The Omega Project

by Ernest Dempsey

  Tommy and Sean exchanged a knowing glance before returning their attention to the shop owner.

  “Mister…”

  “Owensby,” the old man said. “Cliff Owensby.”

  “Mister Owensby, we have something you might be interested in.”

  Tommy reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out the section of ring they’d found earlier. He gently set it on the table and watched Owensby’s reaction.

  The old man’s eyes widened with disbelief. “Where did you get that?”

  “There’s a lot more you need to know first, Mister Owensby.”

  The clerk looked up from the gold. “Who are you two?”

  Sean nodded at the gold on the wall. “Fit that with this, and I’ll tell you everything.”

  It took a moment for Owensby to understand what was being asked of him. He was in a daze, stunned by the appearance of something that looked just like his gold piece. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s have a look.”

  He turned around and took the gold off the wall, spun back to the counter, and carefully pressed one end into the end of the piece on the surface. It was a perfect fit.

  “It looks like a ring,” Owensby said, his voice reverent.

  “That’s what we believe,” Tommy said. “We’re investigating an ancient mystery, one that we believe could rewrite the history books.”

  Owensby was still shocked. “Mystery? What kind of mystery?”

  “That’s not all, sir,” Sean cut in. “You need to know something.”

  The man’s eyes lifted once more from the ring and bounced back and forth between the two customers.

  “I’m the guy that’s being blamed for kidnapping the president. I’m Sean Wyatt.”

  The enamored look on the old man’s face changed to one of fear. “What did you just say?”

  “Sir, we didn’t take the president. But the people who did are after this ring and whatever it is connected to. We don’t have much time. The people who took President Dawkins gave us one week to figure out this mystery. If we don’t, they’re going to kill him. John Dawkins is a personal friend of mine. I don’t think I have to tell you that if I did take him, I wouldn’t be standing here right now, telling you the truth about who I am.”

  Owensby listened quietly. His eyes darted from Sean to Tommy and back again. When Sean was done talking, he blinked rapidly and slowed his breathing.

  Sean noticed him take a quick look at the shotgun that was hanging under the counter. Sean had seen it a few minutes before when he’d stepped behind the register to look at the ring.

  “You’re a wanted man.”

  “I know,” Sean said. “And that makes my friend Tommy here a wanted man, too. But I promise you, sir, I didn’t abduct the president. And if we can’t figure out what this ring does or what it’s linked to, whoever took him is going to murder him.”

  The room seemed to pause in time. No cars went by outside. The men stood, unmoving. Even the motes of dust illuminated by a stray beam of sunshine appeared to freeze in midair.

  “Look,” Tommy said. “We understand if you want to call the cops.”

  “Or if you want to use that shotgun behind the counter to hold us,” Sean added.

  Owensby’s eyes twitched, wondering how Wyatt knew about the gun.

  “But if you want the president to live, the best way to do that is to let us borrow that piece of gold. You can look us up. Do it on your computer right now. You’ll see that we’re legitimate historians, not some treasure hunters out to make a buck or steal something from an honest, hardworking man like you. And we certainly didn’t take the president.”

  Tommy nodded his head in agreement.

  “I could have taken that thing while you two were in the back, but I didn’t. I can’t do that. It’s not right. That piece of gold clearly means a lot to you. I would never strip something so important from someone else. I’m no thief. And I’m not a kidnapper.”

  Owensby held up his right hand and sighed. “Just…stop talking. Okay? Please?”

  Sean and Tommy were both thrown off by the man’s abrupt command of the situation, as well as by the way he issued the order.

  “There’s a lot of people looking for you out there, Wyatt. You know that.”

  “I do,” Sean confirmed with a nod.

  “You’d be stupid to come in here and tell me who you are.”

  “That, too.”

  Owensby crossed his arms and took on a gruff expression. His eyes were slits as he sized up the two men standing across from him. “Takes a lot of guts to do something as stupid as what you two just did. I should call the cops right now.”

  “We understand,” Sean said.

  “But…seems to me I can’t recall the number.”

  Sean allowed a glimmer of hope to shine into his heart. He caught his breath.

  “Anyway,” Owensby went on, “I’ll just finish ringing you boys up here.” He laughed. “No pun intended.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Tommy blurted the words.

  “Yes, thank you,” Sean added.

  “For what? Selling you boys some tools? Not that you’ll need them. I suspect you were going to go digging for that thing anyway, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sean said, humbled.

  Owensby grinned. “Well, you might want to take these tools with you. Never know when you could need them down the road.”

  “Mister Owensby, we will bring this piece back to you when all this is over. You have my word.”

  The old man raised one hand again to stop Sean from saying anything else. “If you bring it back, great. And if you don’t, no big deal. Finding this thing was one of the only fascinating parts of my life. Just because it’s gone doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Besides,” he turned to the newspaper clipping, “I still have this to remind me. Don’t sweat it. You two just go do your thing. Find the former president, and bring him home safely. I was always a fan of his. I hope you can work it out.”

  Sean nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Owensby finished loading the tools into a canvas sack and then slid them across the counter. He pushed the two ring pieces closer to Tommy, who took them with a nod and put them into his coat pocket.

  “You two be careful out there. Like I said, lot of people looking for you.”

  Sean handed him another five twenties. “Keep the change.”

  “Oh, now, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. And you didn’t have to give us this, either. Please, it’s literally the least we can do.”

  Owensby bit his bottom lip. “Okay, fine. But only because I have to keep the lights on.”

  They said their goodbyes and walked out the door into the freezing cold. Sean slung the bag over his shoulder and turned toward their SUV that was parked just around the corner. He pulled his scarf up over his lips and nose to keep his face warm. Tommy followed close behind, doing the same as he looked up and down the street to make sure they weren’t being followed.

  The two friends turned the corner and made their way down the block. The SUV was parked several spots down.

  Sean stepped off the sidewalk and onto the snow-covered street just behind the vehicle. He set the heavy bag on the ground and reached into his pocket to remove the keys. His thumb pressed down on the button, and the security system beeped. The doors unlocked. Sean reached out to open the back door when two SUVs appeared out of nowhere, engines revving and tires sliding on the slick road.

  Coming to a scrunching stop, they blocked in the two friends and their ride..

  Even before the vehicles had come to a stop, the doors on the passenger sides flew open, and two masked men got out, both holding pistols.

  Sean couldn’t get to the weapon inside his coat fast enough.

  “Get in the car,” one of the men ordered. His accent was strange, muted by the ski mask covering his face and lips.

  Sean raised his hands and looked over at Tommy. His friend wore a forlorn expression, like they’d been on the cus
p of winning a major championship only to watch it slip away in the final minutes of the game.

  Another masked gunman got out of the second SUV and rushed around behind Sean and Tommy. He carried two black pillow cases, one in each hand. The man slipped one of the makeshift hoods over Sean’s head first, then Tommy’s. The gunmen dragged the two over to the open SUV and shoved them into the back seat, where another gunman was waiting on the other side, holding his weapon.

  The last thing Sean thought before the door slammed was that it was odd the gunmen didn’t bind their hands or wrists.

  Once the door closed, the driver stepped on the gas and drove away, leaving the second SUV in the street as the team of gunmen checked to make sure no one had seen what had happened.

  Sean’s nostrils filled with the scent of fine leather and that oddly comforting smell of a heater running. The cabin interior was certainly a welcome change to the frigid cold outside, even if they were suddenly prisoners.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” Sean said. “We were close to figuring this whole thing out.”

  “I know.”

  The driver’s voice was female and eerily familiar.

  “We’re clear,” she said. “They can take off their hoods now.”

  The gunman to Sean’s left yanked the pillow case off his head. Tommy was left to fend for himself.

  “What in the world is going on here—” Sean’s angry voice melted, the words hanging on his lips. He looked into the front seat at the driver, then into her eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “Emily?”

  35

  Annapolis

  “That was reckless, Boyd,” Admiral Winters said. His voice seethed through the earpiece in Andrew Boyd’s phone and wormed its way into his ear. “Leaving a dead body like that in a parking lot?”

  “He’d been compromised, sir,” Boyd explained. “He got stupid. I had to put him down.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps he did get a little stupid. I can only go on what you’re telling me, but the fact remains we have a corpse in a county freezer right now, and the second they realize your man was killed by something implanted in his brain they’re going to start asking questions, questions that we cannot…will not answer.”

  Boyd understood the man’s tone. He also understood the admiral’s concern. “There’s no way this could ever be connected to you, sir. And don’t worry, I’ve taken care of the body as well as the coroner’s report.”

  Winters didn’t want to know. The less he knew about that side of things, the better. He knew, at least he hoped he knew, that Boyd wouldn’t be so stupid as to say anything else about it over the phone. No matter how careful, no matter how tight security was, certain things should never be said over the phone lines, especially when it had to do with murder.

  “Nothing can be connected to me,” Winters said. There was a storm raging under the deliberate, quiet tone.

  “I’m well aware, sir.”

  “Good.”

  “He had to be eliminated. He was a loose end. Wyatt got to him. Like I said, he’d been compromised. If I hadn’t pulled the trigger on that, no telling what he might have said.”

  “I thought,” Winters said, “your team knew what was at stake. In fact, I know they are aware of what is at stake because I helped vet them for you. You have some of the best in the world at your disposal.”

  Boyd knew that was true. This mission had no room for error. Mistakes would be punished quickly and ruthlessly, like cutting out a rotting tooth.

  “Yes, sir. I’m aware.”

  “Then don’t do this again without my say. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.” There was no point in offering excuses or explanations. Boyd wanted to tell his superior that he’d tried to avoid getting orders from the man because keeping the admiral’s involvement to a minimum was a high priority and one that Winters himself had mandated. Yet here the man was, telling him that he wanted to be the one to issue orders for things going on in the field. It was a contradiction but one Boyd had no choice but to accept—for the time being.

  “Good. Now, tell me where Wyatt is. How are they proceeding?”

  Boyd swallowed. That was the next part he’d wanted to avoid. So, he lied. “We’re tracking them through the Northwest, sir. It appears they’re headed directly along the path Lewis and Clark took.”

  “As I predicted.”

  “Correct.”

  Winters sighed. “Very well. Continue as planned. Keep close watch on them. The last thing we need is Wyatt getting loose and tracking one of us down.”

  “That’s not going to happen, sir. He has no clue we’re the ones behind this. And he won’t—until it’s too late. When that happens, I’m going to put a bullet in his skull.”

  “Fine. Just make sure there are no more sloppy loose ends like the one in Billings. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Winters ended the call and stared at his phone for a moment to make sure that the line was disconnected. Then he set the device down on his opulent desk and looked out the window, his eyes growing pensive as memories rolled through his mind like a flash flood.

  For as much as Winters professed to know about this mysterious missing artifact and how to find it, there was still one critical fact he couldn’t attain, not without the forced assistance of the experts.

  The admiral had told Boyd about it when the plans for this operation had initially been discussed. Winters had approached Boyd. He’d hunted him down, finding the perfect candidate to run the entire mission. Boyd fit the profile perfectly. He was former special ops, a warrior in every sense of the word, loyal to the military until it was no longer loyal to him. Winters knew that wasn’t the military’s fault. It was Sean Wyatt’s. Playing off that bitter resentment and a thirst for revenge, Winters made an offer that Boyd could never refuse in a million years.

  It was a chance to get back at the man who’d stripped him of everything he’d worked for, everything he ever had, and everything his family had built over the last century.

  The pitch had been an easy one to make, and the plan was set in motion.

  For Boyd, it was a chance at payback. For Winters, it was a twofer. And he could get revenge on the president that had handcuffed him with budget cuts and talk of downsizing the military.

  It had been frustrating. No, infuriating was more the word. Luckily, Winters had come up with a plan that would reinvent American military power.

  As a navy man and a lover of history, he’d always enjoyed stories about Atlantis. The myths and legends surrounding the ancient lost city were fascinating, especially to a young man sailing the seas. For the longest time, he’d considered them nothing more than fantasy, epic tales woven by a Greek philosopher, perhaps out of desire to live in such a place. Atlantis had long been a sort of utopia in the minds of many. Surely, such a place didn’t exist. Or did it?

  Winters’s hobby had led him down any number of rabbit holes, chasing ghosts wherever he could find them in his spare time. He’d gotten married when he turned twenty-nine, and with marriage had come the loss of his passion for Atlantis. It was a silly project, one that his wife had suggested was along the same lines as reading comic books or being passionate about sports. He didn’t dare bring up the amount of time and money she spent on her own hobbies.

  So, he’d walked away from his search for more than twenty years. When his wife died suddenly from a stroke, he’d been plunged into despair. He put everything he had into his work with the navy. Winters had already been climbing the ladder for some time, but with nothing left in his life except work, he pushed harder than ever. And he returned to his studies of Atlantis.

  There were new angles, television shows depicting possibilities he’d never considered, and then one day he came across something unexpected. It was an obscure book he found while sifting through a local bookstore. The shop was small, but Winters enjoyed going in there. The place had several first editions for sale, rare ones that went for a premium. He and the sho
p’s owner had developed a bond over the years, and it was only when Winters was taken into the man’s circle of trust that the shopkeeper shared with him his private collection.

  There was a backroom, locked by three different deadbolts and sealed with a fireproof door. Winters had stepped into the place with eyes wide. The owner knew about his love of the Atlantis story and took him into the secret room to show him something he claimed he’d only ever shown one other person in his life.

  It was a small book. The hard green cover had faded through the years. It was worn down on the corners, and the pages had turned a dim yellow.

  The book was based on a theory about what had happened to Atlantis, and it was steeped in a great deal of both historical and scientific research. The author claimed the disappearance of Atlantis was the direct result of implementing a defensive weapon of cataclysmic power known as the Omega Ring.

  According to the book, this doomsday weapon was meant to keep enemies at bay and was capable of wiping out entire navies, even destroying islands within a certain radius. The author suggested that the creators of the weapon had miscalculated its capabilities and, when testing it, accidentally destroyed their entire city along with everyone in it.

  The Omega Ring was, supposedly, lost to the annals of history and had faded into obscurity, never to be seen again. The author, however, believed that the weapon had somehow survived the incident and been transported to a land far away where it would no longer be a threat to Greece or the rest of the world.

  Then came the story about Meriwether Lewis, the young military captain who ventured across the country at the behest of Thomas Jefferson. The author talked about how Jefferson used the Corps of Discovery expedition as a cover. The public was told that the expedition was to map the newly purchased land west of the Mississippi. Lewis and his friend Clark would travel to the Northwest in search of a water passage to the Pacific Ocean and, along the way, detail as much as they could about the land.