Chandra cupped her chin in her hand. “This can’t be…”
The stone, while providing the ability to translate the unknown language, did not disclose the location of the base. Instead, it referred to another document hidden in another part of the world. The message on the tablet, it appeared, was simply another clue in the puzzle. Randall shook his head and rubbed his aching eyes.
“What do you make of it, dad?” John asked.
Randall considered the question, shrugging off the initial shock. “The writing refers to Agharti, which—if I remember correctly—was a legendary underground world alleged to have existed at the center of the Earth with access somewhere in the Himalayas. According to legend, there are tunnels that run under the Himalayas with entrances somewhere near Tibet, and there’s a race that lives there that possesses great knowledge. Supposedly, Buddhists are aware of the existence of the city and its location.”
“Okay, so we go and find it,” John said.
“It’s not that easy. Most scholars believe Agharti is just a myth and the Buddhists are mum on its existence, so no one really knows how or where to find it.”
“So we’ve reached a dead end,” Chandra stated.
“Maybe not. I think I know someone who might be able to help us. Unfortunately, I don’t know if he’ll want to,” Randall said.
John turned to his father, a look of surprise on his face. “Who are you talking about? I thought I knew all of your old friends.”
Randall sighed. “You and Sam know most of them, but not this one.”
“Who is it?”
“That’s a long story.”
Chapter Forty-One
Randall and John sat in the back of the C130 transport as it made its way across the Atlantic to London. Randall had explained to Flores that a former colleague, Mark Talley—a professor of ancient history at Oxford—specialized in the folklore and culture of Asia and was their best chance of finding Agharti. What he failed to mention was the cause of his reluctance to contact his former friend.
Randall sensed his son’s gaze upon him. John had artfully tried to engage his father in a conversation to discover what had happened between the former friends, but Randall had completely shut him down. Now, nearing the end of the transatlantic flight, the tension between father and son was palpable. John glared at his father, tapping his index finger on the top of his laptop in metronome fashion.
“I don’t know why you won’t tell me what happened between you and Dr. Talley. It was clearly something big and now we’re going to see him and I have no idea what to expect. If you can’t trust your own son, who can you trust? I just don’t get it, Dad,” John said, shaking his head and looking out the window.
Randall squirmed in his seat, feeling every bit like a teenager hiding a secret from his parents while they grilled him about what had happened the previous night.
John turned back to face his father. “If Sam were here, would you tell her?”
Randall stared at his hands, unsure of what to say. He had wanted to tell John on multiple occasions since they left Dulce, but each time he had started to speak, he had thought better of it. Now his son was justifiably angry with him and he had no defense other than it was his own business and no one else’s. Of course, this thin veil of an excuse would only last until they arrived at Oxford, at which time the details of the past would be on display for John and everyone else to see.
“Buckle your seatbelts, gentleman, we’re preparing for landing,” the pilot’s voice called over the loudspeaker in the cargo hold.
The plane began its descent to Royal Air Force Station Lakenheath, Suffolk, United Kingdom about 70 miles northeast of London. Randall checked his seatbelt, trying to avoid eye contact with his son.
“Still won’t talk? Okay, Dad, that’s fine. I’ll be sure to remember this when you start in with one of your lectures about the virtues of honesty and openness,” John said. He then mumbled something else under his breath.
The plane taxied to the end of the runway, turned, and headed to a covered hangar on the far north end of the field. As they descended the ramp, Randall and John were greeted by a squad of Special Air Service (SAS) soldiers who escorted them to a waiting Humvee, which then took them to the base commander’s office. After a brief meeting with the CO, it was decided that the situation warranted a low-key approach so as not to draw attention to the American visitors. A pair of non-uniformed officers chauffeured their guests to the university and waited in the car while Randall and John walked into the university offices.
The grounds of the oldest university in the English-speaking world didn’t disappoint. With its Gothic towers thrusting into a radiant blue sky, a sense of reverent awe overwhelmed Randall as he gazed upon the incredible architecture that more resembled a medieval cathedral than a school campus. Students scurried about the expansive grounds, which were covered with luscious green patches of grass interspersed between the university’s many halls. Randall, always excited to educate, considered telling his son that teaching had been taking place in Oxford since 1096, but one look at John told him that now would not be a good time for small talk. Sighing, he entered the main administration building while his son held the door for him. All the while, Randall could sense John’s laser-like focus burrowing into the back of his head.
The two were directed to the Dean’s office, where they were seated at a small meeting area near the back of the room. John resumed staring at his father, occasionally shaking his head from side to side while muttering.
“The secret will be out soon. Sure you don’t want to come clean before I find out from a complete stranger?” John asked in a sing-song tone.
Randall remained impassive, staring directly ahead as the minutes ticked by. Beads of sweat formed at his temples then ran down the sides of his face. He wiped them away with one hand while nervously tapping on the arm of his chair with the other.
A voice suddenly broke the silence.
“If I weren’t seeing this with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it.”
The sudden sound of his former friend caught Randall off guard and he flinched in his seat. He looked up to see the face of a man he had not seen since graduate school, many years ago. Randall stood and walked over to Mark, his hand extended.
“What do you want me to do with that?” Mark commented, his gaze moving from Randall’s outstretched hand to his face. Randall stopped in his tracks.
“We need your help, Mark. We’re trying to find Agharti,” Randall said.
The serious expression on Mark’s face morphed into one of amusement as he began shaking his head at his former colleague.
“I haven’t seen you in over twenty years, and the first words out of your mouth are that you’re looking for some imaginary city that only exists in the minds of old men and even older texts. I’ll give you credit for having the guts to come here, but that’s about it,” Mark said, a frown returning to his face.
“Look, I know we didn’t leave on the best of terms…”
“The best of terms? Are you kidding me? You steal my girlfriend, run off and get married, and that’s all you can say? We didn’t leave off on the best of terms? I should punch you in the mouth, you stupid bastard!”
John cringed. The cat was officially out of the bag.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you—you were my best friend—but things just happened. Ann and I were young and in love. I tried to deny it, but I couldn’t and neither could she.”
“So that justifies you screwing over your friend? You leave me crushed and run off to live your dream and now you expect me to just help you out of a jam.”
“Ann’s dead. She died four years ago.”
“What?”
“Things haven’t exactly been easy for me, either,” Randall said, locking eyes with Mark, whose hard outward appearance wavered and softened.
“What happened?” Mark asked.
“She died in a car accident. I was away on fieldwork and she was picking up a packa
ge when her car was run off the road by a semi-truck. There weren’t even proper remains to identify her,” Randall replied, turning away and wiping his eyes.
“Jesus, I’m sorry Nick. I had no idea. It’s still a sore subject with me,” Mark said, walking over to a chair and plopping himself down. Randall followed suit, taking a seat by Mark and John.
“Mark, this is my son John,” Randall said, using the back of his hand to wipe his eyes and motioning to John.
“Nice to meet you, Dr. Talley,” John said, shaking his hand.
“Please, call me Mark. I must look like a real ass right now,” Mark commented.
“Not at all,” John said, casting a glance in his father’s direction. “Dad can have that effect on people sometimes.”
“Do you remember Rob?” Randall asked, eager to change the subject.
“Sure I do. Good old Rob, always a smile on his face. How’s he doing?”
“He was kidnapped, along with another friend of ours named Jamie. That’s the reason we came. The only way we can help them is to find Agharti and locate an artifact that can help us find what we’re looking for,” Randall said.
Mark looked at Randall and then at John, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.
“Kidnapping? Old legends? Jesus! What have you gotten yourself into, Nick? This sounds really serious and I’m more than a little concerned that you think I can help you. I’m a professor of ancient history, not a cop.”
Randall raised his hands. “I apologize, but I can’t go into more detail about the situation. I can tell you that we have the backing of some important people and it’s imperative that we find Agharti. I believe you’re the best chance we have. You know more about Tibet and the ancient legends surrounding the area than anyone in the world and, more importantly, I trust you,” Randall said.
Mark sat back in his chair, his mouth still hanging open. He cocked his head to one side, staring off into space. His lips moved slightly as if he were talking to someone. He turned back to face John and Randall.
“Let’s assume for a minute that the legends are true and Agharti exists—and that’s a big assumption—finding it won’t be easy. The entrances have been a guarded secret for thousands of years. I have some general ideas of where they’re supposed to be, but even with a limited number of possibilities, it could take months, if not years to properly explore them all. I’m guessing you don’t have that kind of time.”
“You’re right, we don’t, but I have something that might help narrow down the possibilities,” Randall said, removing a slip of paper from his coat and handing it to Mark. “I have solid information that points us in the direction of something called ‘The Valley of the Angel’s Wings.’ Does that help?”
Mark took the slip of paper with the words written in Sanskrit. He studied it, confirming that the translation was correct. He looked up from the paper, his eyes narrowing as he studied Randall. “Where did you get this information? I’ve studied every piece of literature and lore about Agharti and have never seen or heard anything like this before.”
“It’s from an ancient tablet recovered from an underwater cavern in Mexico. I know what you’re thinking. It’s authentic, but I can’t tell you any more than that.” Randall shifted in his seat. “Does it help narrow the possibilities?”
Mark studied Randall’s face and finally shrugged. “Yes. If this is true, then there’s only one possible location for the entrance you’re referring to, and I know exactly where it is.”
“So you’ll help us?” Randall asked.
Mark sat back in his chair, staring at the ground. His head bobbed up and down while he massaged the beard on his face.
“I haven’t seen or heard from you in years, you pop in with a crazy story about legendary cities, tell me Rob’s been kidnapped, and expect me to just drop my life and go on an adventure with you?”
“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s not just for me, it’s for Rob. Besides, I know this is something you’ve always dreamed of doing, and I’m offering you a chance to find Agharti. What do you say?”
“I’d have to find someone to cover my classes for the upcoming term.”
“We’ll have you back before classes start.”
Mark furrowed his brow. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I promise you’ll be back in time. How about it Mark?”
Mark sighed deeply. “You’re sure you’ve found credible information on the entrance to Agharti?”
“Nothing’s ever one hundred percent, but I believe we have extremely credible evidence.”
“Okay, I’ll do it for Rob. He helped me out a jam when I was younger and I’ve been waiting for a chance to return the favor. I have a friend whose brother works for the Chinese foreign ministry who can fast-track our paperwork. We can be ready to travel in 48 hours.”
“The Chinese government can’t know about this, but I have a different way to get us in. We’ll need you to be ready to leave as soon as possible.”
Once again, Mark’s eyes went wide and he shook his head. “We’ll do it your way. I’m assuming that we at least have the backing of the American government on this.”
“Yes, we do. Thanks for agreeing to help us. How long before you’ll be ready to go?”
“I have to wrap up a couple of things, pack a bag. I can be ready in four to six hours.”
“Perfect. We’ll meet you back here.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Tibet Autonomous Region, China
Twenty-four hours after their initial meeting and a military transport flight into Afghanistan, the group found themselves skimming the tree line in a specially modified Blackhawk helicopter. General Flores had made arrangements for the three to be flown from London to Incirlik Airbase in Turkey. From there, it was a short hop to the base in Afghanistan where their Blackhawk was fueled and waiting for them along with a squad of Navy Seals led by Captain Mike Steele. This particular stealth variant of the famed chopper featured special modifications rendering the aircraft virtually silent until it was nearly overhead. To allow for greater range, additional external fuel tanks were added to the helicopter, at the expense of its normal armaments.
With Mark now officially on board, Randall filled him in on everything that had transpired, while Captain Steele looked on.
“My god Nick, what the hell have you been up to since I last saw you? This sounds more like some crazy conspiracy story than research project,” Mark said.
“I know. But I swear I never intended for any of this to happen.”
After adjusting to the shock, Mark settled into teacher mode and explained where they were going and why. He studied the maps and pointed to the geological features from which the location derived its name. Their goal was simple. They needed to find the document referred to in the stone, and hope that it would identify the exact location of the alleged alien base.
“You can see from these aerial photos why this area was nicknamed ‘The Valley of the Angel’s Wings.’ The stratification of the stones and the weathering gives them the grooved look of wings in flight around the center of the valley. Based on my research, the entrance to the underground tunnel system would be here, where the wings meet along this ridge,” Mark said, pointing to a raised band of stone running along the spine of the mid-point of the joined wings. “If you follow along here, you’ll see a depression at the base of the ridge.”
“So you think the entrance to the tunnel system is somewhere in the depression?” John asked.
“Yes. The entire area surrounding the depression is granite, but this area right here is dirt. In fact, it’s the only soil within a half mile of the spot in any direction. If there’s a tunnel anywhere in the region, it would have to terminate here,” Mark responded, tapping the map with his index finger.
Captain Steele scanned the map. “That puts the entrance less than a mile from the landing zone. My men will take the point to navigate to the entrance and the rear to cover our flank. Drs. Randall and Talley, we’ll
have you take the lead once we reach the depression so you can search for the entrance.”
The helicopter snaked its way along a winding river, as they made their way through the country of Nepal and approached the Chinese border. In a few moments, the aircraft had quietly entered Chinese airspace. The tension in the chopper immediately increased.
“We’re approaching the landing zone. When we touch down, my men will form a perimeter. When I give you the signal, hop out, crouch down, and make your way over to me.”
The Blackhawk departed from its river route and detoured toward a small, oval-shaped patch of prairie grass. With pinpoint precision, the pilot brought the chopper down and landed with a soft thud in the center of the clearing.
“Let’s move!” Captain Steele said to his men, who hopped down from the side doors, fanning out into a circular defensive position.
Randall watched as the soldiers performed their maneuvers with Swiss watch-like precision. After a few minutes, Steele gave the sign and Randall, Mark, and John hopped out into the open field. Following the Captain’s orders, the three men stayed low and jogged over to his side. The helicopter lifted off, leaving the team to their mission.
“Espinosa, take point. Greene, bring up the rear. The rest of you fan out and keep an eye out for Chinese regulars. Let’s move!”
The team silently made their way along a rocky outcrop that afforded them some cover. To their right, the grassy terrain sloped upward toward a peak. To their left was a rocky, boulder-strewn field. The late afternoon sun was dropping toward the horizon, causing a severe drop in temperature. The bitterly cold air tore through Randall’s thermal jacket and he clapped his hands together, trying to keep them warm inside his Gore-Tex gloves.
Private Greene motioned for them to get low. They all dropped to the ground. Greene flipped open the scope on his assault rifle, slowly panning the horizon to their left. After several tense minutes, Greene returned to his feet and waved them forward.
The group continued marching with John finally breaking the silence.
The Bermuda Connection (A Nick Randall Novel Book 2) Page 18
