The Omega Project

by Ernest Dempsey

  Tommy swallowed hard as he stared at the anomaly.

  “Schultzie?” Sean’s voice cut the silence like a freight train in a funeral parlor. “What do those tablets say?”

  Sean stepped close and looked down at the piece of gold.

  Tommy answered in an absent tone, as if he was now on another planet. “The tablets speak of a great weapon. It was designed to defend against the Athenians as well as foreign threats from the sea.”

  “Okay,” Petty said. “Where is this weapon?”

  Tommy stared at the white crystal. “This is it,” he said.

  Petty looked with dismay at the quartz pillar. “What do you mean, this is it?”

  “You can see here the other two sections of the ring fit into this hoop that was dug out of the crystal.”

  “What does it do?”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Sean said. He took the section of ring he’d kept in his jacket pocket and held it up in the light. The gold shimmered in the dull glow.

  “Where did you guys find those?” Petty asked. There was a curious look on his face, like a child searching for the hiding place of his Christmas presents.

  “Along the way here,” Sean answered, leaving it vague for now.

  He started to put the piece of gold down into what he suspected was its place when Tommy stopped him.

  “No, wait.” Tommy put out his hand and grabbed Sean’s wrist. “Remember what Madison’s letter said; the warning.”

  “Death, destruction, all that. Yeah, I remember.”

  “Well, there’s something else you need to know.”

  “What’s that?” Sean asked, looking at his friend with patient eyes while inside his patience was wearing thin. They were running out of time to help Dawkins, and every second that passed only put them further behind.

  “The messages on the tablet,” Tommy started. “They all contain warnings.”

  “What kind of warnings?”

  “From what I could discern, this weapon is a land killer. It could wipe out an entire island in one go.”

  “I’d have to see that,” Petty quipped.

  “There’s one more thing,” Tommy added quickly. “The symbol at the bottom of those tablets, it’s the symbol for one of the greatest mythical cities ever known to man.”

  “New York?” Sean joked.

  “No.” Tommy remained serious. “It’s the symbol for Atlantis.”

  Sean’s eyebrows pinched together at that statement. “What did you just say?’

  “I think we might be standing over the machine or weapon that destroyed the fabled city of Atlantis. Those tablets contain warnings with direct references to the lost city.”

  Sean took his hand away from the pillar and stared at his friend while Tommy continued to explain.

  “Based on what those tablets say and what Agent Petty here was able to discern, my guess is that the Japanese stumbled upon this artifact some time long ago, realized how dangerous it was, and shipped it across the Pacific to a new land where there were few inhabitants and where it was a safe enough distance away from the empire.” He looked at his friend, then at Petty, then back to Sean. “How am I doing so far?”

  “That actually makes a ton of sense, Schultzie.”

  “Thank you.” Tommy took a dramatic bow.

  “The problem now is, how do we get this thing out of here to get it to the guys who took Dawkins? Or do we just close up the door, seal it, and get out of here?”

  “That, Sean, would be a bad idea.” The new voice echoed from the entrance to the room.

  Sean spun around first, instinctively reaching for his gun.

  Tommy and Petty likewise twisted around, stuffing their hands into their coats to draw their weapons. Every one of them was too late.

  The men standing in the doorway were holding pistols and submachine guns, and one held a smaller version of an AR-15, pistol length with a gray brace in place of the stock.

  At first, Sean didn’t recognize the men. He scanned their faces but kept coming up with nothing. That is, until he locked in on the one standing at the center of the group. There was something familiar about him, something that caught Sean off guard and also filled him with dread.

  The man stepped forward, a SIG Sauer sidearm in his right hand. He offered a smug grin and then took his own bow.

  “Hello, Sean. Remember me?”

  Tommy and Petty looked over at Sean, who was still piecing together details from long ago.

  Then something clicked, and his eyes widened. “Boyd? Andrew Boyd?”

  45

  Annapolis

  “We’re here live with a very special guest on today’s show,” Adriana said with the exuberance that could have only come from a well-experienced Hollywood actress.

  The camera was pointed at Admiral Winters, hogtied to the floor, his bloody face squarely in the middle of the screen. Behind him his guards were lying one on top of the other, their hands and wrists also bound.

  She held the pistols in her hands. The muzzles had empty water bottles fixed to them as makeshift silencers, a trick she’d only used once up to that point in her adventurous life.

  “That’s right,” Adriana went on, “it’s Fleet Admiral Forrest Winters!”

  She kept her face away from the camera, but the guns were pointed at the three men, one for Winters and the other for the guards.

  “Admiral Winters, as you may or may not know, is one of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the head of the United States Navy.” She made a sound like a teenager finding out they were going to see their favorite boy band, adding “ooooh” at the end of it.

  “We’re here today to get a confession from Admiral Winters regarding the disappearance of former president John Dawkins. As you can see, the admiral hasn’t been very forthcoming about the truth behind the abduction, which is why we’re here today.”

  Winters swore into his mouth gag and kicked around, but he couldn’t get free.

  “Sorry, folks. I had to put that rag in his mouth. Apparently, the admiral cusses like a sailor.” Adriana let out a fake laugh at her dumb joke. “Anyway, we’re here to find out if Admiral Winters will confess the truth. Or will he let two of his loyal guards be killed to protect himself?”

  Adriana walked around to the front of the phone. She’d made a mental note of where it was aimed and knew where she could stand without showing her face. She stopped short of the admiral and took out his gag, keeping her back to the phone’s camera. No one watching the video would know who she was.

  The admiral shouted. He screamed for help. Then he went into full empty-threat mode. “Congratulations, lady! You’re going to spend the rest of your life in jail. Smart move! Every cop, every federal agent in two states—they’re all on their way right now.”

  She shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably true. Still, this is going to be a fun show. And you need to be nicer. After all, we’re live on social media.”

  He looked back over at the phone. She’d told him what she was doing, that she was going to live-stream everything.

  “I wonder how many likes and shares we have so far, Admiral.” Adriana chuckled. “Oh, well. I guess we’ll find out later. Like I was saying, I wonder if you will let your two guards over there die or if you’ll confess the truth to save them.”

  “You already know the truth. You’re crazy!”

  “Okay, then. The question of the hour is: Did you orchestrate the abduction of former president John Dawkins? And if so, where is he now? And remember, if you lie to me I kill your guards.”

  “You’re out of your mind. You hear me? You are going away for a very long time unless you let us go.”

  “Three seconds, Admiral. Did you do it? And where is Dawkins now?” Adriana’s tone changed to one laced with evil. There was no compassion there, no mercy—only pure, unadulterated menace.

  The man shook his head.

  She raised the gun in her right hand and pointed it at the guard on top.

&nbs
p; “One.”

  “I already told you, nut job, I didn’t take the president!”

  “Two.”

  “What is wrong with you? I didn’t have anything to do with his disappearance.”

  “Three.”

  The gun popped twice. Plastic erupted on the bottom of the water bottle fixed to the barrel. It wasn’t as good as a real suppressor, but it did the job, keeping most of the gun's report contained within the room.

  She looked down at the admiral, who was struggling to twist around so he could see if she’d really killed the two guards. Adriana shook her head and walked back to the phone and laid it on its face for a moment.

  The live feed was black for a moment, and then the room reappeared when she tilted the device back on its edge.

  The scene was now of the admiral, still where he was before, and the two guards. Now, however, those guards were motionless. Their eyes were closed, and dark blood oozed out of their foreheads.

  Adriana walked back around into the shot and stopped next to the admiral once more. She nudged his chest with her boot, spinning him around enough so that he could see the two dead guards.

  He screamed obscenities, some she’d never heard before. The swearing came between empty threats and promises. “They’ll hang you for this!” was but one particular example.

  Adriana kept the second pistol loose at her side. “Now, everyone, are you ready to see if the admiral will tell the truth to save his own skin? Keep in mind, Admiral, we are live on the air right now. So, with that in mind, I’m not going to go through the process of torturing you, as much as I’d like to. I’m going to give you two shots. Ha ha! The first one will hit your crotch. And the second will go right through your head. Yeah! And believe me, folks, I’m going to wait as long as I can between the two.”

  Adriana hovered over him and aimed the pistol down at the man’s groin.

  “No! Please, don’t!”

  She let her finger visibly tense on the trigger. “Sorry, Admiral. Say goodbye to…whatever’s down there.” She raised the weapon another few inches to add effect.

  “No! Wait! Wait! Stop! Please!”

  She lowered her head, glaring at him. “Talk.”

  “Andrew Boyd has him. Okay? Andrew Boyd is the guy who took him. He and his men…they…they threatened me, okay? I didn’t have a choice. I had to give Dawkins up.”

  Adriana nodded and then stiffened her spine. “Well, there you have it, everyone! Admiral Winters was behind the abduction of President Dawkins.” She chuckled for a moment, her voice sultry and sinister.

  “No, please. You have to believe me. I didn’t have a choice! Please!”

  “I’m giving you a choice now, Admiral,” Adriana said. She walked back over to the phone and stopped the recording. “Now everyone in the world knows what happened, well, at least your version of it. Personally, I think you were the one pulling all the strings. This Boyd character might have the president, but I have a feeling it was you calling the shots. Either way, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  She tapped one of the apps on the phone, opened the man’s profile, and began to upload the video to YouTube. Once it was there, he’d be finished.

  “What are you doing?” His voice was panicked.

  “Well, I might have lied earlier when I said we were live. We weren’t, but don’t worry, that confession is on its way to the internet as we speak.” His eyes were wide with fear.

  Adriana watched the phone until the video was done uploading to YouTube. Then she typed in the words “Admiral Winters: I Kidnapped President Dawkins.”

  She hit save and then watched to make sure the video was live-streamed, uploaded, and public. Then she took the phone over to a bucket of ice, she assumed for the liquor the admiral had been drinking. A thin pool of water had collected at the bottom. She looked into the bucket, over at the admiral, and then dropped the phone.

  “What are you doing?” he shouted. “You’re insane! I’ll have your head for this!”

  She shook her head and looked over at him. “No, Admiral, you won’t. I just uploaded the video to YouTube. It will go viral within minutes. And your life will be over. Of course, there are…other options.”

  His eyebrows lowered. “What do you mean?”

  She picked up one of the pistols and detached the makeshift silencer from the end. Then she took the second gun and did the same, taking the taped-on suppressor from the muzzle. The second weapon, she stuffed into her belt. The first, she took over to the admiral and stood for a moment, looming like an executioner from a thousand years ago. She looked down at him, not with pity or with anger. Her gaze was one of curiosity, bordering amusement.

  She bent down and ripped the tape off his wrists. Then she walked back over to the counter and pulled the slide several times, counting down the rounds as they clinked on the surface of the desk. When she was sure there was only one left in the chamber, she scooped up the remaining cartridges and stuffed them in a pocket.

  “What I mean is,” she set the pistol on the desk; “you don’t have to go to prison if you don’t want to. In fact, a guy like you would probably be pretty popular there. So, maybe you do want to go. Either way, you’re done. Your career, your name, your life—it’s all over, Admiral. Everything you’ve worked for is gone.”

  She left the pistol on the desk and walked out the door.

  She’d picked up one of the radios from the guards she knocked out earlier. The show was to make it look like she’d killed the men. What she’d done was much more humane. She’d turned the camera and then walked over, thumped each one on the back of the head to knock them out, and then went back to the phone to finish the show.

  To the world and even to Winters, it would appear she’d killed them. A little blood she’d scooped from the floor around Winters made for good special effects on both guards’ heads. To the phone’s camera and to Winters, it looked just like they’d been shot.

  She pressed on the radio button and spoke. “We have trouble. Upstairs. Hurry.”

  Adriana tucked into the back corner of the laundry room as the two guards in the back of the house burst through the door and sprinted upstairs. The sounds of their footsteps mingled with sirens in the distance. As she stepped out of the back door, she could hear the screams of the guards coming from the house.

  They were begging the admiral not to do it. They shouted at him, telling him to put the gun down.

  As Adriana hit the street in the back and turned away, she heard a single gunshot and the sound of broken glass.

  She rubbed down the pistol in her hand with the underside of her shirt and tossed it in a garbage bin, then picked up her pace to a trot.

  46

  Astoria

  “Ding ding ding!” Boyd yelled in a mocking tone. “We have a winner!”

  He sauntered across the floor, followed closely by his men as they fanned out, essentially blocking any way out. Aside from Boyd, there were four other gunmen, all similarly dressed in their skullcaps, black jackets and matching pants, and black boots.

  “You know, Sean, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me. It’s been a minute, right?” His voice climbed to a new pitch at the end. Boyd stopped ten feet from Sean. The pistol in his hand was still at his waist, casually pointed in Sean’s direction.

  Sean noted the way that Boyd and his men were dressed and went with it. “You five just come from a rave or do you just all coincidentally shop at the same Hot Topic?”

  Boyd snorted a laugh and shook his head. “Still think you’re so funny, Sean. I heard that about you. Always cracking jokes, trying to make light of a bad situation.”

  Boyd turned and fired his pistol. The suppressor on the barrel toned down the decibels, even in the confined space. The end of the weapon puffed, and Sean shuddered as the round hit Agent Petty in the chest.

  Petty staggered back, a confused and terrified look filling his face. His eyes were wide with fear, mingled with pain. He touched the hole in his chest as he kept stumbling
backward until he tripped over his right heel and fell onto his back. His head hit the floor with a thud, and his eyes rolled up behind the eyelids.

  Sean and Tommy watched, sickened by what had occurred.

  They turned back to face the killer. “Good one, Boyd,” Sean said. “You just killed a federal agent. Add that to the long list of charges you’re already piling up, including kidnapping the former president.”

  “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I cared, Sean. You act as if I’m going to get caught in all of this. I assure you, I’ve planned everything perfectly, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.”

  “Where is Dawkins?” Sean sneered. He looked like a rabid animal, ready to pounce any second.

  “Oh, he’s safe,” Boyd answered. “Undisclosed location. I’m sure you understand. Bringing him here would have been dramatic, sure, but it also would have been a logistical nightmare. That old guy is a real pain, as I’m certain you can understand having been friends with him for the last eight years or so.”

  “If you’ve hurt him…”

  “You’ll do what?” Boyd arched both eyebrows. “You’re in no position to do anything, Sean.” He stepped closer and motioned to Sean’s jacket. “Take off the coat, nice and slow. You too, Schultz.” He waved a hand at Tommy. “Do anything stupid, and I kill Sean.”

  “You’re going to do that anyway.”

  Boyd puffed his lips and nodded. “You know what? That’s true, but don’t you want him to have just a few more seconds of life? I mean, if it was me staring down the barrel of a gun, I’d do everything I could to savor every moment I could.”

  “I’ll remember you said that,” Sean growled.

  Sean and Tommy unzipped their jackets and dropped them to the floor, exposing the weapons holstered at their side and under their armpits.

  “Only two guns, Sean? Traveling light?” Boyd laughed and motioned for his men to disarm the two captives.

  Two of the men trotted over and started methodically removing the weapons. Sean kept his hands out to his side as his frisker made sure he didn’t have anything else on him, checking his ankles and thighs. At one point, the gunman was a little too thorough in the nether regions.