first query, how many papal medal recipients were still alive on North and South American continents in 1874?” Niles asked as his palms started to sweat.

  Searching, Librarian answered as the small screen flashed to Niles’s right.

  Niles shifted impatiently, hoping this hadn’t been a wild-goose chase.

  According to Royal Canadian death records, the general census of citizens of Mexico, the official census of Brazil, and the state and territorial records of the United States, one member was still alive in 1874, Librarian answered.

  Niles read the duplicate printed answer on the screen with renewed hope; it was the same answer that Europa had given back at Nellis, so the file might just be intact after its initial transcription into the new system. “Question. What was the last name of recipient?”

  Searching, Dr. Compton, Librarian answered.

  “I guess this is it, huh?” Ryan asked. He, too, felt nervous and leaned closer to the monitor.

  “It could be life or death for a lot of people lo
st down there in the Amazon,” Niles said as he bit his lower lip, waiting for the much slower computer than Europa to disgorge the wanted information. Suddenly the voice activated and the monitor flashed to life with a green glow.

  Name of remaining recipient; Keogh, Myles Walter; occupation, United States Army; born: 1840, County Carlow, Ireland; recipient ofearlier-described papal honors and veteran of the Battalion of St. Patrick’s for armed service to the Vatican.

  The name that Librarian had said was familiar; Niles was sure he had heard it before. So was Ryan. “Hey, that name, it sounds—” blurted the lieutenant.

  “Question,” Niles said, cutting off Ryan as he slowly sat back in his chair. In a low voice, almost as if he was afraid to ask the question, “Date and place of death?”

  Searching.

  Niles stared at the liquid crystal screen and waited, Ryan planted only inches from his shoulder.

  Death occurred at present-day Crow Agency, Montana, United States, June 25, 1876.

  Niles felt his heart start to sink. “Question. What was the unit Keogh served with, and the historical name of the location of death?”

  Searching, Librarian said in its flat and insane-sounding voice.

  As the answer came on screen, Niles lowered the volume of the speakers as history came flooding back in on him, burying all hopes of finding the map if it had been with Myles Keogh when he died. The map was indeed, as Helen had said in her letter, lost forever.

  “Jesus Christ, we’re fucked,” Jason Ryan muttered as he looked at the screen.

  Printed out on the monitor was Librarian’s answer to his last two inquiries.

  Place of death: Valley of the Little Bighorn, Montana, U.S. Territory. Captain Myles Keogh served with operational line unit, Company I, Seventh United States Cavalry.

  EVENT GROUP CENTER NELLIS AFB, NEVADA

  Niles was linked by conference call from the center in Arlington, three thousand miles away, as the team at Nellis gathered for his briefing on what he and Ryan had just learned from Librarian. Jack and Virginia were at the conference table, along with Pete Golding. Alice sat in her regular seat beside Niles’s empty chair.

  “Okay, Pete, Virginia, did you get a chance to check my facts from this morning?” Niles asked.

  “Yes,” Virginia said as she picked up her notes. “Without looking at your research as you requested, we started our own track on the papal medalists, and came up with the exact same information when it dead-ended on the date of Helen’s theft.”

  “May I ask what it is you are talking about?” Jack asked.

  “I’m sorry, Jack. Let me get you up to speed. The Padilla diary, as we all know, has been stolen from the archdiocese in Madrid. We have a pretty good idea who took it, but the map seemed a dead end until we linked it to a Spanish priest who, in 1874, has been a papal medalist and a veteran of St. Patrick’s Battalion. I won’t go into it all here, but suffice it to say in Professor Zachary’s letter to me, this was the way to uncover the facts of the map’s whereabouts. We linked it to other veterans at that time with whom the Vatican had direct contact, men who could be trusted, and, to make a long story short, we believe we have traced the map to our own country. But just where and to who it was sent has become a major problem,” Niles related mechanically over the speakerphone.

  The director took the next ten minutes to explain the bad news about the map. The four people around the conference table shook their heads, knowing the odds of the map’s being their salvation was now a moot point.

  “I started making phone calls from here and I managed to contact descendants of Keogh, who currently live in New York State. Nobody has or ever heard of such a map. Whatever he had taken with him to the Little Bighorn were not among his personal articles returned to his family. His body was disinterred from the battlefield and moved to New York, and was buried with nothing other than his papal medals and uniform,” Niles said. “The medals were returned because they were still on his person at the time after the battle by General Alfred Terry’s column. He was also known to have had a large cross at the time that the regiment left Fort Abraham Lincoln in the Dakota Territory. This fact is mentioned in several memoirs, not only by other officers, but even in an account of Libby Custer’s, the general’s widow. She had personally given Keogh a package that was forwarded to him from New York by courier before the ill-fated campaign began. She even said it was a large, gaudy-looking thing that belonged on a wall and not around a man’s neck.”

  “What do you think, Niles? Is that cross something the Vatican may have entrusted to Keogh,” asked Virginia.

  “I do.”

  “And records of items recovered at the Little Bighorn or Indian accounts of pillaged material at the site has never made mention of a large cross?” Jack asked.

  “I asked Alice to get into the National Parks Service database. Alice, you have anything?” Niles asked.

  “We are currently waiting on the most current archeological listings that were conducted by the National Parks Service. They have been unearthing so much since the big brush fire in the 1980s. They just conducted the last field hunt only five weeks ago, and have not published their findings yet,” Alice said, taking a breath. “But the odds are good that some warrior may have taken the cross, since that item was very familiar to them, unlike the papal medals the captain was known to have worn.”

  “I see. Let me know when you get the information on the dig,” Niles said. “Now, I want all historical divisions, and I mean everyone, combing through what we have on the Little Bighorn in case we uncover something about the missing map. Just in case it’s found and is still in Montana, I want you, Jack, to head there right now. Take someone who knows something about the Battle of the Little Bighorn because I’m afraid I have the American History Department split in two helping Latin American Studies. Besides, we have to get stepping ahead of this thing or those kids down there may die.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And I have the perfect person to accompany you, Jack,” Alice interjected. “She’s quite an expert on the Battle of the Little Bighorn. It was her thesis topic.”

  Jack looked at his watch and saw it was only moments before the geology class let out for the afternoon. He peeked into the classroom window. He anticipated the instructor’s wrath when she learned he had already gone into her room to pack some field gear for her, to hurry the process along. Unknowing of this, Sarah McIntire was enthusiastically explaining something with the use of a virtual diagram that was holographically projected onto a small podium at the front of the room. As she spoke, the three-dimensional diagram of an underground chamber rotated in colors of green, blue, and red. Jack stepped into the room, and gestured for Sarah to continue when she frowned at his intrusion. The fifty-two students, mostly military personnel, turned to look at him. Not just a few eyes lingered on the man who was quickly becoming a legend at the Group.

  “Now as I said before, don’t be fooled just because a room in a tomb has no apparent exits. Ancient designers usually had emergency egress points that only they knew about. Most didn’t favor being trapped before their job was done.” Sarah pointed to a seemingly solid wall on the hologram that was outlined in blue. “The key to these escape routes are usually found in some sort of ornamentation, such as this found in KV-63.”

  Jack knew that KV-63 stood for Kings Valley 63, a tomb uncovered more than sixty years before in Egypt’s Valley of the Kings, not far from where Howard Carter had made his discovery of King Tutankhamen fabulous tomb.

  “As you see,” the hologram magically enlarged to show an ornate wall symbol that had at one time been a torch holder—several were placed strategically around the chamber, “this was discovered purely by accident.”

  The laser close-up became enhanced even more and, as it did, the ornate holder in the shape of a jackal’s head twisted. The facing popped free of the wall.

  “Surprise, surprise,” Sarah exclaimed, “The cover was concealing a fulcrum release switch, whic
h operated a gravity feed doorway.”

  As the students watched in awe, the laser hologram depicted a lever inside the wall being pulled down, which in turn activated a sand pour that went into a large container buried in the wall. As it grew heavy with sand (five tons of it, Sarah explained), the hidden escape door inside the closed tomb started to rise. Once it was up, a green laser stairway was presented that led up and out of the tomb.

  “So you see, never think that the ancients were dumb enough to box themselves into a corner; they always had an emergency way out of a tight jam. This technology was not only discovered in ancient Egypt but also in many other places around the world, in Peru, Central America, and even China.”

  A soft chime sounded and Sarah looked up. “Okay, that’s it for today. I’ll see you next week and, don’t forget, I want some more examples of the amazing fulcrum release points found in other areas, not just tombs. I want the modern-day equivalent.”

  There were a few moans but most of the students left the class knowing more than they had coming in. Every member of the Event Group had to take advanced collegiate courses in order to stay in the Group, and most heartily volunteered to attend them, in any case.

  Jack nodded to the students who smiled and said hello as they exited the classroom.

  “There’s a rumor you’re hard on homework,” he said.

  Sarah gathered up her notes and turned off the hologram. “Not as hard as I would like. But they do have their regular duties here; can’t usurp all their time.”

  “Well, Teach, I have a duty for you. Your bags are packed, let’s go.”

  “Where we going, Major Collins?” she mocked him just a bit.

  “To play cowboys and Indians, Lieutenant.” Jack picked up her briefcase and then took her by the elbow.

  “Huh?”

  “We’re going to Montana. Someone seems to think you know something about the Little Bighorn.”