Logan and Valerie turned off their head lamps. They could hear muffled voices. “Hurry up and start climbing. That’s an order!” Valerie whispered.
“No time. They’re coming this way. I’m going to make a run for it. You and Logan need to keep going.” Chetan shot off into the darkness.
“Someone’s down here!” one of the men yelled. “He’s running down the tunnel.”
“Stop!” another yelled.
Logan pulled Valerie back from the opening. More shouts followed, and then a round of gunshots echoed in the cavern. They heard people running below on the cavern floor. Logan squeezed Valerie’s hand. A moment later, there were more raised voices and more rounds of gunfire.
“I’m going after him.” Valerie pulled away from Logan and prepared herself to climb down. “I can’t leave him.”
“Wait,” Logan said. “Listen.”
They heard people approaching below. “Who else is down here with you?” a deep voice asked.
“No one,” Chetan said. “I’m a geologist. I’m just exploring the island.”
“This island and everything on it is private property,” another male voice said.
“Here’s his badge. He’s WCF.”
“A geologist, eh? Keep searching the tunnel. I’ll send more men down here. Where there’s one WCF agent, there’s bound to be more. I’ll take him up and let the boss know.”
Logan and Valerie remained still and silent until they couldn’t hear any more voices. “He’s still alive,” Logan whispered. “We’ll get him back. We have to keep going.” When he turned on his head lamp, he saw the anguish on Valerie’s face.
“I’m not losing another member of my team,” she said, determined.
Logan turned on her head lamp and grabbed her hand.
The upper lava tube was lower and narrower than the one they had come from, and it was much hotter. The smell of sulfur was also more pronounced. Barely able to stand without knocking their heads against the ceiling, Logan and Valerie walked in the direction of the breeze. The tunnel curved right and then left as they proceeded. They heard a rumbling sound before a faint orange light appeared about thirty meters ahead of them. The tunnel then grew even smaller, and they had to hunch down in order to move forward until they couldn’t go any farther. They gazed awestruck at the gigantic pit that was the source of the heat, the sulfuric smell, and the orange light. Lava poured out of an opening like a waterfall in slow motion, falling in a river of molten rock. The heat was almost unbearable.
Logan looked up. Metal beams and girders were supporting a retractable flooring system, perfectly square in shape. Catwalks and ladders led up to small hatches on its perimeter. Hanging from the center of the flooring system was a fifty-meter tube that was attached to a large cylindrical object. “Where in the world are we?”
Valerie pulled out her PCD. “According to the map, we are directly below the pyramid.” She frantically pushed the buttons of her PCD, trying again and again and sighing in defeat when she put it away.
“What is it?” Logan asked.
“They deactivated Chetan’s PCD,” she said. “I’m not getting any signal from it.”
48
If you saw a man steal some food from another man and then saw that man robbed by someone else, would you deem that justice? Or would you offer him some bread?
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
CAIRO, 1:15 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 26, 2070
Mr. Perrot awoke with a terrible headache. He opened his eyes and saw that he was lying on a stone floor facing a wall covered with hieroglyphics. He reached to the right side of his head near his temple and could feel that a small piece of metal, about the size of a bottle cap, had been placed there. He tried to remove it, but it hurt too much to touch the skin surrounding it. He heard a sound from behind him, and he tensed. Not knowing what to expect, he turned cautiously. To his relief, he saw it was Madu lying beside him, trying to sit up. “Are you all right, my friend?” Mr. Perrot asked groggily, still trying to get his own bearings.
Madu blinked slowly. “What happened? The last thing I remember is someone breaking the windows of the car.” Madu felt the right side of his head. He, too, had a small piece of metal on his temple. “What is this?”
“I’m not sure.” Mr. Perrot mustered the strength to rise to his feet. “Whoever brought us here must have affixed these devices to us. Not that I’m even sure where here is.” Large copper urns spouting flames sat in front of massive pillars at the four corners of the room. No doorway was visible, and the ceiling was so high the light of the flames could not illuminate it.
Madu brought himself to one knee and gazed around the chamber. “It can’t be,” he said in awe.
“Do you know this place?”
Madu quickly turned to the hieroglyphics on the wall closest to him. “I have studied this pattern a million times,” he said, running his hand over it affectionately.
He extended his hand, and Mr. Perrot helped him to his feet.
“This is the secret chamber I told you about, the one I was brought to when I first discovered the Chronicles . . .”
“How is that possible?” Mr. Perrot asked. “You said only Nadine and Rigel knew about this place.”
Madu did not answer. Mr. Perrot felt a tingling on the back of his neck. He reached back to see if an insect was crawling up his neck.
“There is nothing there, Robert,” Madu said. “I believe that what you’re feeling are charged particles in the air. Do you remember I told you that capstones had been placed on top of all the Giza pyramids as part of the restoration work?”
Mr. Perrot looked at him, astonished. “Are you saying that the pyramid is generating electricity?”
“Yes,” Madu said. “This chamber is directly under the apex. Now that the capstone has been put into place, a tiny amount of electricity is flowing.”
The sound of mumbling caught their attention. Mr. Perrot could see someone’s shadow on the wall near one of the large pillars at the opposite end of the room. He pressed his index finger to his lips, and then he and Madu quietly made their way across the chamber. Madu grabbed Mr. Perrot by the shoulder and moved him slightly to the side to avoid a raised platform on the ground that he was about to trip over. Mr. Perrot looked down and saw an image of two men playing flutes on it. It reminded him of the platform he’d seen in the Moon Pyramid at Teotihuacán. As he and Madu continued past it, they saw a large unzipped canvas bag filled with excavation supplies and hand tools. They assumed that the man, who was now mumbling more loudly, had brought it with him. When Mr. Perrot peeked around the pillar, he saw a man kneeling on the ground, facing the wall. The man’s thinning gray hair floated in the air due to the static electricity in the chamber. He was drawing something on the wall with a piece of white chalk. Madu looked over Mr. Perrot’s shoulder. The mumbling man seemed unaware of their presence and continued to draw over the ancient hieroglyphics.
“What is he writing?” Madu asked in a whisper, unable to see clearly in the dim light.
Mr. Perrot shook his head, unsure. “Hello,” he called to the man, but he got no reply. “Hello,” he called again, moving closer and placing his hand on the man’s right shoulder.
The man screamed and jumped to his feet, dropping the piece of chalk. He stepped backward and pressed himself tightly against the wall, holding his arms rigidly by his side. Startled by his actions, Mr. Perrot and Madu also stepped back. The man was wide-eyed, his gaze rapidly shifting between Mr. Perrot and Madu. He seemed to be afraid of them. Mr. Perrot noticed that he, too, had a small metallic device attached to his right temple.
“It is OK, my friend,” Mr. Perrot said in a calming tone. “We are not going to hurt you.”
Madu took a few steps forward and bent down to better see the scribbling on the wall. “This is the same writing we saw at the Calhoun Center,” Madu said, looking up at Mr. Perrot and then at the other man’s face. “And this is Cassandra’s music teacher, Sumsari Baltik.”
>
49
Mind is Mind.
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
CAIRO, 1:31 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 26, 2070
“What are you doing here?” Madu asked Sumsari. “How did you get here?”
Sumsari didn’t answer. He continued to shift his gaze between Madu and Mr. Perrot.
“Sir,” Madu persisted, “you must tell us how you came to be here.”
“He’s lost his faculties,” Mr. Perrot said, turning to look around the chamber. “What is certain is that all of us have been brought here against our will. We need to get out of here.” He checked his coat pockets for his PCD. He was unable to find it. Madu searched for his, but it was gone, too. “Where is the door to this room?”
“There is a small passageway close to where we awoke,” Madu replied. “That is how I entered the second time, when I located the chamber on my own after much searching.”
Mr. Perrot tried to take Sumsari by the arm to lead him to the passageway, but Sumsari knelt back down and once again started to scribble and mumble, this time more loudly. “Must find . . . suffering . . . death.”
“Sir, you must come with us,” Mr. Perrot implored. “It is not safe for you to stay here.”
“Madness has overtaken him,” Madu said. “I wonder what he is trying to say.”
“He’s saying the same thing that he has been saying since the moment we took him,” a loud voice answered, echoing in the chamber.
Mr. Perrot and Madu turned around. A man stepped from behind one of the pillars, his face shadowed. Another, taller man emerged and stood by his side.
“Who are you?” Mr. Perrot asked. “Why have you brought us here?”
“Come now, Robert,” the man said. “I thought you enjoyed the challenge of a good riddle. Or has something changed since our last encounter? You remember. By the river . . .”
Mr. Perrot squinted, trying to get a better look. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.”
The man stepped over to one of the large fire urns and picked up a torch that lay on the ground next to it. He placed one end into the urn, allowing it to catch fire. Then he walked over to the platform at the center of the chamber and stepped onto it. The taller man joined him there. The light from the torch cast an eerie orange glow on the man’s scarred face. But despite his disfigurement, Mr. Perrot recognized who it was.
“Simon,” he said, not believing his eyes. The man smiled crookedly. “It can’t be—I saw you fall—into the pyre.”
“How does that quotation go?” Simon thought for a moment. “ ‘The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated’ . . . or something like that. I was never a big fan of Mark Twain.”
“Why have you brought us here, Simon?” Mr. Perrot asked defiantly. “Have you not done enough damage?”
“Relax, Robert,” Simon said in a casual tone. “I’m not really that interested in you at the moment.” He turned his piercing dark eyes to Madu. “I’m more concerned with the man standing next to you. The one and only Madu Shata.”
“What do you want from him?” Mr. Perrot persisted. “Speak plainly.”
“Our friend here,” Simon said, gesturing at Madu, “sold the plans for an energy device to a couple of my colleagues. And as it turns out, the schematics are unfinished. At first, we thought that decrepit man was all we needed to complete the plans. But as you can see, his communication skills are somewhat lacking.” Simon gave Sumsari a good long stare before turning back to Madu. “That’s why we had to secure your support, too.”
Mr. Perrot looked aghast at Madu.
“I did no such thing,” Madu insisted, a confused look on his face. “I would never have sold away my life’s work to anyone. Especially not the likes of you!”
“Rashidi”—Simon motioned to the tall, dark-skinned man who accompanied him—“show our good friends what we are talking about.” Rashidi pulled out his PCD and used it to project the image of a pyramid surrounded by a series of elaborate mathematical equations. “Are these not your plans?” Simon asked. “Is this not the device that you have been secretly designing for the last many years?”
Madu recognized his work. “Where did you get these?” he shouted in anger.
Simon stepped off the platform and walked through the projected image, stopping just a few meters from Madu. “The wheres and hows are unimportant. What is important is that you fix your broken device.”
“It cannot be fixed,” Madu said. “My original plans were wrong.”
“Anything can be fixed,” Simon said, smiling and running a finger down the side of his scarred face. He pointed to a particular spot on the 3-D image that was marked Activation Chamber. “Now, I am told that this cylindrical thing hanging underneath the device is not working properly. You need to show us how to fully energize the pyramid.”
“I don’t know how,” Madu said. “It is what I have spent years trying to figure out.”
“But he knows, doesn’t he?” Simon glanced over at Sumsari, who continued to scribble on the walls. “I was told that somewhere in the head of that miserable creature over there is the key to perfecting your design.”
“Who told you that?” Mr. Perrot asked.
“Once again, Robert,” Simon said, as he gave him a baleful look, “a truly unimportant question.”
Mr. Perrot shook his head. “And why should we help you?”
“Now, that is a much more interesting query.” Simon motioned to Rashidi. The projected image of Madu’s plans disappeared, and suddenly, Mr. Perrot and Madu both heard a beeping sound. The next thing they knew, intense pain shot through their entire bodies. They both grabbed their heads. “One reason to help me is that you will feel better if you do,” Simon said. The excruciating pain continued, and then it ceased when the beeping did. “Those devices on your heads are calibrated with the sensory centers of your brains. I was told they are quite effective, and judging by your reactions, I can see that I was not misled.”
Mr. Perrot and Madu recovered their composure.
“The energy pyramid is not a toy,” Madu said. “You must know that there is a point of no return. I would not attempt to build one without first solving all the equations.”
“I actually agree with you, but I fear it is too late,” Simon said. “A couple of my rather rash colleagues have already constructed one. It seems they’ve been trying to turn it on for some time now, without much success.”
“So it’s true,” Madu said, hearing his worst suspicions confirmed. “The unexplained earthquakes, the sickness, and the turmoil—it is all being caused by an energy device.”
“I’m afraid so,” Simon said. “But I am here to put an end to the world’s suffering. My colleagues have turned to me for help. If you were to assist me, we could end the world’s troubles and at the same time solve the current energy crisis. Everybody wins.”
“You are the only person who will win, Simon,” Mr. Perrot said.
“I will not help you,” Madu said.
Simon smiled. “I think you will.” Rashidi activated his PCD, and Mr. Perrot and Madu saw a holographic projection of Nadine. She was bound to a chair by silver straps, her mouth covered with tape and a neuro device attached to her right temple. “Your wife would be most appreciative if you completed your work.” Rashidi pulled out a PCD from his pocket. He manipulated it to project the current time. “If you don’t help, Rashidi here is going to send a signal to the neuro device attached to your wife’s head. Keep an eye on this clock, and know that at the top of each hour, your wife will be squirming in pain. You’ll find some tools in that bag we brought down here for him,” Simon said, with a gesture at Sumsari, “but it looks like he’s only interested in a piece of chalk. When you figure something out, call us on this PCD—it’s a one-way connection to a single HoloPad device.” Simon turned and walked away.
“What if I can’t?” Madu asked.
Simon stopped and turned. “It would be a shame to see such a beautiful woman suffer pain. Maybe I’ll
be merciful and end it quickly for her.”
Mr. Perrot and Madu watched silently as Simon and his man left through a small doorway.
Simon poked his head back through the opening. “Robert,” he said. “I feel like you and I have done this before.”
Mr. Perrot and Madu could hear laughter until the stone door swung closed.
50
Uniqueness is not in the challenges that people face but in the way they deal with them.
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
SALISBURY, U.K., 11:49 A.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 26, 2070
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Britney asked.
“Come on,” Anita said, adjusting the blue book bag slung over her shoulder. “I think they went this way.”
After Anita and Halima had made their discovery in the tunnel under the armory, Anita had called Britney and persuaded her to accompany her on an outing the next day. Anita had hated lying to her father, but he would have been upset if she’d told him she was going to search for the Altar of the Bluestones. She couldn’t get out of her mind the look of love and concern on his face when she’d told him she’d been asked by the head of the university’s chemistry department to fill in for a professor who was ill.
“But what about you, my dear?” her father had asked. “Are you sure you feel up to it? I don’t want you risking your health by overdoing it.”
“I feel fine,” she’d assured him. “Plus, this is a great opportunity for me, and I don’t want to pass it up.”
Her father had given her a kind look. “If it means that much to you, by all means go.”
Anita had hugged him with all her might before running out the door to meet Britney.
She had reasoned that if she were to find the Altar of the Bluestones, the best place to start would be to follow the path that the Quinns had set forth for Sumsari. She and Britney boarded a plane, which flew them a short distance from the Isle of Man to London, where they continued by high-speed rail to the historic city of Salisbury in southern England. The whole trip took just a few hours.
Journey Through the Mirrors Page 33
