Clockwork Doomsday

by Alex Archer

  “Wait.” Roux set himself again and took hold of the pipe key. “If the lock turns one way, let’s see if it turns the other.” He twisted the key twice.

  The spikes withdrew with thin, metallic shrieks, vanishing into the walls in seconds. That was impressive. Michalis had constructed everything to last. Including the lethal traps. As soon as the spikes vanished, though, the door swung closed again from the inside.

  Annja briefly considered trying to block the door from closing, but given the weight and the mechanism powering it, she figured she would lose whatever she tried to do that with.

  Roux kept turning the pipe key to the right this time. After two more turns, the door opened again to reveal the hidden stairway. Small holes in the mortar indicated where the spikes had come from.

  “Wait, Annja,” Garin said.

  Annja wasn’t about to go in yet, anyway. She wasn’t about to ignore the possibility of the spikes exploding out of the wall while she was inside.

  “Since Michalis likes his fiendish little surprises, he might also like them with a twist.”

  “You mean like with a timer on the passageway?”

  Garin shrugged. “It’s something I would do.”

  Annja checked her watch. They were getting close to having to abandon the exploration so they could return to the surface. “How long do you want to wait?”

  “Depth gauge indicates we’re thirty feet below sea level. The island elevation around the lagoon is forty feet maximum. How far away Michalis’s workshop is depends on whether it’s underwater right now.”

  “We’ll wait two minutes, then.” Annja marked the time and made herself breathe calmly to conserve her air.

  * * *

  AS SHE SWAM closer to the cluster of lights on the lagoon floor, Melina made out three distinct human shapes in green-and-blue dive suits. She also made out the artificial lines of a door in the stone wall behind them. Excitement rushed through her. Not only was she going to get to kill Roux and his companions, but she was also going to get to plunder Michalis’s workshop.

  She pulled the APS underwater rifle to her shoulder and slid her finger over the trigger. She kicked her legs, swimming strongly toward the men. One of them was starting to raise his spear gun when she opened fire. The water muted the rapid tattoo beat of the rifle, but the weapon recoiled against her shoulder hard enough that her aim quickly slid off target. The last four or five spikes missed the man and thudded into the ocean floor, stirring up the silt.

  Still, with at least a half dozen rounds in him, the man choked and gasped. A blood cloud formed around his midsection and he spat blood inside his full-face scuba mask.

  One of the other two men floated lifelessly in the water, bleeding, as well. The surviving man, already wounded and partially obscured by the dark mist around him, leveled his spear gun and fired.

  The spear whipped by Melina as she trained her weapon on him. She squeezed the trigger and the darts ripped into the man, joined by more rounds from other shooters among her team. The man shuddered and went still, then started drifting away on the slight current that swept around the reefs.

  Melina paused to reload her rifle and unclip the light from her weight belt. Pausing at the door, she looked inside but saw only darkness. When she pushed her light inside, she spotted the spiral stairs leading up. Craning her head, she searched the passageway above, still not seeing any lights.

  She turned back to her team. “Dennison,” she said a little smugly—another name under her belt.

  “Yes.”

  “Take three men. Two teams of two.” Melina pointed to either side of the door. “Circle the island a hundred yards. Make sure that the old man and the others aren’t still outside the cave. If you see them, radio me. If you don’t, come back and set up guard here.”

  Dennison quickly called out the names of three other men and made the assignments.

  Pointing her light ahead of her, Melina followed it up. She cradled the underwater rifle in her left arm awkwardly, but kept her finger near the trigger. Her head pointed in the direction she wanted to go, she let her fins do the work.

  * * *

  “BRING THE GUNS on deck,” Georgios Andrianou said, staring at the small ship ahead of them.

  The crew aboard Kestral had taken notice of Titan as she swung out around the island. The ship’s captain hailed them over the radio, but Georgios maintained silence. Several of the other crew were on deck, now taking defensive positions with assault rifles. Roux’s people had come well-armed.

  On Titan’s decks, the crew bared the ship’s fangs. When she had first seen service as a military rescue/salvage ship for the Greek navy, Titan had been outfitted with two Mk 38 chain guns that fired 25 mm rounds at two hundred rounds a minute. The belts loaded into the weapons at present were high explosive incendiary rounds with tracers.

  Those weapons were usually hidden away in secret compartments aboard the ship. Since the arrival at the island, they’d been mounted on the prow. Topping out at a little beyond eight feet, they were highly visible when the crew stripped away the false cargo hulls.

  Two other teams mounted M2 Browning heavy machine guns on gimbals on the upper deck, giving them two hundred and seventy degrees of movement. Another pair of the .50-caliber machine guns was being locked down in the stern.

  “Sir,” Captain Skarvelis called from the helm, “Kestrel has seen us.”

  “Are the weapons ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then proceed, Captain.” Georgios lifted a pair of high-power binoculars to his eyes.

  Skarvelis stood in the center of the control center and held on to the desk. “Helmsman, make for Kestrel.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Georgios felt Titan’s deck sway slightly beneath his feet as the ship came about to starboard. If the crew aboard Kestrel had been suspicious about the other vessel’s intentions before, the course adjustment erased those doubts.

  “Chain guns, open fire.”

  Immediately, the 25 mm cannons burst into thunderous life, hammering the surrounding ocean with ear-splitting noise. Twisting spumes of white foam flew into the air, but the majority of the ammunition slammed into Kestrel. The incendiary rounds chewed through the unarmored salvage ship and knocked holes in her sides. The men firing assault rifles abandoned their attacks and retreated as the 25 mm rounds raked the deck.

  “Ready torpedo.”

  “Torpedo ready, Captain.”

  In addition to the guns, Titan also carried a Yu-7 torpedo launch system that had been recovered from a Chinese smuggler’s ship that had gone down four years ago. Georgios’s son had found out about the shipwreck after rescuing the crew at sea. One of the young sailors had told them about the smuggler’s ship in great detail. Xydias had the crew killed, threw them into the sea and returned for the plunder. The torpedo system had come in handy on a number of occasions.

  “Fire torpedo.”

  “Firing torpedo.”

  On the deck, between the two chain guns emptying brass in catchers, the torpedo leaped from the launcher and took to the water. For a moment Georgios saw the white trail left by the torpedo as it streaked through the ocean.

  “Ready torpedo,” Skarvelis ordered.

  “Readying torpedo, Captain.”

  “Fire torpedo when ready.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Some of the sailors aboard Kestrel returned fire, but only a few stray bullets hit Titan because they were still fifteen hundred yards away. One of Skarvelis’s sailors went down, blood darkening his uniform. A few other rounds ricocheted from the bulletproof glass wrapping the wheelhouse.

  Skarvelis remained calm. “Helmsman, stay on this course till that second torpedo is away.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Titan continued to bear
down on the stricken ship. Thick, black smoke spiraled from Kestrel. Her wheelhouse was shot up and several bodies lay scattered across the deck.

  “Firing torpedo.”

  Georgios still tracked the first torpedo, as he saw the second torpedo leap from Titan’s deck. Kestrel tried to take evasive action, but it was too little too late. She’d been at anchor and not expecting such an aggressive attack.

  The ship shuddered as the first torpedo slammed into her amidships. A wave of water exploded upward and rained down across the deck in a deluge. She dropped in the water almost immediately and wallowed heavily, obviously beyond control. A short time later, Kestrel shivered again as the second torpedo took her astern.

  “Helmsman, adjust course. Let’s pass Kestrel, then come about on her port side.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  In less than a minute, Kestrel’s fate was written and she was sinking into the Aegean Sea. Her crew threw lifeboats into the water and jumped in after them, no longer in a position to fight.

  Satisfied, Georgios nodded to Skarvelis. “Good job, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Andrianou.”

  Turning his attention to the computer screen, Georgios watched as snipers brought down the last of the security team that had been left on the lagoon beach. He waited impatiently for Melina to contact him and let him know they’d made a clean sweep of the battlefield.

  32

  The darkness in the passageway remained complete, even after Annja broke through the surface of the water. Surprised to discover she was above water level, she shone her light around, searching the narrow passageway for other traps.

  Roux and Garin surfaced beside her and added their lights to her own. Shortly after, Garin’s two men also surfaced.

  Overhead, the cavern roof was uneven and worn smooth enough to suggest that it, too, had at one time been underwater. The sleek surfaces added more evidence that water had formed the cave system a long time ago.

  “Do you see any more of those bull’s heads?” Garin swam over to the wall nearest the spiral stairs. The stairs ended eight feet above their present position, so getting into the larger cave chamber outside the passageway would require using them. He shone his light along the edge of the stairs carefully, touched the surface in a few areas to wipe away lichens.

  “No.” Annja swam to the stairs and began to climb. The heaviness of the air tanks and the Pegasus Thruster bit into her shoulders and weighed her down. She slipped off her fins and secured them to the harness across her chest. Once she was out of the water, she took a pair of joggers from the pack at her back and put them on to protect her bare feet.

  Moving cautiously, Garin joined her. He secured his own fins and pulled on a pair of joggers, as well. He also opened the waterproof holster on the Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum secured across his chest so the weapon would be available.

  At the landing, Annja paused and scrutinized the cave they were stepping into. A stone wall that reached the ceiling blocked the view, forcing her to choose one of two paths. In the center of the wall, a five-foot-tall bull’s head carved in bas-relief stared out at them.

  Garin growled in frustration. “A choice of two paths? Choose right or die.”

  Annja pointed her light at the floor, surprised to see that, under the thick layer of dust, it was covered in the shiny metallic alloy. She slid out of her air tanks and scuba mask, leaving them dripping on the floor. The swim fins joined them. Moving slowly, she walked to the right and peered around the corner of the wall. “There’s a path here.”

  Garin divested himself of his gear, then walked to the other end of the wall and stopped in the corner. “There’s a path here, as well. And more carving in the stone.” He wiped away dust with a gloved hand. “It’s an image of Michalis.”

  Annja brushed at the wall beside her. “Nothing here.” She crossed back to Garin and took out a small 35 mm digital camera from the pack. She took three pictures of the image of Michalis in a vast cavern filled with clockwork figures in the shapes of animals and people.

  “So does that mean this is the safe way?” Garin flicked his light back at the other corner. “Or is this just a trick?”

  “It’s a trick,” Roux announced, stepping ahead of Garin’s two men. “Both ways are a trick, and ones that will probably lead you to your deaths if you should follow them.” He stood in front of the bull’s head on the wall. “Think about it. Two ways. Choose right and you continue on without risk. Choose wrong, you lose a person, then make the right choice.” He shook his head and smiled mirthlessly. “No, this man wouldn’t give you easy access to his secrets. He would make you pay blood, then leave you defeated. Those paths are booby-trapped or they’ll lead you on a wild-goose chase.” He glanced at Garin. “It’s the same thing you would do.”

  Garin didn’t say anything. He walked back to the gear they’d dumped on the floor, then picked up a spear gun. Returning to the corner, he slammed the gun butt against the first tile around the corner, angling the spear gun so his hand was at something less than a hundred and eighty degree angle to it.

  The gun butt thudded heavily against the tile. Nothing happened. Moving to the next tile, Garin repeated his effort. This time a small group of spears shot down from the ceiling, ripped the spear gun from Garin’s hand and bent against the floor.

  Cursing, Garin looked at the ruined spear gun.

  Annja pocketed her camera, picked up another spear gun and duplicated Garin’s efforts on the unmarked passage. Two tiles down, mechanisms whirred and the floor suddenly dropped away. Balanced at the edge of the drop, she directed her light down. Twenty feet below, metallic stakes gleamed.

  The path continued on the other side of the four-foot opening.

  “Easy jump,” Garin said.

  Annja smiled. “Want to go first this time?”

  “No.”

  Catching hold of the wall, Annja leaned out over the opening and struck the next tile with the spear gun. More whirring vibrated through the stone, but it was cut short by a glistening blade that thrust from the cavern wall horizontally and raced toward her. Even her reflexes were almost not enough to save her as the blade slid through the space where she’d been standing. The wind from its rapid passing cast a chill over her, or maybe that was from the soaked dive suit, the cold in the cave or the fact that she’d dodged death by inches.

  Garin had likewise ducked for cover, but he’d moved back and around the corner, which was the only thing that had saved him. The sharp blade nicked his left cheek in passing. Blood wept from the inch-long cut between his goatee and his earlobe. He dabbed at the cut, then sucked the blood from his finger. Before he took his finger from his mouth, a heavy stone block dropped from the ceiling and sealed off the passageway.

  “This is beginning to get annoying.” Garin cursed. “If neither of those paths lead us where we want to go, what is the true path?”

  Roux studied the bull’s head. “Annja, did you notice that one of the bull’s horns is larger than the other?”

  She returned to Roux’s side. She stared at the carved image and discovered that the right horn was indeed larger than the left. Gently, she brushed dust from the horn and discovered Greek letters trailing along the underside. “Alpha, beta, lamda, upsilon, chi, and to one side is another, larger chi. Then there are two horizontal lines.”

  Garin snorted. “So the bull’s head is some kind of mascot to a fraternity?”

  “Almost.” Roux glanced around the room. “We’re missing a clue. There should be another group of letters on something somewhere in this room.” He checked the nearby walls. “Look for it, but be careful. It would have to be within easy reach.”

  Annja dusted the walls. “What does that word signify?”

  “Spelled under the horn? Abluo means to wash or cleanse.”

  “We’re supposed to wa
sh or clean something?” Garin asked as he searched the carved image of Michalis.

  “No. The two chis, one smaller than the other, are the clue. This is a math problem, a very clever puzzle. You replace the five letters with numbers, multiplying them by the value of the second chi.”

  “Don’t. You’re making my head hurt.”

  “The alpha becomes a two,” Roux went on as he knelt and continued to search, “the beta becomes one, the lamda becomes seven and the upsilon becomes a four.”

  Annja calculated the problem quickly in her head. “That gives you a product of eight thousand, seven hundred and twelve.”

  “Precisely.” Roux beamed at her as if she were a prize pupil. “State the problem aloud, saying just the numerals, not the value placement.”

  Picturing the problem in her head, Annja did. “Two, one, seven, eight times four equals eight, seven, one, two.” Then she saw what Roux was getting at. “The product is represented by the same letters.” Excitement pulsed through her. “Upsilon, lamda, beta and alpha. It’s the mirror image of the first number.”

  “Yes.”

  “This isn’t a time for algebra homework,” Garin growled.

  “Sure it is. Diophantus, in the third century AD, is credited as being the father of algebra.”

  “Third century AD would put him well after Michalis.”

  “True. But the Greeks had been solving problems in an algorithmic progression well before then using geometry. The ancient Babylonians developed the formulas the Greeks incorporated. But it stands to reason that Michalis would have known a lot about math to do the things he did.”

  “So was he Greek or Babylonian?”

  “He could have been both. A Babylonian enslaved by Greeks who rose to a position of power. Or a Greek who was enslaved by the Babylonians. Or a Persian. Alexander the Great was busy conquering the world at the time Michalis was creating his clockworks.”

  At the wall beside the entrance, Annja called, “I found letters here, but they’re not the right ones. And you can see there’s a section that can be depressed.”