The Doomsday Key and The Last Oracle with Bonus Excerpts

by James Rollins

  There is no fear now, even as more leaves fall. That which lies deep inside him fills in the spaces with shadow and shape. Formed out of memory. What comes is still more familiar than his own reflection in the glass. He knows it was the face he once wore.

  He still remembers the darkness, a black sea swimming with lights. He remembers the dying sun in the middle, strangled away so that others might fly and shine. But in that last moment, the boy who had once worn this body had kept a secret from them all. As he left that dark sea to places beyond, he pulled another light out of harm’s way and dropped it into that empty dark sea.

  So it might live anew.

  Outside now, more leaves tumble, and shadows of memory fill in gaps, forming the true face of the one who wore this body now.

  This old face would be forgotten eventually, but not the boy who gave up his life so something new could be born. Often in his dreams, he sees that boy running over fields, topping a hill, waving back—then gone.

  So happy now.

  The new boy who sits in the chair stares out the window.

  Sometime he will run again, too.

  Author’s Note to Readers: Truth or Fiction

  Like Dr. Archibald Polk, I started this novel with a fascination in human intuition. Does it exist? Where does it come from? So as usual, I thought I’d end this adventure by noting where many of the ideas and facts originated, dividing them by subject matter.

  The Greek Oracle of Delphi. I spent some time in the prologue on the myths and realities surrounding the Oracle. Whether these women could truly see the future or not might be up for debate, but what we do know for certain is that the Delphic Oracle’s prophecies were indeed fundamental in changing the course of Western civilization. As to the details—such as the mystery of the capital epsilon and the strange hallucinogenic gases—they are all factual. A great book for anyone interested in exploring this subject in greater detail is The Oracle: The Lost Secrets and Hidden Message of Ancient Delphi by William J. Broad.

  The Jasons. This organization of scientists who work alongside the Defense Department is a real organization and is still operating. For a truly absorbing read into their history and accomplishments, pick up a copy of The Jasons: The Secret History of Science’s Postwar Elite by Ann Finkbeiner.

  Project Stargate. This was a real program run out of the Stanford Research Institute and funded by the CIA. Their strange successes into remote viewing are factual.

  Brain manipulation. There was much speculation in the book about brain plasticity, about augmentation with transcranial magnetic stimulation, and about how humans are “natural-born cyborgs.” How much of that is true? All of it. For an enlightening and entertaining exploration into the mystery of the human brain, I suggest you read The Brain That Changes Itself: Stories of Personal Triumph from the Frontiers of Brain Science by Norman Doidge, M.D. As to Monk’s induced amnesia, there are chemical techniques employed today that can erase selected memories, specifically through the use of propranolol.

  Can we see the future? Nobel Prize–winning scientists say yes. The experiments on gamblers and soldiers described in this book are real and have been repeated at universities around the world. According to those distinguished researchers, we do seem capable of seeing for about three seconds into the future. How is that possible? That remains unanswered. As to the stories about the amazing savants in India—like the Indian boy who was taken to Oxford and the woman who met Einstein—they are based on fact. You can read more about these histories in Intuition: Knowing Beyond Logic by Osho.

  India and Gypsies. The history of the Romani and their roots in the Punjab region in India is factual. This origin is also the reason the chakra wheel is prominently centered on the Romani flag. As to India’s caste system, the plight and status of the “untouchable” classes is a true concern. In fact, some historians believe it was just such a friction among castes that drove the Gypsy forefathers out of India. For more details about this struggle, there is a disturbing article in National Geographic in the June 2003 issue, titled “India’s Untouchables.” Oh, and if you’re ever visiting the Taj Mahal, there truly is a revolving restaurant atop the Deedar-e-Taj Hotel. I recommend the pani pani or golguppa.

  Russia’s radioactive legacy. The descriptions of Pripyat and the planned closure of the old Sarcophagus under a giant arch of twelve-meter-thick steel is factual. Details about the old Soviet Union’s plutonium factories in the Ural Mountains, as disturbing as they may sound, are also true. There are indeed underground cities where prisoners were housed to work the uranium mines. Most miners died before ever earning their freedom. And today, the Chelyabinsk region of the Ural Mountains remains one of the most polluted places on the planet. In fact, Lake Karachay does exist, and according to the Natural Resources Defense Council in Washington, D.C., the radiation level on the shore is sufficient to deliver a lethal dose to someone in less than an hour. So as Konstantin warned, it’s not a good place for a picnic. Worse yet, the lake is leaking radiation into the neighboring Asanov swamp. Fault lines do cross under the lake. An earthquake potentially threatens to do just what Savina Martov sought to accelerate. Such a disaster would kill the Arctic Ocean and sweep over northern Europe.

  Strange weapons. In this book, I employed sonic flares, radiosensitive poisons, whip-swords, shotguns that shoot Taser rounds, even a cell phone that converts into a gun. As you might guess, they’re all real.

  Autism and Autistic Savant Syndrome. While the exact cause for autism remains unknown, the latest research initiated by the Autism Genome Project in collaboration with the National Institute of Health has found that certain genes, along with environmental factors, contribute to the presentation of the disorder. For a better understanding of such unique minds, I highly recommend Dr. Temple Grandin’s book, Thinking in Pictures: My Life with Autism. Another book that I found insightful about autism and savant syndrome was the memoir by Daniel Tammet, Born on a Blue Monday: Inside the Extraordinary Mind of an Autistic Savant.

  In fact, the seed for this novel came from a quote by Dr. Temple Grandin. She was kind enough to permit me to use it: “If by some magic, autism had been eradicated from the face of the earth, then men would still be socializing in front of a wood fire at the entrance to a cave.” To my mind, it echoes the quote at the beginning of this novel from Socrates about the Oracle of Delphi: “The greatest blessings granted to mankind come by way of madness, which is a divine gift.” It makes one wonder if such unique minds truly guided the path of mankind’s history.

  To answer that, I’ll end with a partial list of famous historical figures who are believed to have displayed some level of autistic tendencies.

  Hans Christian Andersen

  Jane Austen

  Ludwig van Beethoven

  Emily Dickinson

  Thomas Edison

  Albert Einstein

  Henry Ford

  Thomas Jefferson

  Franz Kafka

  Michelangelo

  Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

  Isaac Newton

  Friedrich Nietzsche

  Mark Twain

  Nikola Tesla

  Henry David Thoreau

  Alan Turing

  Nostradamus

  You be the judge.

  THE DEVIL COLONY

  A Sigma Force Novel

  James Rollins

  Notes from the Historical Record

  Every schoolchild knows the name of THOMAS JEFFERSON, the architect and scribe of the Declaration of Independence, the man who helped establish a nation out of a scatter of colonies in the New World. Volumes have been written about the man over the past two centuries, but of all the Founding Fathers of America, he remains to this day wrapped in mystery and contradictions.

  For instance, it was only in 2007 that a coded letter, buried in his papers, was finally cracked and deciphered. It was sent to Jefferson in 1801 by his colleague at the American Philosophical Society—a colonial-era think tank promoting science and scho
larly debate. The group was especially interested in two topics: developing unbreakable codes and investigating mysteries surrounding the native tribes who populated the New World.

  Jefferson was fascinated to the point of fixation on Native American culture and history. At his home in Monticello, he put together a collection of tribal artifacts that was said to rival those held in museums of the day (a collection that mysteriously disappeared after his death). Many of these Indian relics were sent to him by Lewis and Clark during their famed expedition across America. But what many don’t know is that Jefferson sent a secret message to Congress in 1803 concerning Lewis and Clark’s expedition. It revealed the true hidden purpose behind the journey across the West.

  Within these pages, you’ll learn that purpose. For there is a secret history to the founding of America of which only a few have knowledge. It has nothing to do with freemasons, Knights Templar, or crackpot theories. In fact, a clue hangs boldly in the Rotunda of the U.S. Capitol. Within that noble hall hangs the famous painting by John Turnbull, Declaration of Independence (a work overseen by Jefferson). It depicts each man who signed that famous document—but what few ever note is that Turnbull painted five extra men into that painting, men who never signed the Declaration of Independence. Why? And who were they?

  For answers, keep reading.

  Notes from the Scientific Record

  In this new millennium, the next big leap in scientific research and industry can be summarized in one word: NANOTECHNOLOGY. In a nutshell, it means manufacturing at the atomic level, at a level of one billionth of a meter. To picture something so small, look at the period at the end of this sentence. Scientists at Nanotech.org have succeeded in building test tubes so tiny that 300 billion of them would fit within that one period.

  And that nanotechnology industry is exploding. It is estimated that this year alone $70 billion worth of nanotech products will be sold in the United States. Nano-goods are found everywhere: toothpaste, sunscreen, cake icing, teething rings, running socks, cosmetics, medicines, even Olympic bobsleds. Currently close to ten thousand products contain nanoparticles.

  What’s the downside of such a growth industry? These nanoparticles can cause illness, even death. UCLA scientists have found that nano-titantium oxide (found in children’s sunscreens and many other products) can trigger damage to animals at the genetic level. Carbon nanotubes (found in thousands of everyday products, including children’s safety helmets) have been shown to accumulate in the lungs and brains of rats. Also, weird and unexpected things happen at this small level. Take aluminum foil. It’s harmless enough and convenient for wrapping up leftovers, but break it down into nanoparticles, and it becomes explosive.

  It’s a new and wild frontier. There is presently no requirement for the labeling of nano-goods, no required safety studies of products containing nanoparticles. But there’s an even darker side to this industry. This technology has a history that goes back further than the twentieth century—much further. To find out where this all began and to discover the dark roots of this “new” science . . .

  . . . Keep reading.

  Prologue

  Autumn 1779

  Kentucky Territory

  The skull of the monster slowly revealed itself.

  A shard of yellowed tusk poked through the dark soil.

  Two muddied men knelt in the dirt on either side of the excavated hole. One of them was Billy Preston’s father; the other, his uncle. Billy stood over them, nervously chewing a knuckle. At twelve, he had begged to be included on this trip. In the past, he’d always been left behind in Philadelphia with his mother and his baby sister, Nell.

  Pride spiked through him even to be standing here.

  But at the moment it was accompanied by a twinge of fear.

  Maybe that was due to the sun sitting low on the horizon, casting tangled shadows over the encampment like a net. Or maybe it was the bones they’d been digging up all week.

  Others gathered around: the black-skinned slaves who hauled stones and dirt; the primly dressed scholars with their ink-stained fingers; and of course, the cryptic French scientist named Archard Fortescue, the leader of this expedition into the Kentucky wilderness.

  The latter—with his tall bony frame, coal-black hair, and shadowed eyes—scared Billy, reminding him of an undertaker in his black jacket and waistcoat. He had heard whispered rumors about the gaunt fellow: how the man dissected corpses, performed experiments with them, traveled to far corners of the world collecting arcane artifacts. It was even said he had once participated in the mummification of a deceased fellow scholar, a man who had donated his body and risked his immortal soul for such a macabre endeavor.

  But the French scientist had come with credentials to support him. Benjamin Franklin had handpicked him to join a new scientific group, the American Society for the Promotion of Useful Knowledge. He had apparently impressed Franklin in the past, though the exact details remained unknown. Additionally, the Frenchman had the ear of the new governor of Virginia, the man who had ordered them all to this strange site.

  It was why they were still here—and had been for so long.

  Over the passing weeks, Billy had watched the surrounding foliage slowly turn from shades of copper to fiery crimson. The past few mornings had begun to frost. At night, winds stripped the trees, leaving skeletal branches scratching at the sky. At the start of each day, Billy had to sweep and rake away piles of leaves from the dig site. It was a constant battle, as if the forest were trying to rebury what lay exposed to the sun.

  Even now, Billy held the hay-bristled broom and watched as his father—dressed in muddy breeches, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows—cleared the last of the dirt from the buried treasure.

  “With great care now . . .” Fortescue warned in his thick accent. He swept back the tails of his jacket to lean closer, one fist on his hip, the other hand leaning on a carved wooden cane.

  Billy bristled at the implied condescension in the Frenchman’s manner. His father knew all the woods, from the tidewaters of Virginia to remote tracts of Kentucky, better than any man. Since before the war, his father had been a trapper and trader with the Indians in these parts. He’d even once met Daniel Boone.

  Still, Billy saw how his father’s hands shook as he used brush and trowel to pick and tease the treasure out of the rich forest loam.

  “This is it,” his uncle said, excited. “We found it.”

  Fortescue loomed over the kneeling men. “Naturellement. Of course it would be buried here. Buried at the head of the serpent.”

  Billy didn’t know what they were seeking—only his father and uncle had read the sealed letters from the governor to the Frenchman—but he knew what Fortescue meant by “the serpent.”

  Billy glanced away from the hole to survey the breadth of the site. They’d been excavating an earthen mound that wound and twisted away through the forest. It stood two yards high, twice that wide, and ran two thousand feet through the woods and over the gentle hills. It looked like a giant snake had died and been buried where it fell.

  Billy had heard about such earthen mounds. Embankments such as these, along with many more man-made hills, dotted the wilderness of the Americas. His father claimed the long-lost ancestors of the region’s savages had built them, that they were sacred Indian burial mounds. It was said that the savages themselves had no memory of the ancient mound builders, only myths and legends. Stories continued to abound of lost civilizations, of ancient kingdoms, of ghosts, of vile curses—and, of course, of buried treasures.

  Billy shifted closer as his father unearthed the object, wrapped in what appeared to be a thick hide of skin, the black coarse fur still intact. A musky scent—a heavy mix of loam and beast—welled up, overpowering even the smell of venison stew from the neighboring cook fires.

  “Buffalo hide,” his father determined, glancing over to Fortescue.

  The
Frenchman nodded for him to continue.

  Using both hands, his father gently peeled away a flap of the hide to reveal what had lain hidden for ages.

  Billy held his breath.

  Since the founding of these lands, many Indian mounds had been dug up and looted. All that had been found were the buried bones of the dead, along with a few arrowheads, hide shields, and shards of Indian pottery.

  So why was this particular site so important?

  After two months of meticulously surveying, mapping, and digging, Billy was still none the wiser as to why they had been directed to come here. Like the looters of other barrows, all his father’s team had to show for their meticulous work was a collection of Indian tokens and artifacts: bows, quivers, lances, a massive cooking pot, a pair of beaded moccasins, an elaborate headdress. And, of course, they found bones. Thousands and thousands of them. Skulls, ribs, leg bones, pelvises. He’d overheard Fortescue estimate at least a hundred men, women, and children must have been buried here.

  It was a daunting endeavor to collect and catalog everything. It had taken them all the way to the edge of winter to work from one end of the winding mound to the other, painstakingly stripping down the Indian burial mound layer by layer, sifting through dirt and rock—until, as the Frenchman said, they’d reached the head of the serpent.

  His father unfolded the buffalo skin. Gasps spread among those gathered here. Even Fortescue took a sharp intake of breath through his pinched nose.