“What’s that?” Malcolm asked curiously as he wondered what they knew about him.
“Your success record at finding things,” Lisa said with ice in her voice. “We believe you are getting help and we need outside help on this case.”
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as Lisa said that she knew that he had mysterious connections, Malcolm shut up. The truth was that he did have something to offer the team, but he wanted to continue to keep it a secret. It was the reason that he had changed his name legally several years ago and it was part of the reason that The Aurora Insurance Company had such a successful record.
The truth was that Malcolm heard a voice in his head. It had started nine years ago. It was not a scary I’m going to kill you like voice. It was an older gentlemen’s voice that gave him advice and at times gave him an answer to a problem or riddle. If Malcolm needed to find something that was lost, all he had to do was ask out loud and include where and when it was last seen. He never knew if the spirit could hear him, because sometimes the spirit told him nothing, but other times it warned him, like it had done with the bikers earlier in the day.
Malcolm didn’t know if he was telepathic, had ESP or was under some sort of spell. He wasn’t even sure that he wanted the ability to continue. It had cost him his former life and was threatening to damage this one too. He didn’t even know how it started. The spirit just spoke to him one day in his brain.
The disembodied voice had told Malcolm that Kaley could be trusted. He had not yet commented on the fetching Lisa Lange. Nor had he supplied any information about the place where they were headed and the team that he was being pushed into joining. But he did know that Lisa said that she was sure he was getting outside help in solving mysteries. He needed to know more about her and what she knew about him before he decided to bolt.
Chapter Fourteen
A different Malcolm suddenly presented himself to the two blond goddesses. He was much calmer. He had decided to use the women like they were using him. He needed to find out what was really going on. He realized that if there really was an artifact to find, he could be a hero when he found it. Also he might be able to find a way to get out from under this dangerous situation.
“So, Lisa, you mentioned the Library of Alexandria,” he started. “What happened to the Philon treatise while it was at the Library of Alexandria?”
“Why the library was burned down of course,” she responded evasively like everyone knew that.
“I know that, but there must be more to the story,” he baited her.
“Well, you see, what most people don’t know is that the Library of Alexandria, like many ancient relics, was never quite what was recorded by history. For example, it wasn’t even started by who we think. It was actually started by one of Alexander the Great’s generals and not Alexander himself.”
“Oh?” Malcolm uttered on cue.
“Ptolemy I Soter succeeded Alexander the Great when the leader died. He built the original library. But he didn’t just build one building. He built many. The library was part of an entire complex called the Musaeum of Alexandria and it contained a zoo with exotic animals, rooms for astronomy, physics, mathematics and many other disciplines. Many of the notable thinkers of that time lived and studied there. We get the modern word museum from the campus that Ptolemy I built.”
“I didn’t know that,” Malcolm admitted.
“It was built in the ancient city of Alexandria, Egypt around 320 B.C. At its height, it was said to contain upwards of 500,000 scrolls including the whole of Philon’s treatise. All nine books of the treatise were known to be there. It was the center of intellectual capital during the time before Christ was born.”
“And all the books were lost when the library was burned down,” Malcolm said to fill in the rest of the story displaying his knowledge of ancient history.
“Not exactly,” Lisa said in a hesitant voice and raised one of her delicate fingers. “We’re talking about a period of hundreds of years you understand. A lot of things happened over that time span.”
“Like what?”
Lisa was in full lecture mode now. She talked like she was addressing her students in class and counted off the events on her fingers.
“For example, there was a whole section of the library that was devoted to copying all of the scrolls placed there. The emperors and pharaohs employed hundreds of scribers to make copies of the most popular works. Outside merchants and other Royalty in the known world could have a copy made of their favorite scrolls for a price. We are sure that the Philon treatise was copied.”
“That could be both good and bad,” Malcolm pointed out.
“The library also routinely lent out scrolls and an entire copy could have been out of the library when it burned down. Some scrolls were transferred to other campuses or libraries as well. Some scrolls were misplaced and finally the Library of Alexandria didn’t suffer from just one fire, there was in fact several fires in the main building and surrounding structures over a period of many hundreds of years.”
“I thought the Romans took some of the scrolls and burned the library so they would have the largest library in the world,” Malcolm said.
“Not even close,” Lisa said with a snort. “The mythology of what really happened includes it being burned by the pagan and Roman leader Julius Caesar in 48 B.C. He was fighting a civil war at the time and accidently burned it down while setting his own ships on fire in the harbor near the library.
“Next, the library was reported to have been burned by the Catholic Emperor Theodosius I in 391 A.D. He declared that all pagan temples were illegal in that year and the library was judged to be a pagan temple. He wanted everyone to convert to Christianity.
“Finally, in 642 A.D. Caliph Omar, ironically one of the few Muslims at that time who could read and write, told his invading army to burn the library to the ground. He had just succeeded the dead Mohammed as leader of the Muslim army. Years later a Muslim writer quoted the Caliphate as saying. ‘If those books are in agreement with the Quran, we have no need of them; and if these are opposed to the Quran, destroy them’.”
“Colorful history,” Malcolm noted.
“Long history,” Lisa responded. “Oddly enough, the Pagans, the Christians and finally the Muslims all can take credit for burning down the Library of Alexandria.”
“All that’s very interesting, but how does this information help us find Philon’s Mechanics treatise?” Malcolm challenged the professor.
“Well, let’s put it this way Malcolm,” Lisa continued. “In the last year, since I took this assignment, I’ve managed to find copies of three of the books belonging to the treatise. One was in the United States. One was in Karachi, Pakistan and the third book was hidden in the Vatican.”
“I’m not sure what all that means?” Malcolm said as he scratched his head.
“Don’t you see,” Lisa demanded like it was obvious. “The three books were all from the treatise, but were written by different hands. At least three different copies of Philon’s treatise writings were made.”
“Which means that at least one copy of the ninth book, Stratagems, probably exists,” Kaley burst out.
“Not only that!” Lisa exclaimed. “At least one person who has a book has cracked the code on how to use it to create natural disasters and I don’t think they are doing it for fun.”
“The scary thing is that there could be three opposing groups,” Kaley explained. “And they could all hate each other and use the formulas to attack each other using the weather.”
“We need to stop these guys,” Malcolm found himself saying. “But what kind of natural disasters are we talking about?”
“You name it and we believe the book of stratagems has a formula to make them happen,” Lisa offered. “We know this because Philon often cross-referenced things in all of his books. So he would put part of a formula on how to create a tornado in the book on sieging a fortress.”
“I know that mathemati
cs is great, but how could he use math to make these disasters happen,” Malcolm questioned. “This all sounds like some sort of magic.”
“I assure you that this is not magic,” Kaley said.
“We’re going to show you how in just a few more minutes,” Lisa promised him.
“But first we need to put on our security badges,” Kaley announced. “It’s noon exactly. They’ll be here waiting for us as soon as they see that we activated our badges.”
She ushered Malcolm and Lisa into the large bathroom and pressed a key on the remote control clicker in her hand. A wall panel suddenly opened next to the two-person sink. It revealed three two inch long metal badges. They were the same three colors as their jumpsuits.
Malcolm’s had the word — Visitor — written on it. Lisa’s said captain and Kaley’s said major. Kaley had to help Malcolm put his on. He noticed that they all had a discreet Air Force logo imbedded into the metal. They started to glow as soon as they were attached.
“There,” Kaley sighed audibly. “We’re finally ready. They’ll know we are ready now.”
“Do I have to call you major?” Malcolm quickly asked jokingly.
“Everyone else will,” Kaley responded, raised an eyebrow and shrugged. She then pressed the remote one more time. Malcolm heard a click like a latch opening, and suddenly the wall at the back of the shower swung open. It revealed a tunnel.
“Follow me,” she said and disappeared into the darkness.
Chapter Fifteen
Jamal Saleem opened the front door after he had looked through the keyhole built into the large wooden entranceway. He heard the bell ring once and knew they had visitors — but it was not someone who wanted spiritual guidance. Someone who was a member of the mosque would know to ring three times. Also it wasn’t a time for prayer.
The mosque, which had once been a profitable seafood restaurant, still looked like an eating establishment, but without any tables inside. The Brotherhood of Islam had purchased the building for a song a couple of years earlier. They had bought the old building because it had an extensive underground cellar. The converted restaurant now sported bars on all the windows and a high tech security system, but the rest of the building was becoming an eyesore. The owners didn’t seem to care as long as it was safe for them inside.
It needed the protection because it was located in “Little Islamburg”, the name given to a rundown section of Dearborn, Michigan. The city contained the largest Muslim population in the United States. Crime was a way of life there, especially for anyone non-Muslim.
“Good morning. May Allah bless you,” Jamal said with a smiled as he greeted the two policemen at the door in Arabic. They were in full body armor and carried machine guns. Masks covered their faces for identity protection.
Neither officer spoke Arabic, but had dealt with the Brotherhood of Islam and other mosques like this one before. They handed Jamal the warrant and swept into the mosque before he could read it.
Suddenly, two truckloads of police SWAT team members appeared and pushed their way into the building. Jamal barely had time to press the secret button by the door that sealed off the basement. He didn’t want the police to enter the planning area where the guns and other incriminating evidence were kept.
“Why are you here?” Jamal now wailed in English and flapped his arms. “This is a holy place. It is against the American law to invade our sanctuary,” he screamed.
“Call your legal advisor,” the lead police officer whose nametag said Pride replied. “We know him too. It’s Professor Aazim Mansoor isn’t it? He used to go by John Brown when he was a petty criminal. That was before he converted to Islam while in prison. I’m sure he’ll give you sound advice.”
“Yeah,” the other officer named Joy said. “Why is it that all the most prominent leaders in your religion are experts in only one thing — Sharia Law. You understand it doesn’t apply here because you live in the frickin United States,” he all but screamed at the startled man.
Jamal Saleem, who was the Iman of the mosque became enraged, “Islam is the only true religion. All of you will bow to Allah in the future.”
“I don’t have time to debate that right now. Where’re your gang members?” Officer Pride demanded dryly.
“We have no gang members,” the Imam replied. “We are a peaceful religion. I do not lie,” he added emphatically.
“Shut up Jamal,” the lead officer responded. There was a sneer of hatred in his voice.
“We know you do lie and you think that it is just following your religion,” Officer Joy said. “It’s called Taqiya. Under your Sharia law, a Muslim is allowed to lie to avoid prosecution. It’s no secret. It’s written in the Koran.”
“You’re talking about the radicals. You cannot blame all of us for a few radicals,” Jamal reasoned.
“Well, unfortunately we don’t know whether you are a radical or a moderate Muslim,” Officer Joy responded. “Since both the radicals and moderates believe in the same thing. It’s called Hijra, the migration to a place until you are the dominate population. The difference is that moderates let radicals do the work, but they never report on any radicals. So who is worse?”
“That’s racist talk,” the Imam screamed.
“No one is more racist then a Muslim,” Officer Joy responded hotly.
“But we are a peaceful religion,” Jamal beseeched them.
“Yeah you’re peaceful until you have the upper-hand,” Officer Joy agreed. “Then you try to deploy your laws and turn the neighborhood into a third-class country.”
“We are well aware of the three stages of jihad,” Officer Pride explained. “Be peaceful and stealthy to gain a hold, be defensive to protect and use terrorism, and finally, be offensive when you have the majority.”
“Why are you here?” the Imam screamed in frustration.
“You’re missing three men aren’t you?” Officer Pride offered. “It’s all over the internet.”
“They were found in the trunks of three cars in Florida,” the second officer noted. “They were shot in the head. It seems you tried to steal something that didn’t belong to you. We’re here to make sure you don’t do that again.”
Jamal suddenly felt a grip of fear as he realized that these men weren’t the real police. “Who are you?”
“We are called the Effort, and we are everywhere,” Officer Pride said in a sinister voice and took off his mask. Jamal knew that it was not a good sign.
“I’ve found the secret door to the basement,” one of the fake SWAT team members shouted.
“Okay,” get everyone ready to go in,” Officer Pine said. “They’ll probably be ten armed men behind that door, so be careful.”
Jamal’s eyes went wide as he realized what would happen to him next.
“We no longer believe you are capable of leading a mosque, Jamal,” Officer Pride explained sincerely. “You’re being excommunicated.”
“Islam does not allow for excommunication — no matter how bad the crime. You can never be forced to leave the teachings of Mohammed,” the Imam spat back.
“My bad,” Officer Pride said. “We’re just going to kill you then and let God figure out what to do with you.”
Officers Pride and Joy pointed their machine guns at the Imam and told him he was going to meet the virgins reserved for him. Then they fired just as the rest of their men entered the basement with guns blasting.
Part Three
Vortices
Chapter Sixteen
As soon as Kaley entered the tunnel, automatic lights lit up the area. Malcolm discovered that they were in a hallway that contained a small stairway that headed down and ended at another wall. It was more like a closet than a tunnel. When Kaley reached the back wall, she entered a code into a wall lock and a panel slid open like an elevator door. Just outside the open door sat a white tradesman-type van that was quietly running. Kaley motioned for Malcolm and Lisa to leave the tunnel. She then pressed a code into the outside wall lock and the panel
side shut. There was no trace of a doorway.
Malcolm noticed that there were no side windows in the van and the front windows were blackened. The garage was also completely hidden from any prying eyes.
“In you go,” Kaley said cheerfully and pulled open a side panel on the van.
“Where are we?” Malcolm quickly asked as he swiveled his head around. He could not see anything or anyone in the small garage as he entered the vehicle.
“It’s a well disguised way to move people around,” Lisa said convincingly.
“We’re actually in a private part of the casino’s underground garage. No one will know that we have left the hotel this way,” Kaley responded.
“Anyone watching will think that we are still in our suite,” Lisa confirmed.
“How did this get here? I mean who built it?” Malcolm wondered out loud.
“We added the suite and the secret exit when the casino was built several years ago,” a voice from someone in the front seat next to the driver explained.
“Simon!” Malcolm exclaim. “Is that you?”
“I arrived an hour ago and have been waiting for you,” the old man replied.
When Malcolm found a seat he looked at his boss for the first time. Simon Stone wore a white jumpsuit.
“What’s your rank?” Malcolm quickly asked.
“I’m a general.”
“So you are in charge of all this?”
“No I’m just another cog in the wheel. You’ll understand better in about an hour.”
“What happens then?”
“We’ll be at Area 51 then,” the old man replied.
This just keeps getting weirder, Malcolm thought.
***
During the drive to Area 51, Malcolm had many questions. Particularly, what was the rationale for a secret room and exit at The Red Rock Casino?
Simon explained that the government was very concerned about privacy. They believed foreign spies and others could track whoever came and went through the front gate at Area 51 and they could figure out their business. He further explained that despite having a commuter jet fly workers to and from Las Vegas every day, it was too easy for anyone to take pictures of who boarded or deplaned. The government needed a completely secret way to move people to and from Area 51. When the casino was under construction, the government paid for the special room and exit to be built.
The Oracle Philon Page 6
