Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One)

by Nathan Hystad

  “Driver, pull over. Let us out.” I tested the door handle again as he drove, but it remained locked.

  “Mr. Walker, all I ask is for a few hours of your time. You two can stay at my house for the night, and then make up your minds.” I noticed how he used the plural version, and Marcus craned his neck around from the front seat.

  “Rex, this could be our lead, and you’ve been grasping at straws. If he knows something about this whole thing, we should talk to him. It’s worth a shot,” Marcus told me.

  I didn’t see a way out, and I hated that Marcus was right. After hearing Hardy recall being part of my dad’s team, and the mysterious Bridge, I had to know more. I’d never be able to return home and pretend this information hadn’t found my ears. I owed it to my family and to myself to discover just what had happened to Dirk Walker.

  “Fine. But don’t get any ideas, Madison. This is a conversation, not a contract. I know how your type operates.”

  He fixed his ruffled collar and jutted his hand out again. This time, I relented and shook it.

  “Alberto. Take us home.” Hunter Madison smiled as classical music softly played through the car’s speakers.

  The conversation remained civil for the duration of the trip, but when Marcus or I asked the billionaire anything relating to my goals or his association with my father, he changed the subject, refusing to answer until we were in his study. I noticed him checking behind the car more than once, and wondered if he had any issues with being tailed, or if it was a natural instinct to look over your shoulder when you were so wealthy.

  “Any stock tips?” Marcus asked as the car hit a freeway, the Manhattan bridges far behind us. I had an idea where he was taking us, though I’d never been this far east on Long Island.

  Hunter Madison actually laughed and nodded. “Kid, you team up with me, and you won’t have to stay in my crappy hotels ever again.”

  “I’m listening,” Marcus said.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, slightly annoyed. We’d already been in the car for over an hour, and I had to use the bathroom.

  “Take a guess,” Madison said.

  Marcus waited a second before answering. “East Hampton. You have one of the largest ocean-front properties in the area, not to mention that behemoth of a yacht in the marina. Do you think we could go for a ride?”

  I didn’t know how he knew this, but since Marcus loved doing research, I was sure there was a lot of public information on the rich man accessible from online magazines alone.

  “Bingo. Mr. Walker, it seems you’ve found a good one here.”

  “I taught him in his local college before he was smart enough to realize there was no money in anthropology.”

  “Isn’t there?” Madison asked. “I know all about you, Marcus Wells. Parents live in Sarasota, Florida. Dad works maintenance for the school division, Mom checks out books at the local library. You aced every test in your senior year. Scholarships to any institution, but given your slightly disappointing SAT scores, you ended up in Boston, at Dr. Rex Walker’s school. Stayed the full four years, despite having the grades to transfer elsewhere. You two must have really hit it off.”

  The car went silent. The only noise was the humming of the tires treading down the interstate. “You’re not the only one who does his research, I’m afraid.” Hunter stared at Marcus, and my sidekick started laughing.

  “Good one, Hunter. I think I’m going to like you.”

  I shook my head. Water off a duck’s back with this kid. “He got part of it wrong, though, didn’t he?” I asked.

  “I’ll say.” Marcus laughed.

  Hunter lifted an eyebrow, curious what he could possibly have overlooked. “What is it?”

  “He finished his degree in three years.” The fact that Hunter Madison had missed something was enough to make me feel like we were on even ground again, and I took solace in that fact as we veered off the highway, merging onto an exit. The driver slowed, and the scent of the salty ocean hit my nostrils. We were close to the shore.

  “Rex, do you see the size of these places?” Marcus gawked at the mansions as we drove past the massive lots. Some were extremely private, with huge fences and trees lining the road; others presented enormous pools and well-manicured lawns. All were far beyond any kind of wealth I could ever aspire to.

  “Friends of yours?” I asked Hunter, and he grinned.

  “I think you’ll find that most of these people don’t have friends, Rex. They have allies, business partners, and acquaintances, but rarely friends.” The billionaire lost his smile as he said this, and I wondered how true a statement it was.

  “And you?”

  Hunter didn’t answer as the driver came to a stop a few houses down. I watched as the dark iron fence slowly swung inward, and a moment later, we were entering Madison’s estate.

  We waited while the fence closed behind us, sealing us in, and the second it clicked shut, my heart pounded harder in my chest. There was a sense of finality to the action, as if my life had changed as the latch connected.

  “This is insane.” Marcus had his window open, and I appreciated his excitement but wished he’d rein it in a little bit. Hunter didn’t seem to mind; he just smiled as Marcus asked him about the house and its lineage.

  “This house was built in 1919 by an architect who intended on staying. His wife fell ill five years later, and when the market crashed in the twenties, he lost the home and his love in the same year. But in that tragedy, the next owner named the gardens after her, and I kept the dedication when I purchased it.” The car went past the most opulent flower garden I’d ever seen, and I noticed the sign. “Lily’s” was painted in a light green on an old white sign, likely restored many times over the years. “I’ve lived here for thirty years… on and off.”

  It had the charm of the region, with shutters and cedar shingles, but the sheer size of the mansion was off-putting. I couldn’t imagine living somewhere like this, so far from anything and anyone.

  “If you ever need a house sitter…” Marcus climbed out of the car, and I rolled my eyes at him. “What? I’m good for it.”

  The rounded driveway ran directly by the house’s main entrance, and I glanced up the three steps, past the two pillars that braced the awning over the front porch. Potted plants stood in perfect symmetry on either edge of the stairs, and it was obvious that Hunter liked everything neat and in its place. It was something we had in common.

  “Come on in.” Hunter waved at the car, dismissing Alberto, and he drove off, disappearing around the house.

  The door opened, and a man in a dark navy suit greeted his boss. His hair was slicked back, his expression grim.

  “Gentlemen, this is Francois. If you need anything, just ask. Your bags will be brought to your rooms.”

  The front door closed, and I stared around the luxurious foyer, wondering what I’d gotten us into.

  7

  It was far too early for a drink, but when Francois offered after bringing Hunter three fingers of Scotch, I nodded, accepting the tumbler of amber liquid. Marcus took one too, glancing at me with doubt in his eyes. As far as I knew, he’d never drank Scotch, and before I could tell him to sip it, he’d downed the contents. Hunter was considerate enough to pretend not to notice Marcus coughing, his eyes watering.

  When the billionaire raised his glass, I did the same, sipping from mine. It was smooth and full. The bottle probably cost more than my entire bank account currently held.

  “How did you find us?” I asked.

  “There’ll be time for that later,” Hunter said, mischief in his eyes.

  “You said once we were in your study…” I glanced around, admiring the man’s taste. He had an assortment of fine pieces from around the world, adorned and showcased from stunning dark wood shelves. I thought it might be African blackwood, but couldn’t be sure.

  The lights were dim, and we sat in the softest leather chairs I’d ever parked on, with a round table complete with a crystal ashtray
centering it. An envelope sat precariously on the edge of the table, closer to Madison than to me, and he must have noticed my inquisitive stare.

  “What is it that gets you up in the mornings?” Hunter Madison asked, his voice low and growly. He took a long sip of his Scotch and sat back, crossing his left leg over his right. His free hand fidgeted, playing with a thick white-gold ring on his pointer finger.

  The question was a little esoteric for me. “Are you going to ask me what my sign is next?”

  He set his glass on the table and leaned closer to me. “Rex. You have an opportunity. You wouldn’t have come to see Hardy after all these years if you hadn’t learned something new. What is it?”

  I fought the urge to stand up and walk away. Fire burned in Hunter’s eyes: an intensity I’d only ever seen in my own father. “You want to know what I’m after?”

  He nodded.

  “How about you mind your business,” I told him.

  “Rex… your father was a great man. Don’t ruin his legacy by turning me down today. If you have new information, I’ll be here to support you. I need to learn what happened to Dirk Walker as much as you do.”

  “I doubt that,” I muttered.

  He stretched his arm out, and his cuff slid up his wrist. I gawked at it, checking for any tattoo markings, but didn’t see one. “Did he ever tell you about our trip to the Galapagos?”

  I shook my head.

  “It was eighty-six, and he had a lead to… an artifact. I demanded to come, since I’d been funding his ventures for so many years but had never tagged along. Clayton was against it, but Dirk, he was much more amiable to the hand that feeds. We flew in my private jet, which loosened his sidekick up a bit.” At the mention of my father’s working partner, he glanced at Marcus. “The islands were even more remote than they are today, and we shored on Isla Isabela, paying a couple of local kids to watch our boat. We got what we were after in only two days of searching.” Hunter stood from his seat, striding over to a display case across the study.

  “What was it?” Marcus asked, following Hunter.

  I finally joined them, knowing he must have a point to the story. The item beneath the glass covering was small, the size of an old silver dollar. But the markings on it were almost familiar, in a vague sense.

  “This was smuggled from ruins in southern Ecuador. The entire site was rumored to be haunted by the villagers found murdered there seven hundred years ago. It sat empty for most of that time, until an archaeologist from Spain braved the trek through the thick jungle to see what kind of credence the speculations held.”

  Hunter was a natural storyteller, and I was immersed in his tale. I leaned closer, trying to read the etchings on the metallic artifact. “And what did he discover?”

  “This. There were countless other items that are still displayed around the world. He would have been rich if he’d lived long enough to sell them.” Hunter smiled and turned to face me. “Your father tracked his movements to the Galapagos. It was really quite the thing to observe. He was like a bloodhound, that one.”

  “What is the coin?” My voice cracked.

  Hunter’s voice lowered. “It’s not of this earth.”

  “No way. You’re trying to tell me this is from…” Marcus looked to the ceiling. “Up there.”

  Hunter nodded. “I’ve had it tested on numerous occasions, and yes, as I said, many components are familiar, but not in the exact combinations.”

  I laughed. I tried to stop, but couldn’t. “You can’t be serious. No wonder my mother warned me never to trust you. Alien coins? What’s next? Are you going to tell us you have a little green man frozen in your basement? Maybe a UFO in the garage?”

  Hunter set his hands on my shoulders so calmly that I didn’t flinch. “Your father believed, Rex, and so do you. I know that to be true.”

  I coughed, irritated that the focus was on me again. “What I believe isn’t in question.” I walked away, gazing into the next display case. It was familiar, since I’d seen pictures of it in old articles. The metal carving had been found in a remote region of Egypt, far from any known villages. “How did you locate this?”

  “I told you, I’m resourceful. More proof they exist,” he said.

  My mouth felt dry. Everywhere I looked, I spotted small artifacts that anyone in the business would claim represented otherworldly beings. Some I knew of; others were unfamiliar, and I judged, like the coin, that not many people had laid eyes on them before. “How many of these did my father bring you?”

  “Most. As you can see, I’ve been without my best treasure hunter for too long. I’d hoped you’d join me a decade ago, but that didn’t pan out. Look at these, Rex. Aliens have been to Earth.”

  Marcus seemed uneasy, and he kept quiet as I returned to my seat. “What is the Bridge?” The words were sticky on my tongue, and I grabbed my Scotch, taking a heavy drink.

  “The Bridge is the answer. Hardy claimed there was a route to another world. He suggested there were six objects hidden here on Earth, and when they were combined in the proper order, a gateway would connect the two places.”

  I drained the glass, setting the tumbler on the table. “What are you implying? That my father and Clayton found these items and what… took a rollercoaster ride to Alpha Centauri?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s anywhere near Alpha Centauri.”

  Marcus stood behind his seat, hands clutching the chair. “Wait, Rex. Madison isn’t kidding. I told you this was real! What about this discovery near Pluto? Is it related?”

  Hunter grinned at my friend, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. His eyes deceived him. “I fear that is something else entirely.”

  My hands were sweating, my pulse erratic as I tried to absorb the half-truths and conjecture. One thing at a time. “Where did my dad go?”

  Hunter sat again, and as if on cue, Francois returned with a remote and a decanter of liquor. He set both on the coffee table and departed without a word. Our host poured himself another drink and refilled our cups with a shaky grip.

  “I’ve told you all I know. Dirk was on his own mission with Clayton. They left me out of it. When I threatened to pull his funding, he walked away, telling me it didn’t matter anymore. I tried to follow them, but they evaded me in England. He was a wily one,” Hunter said.

  I contemplated the coordinates I’d found on Clayton’s gravestone, leading me to Venezuela. Were they a hint to these artifacts? Had Clay left a trail for his daughter or perhaps Hardy to find? If so, maybe someone had already done their research, and I’d be wasting my time regardless.

  “He… my father was in Portugal.” I gave the detail up in good faith.

  Hunter went rigid. “Portugal. Of course. Where?”

  “I don’t know. Everything came up empty for me. I spent months there.”

  “Wait, Rex. Didn’t Hardy say something in Portuguese?” Marcus asked.

  He had. I repeated the word. “Estrelas. He said it twice. Then something about how Dirk can’t leave without him.”

  “Interesting,” Hunter said, tapping his neatly-trimmed beard.

  Marcus was on his phone, and I knew what he was doing. In all the excitement, we’d forgotten to check what the word meant.

  “You don’t need that. It means stars. And also a site few are aware of.” Hunter Madison took another drink and lifted the remote from the table.

  “I assume you’re one of the few?” I asked.

  “I may have visited the location,” Hunter whispered as he pressed a button on the control. A discreet screen on the dark wall flashed on, momentarily blinding me. A video played, showing rough footage in black and white. “Ever heard of the Believers?”

  “Isn’t that a band or something?” Marcus asked.

  “No. It’s a cult,” I answered. “An old one. They don’t still exist?”

  Hunter smiled, showing teeth. “Life would be much simpler if that were the case. No, the Believers are around, though perhaps with fewer member
s than before. Or perhaps many more. It’s difficult to tell.”

  I watched the video, seeing over a hundred people as they marched through a stone corridor, each wearing a dark cloak, their faces obscured by heavy cowls.

  “I don’t like the looks of this,” Marcus said.

  “They used to be harmless, a group of people fascinated with the stars, like so many have been since the dawn of time. They began as scientists, explorers, doctors, and”—Hunter pointed at me—“archaeologists, like yourself.”

  “What happened to them?” Marcus asked as the camera tracked the last cloaked person into a circular room. Unrecognizable symbols were painted in a dark color on the floors and walls of the cavern, and the Believers circled a center pedestal where a shiny item lay unmoving.

  “A man named Thomas Rembrandt joined. He was an unconventional millionaire from the south of France, carrying with him a lot of ideologies about what the Believers should be, and many followed him because of his wealth. Believe me, once you have money, it’s easy to get what you want.” He glanced at me while he said this, and I returned my gaze to the screen. There was no audio accompanying the footage, but I could almost hear the synchronous chanting as their bodies swayed back and forth.

  I’d heard some of the stories from my old professor, though he always made it sound like they were seeking facts, not grasping hands and singing to old relics. This looked like something from a movie, and for a second, I wondered if Hunter Madison was having fun with us.

  Marcus was freaked out. “What are they doing?”

  “This item was rumored to be a link to the beings they worship. Apparently, it had nothing to do with them and was merely a depiction of an Incan god,” Hunter told him.

  “How do you know so much?” I asked curiously.

  His eyes shone again, but he didn’t smile as he set the remote down. “I was there. I used to be one of them.”

  The video ended, and I could only gape at Hunter as he waited for me to speak. “You were one of the Believers? Did my father know that?”

  He shook his head firmly. “I left them in the late seventies, a few years after Dirk and I got into business with each other. Rembrandt died, and I didn’t like the direction the group was taking. Things were growing… desperate.”