The Atlantis Plague: A Thriller (The Origin Mystery, Book 2)

by A. G. Riddle

  “Correct it?”

  “Yes. Seventy thousand years ago, when I introduced the Atlantis Gene, the human genome wasn’t ready for it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The Atlantis Gene is extremely sophisticated. It’s a sort of survival and communications gene.”

  “Communications… Our shared dreams?”

  “Yes. That’s how we were able to access it—to communicate subconsciously via subatomic particles, radiation, passed between our brains. It began when you were in northern Morocco and I was in southern Spain. It’s because we both have the Atlantis Gene and we’re linked. Humans won’t be able to use ‘the link’ for thousands of years. I gave humans the Atlantis Gene so they could survive. The survival aspects were the only goal. But it spun out of control.”

  “What?”

  “The humans, the experiment. We had to make periodic genetic modifications—changes to the Atlantis Gene.” She nodded to herself. “We used gene therapy retroviruses to make the modifications—yes, that’s it: the endogenous retroviruses in the human genome, that’s what they are—fossils from past gene therapies we gave the humans, the incremental updates.”

  “I still don’t understand, Kate.”

  “Martin had it right. It’s incredible. He was a genius.”

  “I—”

  “Martin’s chronology of Atlantis Gene modifications—they don’t stop at twelve thousand five hundred years ago.”

  “Right…”

  “His ‘missing delta’ and ‘Atlantis Falls’ refers to the destruction of our ship and my science team’s demise. The end of our changes in the human genome.”

  “So that means—”

  “The changes went on. Someone else has been interfering with human evolution. Your theory was right. There are two factions.”

  Dorian closed his eyes. He could never sleep before battle. They were only hours from Isla de Alborán, from capturing Kate and taking her to Ares. When he freed the Atlantean he would finally discover what he truly was, who he was. He felt nervous. What would he learn?

  Dorian tried to picture Ares in his mind’s eye. Yes, he was there, staring back at him, a warped image reflecting off the curve of glass—an empty tube.

  Dorian stepped back. A dozen tubes spread out in a semi-circle. Four held primates, or humans. It was hard to tell.

  The doors behind him opened with a hiss.

  “You should have never come here!”

  Dorian knew the voice, but he could hardly believe it. He turned slowly.

  Kate stood before him. She wore a suit that was similar to his, but different. His was a uniform. Hers was more like the coveralls of someone working in a sterile research facility.

  Kate’s eyes grew wide when she saw the tubes. “You have no right to take them—”

  “I’m protecting them.”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  “You put them at risk. You gave them part of our genome. You underestimate our enemy’s hatred. They will hunt every last one of us.”

  “Which is why you should never have come—”

  “You are the last of my people. And so are they.”

  “I only treated one subspecies,” Kate said.

  “Yes. I realized that when I took the samples. That species will never be safe now. You need my help.”

  CHAPTER 73

  Somewhere near Isla de Alborán

  Mediterranean Sea

  Kate went to the sink and washed her face, as if doing so could clear away the cobwebs in her mind and help her remember. She felt like the answers, the whole truth—all of it—was there in the recesses of her mind, just out of reach.

  When she returned, David was waiting for her in the stateroom, his body armor on, that “ready for war” expression on his face that she knew by instinct now.

  “How do you know there are two Atlantean factions?”

  “I just know it. And the ships. Martin had it right. They’re from two different groups.”

  “There are miles of tubes in Antarctica. What do they hold? More scientists? Soldiers? An army?”

  Kate closed her eyes and rubbed her eyelids. It was all a jumble, yet the answers were there. “I… can’t remember. I don’t think they’re explorers.”

  “Soldiers, then.”

  “No. Maybe. Just give me some time. It’s like my whole brain is burning.”

  David sat on the bed and put his arm around her. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally he said, “We’ll make landfall in less than an hour. We have to make a guess about the killer.”

  Kate nodded.

  “My suspects are Shaw and Chang, in that order,” he said.

  “Let’s work backwards here,” Kate said. “Let’s start with motive. Who would want to kill Martin—why would any of them want to kill him?”

  “Martin was close to a cure—we know that from his notes.”

  “So anyone who wanted to prevent him from finding a cure—they should be our chief suspect,” Kate said. “It’s clear to me that Chang and Janus want to find a cure. That rules them out for me. We know preventing a cure is priority number one for the Immari. There’s only one person on this boat who was a loyal Immari soldier when this all began. Kamau.”

  “It’s not him,” David shot back.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “He saved my life in Ceuta.”

  “That may have been his mission—to save you and follow you to me.”

  David exhaled. “Let’s move on. Chang was also an Immari loyalist when this began.” Kate could see that he was angry now. “Hell, he’s the biggest mass murderer on this boat. How many did he kill in China? Hundreds, thousands?”

  “I don’t think he could have broken Martin’s neck,” Kate said.

  “Maybe not while he was alive, but what… what if Chang had already killed Martin? You said he gave him a therapy on the plague barge. What if that therapy killed him, and Chang broke his neck after the fact to hide it?”

  “We can’t test that theory. There’s no way to do an autopsy here. Kamau is a better suspect. He’s a trained killer.”

  “So am I. So is Shaw.”

  “You haven’t mentioned Janus.”

  “I just… don’t think it’s him. I don’t know why.”

  “Shaw saved my life in Marbella,” Kate said.

  “That could have been his mission—”

  “That is his mission—”

  “His Immari mission,” David said. “There’s another motive. Forget the cure. What if Martin knew who the SAS operatives were—and he knew that Shaw wasn’t one of them?”

  David’s words silenced Kate.

  “You said Shaw sure knew his way around that Immari camp.”

  “From the sounds of it, you got up to speed pretty quickly too.”

  David shook his head. “Touché.”

  There was something Kate wanted to say, before the discussion, or argument, or whatever it had become went any further. “Look, I don’t know who killed Martin or what we should do. But I know this: whatever you decide, I will go along with it.”

  David kissed her burning forehead. “That’s all I need.”

  Everyone was assembled on the yacht’s upper deck: Kamau, Shaw, Chang and Janus. David handed Kamau an automatic rifle and a sidearm. A matching automatic rifle hung from David’s shoulder.

  Shaw looked from David to Kamau. “You’re not arming me—”

  “Shut up,” David said. “We’ll arrive at Isla de Alborán in twenty-five minutes. This is what we’re going to do.”

  When David had finished relating his plan, Shaw shook his head. “You’ll get us all killed. Kate—”

  “This is what we’re doing,” she said flatly.

  In the ship’s cockpit, David nodded to Kamau.

  The tall African activated the radio. “To the outpost at Isla de Alborán, we are Immari officers, survivors from the battle of Ceuta. We request permission to dock.”

  The outpost res
ponded, asking for Kamau’s rank and Immari officer code. The African called it out quickly and calmly, his back to David.

  “They’ve cleared us to dock,” Kamau said.

  “Good. Let’s proceed.”

  CHAPTER 74

  Isla de Alborán

  David adjusted the binoculars. From the ship’s cockpit, Isla de Alborán was coming into view. The rising sun illuminated the tiny rock platform that rose out of the Mediterranean. It was smaller than a city block. At the far end stood a simple two-story stone and concrete building. It looked almost like a medieval jail. A lighthouse rose at the center, looming over the plain building.

  On the other end of the island, the helipad held three helicopters that waited silently.

  A dock spread out at the base of the twenty-foot-high cliff where the stone island met the sea. David adjusted the boat’s course for the dock.

  “Do they usually keep a complement of three Eurocopter X3s?”

  Kamau shook his head. “No. Usually only one. They have received reinforcements. They can only be from the primary Immari fleet or the invasion force in southern Spain.”

  David considered the development. Each helicopter could carry a dozen people. There could be over forty armed soldiers in the building, waiting to attack. Too many.

  He made a mental adjustment to his plan.

  Kamau tied the boat off at the dock, and began climbing the staircase that led out of the cliff, up to the surface.

  There had been no soldiers on the dock, and at the top of the stairs, he stopped, surveying the bare rock-and-sand landscape that spread out before him. There were no soldiers here either, just dust blowing in the wind. The lighthouse waited fifty yards ahead. The tower cut a dark shadow out of the rising sun, like a pathway of darkness leading into the unknown.

  Kamau stepped out of the shadow. He wanted them to see that he was unarmed—that might save his life. He held his hands out at his sides.

  Approaching an armed installation without a single weapon made him uneasy, but there were no alternatives.

  A shot rang out and dust flew up from the ground three feet beside him.

  Kamau stopped and raised his hands.

  On the roof of the building, four snipers emerged.

  Seven soldiers ran out of the building and surrounded Kamau.

  “Identify yourself!” one of the soldiers barked.

  Kamau kept his hands up and his voice calm. “I take it you received my message. You need to arm me and we need to storm the boat now. They’re onto me.”

  The soldier hesitated. “How many on the boat?”

  “Two soldiers, well armed and well trained. They’re on the upper deck, waiting for me to return. Three scientists belowdecks, each locked in a separate cabin. Unarmed. The female is the package. We need her unharmed.”

  The Immari soldier spoke into his radio and three more soldiers exited the building and joined the seven standing around Kamau.

  “You need to arm me—”

  “Shut up. Stay here,” the soldier said. “We’ll sort you out after.” He motioned for his men to follow him. He set off with seven of them, leaving two to guard Kamau. There were only two men on the roof now; one of the snipers must have joined the raiding party.

  Kamau stood there, his hands still slightly raised, and watched as the troops reached the end of the rock platform, stormed the stairs, and descended toward the dock below.

  He focused intently on the boat.

  Five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds, twenty—

  A massive explosion erupted from the dock, sending a wave of fire up the rock cliff. The blow sent Kamau and the two soldiers beside him to the ground. He rolled and punched the closest one, knocking him out. The other was on his knees now, and Kamau lunged for him. The man tried to land a blow, but Kamau pulled him in close. He slammed the man’s head into the ground and felt his body go limp.

  Without looking up, he grabbed a grenade from the man’s side and hurled it onto the top of the building, hoping to take out the snipers before they regained their positions. He took another and also lobbed it onto the roof—in case he had missed. The two explosions rang out just as Kamau threw a third grenade through a plate glass window on the building’s first floor.

  He grabbed the soldier’s automatic rifle and barreled toward the building. He had to make it to the building, get to cover beside the window. If the grenade exploded before then, it would spray shards of glass and debris, shredding him.

  David pumped his legs faster. The fins propelled him through the water, and he couldn’t help but take in the reefs surrounding Isla de Alborán. Under different circumstances, he could spend days diving here, taking it all in. But he had to hurry. He pushed on. He tried to form a map in his mind, tried to estimate how far he’d gone. If he came up too soon, near the outpost building, the snipers on the roof could easily pick him off.

  Finally, he decided to emerge from the water. He quickly shed the tank and scuba gear. He was unarmed, save for his knife.

  He walked to the face of the rock cliff and waited. He wanted to look over, to see how close he had gotten to the helicopters, but he didn’t dare risk it.

  He waited.

  The booms of the explosions echoed. David instantly sprang into action. He pulled himself up onto the flat dusty platform and pumped his legs, running full-on for the helicopters. They were at least sixty yards away.

  From the outpost, he heard two more explosions.

  Kate adjusted her grip on the gun. She felt so awkward holding it. The tiny life raft bobbed wildly in the sea.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about this, guys.”

  “I understand completely,” Dr. Janus said.

  “I concur,” Dr. Chang agreed. “This was truly the only course.”

  Shaw muttered under his breath. Curse words were the only phrases Kate could discern, and she thought she was probably glad she didn’t hear what he’d said.

  In the distance, an explosion rocked the tiny island, and Kate watched pieces of the one-hundred-thirty foot yacht rain down onto the Mediterranean.

  To her surprise, she felt a sense of loss as she watched the ship burst into flames. For all the stress and worry during the ship’s voyage, she had treasured her time belowdecks with David. She wondered what the future held.

  David had almost reached the three helicopters when he saw Kamau emerge on top of the building.

  David stopped in his tracks, turned to the building, and waited.

  Kamau shouldered a sniper rifle, pointed it at David and the helicopters, and swept left to right several times.

  He relaxed his grip on the rifle and signaled to David: all clear.

  David hadn’t expected that. He assumed there would be at least one soldier guarding the helicopters. Sloane wouldn’t have left the helicopters unguarded. He wasn’t there—David was sure of that now.

  The base commander had put all his resources into taking the boat. Or…

  David reached the first helicopter, quickly looked inside, then darted between the others. All empty. Kamau was right: there was no one here.

  Why? Had they booby-trapped the helicopters? David needed to find out which one had the most fuel. He approached the door of the closest helicopter and looked in. There was no trip wire. He gripped the handle and began to turn it.

  Kamau raced through the building, searching for spare fuel tanks. He found them in a first-floor storage room. He grabbed two of them and exited the building. David was there waiting for him.

  “Any sign of Sloane?”

  Kamau shook his head.

  “This must be an advance team—a test to see if the rail guns would shoot them down. Sloane would never risk his life. We should hurry; he can’t be far behind.” David considered something. “Did you see any explosives inside?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bring them. Let’s leave a surprise for Sloane.”

  Five minutes later, David sat in the helicopter, calmly watch
ing the ground of Isla de Alborán float away. The view changed to open sea, and Kamau adjusted the helicopter’s path. The life raft that held Kate and the three men had drifted a bit, but it was still easy to find.

  They followed the protocol David had laid out on the yacht: Kate and the bag with the guns and computer equipment came up first, followed by Chang, Janus, and Shaw—in that order.

  When everyone was aboard, Kamau spoke over the radio in David’s helmet. “Where to?”

  In truth, David had no idea. But… they couldn’t go north toward Spain, or south toward Morocco, or west to the Atlantic. “East. Stay low.”

  CHAPTER 75

  Isla de Alborán

  Dorian saw the two thick columns of smoke long before the tiny island of Isla de Alborán came into view.

  The pilot stopped Dorian’s lead helicopter to hover a half kilometer from the island, allowing everyone in the three-helicopter convoy to survey the outpost.

  A massive yacht burned at the dock. A stone and concrete two-story building with an attached lighthouse also burned violently. Dorian hadn’t missed them by much. Maybe an hour.

  “Sir,” the pilot said, “it looks like we missed the party.”

  The man was clearly suffering from “compulsive state-the-obvious syndrome”—a situation Dorian felt had grown to epidemic proportions among the men surrounding him.

  “Very perceptive. You should have been an analyst,” Dorian mumbled, pondering what to do.