Artifact

by Vaughn Heppner

  “I have a lead, monsieur.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “I have uncovered a white Toyota pickup, the one formerly belonging to Captain Nasser.”

  “And?”

  “The owner is proving reluctant to tell me who sold it to him.”

  “What do I care about that?” Marcus asked.

  “Of course, I can pry the information from him. My new friend David Carter is proving a helpful addition to our party.”

  “Get to the point.”

  “Monsieur, we jackals have sniffed out the scent. If I am not mistaken, we will need the lion to… to persuade the seller to give us what we seek.”

  Once, Marcus would have looked forward to the task. Now, the idea bored him. He realized, in that instant, that for years he had delved into trivia. With The Day approaching, he needed to sharpen his focus into a laser, aimed at the one thing that mattered.

  A chill touched his spine. Marcus glanced to the right and to the left. Then, he looked behind him. He could see nothing troublesome. Yet, the chill persisted.

  It dawned on Marcus that he sensed something metaphysical, rather than a physical threat. Why had Mother kept the purpose of The Day from him? Was it her innate love of secrecy or was there something more nefarious going on?

  “I want the name,” he told Ney.

  A pressure was building in Marcus. He could feel it expanding against his consciousness. He sensed…a need for expediency. Yes. He had been dawdling. That was going to stop right here and now.

  “Oui, monsieur,” Ney said. “Do you want—?”

  Marcus stood. “I’m coming,” he told the Frenchman. “I’ll home in on your signal. Be ready to move fast.”

  ***

  Marcus sat cross-legged before a Cairo fence. The other wore robes and a turban with puffy-fat features and wisps of a moustache and beard. Several hard-eyed gunmen in Western garb stood against the walls. A large ceiling fan rotated above, mixing the stenches that radiated from their bodies.

  The others bathed. That wasn’t the problem. The smell of their diseased bodies was what offended Marcus. Was this an aftereffect of perfect health? Did it make normal people odious? Marcus thought that a distinct possibility. Everything had hidden costs—why not perfect health as well?

  Ney and Carter stood behind him, having supplied him with the fence’s name.

  “How can I help you, my friend,” the fence, a man by the name of Abdullah Bey, was saying.

  Marcus stared at the man, who wouldn’t look at him directly. Marcus glanced at the thugs. A few tried to stare him down. Each failed, looking away. They couldn’t help the reaction, as much as they fought against it. It was instinctive. He could literally smell their fear of him.

  No wonder dogs lunged at frightened people. The beasts knew the person or persons would flee in terror. The old Marcus might have intensified his gaze to watch them squirm. There would have been a slight possibility one of the thugs would have had the courage to draw a gun. But the man’s hand would have shaken so badly—

  “Please,” Abdullah said in English. “I am here to help others. How can I be of service to you?”

  Marcus nodded and even forced himself to smile. For some reason, that didn’t put Abdullah at ease. Producing two photos, Marcus set them on the table between them.

  Abdullah leaned forward, looking at the pictures without touching them. For just a moment, he looked up at Marcus before dropping his gaze.

  “You are searching for them?” Abdullah Bey asked.

  Marcus nodded.

  “I am beholden to my patrons, sir. As a man of honor, I am sure you realize this.”

  Marcus stared at the fence. Prickles of sweat appeared on the man’s oily skin. Marcus sighed, tired of the old game. He wanted to get this over with.

  Letting his voice drop to a lower level, Marcus said, “Let’s make this easy. You and I, we are men of the world. We understand business.”

  Abdullah Bey nodded a trifle too hastily.

  “I have no interest in haggling. Nor do I desire to kill any of you. I wish you peace and long life.” Marcus reached into his jacket and took out a bundle of Egyptian pounds, dropping it beside the photos.

  Abdullah’s eyes widened. “These two…they must be important to you to pay this sum.”

  “Yes,” Marcus said.

  A little more sweat oozed onto Abdullah’s features. He produced a rag, dabbing his lips. He looked up again at Marcus. The man made a swift appraisal before looking away.

  “I sold them passports,” the fence said. “The man seemed ill, but he was dangerous.”

  “Where were they going?” Marcus asked.

  “To the airport,” Abdullah said. “I’m afraid that is the extent of my knowledge.”

  “What names did the passports have?”

  Abdullah Bey told him.

  Marcus breathed deeply, and he wished he hadn’t. The stench of fear was strong in the room. Normally, in this kind of hunt, he would now kill everyone in range of the ceiling fan. Today, he decided to practice something different. It wasn’t mercy, strictly speaking. It was rather…protocol of his own devising.

  I am Marcus.

  “Good doing business with you, Abdullah.” Marcus stood, turned around and motioned with his head to Ney and Carter.

  The Frenchman looked perplexed. He knew what should happen now.

  Marcus didn’t bother to explain. He marched between his two aides, forcing them apart as he headed for the exit.

  Jack Elliot and Selene Khan had fled by plane. Now that he had the passport names, it would simply be a matter of using Mother’s data net to see where they had gone.

  I’m better than I was. My old ways were sloppy. It’s time to become the most efficient man in the world.

  -54-

  TEHRAN

  IRAN

  Selene gripped the steering wheel with both hands, telling herself she could do this. She wore Elliot’s baseball cap with her hair tucked under it and a dark pair of sunglasses.

  Jack was slouched in the seat, leaning against the passenger side door. He had his eyes closed and shivered now and again. He’d vomited in the hotel room just as he’d said he’d do. He’d done so again in the car, barely managing to get his head out of the opened door, vomiting on the street as she drove. She’d reached over, grabbing his shirt so he wouldn’t tumble out of the moving vehicle.

  The car was old and rundown, some crappy Soviet-era vehicle. It had taken several tries with the ignition to get it started. The engine made clunking noises as they drove through Tehran, giving a loud bang now and again. The only lucky thing was that the tank was full of gas. How far this jalopy could go, though… Selene didn’t want to make any bets. That wasn’t the worst of it. The traffic had that award. The most aggressive drivers in Tehran had the right of way. It was that simple.

  Tehran was a huge city, and it seemed like there were thousands of motorcycles on the road. She’d read somewhere that motorcycles accounted for fifty percent of Tehran’s sound pollution. She could believe it.

  “How are you holding up?” Jack asked.

  “Me? How are you doing?”

  “Don’t worry about my end.”

  She glanced at him. He still had his eyes closed. “Don’t open the door while I’m driving, okay?”

  “I had to before. Stains—”

  “Car stains I can live with,” she said. “You tumbling out and killing yourself… They’d put me in jail for sure. I don’t want to end up in an Iranian prison, especially not after what you did to those three.”

  “They’ll live,” Jack said with a shrug. “Might have headaches for a while, though.” The idea seemed to please him.

  A driver honked. Selene looked up, swerved and passed a man shaking his fist at her. She slouched a little lower in the seat after that.

  “No,” Jack told her.

  She noticed him staring at her. His eyes were bloodshot.

  “Sit up,” he said.

&nb
sp; “I know how to drive.”

  “Sit up,” he said, sounding dead tired. “Look confident and you’ll start to feel confident. We can’t afford any timidity out here.”

  She sat up, if only so he wouldn’t exhaust himself telling her what to do.

  “Good,” he wheezed. “You can’t drive with these maniacs if you’re cowering. I like that you tucked hair under my cap. To complete your disguise as a man, shake your fist at one of them every once in a while.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  When he didn’t answer, she glanced at him. He’d closed his eyes again.

  She weaved through traffic, enduring honks and shouts, realizing several minutes later that it wasn’t personal with these drivers. That’s just how they drove in the capital of Iran. When in Rome and all that, right?

  Feeling slightly more confident, Selene concentrated on heading north. Their plan was flimsy and ill-conceived, but it was all they had. They were heading to the Alamut Mountain in Qazvin Province. The mountain was part of the central Alborz Mountains. They went there because of Souk and his stupid notebook.

  She hadn’t been able to figure out much of Souk’s coded references. The real reason they were going was due to the existence of the metallic chamber under the Temple of Ammon. That gave credence to Souk’s ideas. Where had the three hatches in the back led? Did the underground chamber have any connection with the underwater dome in the Indian Ocean?

  Jack had spoken about the Illuminati before. She wanted to look that up on the cellphone, understand the reference better. She didn’t believe he meant the actual Illuminati, but some kind of conspiracy group.

  Wouldn’t that be the kind of people who would build secret underwater domes? Who built underground chambers beneath ancient temples? Did that mean the metal chamber was as old as the Temple of Ammon? That didn’t have to be the case. But why build it there in the present day? What was the purpose?

  Selene mulled over her questions as she left Tehran, heading north as she followed the signs. Maybe an hour later, Jack snorted, raising his head.

  “How are you feeling?” Selene asked.

  “Dehydrated and…”

  She glanced at him. He touched his forehead, wincing as he did so.

  “I need rest,” he said, “lots of it. But I don’t think I’m going to get any for some time.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it does.”

  “I’ve been going in and out, doing some thinking while I’ve been half-awake.”

  “And?” she asked.

  “I want to hear the rest of your story, everything. Why did you come to Egypt? Well, how did you get out of the Indian Ocean? Didn’t you tell me you were a hundred miles from shore?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Swam, what else could I do?”

  Jack stared at her.

  “Did I say something wrong?” she asked.

  “You could have surrendered to the man trolling in the speedboat.”

  “They killed my friends and my crew.”

  “That’s the logical conclusion, yes.”

  “Forget about the man in the speedboat,” Selene said. “I want to know who built the underwater dome.”

  “Sounds like D’erlon Enterprises might have had a hand in that. The dome sounds difficult to construct, especially in secret. Who better to do that than the same people making antimatter by the gram?”

  Selene drove in silence for a time. The little car struggled as it climbed a steep hill. Bigger, better cars and trucks passed them.

  Right now, they were on Road 49 to the city of Qazvin. The peaks towered in the distance. The mountainous view was breathtaking.

  “Look,” she said, indicating one of the gauges. “The engine is heating up. I’m not sure we’ll make it.”

  Jack nodded absently. “Why did you pick Egypt? Why didn’t you go home and lock the doors after making it to Sumatra?”

  “I was too scared to go home. If these people had killed everyone on the Calypso, surely they would have found my Kauai address and sent someone to finish me. Besides, Claire had some leads. I decided to follow her route.”

  “Who’s Claire?” Jack asked.

  Selene told him about her best friend and how they both worked in the University of Hawaii’s Geology Department. She told him more than she intended, even delving into Danny. Maybe it was Jack’s head injury keeping him from interrupting too much; or maybe he was simply a good listener. Many men interrupted her too much when she told a story. After a time, he did throw in a comment or two. Mostly, it was to guide her back to the point.

  Selene ended up telling him about hums and her theory how they had something to do with interior movement inside the Earth. She explained how the TR-1010 worked, and how Claire had gone to Angkor Wat to test it.

  “Angkor Wat,” Jack said. “I’ve heard of that before. What is it again?”

  “An old Buddhist temple,” she said. “Actually, it started out as a Hindu temple, but it got converted in the past. The temple complex is in Cambodia.”

  “How old is it?”

  “I don’t know the exact date. It’s a huge tourist attraction.”

  “Why does a hum occur there?”

  Selene laughed. “That’s what Claire went to find out.”

  “I wonder what happened to her,” Jack said.

  “I phoned and got some weird news about birds.”

  “Oh?”

  “They went crazy, apparently,” Selene said, “smashing themselves against the temple during a ceremony, killing themselves by the thousands.”

  “Why did they do that?”

  Selene shook her head. “You hear wild rumors all the time. I…” She glanced at Jack as a thought struck. “Do you suppose the birds might have really gone crazy?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Why did your tuning fork scare off the shark?”

  “That’s a good question. I figured it had something to do with the creature’s electroreceptors.”

  Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Selene explained sharks to him, their sensitivity to electric fields, particularly those generated by muscle activity.

  Her eyes got big as she stared at him.

  “You thought of something,” he said.

  “Some birds use magnetic fields to help them navigate. Could…could the story about birds committing mass suicide have anything to do with…with magnetics?”

  “The tuning fork would indicate so. By the way, do you still have it?”

  Selene nodded, pointing at the back seat, her gym bag of accessories. She had buried it in the desert before entering the Siwa Oasis. On their way out of the oasis, she’d dug it up while Jack had fallen asleep.

  Jack looked thoughtful.

  “Now, you’ve thought of something,” she said.

  “Your friend Claire went to Angkor Wat, an old temple. You went to Egypt, to the Siwa Oasis. Did you visit the Temple of Ammon by any chance?”

  “I did.” She told him about Souk and the excursion to the temple, down into it, including the unusual underground chamber.

  “The chamber is strange,” Jack agreed. “Why did you pick Siwa Oasis?”

  She explained about the recent hum that had developed. Claire had talked to Souk before and had planned to go there after Angkor Wat. Selene had hoped to find her friend already there.

  “We’re seeing a theme,” Jack said, “ancient temples. Why did Souk suggest you visit Alamut Mountain?”

  “Maybe I’d better tell you everything he told me. It got pretty weird at the end. I’m not sure we should trust what he said.”

  “Go ahead,” Jack said. “I’m listening.”

  Selene told him about the ancient priestess who was supposed to have lived over 200 years, messing with Cambyses the Persian conqueror and Alexander the Great. Selene added that Souk had told her he realized the existence of the shadowy organization after visiting Alamut Mountain in northwestern Iran.<
br />
  “Souk does sound as if he was mental,” Jack said, “although he was right about a conspiracy.”

  “You don’t believe his stories about Alexander and Cambyses?”

  “They’re ancient history. This is now. Hundreds of grams of antimatter and underwater domes sound like a conspiracy to me.”

  “What do you think is under the Temple of Ammon?” Selene asked. “Why did the birds go crazy at Angkor Wat? If there is a global conspiracy, when did it start?”

  Jack didn’t have an answer for that.

  Selene drove in silence for a time, thinking. She noticed that Jack had closed his eyes again. When he moved, she spoke up:

  “Do you think you can drive for a while?”

  He took his time answering, finally saying, “I know you’re tired, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. If you need a break, pull over.”

  She pulled onto the side of the road. They were in rugged terrain. It felt good getting out and stretching. It was hotter here than in Tehran, she noticed. She would have figured it would be cooler in the higher elevation. She walked around the car, finally climbing back in.

  Jack had closed his eyes and snored softly.

  Instead of starting again or trying to nap, Selene took out her cellphone, soon surfing the internet. She found information about the Old Man and Castle Alamut. It was wild. Back in the day, the place had been home to the Assassins, a medieval Shia cult.

  Her interest in reaching Alamut Castle grew. She put away the cell and started the car. Crunching over gravel, she eased back onto the road. The engine began knocking. She gave it more gas. That made it lurch, the engine knock louder and threaten to quit on them. She babied the car for a bit, slowing down. Finally, the old engine decided it still had a few more miles left in it.

  Selene noticed Jack was awake. “You’re never going to believe what I found on the internet while you napped.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Have you ever heard of the Assassins?”

  “Of course,” he said. “They’re contract killers.”

  “That’s what an assassin is now. Back in the Middle Ages it was a group of Shia Muslims. Back in 1090 A.D. a man by the name of Hasan-i Sabbah captured Alamut Castle, never leaving it again. He started the Nizari Ismaili State.”