by Jerry Ahern
Clemmer reported he had wiped his palms on the sides of his trouser legs and reached under his jacket to his right hip. The president watched as he produced a short-barreled, shiny revolver. “I don’t know much about guns, Mike. Always wanted to try them, but never had the time. Does yours have a safety catch?”
Clemmer said, “No, sir. Revolvers don’t. Mr. President, you can’t. I can’t let you.”
“You’ve got to, Mike. If I stay alive, the Russians will find me and use me. If I die, there will be no government left to capitulate, and free Americans will go on fighting until there is a government again—another elected government that will throw the Soviets out. If they get me, it’s all over for all of us.”
“But Mr. President—they’ll never get into Mount Lincoln.”
“You know that’s not true,” the President said. “And if we’re totally cut off, they’ve got a capitulation anyway. But if the American people know I’m gone, then the Soviets... no matter what they do... can’t lie to the American people that the United States has surrendered. It’s the only way. Now, give me the gun.”
The president looked away from Mike Clemmer and extended his right hand, lighting a cigarette with his left. Mike Clemmer placed his revolver in the President’s outstretched right hand and walked out of the room.
Not that it mattered anymore... Rourke keyed the ignition and drove off and dialed his son’s cell phone.
Michael Rourke listened before asking, “Dad, are you sure about this?”
“No son, I’m not. But it is reasonable that Jose Zima’s thoughts are correct,” he said. “Trouble is, there is only one to find out and that is to go there and see.”
“I agree it could be important,” Michael said, maybe even invaluable. Particularly if the President’s Book is real and still exists.”
John Rourke nodded, “Could fill in a lot of blanks, that’s for sure.”
“I’m not sure I can support your plan. This could be pretty tricky, even dangerous.”
“Could be,” John admitted. “But I think the benefits could outweigh the problems. Remember, we didn’t even have the possibility until ten days ago— very little chance of something leaking out. I think with the right equipment and men, this could be pulled off. At least we’d know for sure if there is any basis to the conspiracy between the Russians and the KI or the Russians and the Aliens.”
“What if it is both? Michael asked. “What if the Russians we know about are working with the KI? And what if you’re correct that there is a Russian faction we’re not aware of working with the Aliens?”
“That son, is exactly my point. We have to find out.”
“But your plan is... it bothers me. Are you sure the reclaimed clones can be trusted?”
“Look, I know those men have survived a nightmare. And I’m betting they deserve a chance to prove themselves and this operation is… well it is a little unorthodox. But we could find out once and for all. If they prove themselves, we will have a small dedicated force of fighters I think could go up against any threat. Besides, don’t forget the other group I mentioned. I know Wes Sanderson and his men are capable.”
“But...” Michael started.
“But nothing,” John shook his head. “If we disguise this as an archaeological expedition to reclaim Rushmore, I think it will work. Reality is you can’t leave; and while Paul is mobile, his leg is not ready for something like this. Wes’ people are, and I think humanity owes something to Akiro Kuriname and his people.”
Michael knew he had lost this round.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Suddenly, John realized it had been almost three months since he had heard anything from The Keeper; he was worried. Repeatedly, Rourke had tried to reconnect telepathically; so far without success. After The Keeper returned from traveling among the smaller European tribes and brought back evidence proving someone from the KI had been involved in the massacre—that had been bad enough. Realizing the Russians had also been involved was even worse.
Then when The Keeper returned to his people, he had witnessed more troublesome evidence of Russian influence among his own people. The Keeper had spoken to Rourke through his mental powers. There is now a militaristic slant that is being imposed by the Captain on our activities. We now have weapons being worn in plain sight, there are escorts for members of the Seneia wherever we go. Excursions to your world can now only be a uthorized by the Captain. Our leader is in very poor health, John. My estimates are he is within the last days of his life. If I am accurate, the Captain has positioned himself and his force to render massive changes in our culture.
Rourke had no idea what had transpired or whether or not the KI leader was even still alive. John confirmed to The Keeper that the weapon carried by The Keeper’s shuttle pilot was one Rourke recognized. He had seen similar ones carried by Russian forces called Spetsnaz; the elite Russian assault forces. Rourke believed it was absolutely essential that they maintain their communications and keep those communications secret. He believed The Keeper could be the only hope to get advanced information that could prevent a cataclysm for his people and the free people of Earth.
John explained it had been the aggression of the Russians that destroyed his world over 650 years. Their thirst for power had been unquenchable; their penchant for deceit unimaginable and their ability to be trusted non-existent. He cautioned The Keeper that whatever agreements the Captain had made would not be honored. Rourke felt the Captain was being played by an opponent who had centuries of experience in the art of lies and manipulations. He warned that the Russian goals had not changed since the end of the Second World War.
Their conquests, from time to time, have only served to enslave new peoples who heard what they wanted to hear and made the mistake of believing the Russians were capable of honor and the truth.
The Keeper had not been sure if he would be allowed to return to Earth but thought if it were possible it would take him a couple of days to prepare. The Keeper had quoted Einstein from over 600 years before, “‘Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one. ’” That had been their last contact or communication. Rourke wondered, Could this be another part of the equation?
Chapter Sixty-Three
Paul Rubenstein was a much harder sell than Michael Rourke. “Hell no I don’t like it,” he said as he slammed his hand on the desk top. “Look, I know that Wes Sanderson is solid. But the idea of taking these...” He searched for the word.
John Rourke said, “These clones?”
“Yeah, these clones.”
“Paul, every report we have from the doctors say they’re fine. The severing of contact with the aliens has been successful. They have been training with Sanderson’s men and all of the reports are equally satisfactory.”
“Give me another couple of weeks, John,” Paul said sadly. “The leg is much better, you need someone to watch your back,” he pleaded.
“I don’t think we have that much time,” Rourke said. He walked to Rubenstein’s side of the desk and placed his hand on his old friend’s shoulder. “I need you and Randall Walls to cover us. You guys are the ones who first discovered those damnable patterns that identify the Alien movement. You know what to look for; time and time again we’ve tried to teach it to others. Admittedly, it is starting to work but I need the best form of cover I can get for this. That, unfortunately, happens to be you and Walls.”
Paul sagged visibly, “Okay, what do you need from us?”
“Most of the ‘heavy’ stuff we already have—your equipment can detect any visitors we might encounter. The big thing I’m looking at is the technology available before the Night of the War doesn’t exist anymore. I don’t know how we’ll find the records stored if we find records at all. They could be printed out but they just as easily could be on floppy discs or even microfiche.”
“The old microform technology was either on film or paper,” Rourke said, “and contained micro reproductions of documents for transmission, storage, rea
ding, and printing. Those images were reduced to about one twenty-fifth of the original document size or smaller. They might be made as positives but I’m figuring they’ll be negatives. And they might be as microfilm on reels, aperture cards, or the flat sheets used for microfiche. It could even be on the old micro cards. Those were similar to microfiche, but printed on cardboard rather than photographic film. In any event, we need to be able to read the information.”
“So, do you have any idea where I’m going to find that kind of technology today?” Paul asked at a total loss.
“I can only think of one, and it means you’re going to have to make a road trip to the mainland,” Rourke said with a wry smile.
Paul looked puzzled and then he said, “You don’t mean...”
Rourke said simply, “Yes, you have to go back to the Retreat. Here is a list of what I want you to locate and bring back.”
Chapter Sixty-Four
On the way back from Rubenstein’s, Rourke’s mind wandered back to a late night, so long ago, when he and Paul sat in the great room of the Retreat. Their journey there had been long; it had also been fruitless because John had not found Sarah and the children. Paul had been stunned in seeing the Retreat that first time, maybe awed would have been the better word.
He had asked John, “How... how did you find this place? My gosh, how did you pull it all together?”
Rourke had smiled, “I planned ahead Paul. I knew that northeast Georgia boasted several low to medium range mountains and the area was full of caves. In fact, the Spanish explorer Hernando de Soto, searched many of those mountain caves for lost Indian treasure in the mid-1500s. He never found the treasure but, to his credit, he did discover the Mississippi River.”
“Anyway, I wanted a place to retreat to if the world went crazy. I knew that east of Atlanta stood the most famous mountain in Georgia, Stone Mountain. It has the largest carved high relief sculpture in the world. It is a Confederate Memorial depicting three Confederate heroes of the Civil War: President Jefferson Davis, Generals Robert E. Lee, and Thomas J. ‘Stonewall’ Jackson.”
“A lady named Mrs. C. Helen Plane conceived the idea in 1912. She was a charter member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy or UDC. In 1916, a family named Venable owned the mountain, and deeded the north face of the mountain to the UDC for the memorial. It should have been finished twelve years later but wasn’t. In 1963 a guy named Walker Hancock was chosen to complete the carving. Using a new technique utilizing thermo-jet torches to carve away the granite, tons of stone were removed in one day. That technique allowed for fine details with eyebrows, fingers, buckles, and even strands of hair carved with a small thermo-jet torch. The dedication ceremony for the Confederate Memorial Carving was held on May 9, 1970. Finishing touches to the masterpiece were completed in 1972.” It is a little over eighty miles from the Retreat to Stone Mountain.
Rourke told Paul, “Before we moved to Georgia I had explored the area, learned the history, and decided this would be the perfect location. On one trip I noticed a very distinctive mountain looming off to my right. It wasn’t the tallest mountain in Georgia but it was just different. Close to its base was the last paved road—Chambers Road. I turned onto a gravel road and about halfway up I got out and explored on foot. It just called out to me as the perfect place for the location of the Retreat. A friend of mine named Steve Fishman was familiar with the area; he thought it was probable there were caves in the area.”
“I contacted several geologists and following their suggestions I discovered the entrance to a cave by accident. It was late fall; all of the foliage was dead. I must have walked past it twenty times and never saw it. That day and at that particular time, I saw the hole. I got my bearings and the next day I came back with a set of ropes and a flashlight. I crawled in; it was incredible. I eventually enlarged the opening and put in a system of counter weights. The point is, once I knew there was a cave system honeycombing it, I bought the mountain and the farm.”
“I spent years renovating and supplying my hideaway. I hoped I would never need the Retreat but logic dictated it was a good idea anyway. In the end, my preparations proved not to be in vain. Unfortunately, the end did come. Fortunately, I had prepared for it and as a result... well, Paul, you know the rest of the story.”
That is where Paul would find the micro technology he and Rourke would probably need to decipher the records stored in Mount Rushmore. That is, if they did in fact exist.
Chapter Sixty-Five
The next morning John Rourke drove to the training site. Chief Warrant Officer Wes Sanderson met him at the gate. “Morning Sir.” Sanderson snapped a salute.
“Morning Wes.” John, even though he held military rank had never been comfortable with returning salutes; instead he stuck out his hand. “How’s the training going?”
“Honestly John, they are ahead of schedule. Well ahead.” Sanderson led the way over to a Quonset hut-like structure and held the door open for Rourke. “The team leaders will be here in a few minutes. They’re finishing up an exercise ; want some coffee?”
“Sure. You’re satisfied with their progress then I take it.”
“Absolutely, they listen and they learn quickly. Physically they are all in top shape and they are anxious to prove themselves; to you and to themselves.”
“While we’re waiting, tell me what you have gone over with them.”
“I started off with basic weapons and tactics. The normal physical conditioning was not really a high priority being they are in good shape. Next—explosives, heavy weapons, repelling, and special warfare. Like I said, I have zero complaints. I think they are ready for about anything we can throw at them.”
“How about cold weather training and mountain warfare?”
“They have the basics down pretty well. We just finished a two-week course dealing with operating at altitude, skiing, and mountaineering.”
“Are they ready for a real operation?” Rourke asked.
Sanderson stood for a moment, finally saying, “Depends on the mission. You have something in the mix already, don’t you?”
“I do, but I’m looking at you to verify they are ready.” Rourke took the offered coffee mug and blew on it before taking a sip. Squinting he looked over at Sanderson. “Damn, you guys really drink this mud?”
“Marine mud, Marine coffee. It’s the breakfast of champions,” Sanderson said with a smile. “We use old socks as filters,” he lied.
Rourke smiled, “Tastes like someone has hoof and mouth disease.”
Just then a heavy knock on the front door sounded. “Come in,” Sanderson called. A dirty mud-stained Akiro Kuriname opened the door and looked in; a smile creased his dirty face.
“John,” he said happily running to Rourke. He stopped, dipped his head in a short bow and they shook hands. “I thought you had forgotten about us here.”
Rourke smiled, “No Akiro; in fact, with Chief Sanderson’s and your approval... I think we have an interesting first mission for you and your men.”
“Excellent,” Kuriname beamed. “What is it?”
“Salvage job, I think. If everything goes well then that is all it should be. We’re doing it under the guise of an archaeological expedition.”
“But that is just the cover story, I presume.” Kuriname smiled. “What is the real treasure we’re trying to salvage?”
Rourke turned to Sanderson, “Wes, I have some packages in the backseat of my vehicle. Could you have someone bring them in and sit them on that table in the corner? Also, I need your big screen computer and television and an easel for a flip chart.”
“I have my team leaders outside; is it alright for them to sit in on the briefing?” Kuriname asked. “I’ll have them bring in your packages.”
Rourke looked at Sanderson who just gave a slight nod, “That will be fine, Akiro. As soon as I put everything together, we’ll get started.”
Chapter Sixty-Six
Paul and the kids were driving the last few miles to the
Retreat. His son, John Michael, and his nephews Timothy and John Paul had been excited to make the trip with him. It had been years since they had last seen the Retreat. The flight from Honolulu had been a long one; the boys slept most of the time. After landing in Atlanta, they had not shut up. They had been offered a driver but Paul had turned that offer down. The location of the Retreat at one time had been common knowledge to the general public. Following their first awakening, the Rourke’s discovered that the Retreat had been a tourist attraction and memorial to the “Heroes of Mankind.”
John was able to regain control of the property and when the second sleep occurred, knowledge of the Retreat’s location had slipped by the second awakening.
The sheer volume of materials had been impossible to relocate, plus... there was always the fact that the original Retreat could, in fact, be needed yet again. As a stop-gap, he had established a second hideaway in Hawaii. Not as elaborate as the first, but well stocked and geared to immediate survival. In other words, he had simply planned ahead.
John Rourke’s second idea for this “mission” was simple, “It’s time the guys really got to know the Retreat, Paul. Hopefully, it has served its purpose. However, I think it would be a good time to bring them up-to-speed in case it is ever needed again.”
Paul pulled off onto Chambers Road. “Won’t be long now guys, as soon as we hit the gravel road we’ll be just a few minutes out.” Fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the shoulder of the road and said, “Okay, we walk from here. I want each of you to pay attention—just in case you ever have to come here without me or your dads.”
