The Atlantis Gene: A Thriller (The Origin Mystery, Book 1)

by A. G. Riddle

  David slipped the gun out of his belt. He had to keep him talking, at least a bit longer. “I don’t see what it has to do with you.”

  “Don’t you? Why do you think Pierce would have worked with us?”

  “You would have killed him.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t fear death. You read the journal’s end. He would have welcomed it, would have killed us all in a blaze of glory. We had taken everything from him, everything he loved. But his love for his child was more powerful than his hatred. As I said, Patrick Pierce was very clever. The second he emerged from the tube, he knew what they were. Hibernation tubes, suspension chambers. In that makeshift hospital in the warehouse above us, he made a deal. He would put Helena’s dead body in one tube, and Kane would put Dieter, his dying son, in another tube. Both men became obsessed with medical research. They dreamed of the day they could open the tubes and save their loved ones. Of course, Kane’s ideas were more radical, more racially charged. He became obsessed with finding a way to survive the Bell. He took it to Germany, and… you already know about the experiments. We knew Pierce was working against us, planning something. In 1938, right before Kane’s expedition, he demanded Pierce go into a tube while he was gone.”

  “Why not just kill him?”

  “We would have liked to, but as a I said, we knew he had written a journal, and that he was making other plans against us. We assumed their execution was contingent on his death, so we were in a tough position. Kane didn’t trust him, and Pierce didn’t have a choice — we had something he valued much more than his own life. But he made a smart deal. He demanded I be put into the last tube — he knew I would unravel his plans and kill him in his sleep. While Kane was gone, we would both be put on ice. We would be brought back when Kane returned or in 40 years, whichever was sooner. Kane had laughed when Pierce demanded the 40-year clause. He never dreamed he wouldn’t return, but of course he didn’t. We only found his sub a few weeks ago in Antarctica. And Pierce and I woke up in 1978, in a different world. Our organization, the Immari, was practically gone; only the shells of our corporations and certain overseas assets remained. The Second World War had decimated us. The Nazis had appropriated many of our assets, including the Bell. I set about rebuilding Immari, and Patrick resumed his role of thwarting me. I began by reviving the organization I founded, my division of Immari, the world’s first global intelligence organization. You’re familiar with it. Clocktower. The Immari intelligence branch.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I am not. You know it. You saw the messages we sent in ‘47, the ones embedded in those New York Times obituaries. Why would Immari messages be marked with the words clock and tower? You had to have realized then, when you saw the decoded messages — or perhaps even before. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you’ve known what Clocktower was from the second you heard how many agents were under Immari control. You knew it when the cells fell so quickly. Think about it. Clocktower wasn’t compromised by Immari, it was an Immari division, a unit with one purpose: to gain the trust of the world’s intelligence bureaus, to infiltrate them fully, to ensure that when the day came, when we unleashed the Atlantis Plague, that they would be powerless, utterly blind. Clocktower had one other purpose: to collect and contain anyone who was on to the Immari master plan — people like you. The entire time you’ve been at Clocktower, we’ve been watching you, trying to find out how much you know and who you’ve told. It’s the only solution. People like you don’t break under interrogation. And there’s another advantage. We’ve found that, over the years, most agents join us when they learn the full truth. You will too. That’s why you’re here.”

  “To get indoctrinated? You think I’ll join up if I hear your rationale.”

  “Things aren’t as they seem—”

  “I’ve heard enough.” David raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER 112

  Immari Research Base Prism

  East Antarctica

  Kate shook her head. How could he be here? She wouldn’t cry. All she could manage was, “Why?” Her voice cracked, betraying her.

  Dorian’s expression changed, as if remembering something frivolous, a needless item he’d forgotten at the grocery store. “Oh, that. Just repaying an old debt. But that’s nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you don’t tell me what you treated those children with.” He moved closer to her, forcing her into the corner of the room.

  Kate wanted to tell him now, to see the look on his face. “Cord blood.”

  “What?” Dorian took a step away from her.

  “I lost the baby. But a month before I did, I had embryonic stem cells extracted from the umbilical cord, just in case the child ever developed a condition that required stem cells.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “It’s true. I used an experimental stem cell treatment on the children, using stem cells from the embryo of our dead child. I used them all. There aren’t any more.”

  CHAPTER 113

  Immari Tunnels

  Gibraltar

  David pulled the trigger again. Another click.

  “I removed the firing pin,” Craig said. “I knew you would be able to tell the difference between a loaded and unloaded gun, so it was the best choice. And I needed to get you down here.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve already told you. I’m here to recruit you. By the time we’re done talking, you’ll know the truth and you’ll finally—”

  “I won’t. You can kill me now—”

  “I’d rather not, David. Good men are hard to come by. There’s another reason: you know more than anyone else. You’re in a unique position to—”

  “You know why I joined Clocktower, what the Immari took from me. What you took from me.”

  “Not me. Dorian. Dieter. Granted, I used Clocktower to make sure no intelligence agencies got wind of the plot, but he planned 9/11. It was his brainchild. He was obsessed with searching those mountains for his father. He desperately needed some kind of closure. It wasn’t the only reason. As I said before, our organization was in shambles when I awoke in 1978, and we were still recovering in 2001. We needed money and a global cover to resume our work.”

  “Impossible. Dorian Sloane is Dieter Kane?”

  “It’s true. When I awoke in 1978, I ordered his tube opened, and he walked right out, as healthy as he could be. The tube must also be some sort of healing device, a medical treatment pod of some sort. But its powers are limited to treating the living. I watched as Patrick Pierce, who had been as stoic as a judge for the past 20 years, crumbled into unimaginable grief as they pulled Helena’s still-dead body from the tube. He relived her death all over again. But medical technology had come a long way, and we were able to save the child inside her.”

  “His child?”

  “Daughter. But you know her already. Kate Warner.”

  CHAPTER 114

  Immari Research Base Prism

  East Antarctica

  Kate studied Dorian’s face. Confusion? Disbelief? Regret? He stared at the point where the wall met the floor, thinking.

  Then he focused on her, grinning an evil, unkind grin. “That was very clever, Kate. Of course you are very smart — when it comes to science. But not when it comes to reading people.” He turned away from her and paced toward the door. “You’re just like your father in that way. Brilliant, but foolish.”

  What was he talking about? Her father died 28 years ago. Dorian, or Dieter, or whatever his name was… he was a madman. “You’re the only fool here,” Kate said.

  “Am I? All of this is your father’s fault. He unleashed all of this. He killed my mother and brother and forced my father to undertake a risky mission to save the world, a mission from which he never returned. There’s your why Kate. I’ve dedicated my whole life to finishing my father’s work and to righting the wrongs your father did to my family; and today, you’ve given me the keys to finally do that.”

  Before Kate could react, an
alarm rang out.

  A security guard, or some sort of soldier, burst in the door. “Sir, we’re under attack.”

  CHAPTER 115

  Immari Tunnels

  Gibraltar

  David’s mind raced. He said his thoughts aloud, almost mumbling them. “Kate Warner is Patrick Pierce’s daughter? How—”

  “I thought new names were in order. If anyone ever connected us to the events during and after World War I, it would have… complicated our lives. Pierce took the name Tom Warner, and Katherine for his newborn daughter. He told her that her mother had died in childbirth, which was actually the truth. Dieter became Dorian Sloane, and he became obsessed with the past and his father’s legacy. He was a hateful child. He had seen so much pain, and he was all alone in an age he didn’t understand. Imagine, a seven-year-old boy going to sleep in 1918 with the flu, when his parents and brother were alive, and waking up 60 years later, in 1978, healthy and all alone in a strange world. I tried to be a father figure to him, but he was so troubled, so isolated. Like you, he dedicated his life to striking back at the people who had taken the ones he loved, to killing the people who had changed him and ruined his life. For him, that was Tom Warner and the Atlanteans. Unfortunately for all of us, Dorian is very capable. And he had support within the Immari organization. To the Immari, he was the heir and savior returned, living proof that the plague and the Bell could be beaten, that the human race could survive. It all went to Dorian’s head. He grew into a monster. He’s planning to reduce the human race to a select few, the genetically superior, what he believes is his tribe. He’s already unleashed the plague. The apocalypse is happening now, as we speak. But we can stop him. You can kill him, then I alone will run the Immari organization, with you at my side.” Craig watched David, hoping for some indication of how his former apprentice would react to the offer. “I’ll take you in as a prisoner. I know him. He’ll want to gloat, to debrief and torture you himself. I’ll give you a means to kill him when you’re left alone with him.”

  David shook his head. “That’s what you want? This whole charade? You want me to kill Sloane — to put you on the throne?”

  “Don’t you want to? He was responsible for 9/11. He’s your enemy. And you can save Kate. She’s there with him now. He will hurt her. He hurt her before, in San Francisco. The baby — it was his. There’s more, but the bottom line is that you can save her. Only you can save her.” Craig let the words sink in for a long moment, then turned and paced the room. “Think about it, David. You know you can’t win. You can’t fight us. The gunfire in the tunnels, those were the sounds of my Immari Security agents killing the last of the Clocktower loyalists. They’re all dead. You’re all alone down here. You can’t defeat the Immari. No one can. The world is already fighting the plague. You can’t prevent catastrophe. But we can change things, from inside Immari. We can shape the world to come.”

  David considered the offer — his own deal with the devil. Then he looked around the room, for a weapon of some kind. There was something — the wooden handle of a spear, sticking out of the wall. The wood and iron spear looked so out of place here — in a room of strange metal and glass and technology David couldn’t begin to imagine.

  On the other side of the room, a hologram flickered to life, like a 3D video of some sort.

  “What is—”

  “We don’t know for sure,” Craig said. He walked closer to the area where the hologram was forming. “Some sort of videos, holograms, on repeat. They play every few minutes. I think they show the past, what happened here. They’re the other reason I brought you down here, to this room. They are the secrets this room holds. We think Patrick Pierce hadn’t yet uncovered them when he sent the journal in 1938. Or, this is another theory, he had found the room, but nothing worked until he came out of the tube in 1978. We’re still sorting it out, but as you’ll see, we believe he saw them at some point in the seven years after he resumed his work as Tom Warner. We don’t know what they mean yet, but he went to great lengths to keep them from us. We think they’re some kind of message.”

  CHAPTER 116

  Immari Research Base Prism

  East Antarctica

  Kate looked up at the sound of the second explosion. She tried the door again. Still locked. She thought she smelled smoke. Her mind raced through Dorian’s crazed allegations and the videos of the children walking into that massive structure… with the packs strapped to their backs.

  The door swung open, and Martin Grey stepped quickly into the room. He grabbed Kate by the arm and pulled her out into the hall.

  “Martin,” Kate began, but he cut her off.

  “Stay quiet. We have to hurry,” Martin said as he led her down the white-walled corridor. They turned a corner, and the corridor ended in what looked like an airlock on a space station. They proceeded through the airlock and a gust rushed past them as they ventured into the large room beyond — some sort of hangar or warehouse with a high, arched ceiling. Martin squeezed her arm and led her to a stack of hard plastic crates where they knelt and waited in silence. She heard voices at the end of the room and the engines of heavy equipment — forklifts maybe.

  “Stay here,” Martin said.

  “Martin—”

  “In a minute,” Martin whispered as he got to his feet and ran to the men.

  Kate heard his footfalls stop abruptly as he reached the men. His voice rang with an authority and force Kate had never heard from her adoptive father. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Unloadin—”

  “Sloane’s called for all personnel at the North Entrance.”

  “What? We were told—”

  “The station’s been breached. If it falls, whatever you’re doing here won’t matter. He’s called for you. You can stay here if you like. It’s your funeral.”

  Kate heard more footfalls, moving toward her; then they passed her and moved out another airlock. There was just one set of footfalls now — Martin. He walked deeper into the hangar and spoke again. “He’s called for everyone—”

  “Who’s going to control the site—”

  “Gentlemen, why do you think I’m here?”

  More footfalls, running, an airlock opening and closing, and Martin was back. “Come quickly, Kate.”

  Martin marched her past rows of crates and a makeshift control station of some kind, with a bank of computers and a wall of screens. They showed a long ice corridor and the opening she had seen the children walk through.

  “Please Martin, tell me what’s going on.”

  Martin’s eyes were soft, sympathetic. “Get into this suit. I’ll tell you all I can in the seconds we have left.” He motioned to a white, puffy space suit hanging on the wall beside a group of lockers. Kate began slipping into the suit, and Martin looked away from her as he spoke.

  “I’m so sorry, Kate. I’m the one that forced you to produce results. And when you did… I kidnapped those children. I did it because we needed them—”

  “The Bell—”

  “Yes, to get past the Bell, to get inside the Tombs — the structure two miles below the ice here in Antarctica. Since we began studying the Bell, we’ve known some people can resist it longer than others. They all die, but a few years ago, we identified a set of genes involved in resistance — the Atlantis Gene — we call it. The gene heavily influences brain wiring. We think it’s responsible for all sorts of advanced cognitive abilities, problem solving, advanced reasoning, language, creativity. We, Homo sapiens sapiens that is, have it; none of the other subspecies of humans have it — that we’ve found. It’s how we’re different. My theory is that the Atlanteans gave it to us around 60,000 years ago — around the time of the Toba Catastrophe. It’s what enabled us to survive. But we weren’t quite ready for it. We were still very much like our great ape cousins, acting on instinct, living in the wild. The strange thing is, we think it’s activated by a sort of neural survival sub-routine, the fight-or-flight center of the brain. That mechanism activates the Atl
antis Gene — focusing the mind and body. It could be why we’re a race of thrill seekers and why we’re so prone to violence. It’s so fascinating.” Martin shook his head, trying to focus. “Anyway, we’re still trying to understand how it works. Everyone has the Atlantis Gene or at least some of the genetic components for it, but activating the gene is the problem. For some minds, geniuses, activation is more frequent. We think these genius moments, these flashes of insight and clarity are literally like a light bulb flickering on and off — the Atlantis Gene activates, and for the briefest of moments, we can use the full power of our minds. These people can activate the Atlantis Gene without the fight-or-flight circuit breaker. We began focusing our research on minds that had this sort of sustained activation. We observed activation in some minds on the autism spectrum — savants. That’s why we funded your research. It’s why Dorian was… forgiven… if you will, for his transgressions — he had steered you into an area of Immari interest. And when you succeeded, when the children showed sustained Atlantis Gene activation, I took the kids before he could find out. I created other distractions, with Clocktower, to keep him busy.”

  “You were the source. You sent the information to David.”

  “Yes, as a backup plan, in case I failed. I had already sent a message to David revealing the Immari double-agents working as Clocktower analysts, and I was trying to tell him that Clocktower itself was the Immari intelligence agency. I had hoped the war for Clocktower would consume the Immari, giving me time to do my work. I kidnapped the children, hoping to keep you out of this, but I underestimated you. And how quickly Dorian would react. I tried to give you clues when we met in Jakarta, during my theatrical rant in the observation room. I wasn’t sure you could put it all together. Then, Dorian’s men had you and… the entire situation spun out of control. It’s all my fault.”