“It’s on the way.”
“Report back to me as soon as they are on a plane to Vegas,” Cindy demanded. “Do it by email.”
“I’m all over it,” the controller voiced with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. Now all he had to do was convince the leader of the gift team to go Las Vegas and not to the facility in Denver to shoot the director as she had threatened.
Believing that she had handled the crisis and all the proper memos had been written and filed; Cindy leaned back in her chair and considered her bright future. If Dr. Hage could find the right dosage of rare earths and stress to control Joey Brownwater, she would have the other scientists experiment with the rare earths on the other inhabitants. She could wind up with an army of paranormal soldiers and become famous.
But the second initiative was even more promising. She almost couldn’t believe her good fortune. She had been reading the detailed reports about Joey Brownwater when it happened. She was skimming all the information about the Cherokee stones when one word caught her eye. The word was Vril.
Cindy knew the strange machines that qualified candidates for her facility where hidden around the country by the NSA. The machines sent out messages that only telepathic people could receive. If they called into a government agency to report something unusual, they were picked up for testing and brought to her research center. The machines were very old and ran on a mysterious energy source called Vril. No one seemed to know exactly how it worked or how it was made, but she knew the energy source lasted a very long time — the government wanted more.
If she could get her hands on a supply, maybe the NSA could build more machines and triple the size of her little empire. Maybe she would be allowed to set up a new center in someplace warm like Florida and she would get to travel and play golf more often. This very much appealed to the bureaucrat in her. It would also be job security for her.
As a result, she dispatched the gift team to Portage Wisconsin with the detailed directions to the spot where the stones said the Vril was buried. All they were told was to find a container and bring it to her.
She understood that Darlene Krenitz, Joan Kane, and the rest of the gift team would be upset, especially since she kept them in the dark about the elusive energy source. She had upset them before, which was why she didn’t want direct communications with the team. She decided to write some memos for their files about their good work. She was sure that would appease them.
Chapter Forty-Six
“I didn’t realize I would have to defend my position to you people,” Professor Lisa Lange said hotly. Her face had become crimson red and she shook with anger. “The true history of the Cherokees must be told.”
“Calm down Lisa,” Banyon said soothingly. “We are not trying to stop the true history from coming out. We just have some questions about the impact it will make on society and the world. Surely you have considered that?”
“Of course I have,” Lisa said indignantly.
“I want to hear more about the Cherokees,” Mandy quickly asked to bring Lisa back to the subject at hand. “Please tell us more,” she pleaded. “Please!”
“I’m anxious to hear what more evidence you have uncovered,” Heather agreed in encouragement.
Lisa took a few seconds to calm down and gather her thoughts. She shuffled through some papers. She selected one and began speaking.
“The Red Bird River Shelter Petroglyphs is one example that supports the stones’ authenticity,” she said. “It is located in Eastern Kentucky. It was registered with the NRHP, that’s the National Register of Historic Places in 1989. The inscriptions are located on a large rock. They contain old world alphabets of 8 ancient languages which were extinct well before Columbus was even born. They included Greek, Hebrew, Arabic and Iberian-Punic words. The text tells of a conflict between Indian tribes. It says they had no right to live there as an ancient white race settled there before them.”
“That sounds like hard evidence,” Heather admitted.
“Well actually, some experts now say that the inscriptions don’t compare favorably with other Cherokee inscriptions found in the area and suggests that the petroglyphs have been altered.”
“But couldn’t the ancient white people mentioned on the stone have been the Phoenicians?” Mandy asked.
“The people who pooh-poohed the inscriptions said white people didn’t inhabit the area until around 1700, so the writing must be eighteenth century or later. They have ignored all other evidence.”
“It’s a conspiracy!” Mandy exclaimed and slammed her small fist on the table.
“Even stranger is the Possum Creek Stone,” Lisa said. “It was discovered in 1970 and has been identified as a Greek athlete’s victory pedestal. Ancient languages are inscribed on it as well as Cherokee words. It has been dated to sometime before 100 B.C.”
“Is that strong evidence?” Mandy inquired, but she was not sure.
“It was found in Oklahoma, where the Cherokee were moved to in the 1830’s.”
“So, they could have taken it with them,” Mandy argued. “And maybe they lost it in the creek or something.”
“Which makes it tainted in the eyes of accredited archeologists because it was moved from its original site,” Lisa explained.
“I don’t like archeologists,” Mandy muttered.
Lisa smiled at her and continued. “Then there is the Castalian Springs Mound site. It is located outside of Nashville, Tennessee. The site is a large mound and was first excavated in the 1890’s. The archeologist who worked on site later went to work at the Smithsonian Institute. He found copper plates and other copper trinkets in the burial mound.”
“Let me guess,” Heather remarked. “That’s been discredited too, right?”
“Right,” Lisa agreed. “Some scientists say that it proves nothing because copper has been found in the Southern part of Tennessee and could be the source for the plates. However, copper was not discovered in Tennessee until 1843, well after the mounds were built. Still, they deny the artifacts and say the Cherokee could have found a still-hidden source earlier.”
“How convenient,” Mandy said sarcastically.
Lisa laughed. “I like you Mandy.” She then continued. “A short distance away, the Thurston tablet was found. It was named after the man who found it. The Thurston tablet is about 19 inches long by 14 inches high and has images on both sides. It depicts a marriage between a Cherokee woman and a Shawnee Indian to commemorate a peace treaty between the two tribes. The Cherokee Chief wears a horse hair helmet, carries a spear, wears copper colored armor and carries the shield of a Greek soldier. The woman wears a modern pleated skirt and a Star of David on her chest. Cherokee legends describe the armor as ‘stone coat’. They were made of copper.”
“Surely that isn’t disputed?” Mandy asked.
“Mr. Thurston was not an accredited archeologist,” Lisa told her while shaking her head. “That makes everything suspect.”
“I don’t get it. Who decides what’s real or not?” Mandy said in frustration.
“The Smithsonian Institute is involved in many of the disputes,” Lisa said. “But they are a highly reputable institution,” Lisa said sarcastically and batted her eyes like she didn’t believe it.”
“Who funds the Smithsonian?” Banyon quickly asked.
“Good question Colt,” Lisa said. “Their finances are fairly transparent. About 65 percent is federally funded with a large amount of money from outside contributions and private sources. The rest is from their various businesses like museums, restaurants etc.”
“I’m beginning to believe in your conspiracy theory,” Steve said.
“They’re also in the middle of another, more famous controversy,” Lisa continued. “It’s called the Bat Creek Stone.”
“I can’t wait to hear this one,” Mandy muttered.
“In 1889 an employee of the Smithsonian excavated another burial mound in Tennessee at a place called Bat Creek. He found around 40,000 artifacts.
He determined that many of the copper items were from native copper — which could only be found on Isle Royal . His findings included a stone written in what he believed was the Cherokee alphabet. The problem was that he couldn’t translate it. He brought the item to the Smithsonian. They put it in a drawer. It stayed there until 1970 when a Semitist names Cyrus H. Gordon found it and discovered that the original scientists had looked at the rock upside down. When he turned the rock around, he found that the writing was actually ancient Hebrew.
“Other scientists began calling it a fraud and a coincidence, and still others had it carbon dated. A debate raged on until 2004 when two archeologists published an article reporting that the exact inscription could be found in a Masonic reference book written in 1870 and declared the stone a complete fraud.”
“Are the Freemasons involved in this too?” Steve bellowed.
“Well, the exact same writing has been found in other places as well,” Lisa replied. “But the Freemasons are big contributors to the Smithsonian, you know.”
“Damn,” Steve roared. “Are you telling me that the conspiracy could include the Federal government, the Smithsonian, and the Freemasons? What’s next, the Templers, the Illuminati, some other secret group or maybe even aliens?”
“You forgot the Cherokee,” Lisa shot back. “They don’t necessarily want this information to get out.”
“So there is nothing that is conclusive,” Mandy ranted.
“Well, actually there is something. In recent years, scientists have begun doing DNA testing on full-blood Cherokees and have found that a high percentage of them have DNA indicators that match people from the Mediterranean. That is conclusive proof,” Lisa pointed out.
“Now we are getting somewhere,” Mandy said as she clapped her hands.
“Don’t get too excited,” Lisa warned. “So far scientists have only been able to compare about sixty DNAs because it is hard to trace the ancestry of the Cherokee. If they married a settler even as far back as the 1700’s the linage would be broken. But in the trials, the DNA matched people from the Lebanon area. There is also…”
The captain of the jet cut her off. “We’ll be landing in ten minutes. I need you to shut down your electronic devices, your cell phones, and fasten your seat belts,” he announced over the loud speaker.
Part Four
Confusion
Chapter Forty-Seven
Darlene Krenitz expertly maneuvered the big black suburban vehicle onto a tiny dirt road near Portage, Wisconsin. It was no small trick as dark night blanketed the area and she drove without any headlights. There were no lights to guide her in the open field either. But she knew exactly where she was going. The heavy suburban bounced and swayed as it clawed its way across the big meadow. The six occupants felt like they were in a submarine that was being depth charged. They were tossed around like rag dolls.
“Slow down,” Joan Kane complained. “I’m getting bruises all over my body.”
“We’re almost there,” Darlene shot back. “The first rock is just ahead.”
The gift team had scoped out the search area during the daytime, but had decided to wait until night-fall to dig up the artifact. They believed there were too many people around working the fields and driving by on the roads that surrounded the search area. They didn’t want anybody to become suspicious and investigate what they were doing. They had made a hand-drawn treasure map with the precise directions to the dig site. Joan was designated as the navigator and the three men in the back were charged with doing the digging.
“How come the three men have to do the digging,” one of the casually dressed subordinates asked from the back seat.
“Because Joan and I still have on our suits,” Darlene shouted back. “And because if you don’t do the digging, I’ll shoot you.” Darlene was well known for her sometimes lack of imaginary humor.
“I see the first stone,” Joan rang out. Darlene mercifully stopped the big vehicle and the five gift squad members piled out.
“Don’t forget the shovels boys,” Darlene yelled out and headed into the tall weeds chuckling.
“We need to go one hundred paces due west,” Joan announced.
Chapter Forty-Eight
The Patel clan was about ten minutes behind the gift squad and closing fast on the location of the first rock marker. The clan consisted of Previne Patel, her twin sister Pramilla Patel, their younger sister Maya, who could pass for another twin, and Pramilla’s husband Eric. Eric was driving and Pramilla was the navigator. The clan all were in their mid-thirties and in great physical shape. Maya was a few years younger.
They were already tired as the day had been long and eventful, but they were excited about having some adventure and helping Colton Banyon out before they left for India. Adventure was in their blood.
The morning had started with the reading of their Aunt Amrita’s will. There it was disclosed that they would have to live in her palace in the Himalayan Mountains for three months before it was legally transferred to them. The clan had little choice but to agree to go. The palace contained a huge amount of treasure for the archeologist in Maya and the curator in Previne to explore.
They rushed to their home which was in the same neighborhood as Colton Banyon and began to shut off the utilities and make arrangements to shutter the home until they came back. They also had to make arrangements for Maya’s infant son Greg. The full-time nanny agreed to come with them and Pramilla, a career diplomat with the Indian government, arranged for her papers and solicited a jet for their long trip.
While they were packing and preparing, Colton Banyon had called and the clan had quickly agreed to find out if a container of Vril was actually buried in Wisconsin. They loaded up the plane, leaving little Greg and the nanny at a private airport. They then headed off to begin the search.
The tall, sleek, Indian women had changed on the plane and were dressed in their usual treasure hunting garb. They wore black tops that had hoodies and black stretch pants. They also wore black running shoes. Eric was dressed just like he always was in a ratty pullover shirt and ripped jeans. He did however, wear good boots. They had each armed themselves with holstered pistols, just in case there was a problem.
“Look,” Pramilla cried out. “I see a big SUV blocking the road ahead. What’d you think it’s doing out here?”
“Uh-oh, there maybe someone else out here in the field looking for the Vril site,” Previne said.
“Why don’t you call Colt on the phone and ask him to find out from Wolf?” Maya interjected.
“I just tried to call him, but got no answer,” Previne said with a little frustration. “We could use his help to guide us in.”
“I think they are probably landing in Las Vegas right now and his cell phone is turned off,” Eric pointed out.
“We should start searching for the site anyway,” Pramilla reasoned. “We can call Colt as we get nearer to it.”
“Sounds alright with me,” Eric uttered. He was an ex-Navy SEAL and very few things frightened or intimidated him.
Previne was usually the leader of the clan and quickly took charge. “Eric, find a place for us to hide the car. I saw some tall corn growing just a second ago. There is a corn field just behind us. We’ll go in on foot.”
Eric put the car in reverse and backed into the corn field. He moved far enough backwards so that the car could not be seen from the road. The four members of the Patel clan rolled out of the car and checked their weapons.
“Don’t forget the shovel,” Pramilla said to her husband. “We may still have to dig for the Vril.”
Eric looked unhappy but opened the trunk and tossed a shovel over his shoulder. “I still don’t understand why I always have to do all the digging.” he said sulking.
“Because I said so,” Pramilla shot back.
“But I’m wearing some of my best clothes and they will get dirty,” he complained with a smile on his face.
“And if you ever want them washed again, you’ll do the
digging,” Pramilla tossed back. Eric depended on the Patel sisters for all of his domestic requirements, including the washing of his clothes. All three of the sisters were usually more than willing to accommodate all his needs. The sexy women were very good at sharing and sometimes substituted for each other.
“Stop bickering you two,” Previne ordered. “We need to be alert. We don’t know who is out there.”
“So what’s the plan?” Eric quickly asked.
“We are going to follow the directions but also stay in the tall weeds as we move from stone to stone. Now let’s get going.”
“I love a good treasure hunt,” Maya said with excitement.
Chapter Forty-Nine
As soon as the plane carrying Banyon and the rest of the team pulled to a stop, Banyon told them to load up the rental car waiting near the hanger. He quickly slipped away into the plane’s bathroom. It had been over four hours since he had talked to Wolf and he was sure that there was something to report. He locked the door.
“Wolf is there anything new to report?” He asked in a low voice.
“You have to hurry Colt,” Wolf immediately replied. “Hurry — before it is too late!”
“Too late for what?” Banyon asked in confusion and near panic.
“Tony Ryder has become impatient and has changed his plans. He is going to send his people to attack the ranch at 7 p.m. tonight.”
Banyon glanced at his watch and saw that it was 5:45 p.m. He knew that if they drove hard they would get to the ranch about fifteen minutes before the next attack. He wondered if it would be enough time to evacuate everybody. He was now once again deathly afraid for his precious Loni.
“What’s his plan?” Banyon screamed out in panic.
“He is sending both Cobras and twenty armed men. The gunships are going to fire rockets from a safe distance into the mountain above the ranch. His plan is to start an avalanche and crush the ranch house. The twenty men will then swoop in and ensure that everyone inside is dead. He no longer wants Joey Brownwater alive. And there is more…”
A Dubious Race: The Phoenician Stones (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 14) Page 15
