Fortune Favors

by Sean Ellis

  Kismet nodded again. “I’ll live. And the sooner I get to tell my side of this, the better.”

  The medic cocked his head sideways in a knowing gesture, and then went to work preparing the unconscious man for transport. Once the patient was borne away on a field litter, the long silence resumed, and Kismet waited some more.

  The night air was just starting to get uncomfortably chilly when another soldier climbed up onto the walkway. This man had removed his battle armor but still wore a holstered semi-automatic pistol on his hip. There was a gold oak leaf badge on his patrol cap and the name tape on the front pocket of his uniform blouse read “Russell.”

  Despite being sore, tired and frustrated by the long period of inactivity, Kismet did his best to present a cooperative demeanor. “Major Russell.”

  The officer cut him off with a brusque wave. “It’s Kismet, right?” He spoke with a clipped but precise style, accentuating his faint southern drawl. “Do you have any idea what you have done here? I have got a ten mile section of railroad that’s now a crime scene, and now all train traffic on the eastern seaboard is at a dead stop.”

  Kismet bit back an equally rancorous reply and focused on what the major had, perhaps unintentionally, revealed. “I hope the fact that you know my name means that you’ve talked to my friends already. Are they okay?”

  Russell’s mouth twitched a little, as if fighting away a smile. “They’re fine and in a lot better shape than you.”

  “So I assume they’ve already told you that we aren’t the bad guys. The only reason we were even on this train is because we were being chased by the guys in white sheets. We were just lucky that this train happened to be transporting military equipment.”

  “You were lucky,” Russell scoffed. “Regulations require an escort when our equipment is transported by civilian carriers, but it’s just a preventative measure. If the crazies know that there are soldiers guarding the trucks, they’ll think twice about hijacking them. Never in my wildest dreams did I believe someone would actually try.”

  Kismet thought the officer’s manner seemed more irritated than confrontational. “I don’t think your cargo had anything to do with this.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Russell put his hands on his hips and sighed. “That bunch in the pickup lighted off like jack rabbits when they got a look at us. Local law enforcement is tracking them down now. Probably not part of any organized group—the local Klan chapter was quick to deny any involvement and I am inclined to believe them.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Russell actually laughed. “More than you might think. If this was an organized attack, and not a bunch of rowdies jacked up on meth and moonshine, then it’s domestic terrorism, and that means we break out a can of bureaucratic alphabet soup.”

  “It wasn’t just ‘rowdies.’”

  “That’s what your friends said.”

  Kismet tried unsuccessfully not to frown. What exactly had Higgins and Annie told this man? Had they mentioned the goal of their quest? Their protestations of innocence would surely be undermined by the revelation that they were really nothing more than treasure hunters. He tried changing the subject. “Can I see them?”

  Russell crossed his arms over his chest, his expression at once perturbed and thoughtful. “I guess that depends on whether you can give me one good reason not to simply turn you over to Homeland Security. I’d just as soon do that, and let them sort this mess out.”

  “I don’t know what more I can add.” Kismet was choosing his words carefully, but at the same time trying to avoid sounding evasive. “My friends and I are looking for something...call it a historical research project. There’s a man out there named John Leeds who wants to beat us to it. We were in the middle of an interview with someone when Leeds and this bunch of ‘rowdies’ drove up and tried to kill us. We ran into the woods and saw the train. They followed. End of story.”

  Russell didn’t seem remotely convinced, but he didn’t turn away. “Tell me more about this project you’re working on. If this Leeds fellow is willing to kill, it must be...what, worth a lot of money? Or is it something else?”

  Kismet couldn’t tell if Russell was sincere. As both a former army intelligence officer and an attorney, he knew a little about interrogations and leading questions. But it wasn’t like there was any trap to fall into; Leeds was the bad guy, they’d done nothing wrong, and if push came to shove, he’d argue that in court, never mind how preposterous it sounded. But Kismet didn’t really get the sense that the major was trying to trick him. Maybe he really didn’t know; perhaps Higgins and Annie had discreetly stayed mum regarding the more fantastic aspects of their mission. He was still trying to figure out how to explain it when Russell’s expression abruptly hardened.

  The officer frowned as he took a mobile phone from his pocket and glanced at the illuminated display. “Excuse me,” he said, and then stepped down from the locomotive and retreated several paces away before taking the call.

  Kismet could hear the major’s voice and make out a few words—he distinctly heard the man say “yes sir” several times—but the topic of the conversation remained a mystery.

  At length, Russell lowered the phone and dropped it back in his pocket with an almost quizzical expression. He addressed the soldiers who had been holding Kismet at gun point, ordering them to stand down then he turned to Kismet. “Let’s go find your friends.”

  * * *

  Alex Higgins was still trying to process the abrupt change in the demeanor of the soldiers who had been guarding them when he saw Kismet and Major Russell enter the car.

  For two hours, he and Annie had been held at gunpoint, separated at different ends of the decades old steerage class passenger coach. Russell had interrogated them each in turn, relentlessly asking the same questions over and over again. For his part, Higgins had kept his answers short, cautious about revealing too much information, and resisting the impulse to ask about Kismet. He knew his daughter well enough to believe that she would do the same. Though obviously dissatisfied with their answers, the officer had eventually left the car, with he and Annie still sequestered.

  Then, in response to a radioed message, everything had changed. The soldiers had relaxed their guard and allowed them to sit together, and a few moments later, Kismet appeared looking considerably worse for wear, but moving freely, without any sign of duress.

  Annie burst from her seat and threw her arms around him. Kismet winced but gamely returned the embrace. Higgins too rose to greet him, but felt a surge of anxiety at the sudden shift in mood. Something about the whole situation bothered him.

  Kismet looked to Russell. “Are you letting us go?”

  The major turned away for a moment to converse with another soldier, but then gestured for the three to sit. “You’re not in custody,” he began. “Of course there are still a lot of questions to be answered, but no one thinks you’ve done anything wrong.”

  A long line of soldiers began filing into the car.

  “Are we leaving?” Higgins asked.

  Russell nodded. “I’ve been ordered to get this train to its destination, ASAP.”

  “So much for a ten-mile long crime scene,” Kismet muttered. “By the way, I lost my Glock somewhere between here and where we got on. Might be...ah, something else on the tracks too.”

  “Something else?”

  “Something or someone.”

  “Shit.” Russell rubbed the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a migraine, then shook his head. “Someone else’s problem now.”

  “But you’re taking us along?” Annie said.

  Russell’s stare remained fixed on Kismet. “It seems this man, Leeds, has attracted some attention at the highest levels. He’s a person of interest in a crime spree that occurred in New York’s Central Part a couple days ago...”

  Annie broke into a coughing fit.

  “And there are a few other red flags associated with him. He’s got indirect ties to a number of hate groups. Homela
nd believes he might be involved in some kind of terror plot. And obviously, he’s targeted the three of you.”

  “So when we get where we’re going, you’ll hand us off to Homeland Security?” Kismet asked.

  Russell drummed his fingers on his knee. “You work for the United Nations, right? It would appear that affords you a rather unique status. A sort of diplomatic immunity.”

  Kismet frowned suspiciously. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

  “Be that as it may, someone above my pay grade has made it clear that I am not to interfere with you, or whatever it is you are doing, in any way. You are, to put it simply, free to go. In fact, if you really want to, you can hop right off this train and go on your merry way.”

  “Leeds is still out there,” Annie intoned. “Still after us.”

  “Is that the plan?” Kismet pressed. “Cut us loose in order to draw Leeds into the open?”

  Russell managed a wry grin. “That possibility was discussed. However, my orders are to give you safe escort...to wherever it is you are going, and for as long as you need it.”

  Higgins kept a stony expression and watched carefully as Kismet digested the major’s statement. Did Russell know what they were looking for? Did the offer hide some ulterior motive—an attempt by the government to seize control of the Fountain of Youth, if it existed to be found? Or was there some other player at work?

  It was just like Iraq; one minute they were up shit creek, and the next...?

  Kismet shook his head. “Let me get this straight. You’ve been ordered to provide a military security escort for us? I think the Posse Comitatus Act makes that illegal.”

  “Ordinarily, it would require special circumstances—a declared state of emergency, for example—for regular army troops to be deployed domestically. We, however, are a Georgia National Guard Unit, which means we can also be activated by the governor. There’s a reciprocity agreement that allows us to operate most anywhere in the US. I don’t pretend to completely understand the finer points, but my orders are clear.” He paused a beat, and nodded meaningfully. “Whatever you need.”

  Higgins thought again about what Leeds had told him in Central Park.

  Prometheus...

  Kismet has become their bloodhound, tracking down the world’s mysteries so that Prometheus can hide them away.

  Was that what was happening now?

  * * *

  There was no further discussion on the subject of their ultimate destination or purpose. Russell excused himself in order to attend to the responsibilities of command, leaving Kismet and his friends alone as the train began moving again.

  Kismet felt a numbing exhaustion settling over him, and was on the verge of nodding off when Higgins voice reached out to him.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about all this, mate.”

  Kismet managed to prop his eyelids open and regarded the former Gurkha thoughtfully. He had his own reservations about the situation, and about the unusual offer Russell had made—an offer that was evidently sanctioned by the major’s chain of command. On its surface, there was a certain logic to it. Dr. Leeds was by his own admission, a white supremacist, and while not every racist was a terrorist, Leeds had repeatedly demonstrated a propensity for violence and a disregard for the law, so it made sense that he would be on the radar of law enforcement agencies. It was just dumb luck that they had fallen into Russell’s lap, and he had to believe that the offer of cooperation had nothing at all to do with the object of their search. Homeland Security wanted to take Leeds down, and Major Russell’s Guard unit happened to be in the right place at the right time to accomplish that.

  Still...

  “I’m with you,” he told Higgins. “Sometimes a coincidence is just a coincidence, but it always pays to stay on your toes.”

  “Do you think that all of this—” Higgins gestured to the train car full of lounging soldiers—“could be...maybe your government trying to get its hands on the...” He trailed off, as if afraid to even utter the words “Fountain of Youth.”

  Kismet had already considered this, too. “I don’t see how they could even know about it. I didn’t tell them; did you?”

  Higgins and Annie both shook their heads negatively.

  “It’s still possible that they found out while investigating Leeds; maybe he posted ‘Looking for the secret of eternal life’ as his Facebook status. Regardless, the Fountain, if it even exists, is on American soil, so the government doesn’t need to seize it; it’s already theirs.”

  “You know it’s not that simple.”

  “Maybe not. But better the government than Dr. Leeds.” He held Higgins’ gaze. “You’re with me on that, right Al?”

  “Of course we are,” Annie intoned, sounding almost insulted.

  Higgins nodded too, but Kismet felt a sliver of doubt about his old comrade’s motives. He too had a bad feeling about the situation, and it had nothing to do with Major Russell’s offer of military assistance.

  * * *

  The train reached Atlanta the next morning where the cargo was unloaded and turned over the drivers from the receiving military unit. Most of Russell’s men remained there, completing their original mission to guard the shipment, until the transfer was complete, a process that lasted well into the afternoon. The major however, made good on his promise of assistance, offering them lodging at nearby Fort Gillem, a mostly decommissioned army base to the southeast of the city.

  “We can put you up there as long as you like,” Russell suggested. “At the very least, you can get a decent night’s sleep.”

  Kismet was still undecided about whether to accept the major’s offer to provide security for the ongoing search, but as he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a proper bed, the immediate invitation was one he couldn’t refuse.

  The afternoon was spent attending to details such as buying some clothes to replace their tattered, lived-in apparel and arranging for their abandoned vehicle to be released from impound in Charleston and returned to the rental agency. Kismet also took the opportunity to do a little research on their ultimate goal, and that evening, over a meal and few pints of beer at a local brewpub, he told the others what he had learned.

  There had been no opportunity earlier for Kismet to share what Joe had revealed to him in Fontaneda’s crypt, and despite his willingness to keep them in the loop, it was with some apprehension that he produced the tattooed map he’d cut from the Spaniard’s corpse.

  Annie’s forehead creased in mild revulsion as he recounted the story of how the map had been procured, but he kept the discussion focused on what the map revealed.

  “Fontaneda made this for himself,” he explained. “He wanted to be able to find the cavern with the Fountain, and probably didn’t trust his own memory. He didn’t have GPS...hell, there weren’t even any proper maps until a couple centuries later, so he would have had to come up with a way to mark its location using reference points that would be easy to find.

  “These round shapes are probably lakes. There are a lot of them in the area west of Saint Augustine and unfortunately they aren’t a very reliable reference because the geography has changed a lot since then. In fact, it changes almost constantly. ”

  He tapped the cluster of strange mountain-shapes. “I think this is the key. There aren’t a lot of landmarks in Florida, and certainly nothing that could be confused with a mountain.”

  “They look more like pyramids,” Higgins offered.

  “That’s what I thought as well. And it just so happens, that there are pyramids in Florida.”

  Despite their unfamiliarity with the region and its history, both father and daughter met this statement with raised eyebrows.

  “The technical term is actually ‘earthworks,’” he continued. “More than a thousand years before Europeans discovered the New World, several civilizations of mound builders arose in eastern America. The practice of creating earthworks seems to be universal; they are found all across Asia, and the early Ame
rican cultures probably brought the knowledge with them when they emigrated across the Bering Strait. Most of the American earthworks sites are found in the Mississippi River valley, but there are quite a few in the Deep South as well. They made enormous pyramid-shaped and conical earthworks, as well as some mounds that resembled animals. The most famous of these is the Serpent Mound in Ohio.”

  Higgins tapped the snake image on the map. “Is that what this is?”

  Kismet shook his head. “Fontaneda was definitely on the Florida peninsula. I think he may have found a different serpent mound, one that hasn’t been discovered yet, or was possibly flooded or destroyed in the centuries since. But I think these other earthworks—the pyramids—might still be around today. There are several mound sites throughout the state, but I think the best candidate is the Lake Jackson Mounds on the panhandle.”

  He produced a Florida highway map and unfolded it on the table. He drew a circle near the city of Tallahassee, just north of the inverted V shape of Apalachee Bay. He then laid the tattoo map alongside it, orienting it so that the serpent was pointing down.

  “The mounds are our starting point,” Higgins observed. “Which way from there?”

  Kismet touched another point on the tattoo map in the upper quarter opposite the pyramids, where a tiny cross had been inscribed. “I think this is supposed to represent Saint Augustine.” He drew another circle, and then connected it with a straight line to the first, then approximated the converging lines of Fontaneda’s map to form an off-center downward pointing triangle. The lines crossed southeast of Gainesville in the Ocala National Forest.

  “The entrance to the cavern is where these lines converge.” As he circled the X at the convergence of the lines on the highway map, he took another look at what lay in the center of the triangle. The mark was almost exactly on the south shore of Lake George, but what caught his eye was the St. Johns River, flowing north out of the lake and meandering across the landscape all the way to Jacksonville. The undulations of the river course almost exactly matched the curves of the tattooed serpent on Fontaneda’s map.