Artifact

by Vaughn Heppner

  “Got any other ideas?” Jack asked.

  “We have the drone,” Terrell said. “Let me buzz them. Let Hammond know we see him.”

  Jack gripped the steering wheel harder than ever. The advisor would burn him for this, saying he should have left Carter to the wolves. They had protocols for events like this. No one agent was worth saving if it exposed D17—that was the team’s golden rule. Besides, he was already supposed to have deactivated the drone.

  “Buzz them,” Jack said. He wasn’t leaving anyone behind. “Once we get in AT4 range,” he told Phelps, “fire wide so as not to hit a truck. We don’t want the antimatter to spill—if it’s onboard. But right now they don’t know we know about it and that we’re firing to miss.”

  “You’re trying to scare them?” Terrell asked.

  “No,” Jack said. “That’s what you’re hoping buzzing them will do. I’m warning them, telling them to run away. If they do, I’ll pick up Carter and leave.”

  “And if Hammond decides to stay and fight it out?” Terrell asked.

  “We kill him,” Jack said, with his eyes shining.

  “The advisor isn’t going to like that.”

  “Oh well.”

  As the jeep crunched onto gravel, Jack punched it so bits of rock flew. The Chief Cherokee picked up speed, creating a cloud of debris behind it.

  A sour expression appeared on Elliot’s face. “Is the drone almost there?”

  “Look at the windshield,” Terrell said.

  Jack did. What he saw almost brought the hint of a smile to his lips.

  -34-

  SIWA OASIS

  EGYPT

  Selene and the clerk had been zipping on side-trails, flashing in and out of shadows underneath thousands of palm and olive trees. Now, the clerk zoomed out of the relative coolness of the groves into the hot sun. He headed toward the ancient Temple of the Oracle of Ammon in the abandoned, mud-brick village of Aghurmi.

  The choice intrigued Selene. Claire had gone to Angkor Wat, an old Cambodian temple, although not as old as the one here. Did the hums have anything to do with temple sites?

  On the journey to the oasis from the Cairo airport, Selene had read on the internet about Siwa. In ancient times, people had called this place Ammonium because of the oracle of Ammon, a ram-horned god originally adopted by the Libyans. Some believed Ammon was a derivative of Baal Hammon of the Carthaginians. Others suggested the god had come from the Egyptian Amun, one of the Old Kingdom deities of creation. The oracle was claimed to have existed since prehistoric times, with believers trekking across the desert to ask it questions.

  There were two notable ancient events connected with Ammonium. Each came at the hand of a foreign conqueror.

  The first involved Cambyses II, the son of Cyrus of Persia, who conquered Egypt in 525 BC. The legends spoke about Cambyses’ arrogance and madness. He sent an army on the road to Ethiopia. Along the way, he detached fifty thousand soldiers. Their task was to destroy Ammonium in the Libyan Desert. The mercenaries and Persians trekked across the bleak sands. Unfortunately for them, they lost their way and died in the desert, buried under a terrible sandstorm.

  As Selene pondered the place’s history, the scooter headed for the hill of the oracle. The hill had been larger in times past. Throughout the centuries, sections had cracked and sloughed off, shrinking the rocky edifice and threatening the ancient temple with eventual destruction.

  The second historical event had happened in 331 BC. Alexander the Great, with a small force of Macedonians, had traveled two hundred and twenty miles across the desert to Ammonium. His force might have lost its way like the earlier Persians, but legend held that two snakes had led them to the oracle, hissing all the way there.

  According to the ancient historian Plutarch, the chief priest of Ammon had gone out to greet Alexander. The priest had wished to say, “Oh my son,” but being a foreigner, had mispronounced the words so as to say, “Son of Zeus.” The mistake had pleased the conqueror. Together, chief priest and Macedonian went to the god, but what Ammon revealed to Alexander was unknown. It was so great a secret that he had not even dared to communicate it to his mother in writing.

  The god’s revelations had a profound impact on Alexander. From Ammonium, historians could trace two new facets regarding the conqueror. From that time forward, Alexander began to speak about his divine origin, calling himself the son of Zeus-Ammon. The second notion was more beneficial to the world. It was the idea of Ammon-Ra ruling over all humanity. Alexander wished to treat all the conquered peoples as equal, not dealing with humanity as separate tribes or in different camps, such as the Greeks had, calling everyone else barbarians. This had been a radical idea in the ancient world.

  The clerk gunned the scooter. The rear tire kicked up dust as the small engine complained at the steepest part. Before Selene could comment, he brought the scooter onto a level area. He made a sharp turn and stopped, shutting off the engine.

  Selene slid off, noticing the silence and that the place was deserted. Interestingly, she did not hear any humming. There was supposed to be one here.

  “Come,” said the clerk. “He is growing impatient.”

  Selene hesitated. The clerk seemed nervous. “Answer me this first,” she said. “What did you mean earlier when you spoke about the shadowy ones?”

  He stared at her, his manner turning creepy.

  Selene pulled out the .38, stepping back. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? How else could you know about them?”

  Instead of making him more nervous, the revolver seemed to calm him. The clerk shook his head.

  “There is no Old Man,” she said.

  “Walk up those stairs and I’ll show you otherwise.”

  Selene couldn’t make up her mind. The clerk sounded sincere, but a good conman always did.

  “Why do you care what I see?” Selene asked. “Is it the money you’re hoping to get from me?”

  “He wants to show someone. He would have shown Claire, but she broke her appointment. She betrayed his confidence.”

  “Claire will still show up.”

  “If she can,” the clerk said, ominously.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Instead of answering, he said, “You can hear the hum from inside the location. It’s most obvious then, and eerie. Maybe you’re afraid to hear it.”

  “You bet I am,” Selene said, “and you’re starting to frighten me as well.”

  He lowered his gaze. “I cannot help it. I’m nervous. I’ve never—he’s never shown anyone else before.”

  So, he was the Old Man. The clerk act was a front. She should be safe as long as she had the gun. Maybe it would be wisest to continue playing along with the act.

  “Sure,” she said. “Take me to the hum. But if you’re playing me false…”

  “Come,” he said, starting up the ancient stairs.

  Selene followed. It didn’t surprise her when the clerk produced a key, unlocking a large iron gate. After they passed through the modern barrier, the clerk closed the gate. Afterward, they entered the ruins of the unroofed temple.

  “This way,” he said.

  They stepped into a side passage with stairs leading down into a tunneled corridor. It was cooler here and darker. Instinctively, Selene’s grip tightened around the .38.

  The clerk fished a penlight out of his red vest, using it to light his path. After another turn, they came to a dead end.

  “What trick is this?” Selene asked hoarsely. Was he going to attack her?

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he crouched low, pushing something heavy so stone scraped against stone.

  To Selene’s left, a portion of wall swung inward. A waft of cool air blew against her, smelling like a cellar.

  “Few know of this passage,” he said in a soft voice.

  Selene blinked with surprise. She’d studied several brochures regarding the temple. This hadn’t been part of the ancient floor plan.

  “Shall we proceed?
” he asked.

  “It can’t be safe in there.”

  “I give you my assurances, it is.”

  Selene studied the clerk, finally taking several steps away from him. “Go ahead. Lead the way.”

  He did, shining his penlight before his feet.

  Selene listened to their footfalls as they descended into subterranean darkness. Narrow stone steps twisted around, heading deeper into the earth. The farther they walked, the cooler the air became. Finally, Selene shivered. The last thing she’d expected was to be cold today.

  “Why is he meeting us down here?” she asked.

  “In order to foil the shadowy ones,” he said.

  “Who are these shadowy ones? What’s their objective?”

  He kept walking as if he hadn’t heard the question. Finally, they reached another dead end. “Would you turn away for a moment please?”

  Selene snorted in an unladylike fashion.

  He shrugged after a moment, reaching into an alcove, pushing a stone.

  This section of wall slid inward like a sliding door, revealing a metallic chamber on the other side.

  Selene’s heart rate quickened. Now she could hear a distinctive, low-grade hum.

  “You hear it, yes?”

  “I do,” she whispered. “What is this place?” Was it linked to the undersea dome in the Indian Ocean?

  “You must step through with me,” the clerk was explaining. “Otherwise, we shall be separated when the spring slides the wall shut.”

  On impulse, Selene slipped the .38 into a pocket. Then, she stepped beside him, nodding. Together, they moved through the secret entrance, stepping onto a smooth steel floor. Immediately, the combination doorway slid shut behind them.

  The clerk clicked off his penlight and stepped away from her into pitch-blackness. It seemed like a treacherous thing to do. Had he lured her here for nefarious reasons?

  Selene crouched in the darkness, making herself a smaller target. Did he have a gun? Would he start firing?

  “Who are you?” he asked, sounding more confident now. “It is time you tell me.’

  Selene said nothing, deciding to remain as hidden as she could in the darkness. What was his game?

  “I will leave you here if you do not answer me,” he said.

  Selene still said nothing.

  “Very well,” he said.

  There was something menacing in his voice. Was he going to slip away and leave her here? “Wait,” Selene said. “I told him who I was on the phone. He’s the one who told me to go to your shop.”

  “Let me hear what you said again,” the clerk said.

  That seemed like an odd thing to say. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Selene asked.

  “No. I have nothing to do with them.”

  Selene believed him. The man seemed unhinged, though. Maybe it would be smartest to humor him. She began to tell him what she’d told the Old Man over the phone. “I’m a geologist for the University of Hawaii. I found something in the Indian Ocean like this place. There was a device in there, too, a tuning fork, which must have something to do with the hum.”

  “Tell me about the tuning fork.”

  “I don’t think so. Not yet, at least.”

  “You will remain in darkness for the rest of your rather short life if you don’t.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, deciding suddenly to play a hunch.

  “That’s a pity. The Old Man instructed me to use my discretion regarding you. He said I could leave you here to die.”

  Selene laughed, deciding to prick his pride. “You’re a liar.”

  “You are a foolish woman,” he said in a stung tone. “Why would you say such a thing to me?”

  “Because I know who you really are.”

  “Who is that?”

  “You pretend you’re just a clerk and messenger, but really you’re the Old Man. Why bother with such a flimsy deception? You’re not fooling anyone.”

  Except for the hum, there was silence, which lengthened uncomfortably.

  Finally, something clicked audibly. A diffuse glow came from the entire ceiling, increasing brightness. Selene saw that the metallic chamber contained a steel table and chairs. There were three closed hatches on the far side of the room. The clerk sat on a chair at the table. He set what looked like a clicker onto the smooth surface. Afterward, he did something with his hand, a conjurer’s trick perhaps. He gripped a small black pistol aimed at her.

  “You are one of them,” he said. “Why you should pretend otherwise, I have no idea.” He smiled in a sinister way. “What did you do to Claire? Why didn’t she come? Why did you come instead?”

  The gun and the man’s ruthless grin made Selene’s face go cold.

  “If you twitch the wrong way,” he said, “I will shoot out one of your kneecaps.”

  “I’m not one of them,” she said. “I want to know what happened to Claire even more than you do.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “It is so obvious I wonder how you could think to fool me.”

  “Why don’t you admit you’re the Old Man?”

  “Are you wearing a wire?” he asked.

  “I’m Dr. Selene Khan, a Hawaii University geologist who studies magnetic effects and the hum on the side.”

  “That’s the wrong answer,” he said, pulling the trigger.

  -35-

  DESERT ROAD

  EGYPT

  Sweat dripped from Carter’s nose, plinking onto the hot clay of the roof where he lay. He eased toward an edge. An Iranian in camouflage gear holding an assault rifle moved toward his building. The seven Iranians had spread out, each heading to a different ruin.

  Carter heard a familiar buzz. He looked up and spied the drone. It dive-bombed almost straight down.

  Carter slithered to the middle of the roof where he slid through a dark opening. He hit the dirt floor below, rolling until he lay in the cooler gloom. He had to act fast because Terrell was giving him an opening.

  The Iranians must have seen the drone, too. The sound of their firing confirmed it.

  Carter hurried to the nearest window. Would you look at that? An idiot had a spread-foot stance. The assault rifle shivered in the Iranian’s hands with empty, smoking shells kicking out of the chamber one right after another, striking the sand around him. The fool lacked fire control.

  Carter drew his Glock, placing his free hand under his shooting hand.

  The Iranian out there yanked the spent magazine from the rifle, dropping it at his feet. He fumbled in a pouch, bringing out another magazine, slamming it into place. That wasn’t the way to treat a weapon. Sure, the AK family had been constructed for hardiness, but come on…use a little common sense already. Treat your weapon disrespectfully and it would fail you at the worst possible moment. Mr. Anti-aircraft had other ideas. The Iranian pulled the bolt, putting a new bullet into the chamber, raising the rifle so the butt fit snug against his right shoulder. Then, the Iranian shifted, tracking the drone, putting his back to Carter.

  In rapid succession, Carter put three bullets into the middle of the Iranian’s back. The man pitched forward, hurling his weapon from him. He staggered for several steps, apparently trying to stay upright. Maybe he attempted to call out a warning to the others, but it didn’t matter. The Iranian went down hard.

  Carter didn’t hear the drone anymore. The six shooters were going crazy, hosing fire at it.

  Carter knew this was his moment. He eased through the window as his belly tightened. This was plain insanity, but he had to do something before Hammond’s men finished with the drone and hunted him down.

  Carter crawled across the hot dirt toward the dead Iranian. It surprised him none of them had hit the drone yet.

  Several things happened at once then. Carter reached the dead man’s assault rifle. As his fingers caressed the wood, Carter heard several Iranians shout in Allah’s name in horrified surprise. A second later, the drone smashed against the middle smuggler, catapulting the man backw
ard as the machine exploded.

  Terrell piloted drones the way LeBron James shot hoops.

  Carter picked up the assault rifle, put the butt against his shoulder and swiveled around. He flicked the selector switch to single fire, targeted the nearest smuggler and squeezed the trigger. The Iranian collapsed as if he had been a puppet with cut strings. Carter targeted another smuggler, needing two shots to kill him.

  An Iranian shouted, aiming at Carter. The White Mountain Apache proved faster, using three bullets to put the man down.

  The last three smugglers might have had brain overload. One of them dropped his AK knockoff and ran shouting in panic, with his arms flailing in the air. Carter ignored him. Another smuggler also ran away clutching his weapon against his chest. The last one howled with rage, spraying assault rifle fire. Carter emptied his magazine into that Iranian. Each impacting bullet made the man howl louder but seemed to have no other effect. Finally, Carter’s rifle clicked empty.

  The crazy man over there staggered at Carter. They were both out of ammo. The smuggler reached into his pouch, stopped as if he’d just thought of the most important thing in the world and gave Carter an amazed expression. Afterward, the Iranian toppled dead onto the dirt.

  Agent Carter stared at the dead man. He shivered a second later as if someone had thrown cold water on him. He’d gotten lucky none of the man’s shoots had hit.

  Carter lurched upright, pitching the AK from him. He drew the Glock, steadied himself as he knelt on one knee, clutched the weapon two-handed and vaguely noticed the shadow of a man mixed in with his own shadow.

  Carter was hot, tired, excited and glad the crazy man had missed with the wild firing. As Winston Churchill had once said, “The most exhilarating feeling in the word was being shot at and surviving.”

  A split-second later, the man-shadow mixed in with his own registered in Carter’s thoughts. The sun was up and behind him. That meant—

  Carter whipped around just in time to see the blur of a baton. It cracked against his skull just above the left eye, making a hollow-sounding noise. The Glock fell from Carter’s nerveless fingers as he pitched sideways onto the hot soil.