The Doomsday Cipher (An Avalon Adventure Book 3)

by Rob Jones

  “Suspicious how?” Charlie asked. “Slightly suspicious, or like Riley?”

  Riley laughed. “You’re a really funny bloke, Charlie.”

  “Would police normally respond so fast?” Decker asked.

  Cade shook his head. “I wouldn’t have thought so. Not unless he was someone pretty important.”

  “He was,” Diana said. “The report ends by saying that he was the head of the Physics Faculty at the University of Havana, specializing in weather modification and a high-ranking member of the Communist Party of Cuba.”

  “Muy importante,” Cade said with a chuckle, then took a large bite of his toast.

  “Does it say anything else?” Selena asked. “What sort of car it was, for example?”

  “A black SUV,” she said. “American. One of the neighbors said it might have been an Escalade. That’s it.”

  “Is it enough to go on?” Decker asked.

  “Maybe,” Charlie said. “My guys at MI5 aren’t magicians though. Having said that, they might be able to get hold of some satellite recon. Cuba is pretty heavily covered. Always has been, for all the obvious historical and strategic reasons.”

  “It’s all we have,” Diana said.

  Riley was lighting the biggest cigar any of them had ever seen. He leaned back on his chair and sucked on the enormous Partagas. Blowing out a big puff of blue smoke, he smiled broadly. “I predict a successful few hours here in Cuba.”

  “Oh yeah?” Selena said.

  Acosta waved the smoke away, coughing.

  “Yeah,” Riley said. “The satellite data from Charlie’s mates will show us where they took old Diaz, and then we’ll go and get him and Atticus back before retrieving the capstone.”

  “You think it’s going to be that easy?” Cade said.

  The Australian shrugged and grinned and sucked on the cigar again. “Let’s just say, I can feel our plan coming together.”

  28

  The Snake King grabbed a fistful of the vinyl tarp covering the Stormbringer but hesitated before wrenching it away. The last time he had stared into its polished surfaces, back in the caves of Xibalba in the Lacandon Jungle, he had been given a vision of the future which had terrifyingly come almost perfectly true. Now, having had time to think about this ancient power more carefully, he grew nervous about whether or not he was truly ready to know more of what the future held.

  He gazed around at his men, standing in a semi-circle with their hands on their weapons in the enormous space. The warehouse was down on the docks near the ferry terminals and had belonged to a tobacco packing company up until a few weeks ago. Waiting for a commercial tenants, the place was empty and eerie but gave the Snake King all the space and privacy he needed.

  He smoothly pulled off the tarp and beheld the swirling patterns in wonder.

  “You know how this works?”

  Professor Salvador Diaz looked at his captors with disgust. The man in the green jade mask covered in snakes was particularly unsettling, but he stood his ground. “Even if I did, I would never tell you.”

  The Snake King gave a sad smile, only partly visible through the slit in the jade mask. “I thought this might be your response. This is why I had some of my men take your niece as well.”

  Diaz jumped from his chair and stared at him with a burning hatred. “No! No one would do something so evil!”

  “Think again, old man,” the Snake King said. He turned to Carlos Mercado. “Show him your phone.”

  Carlos stepped forward and held out his phone, allowing the old man to see the screen. When he saw it, he recoiled in horror. There, on the tiny screen of the cell phone, he saw a picture of his young niece, gagged and bound and scared out of her mind. Two men he had never seen before were smiling into the camera. They each wore bandanas and were holding flick knives.

  “You bastards!”

  Carlos laughed and put the phone back in his pocket.

  The Snake King’s face remained calm and mild. “An understandable reaction. I take no offense. You will, however, now see more clearly why it is so imperative that you give me what I want and assist me with this device.”

  “You’ll have to comply,” said Atticus, hands tied behind his back. “They’re maniacs.”

  Diaz listened to the words of the old English professor and started to pale. “Please, don’t harm her! She is only young. Just twenty-three. She is getting married in a few months. Let her be, I beg you.”

  “Her welfare is entirely in your hands, Professor Diaz. Help me activate and control this device and I will contact the team holding her and have her released. Refuse, and I will have her head deposited on your front lawn.”

  Diaz looked like he was going to be sick. He raised a hand to his mouth to hold back the vomit and worked hard to shake the image from his mind. “I will do as you ask,” he said at last. “Anything to save young Cristina.”

  “You are a smart man, Salvador,” the Snake King said, giving the old man’s cheek a few disrespectful pats. “I knew eventually you would come to the sensible position and give me what I want.”

  The old man buckled, dropped to his knees and began examining the capstone. He was intrigued by the smoky patterns in the metal and began to feel strange sensations as he stared into it. Pulling back before he was overwhelmed, he soon found his way to the enigmatic pyramid’s base.

  “Interesting,” he muttered, picking up the chipped ohmmeter his captors had given to him and taking some measurements. “Very interesting.”

  “What is it?’ the Snake King barked. “What do you see?”

  Diaz stopped what he was doing and twisted his neck around to look up at him. “Where did you get this device?”

  “That is none of your concern. You are here to make it work. That’s all.”

  Diaz sighed. “But something’s not right here.”

  Behind him, Carlos Mercado said, “I think I heard something outside.”

  “Then check it out, amigo,” said Tarántula. “Now.”

  “Si.”

  The Snake King looked at Diaz. “What do you mean when you say something is not right, old man?”

  “First, I cannot identify this particular metal. It seems to be silver and yet it’s not. It shares certain similarities with copper, but it is not copper. The mechanism inside the device seems at once both ancient and modern. It vexes me.”

  “Do you understand how it works or not?” the Snake King said. “My patience is running low.”

  Diaz looked back to the capstone and crouched down again. Dipping his head to study the base one more time, he mumbled what sounded like a positive affirmation. “Interesting… intriguing.”

  The Snake King’s eyes blinked behind the mask. “What does that mean, Professor Diaz?”

  “It’s all very odd, but I think I can see through it to the basics. It appears to be some sort of crude ferromagnetic apparatus for producing a natural waveguide.”

  “Like a conductor?”

  “Not exactly,” Diaz said. “There is a difference between a conductor and a waveguide.”

  “Explain.”

  Diaz was still exploring the mechanism deep inside the capstone’s interior. “A waveguide is any structure or device which guides waves.”

  “Are you trying to be funny?” the Snake King said. “Do I need to remined you that one phone call to my associates and your niece is dead?”

  “I am not trying to be funny!” Diaz said hurriedly. “I am answering your question.”

  “Then get on with it.”

  “Very well…as I said, a waveguide is a device which guides waves. These could be soundwaves or radio waves or electromagnetic waves. A waveguide is designed to channel and focus and transmit the waves in a particular direction while retaining as much of the original energy as possible. The entire planet is a kind of natural waveguide, formed by the relative positions of the earth’s surface and the ionosphere. It resonates at 7.83 Hz, or what we call the Schumann Resonance. These waves can be channelled a
nd used for a number of purposes.”

  “I am not a scientist, Professor Diaz.”

  “Let me give you an example. The HAARP facility in Alaska can be utilized to cause tropical cyclones anywhere in the world.”

  The Snake King laughed. “Conspiracy theory drivel.”

  Diaz crawled out from beneath the capstone and got to his feet. “You can tell yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, but I am telling you what I know to be true. HAARP is able to use waveguides to direct specially designed tandem-array waves of electromagnetic energy into the ionosphere and then aim them wherever is required. This way, tropical cyclones or hurricanes can be formed wherever and whenever is desired.”

  The man behind the mask blinked, his deranged mind suddenly whirring with possibilities. “I don’t believe it.”

  “And yet you have kidnapped a physicist specializing in weather modification. Why do so, if you do not want to hear what I have to say?”

  The Snake King thought it over. “You’re not lying, then?”

  “No, I am not lying. Moreover, I believe this device you have here is very similar to the one used at the HAARP facility, with one very important exception.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “I believe it is much more powerful.”

  The Snake King held his surprise in check. “How so?”

  “Waveguides rely on hollow metallic conductors. Silver is the best conductor we know of, and yet this device is made from something else entirely. I have already run a simple conductivity test with the ohmmeter and it is showing interesting results. Whatever metallic substance this metal is, it has a conductivity several orders of magnitude greater than even silver.”

  “How much more powerful?”

  “At least a thousand times.”

  The other men fell silent, suddenly interested in what he had to say.

  “Say that again, old man,” said the Snake King. “Slowly.”

  “I said the metallic substance that this device is made from is at least a thousand times better at conducting electricity than silver. I have seen nothing like it throughout my entire career. I believe when activated it will channel unimaginable quantities of energy into the atmosphere.” He scratched his head. “I just wish I knew more about this metal.”

  “I call it divinium,” the Snake King said. “Metal of the gods.”

  Diaz took a cautious step away from the man in front of him. “Whatever you call it, it must be handled with care. If directed into the ionosphere, this could create a force more powerful than dozens of hurricanes all hitting at the same time.”

  “It’s that powerful?”

  “Easily, and much more so if it can increase and direct natural waveguides existing in the planet’s crust. If it is capable of amplifying these waves, it could be truly devastating. You do indeed have in your hands some sort of god device.”

  “Yes, the power of the gods!” he said. “Can you operate it?”

  “I believe so. The removal of this idol on the top would activate it initially, and then there are some crude controls beneath which regulate the power.”

  “Good, very good.”

  Carlos Mercado ran back into the large warehouse space. “We’ve got company.”

  “Who?” Tarántula asked.

  “Looks like the same ones as before.”

  “The Avalon crew?”

  Carlos nodded. “They took a shot at me! They’re heading this way!”

  “How the hell did they survive?” Tarántula said.

  “I don’t know. Maybe we could ask them when they get in here, guns blazing?”

  “Don’t be a smart mouth Carlos. I should kill you where you stand for not making sure they died back there when I told you to. Now you have another chance. Kill them!”

  “Wait!” the Snake King snapped. “Tarántula and Novarro will come with me. We will take the capstone and the hostages and get to the jet. Diablo and the Mercado brothers will keep the Avalon crew busy and give us time to get away. Now, go!”

  29

  Decker had fired the shot at Carlos Mercado when he stepped outside the warehouse. He missed and the Mexican gangster scrambled back inside without returning fire. He turned to the rest of the crew who were standing around their two vehicles – Cade’s personal car and their hired SUV, guns in hand. “We have to go in!”

  “No, wait!” Riley was looking along the side of the warehouse. “Looks like they’re splitting up. I see an Escalade taking off and heading south but they’ve left some dudes behind to hold us back.”

  Charlie took a shot at the Cadillac, a puff of white smoke from his gun drifted up lazily into the hot air as the round pinged off a nearby road sign. “Missed.”

  “They’re stopping us from taking off after the Caddy!” Cade said.

  “Which is already long gone…” mumbled Diana.

  “No, it’s not,” Decker said. “I’ll stay here with Cade and Lena and deal with the goons inside the warehouse. Riley, you take our SUV and get after the Escalade.”

  “Got it.”

  “What about you?” Diana asked.

  “Like I said, we’ll try and take these guys out,” he said with a shrug. “It’s all we can do.”

  “What if they take off?”

  “We have my car!” Cade said.

  Diana looked at the old Buick and frowned. “Really?”

  “Hey, she’s solid gold!”

  “If you say so…”

  Decker watched his friends climb into their hired SUV and drive south of the warehouse, swerving out onto the main road and giving pursuit of the fleeing Escalade. Then the shooting stopped.

  “What are they playing at?”

  Before anyone answered, a black Mercedes ML350 burst out of the large hangar-sized door and raced straight toward them.

  “Holy crap!” Cade said. “They’re heading for my car!”

  Decker calmly rested his arms on the Buick’s roof and peeled off a few rounds, aiming straight for the driver’s half of the windshield. The rounds punctured the glass and forced the driver to duck and swerve at the very last minute. The chunky black Mercedes blew past them with inches to spare and swerved out of the parking lot.

  “Now they’re getting away too!” Selena said. “Did anyone see if Dad was in there?”

  “Funnily enough,” Cade said, crawling up off the asphalt, “No. You?”

  “No!”

  “Talk later,” Decker said. “Now, action.”

  Decker swung open the door of Cade’s 1953 Buick Special and turned the ignition key as the other piled in. The Nailhead V8 roared to life as he stamped on the pedal and the car surged forward. Selena was gripping the seat, a string of curses fluttering from her lips. Up ahead, the Mercedes ML350 was clearing the industrial park and opening a wide lead on them.

  “We’re going awfully fast, Mitch!”

  Decker pushed the vintage Buick harder and steered out of the park onto the road in a screech of squealing tires. “That’s sort of how you catch up with people.”

  “Point taken.”

  The black Merc was stretching away now, turning off San Pedro and disappearing into the labyrinthine streets of the Old Town. Decker spun the wheel hard to the left and swerved onto a side street called Sol. The Merc was ahead of them but already making a hard right out of sight.

  “You’re losing them!” she said. “Maybe if your friend had bought a car from this century we might stand a better chance!”

  “This car is a classic!” Cade protested. “Right, Mitch?”

  “Sure is.” He gave the steering wheel a loving tap. “It’s old school. Beautiful. Great transmission, quality rear differential. This is a car to fall in love with, made back when they knew how to build cars.”

  “This again…” Selena mumbled.

  “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Sounds like you love this old car more than the Avalon.”

  Decker swerved off Oficios and onto Muralla, narrowly avo
iding a dangerous collision with a delivery truck. “Now, let’s not be silly. This car is beautiful, but the Avalon is pure art.”

  Selena rolled her eyes and rolled down the window. “I'm going to let you quietly undress your aeroplane in your mind while I try and stop these maniacs from taking my father away!”

  “Take it easy!” Decker said. “Your Dad might be in there!”

  “I’m aiming for the tires!”

  She fired on the Mercedes as it entered a broad plaza busy with tourists. Hearing the report of the pistol, everyone in the square bolted for safety, running into cafés and boutiques and restaurants and alleys. Decker screeched into the Plaza Vieja and was forced to steer hard to avoid the last few people still in the ancient public square.

  “You have a good clear shot!” he called out.

  “Maybe I might have if you could keep this old heap steady for more than a few seconds.”

  “Hey!” Cade said.

  Decker laughed. “And I love you too, darling…”

  She fired again but missed. The Mercedes was already across the plaza and vanishing into another maze of backstreets in the city’s historic district. Then, Carlos and Miguel Mercado appeared, each leaning out of his window on either side of the Merc with Diablo at the wheel. Each one was holding a compact machine pistol.

  “Incoming, Mitch!”

  Decker saw the two men holding the guns a second before they opened fire and swerved hard to avoid the rounds. Bullets raked into the tiled ground as the American skidded around the fenced-off fountain in the center of the plaza. The old Buick tipped up onto its two left wheels and Decker thought they were going to tip over, but he managed to bring the car safely back to earth with a grinding crunch of the seventy year-old suspension.

  “Sorry Cade…” he mumbled.

  “That’s going to hurt,” said his old friend.

  “Right!” Selena called out. “Go right! They’re going north.”

  “Damn it all,” Decker muttered. “This is turning into another hot mess.”

  “I’m taking another shot!” Selena said.

  She clicked a new mag into the firearm receiver and raised the gun into the aim. Squinting down the length of the barrel at the sight, she gently squeezed the trigger and fired off a single round at the Mercedes. The round missed its mark, which was to take out one of the tires and buried itself in some plaster in a nearby building.