by Alton Gansky
“That’s part of the mystery,” Calvert said. “Look at the next photo.”
Henry did. The unknown airplane filled the paper. He could count the windows and read the numbers on the tail. “Can you trace the registration number?”
“Yes. In fact, we already did, and it’s registered to an oil company out of Houston. The kicker is, that plane is sitting in its hangar. I sent men to check it out.”
“You mean the plane is in two places?” Anna said.
“No,” Sachs explained. “He’s saying the number is in two places. The number on this plane—” he pointed at the picture— “is stolen.”
“Why?” Anna asked.
“So we can’t do what we’re trying to do,” Calvert said. He sipped his coffee. “We can’t trace the aircraft from the photo. Someone knew we might be looking.”
“What someone?” Sachs asked.
“Wait, there’s more I want you to see.” Calvert reached across the table and turned the page.
This time Sachs saw the domes again, but they were marred by red blotches. He studied it for a second. “Infrared?”
The president nodded. “The red smears are people. If they were outside, we might have a decent look at them, at least enough to recognize someone we know, like your son.”
“You can see faces—?”
“Don’t ask,” Calvert said. “We’re not going to discuss such things. Just know that if your son were strolling across the ice, we’d be able to identify him.”
“Henry?” Anna said. “Does that mean Perry is alive?”
Sachs studied the photo closely, counting the red dots. “There are too many,” he said, lifting his eyes to Calvert. “There should only be eight people there. I count double that.”
Calvert raised an eyebrow.
“The plane,” Sachs said.
“Exactly,” Calvert said. “Someone came to visit. There’s more. Keep going.”
Sachs turned the photo over, revealing yet another shot from space. This time there were two aircraft. “Another plane.” On instinct he turned the page again to find another infrared shot. The number of dots was now over sixty. “What is going on?”
“One aircraft leaves, supposedly with your son and crew on board, and it goes down. Search and rescue crews begin looking for the downed craft hundreds of miles from where we now know it crashed. Why? Because someone was dictating information to throw everyone off track.”
“But why?” Sachs stared at the president.
The president leaned forward. “I’m going to tell you a strange story, Henry. You’re not going to believe it, but my source is good. Very good. I know, because he was connected to the group that is doing this. Not deeply, but others in my administration are. This is one for the conspiracy books.” He looked around the kitchen and, seeing no one, continued. “Right now, I have some key people under guard, people who until today have been trusted advisors. You don’t need to know who they are. All you need to know is that something big is going on, and the people behind it have their tentacles in every major government on this planet. They have reached closer to the Oval Office than I want to talk about. I know this because someone is making a frightening sacrifice to reveal this information.”
“But what about Perry?” Anna asked.
“Good news and bad news, I’m afraid. First, I think he’s alive and still on-site. I can’t prove it, but I think he’s one of those red dots you see. The bad news is there’s very little we can do immediately. Apparently your son was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Henry Sachs thought for a moment. “Perhaps he is in the right place at the right time.”
“But certainly you can command a rescue,” Anna implored.
“It’s not that easy, Anna,” the president replied. “The problem is, I no longer know who I can trust. Any order I give might be circumvented down the chain of command, or at the very least, someone would sound a warning.”
“You can’t just sit back and do nothing,” Anna pleaded. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
President Calvert smiled. “I always have a plan.”
Gwen felt her heart stall as the top of Perry’s helmet disappeared down the shaft. She felt tears washing over her cheeks, and her breathing became ragged. Images of horror filled her mind. She saw the support cable snapping and Perry plunging down two miles of ice. She could envision him becoming stuck partway down and Enkian leaving him to die. More images came like flies, and she tried to shoo them away.
“I don’t get it,” Griffin said. He stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders in a rare display of affection. “He didn’t even hesitate. It’s not like I’m family or even a friend, yet when that goon put the gun to my head . . .”
“There’s something about him,” Gwen said, “something deep inside him. I think it’s his faith.”
“You know I don’t believe in that nonsense.”
“I know, but it’s good for us that Perry does.”
Sarah sat at the computer monitor with nothing to do, and it was driving her crazy. Before, she had to control Hairy and then supervise Slick, but the joystick was useless now. She thought of the brave man in the ice tomb. The thought of doing what he was being forced to do weakened her knees, but he seemed to do it fearlessly. Certainly that was an act, a bit of bravado to keep their spirits up, but even as she mulled that thought, she knew it wasn’t true.
“He’s a remarkable man,” she said to Gleason.
Gleason keyed off the microphone. “He is that.”
A movement to her right caught her attention, tearing her eyes from the image of white ice that filled the monitor.
“Give me the headset,” Tia ordered as she approached. “I’ll handle communications.”
“No,” Gleason said flatly.
“It’s not a request,” she said.
“You will have to shoot me where I stand and pull the set off my dead body.”
“Maybe I will.” She took a step back and raised her gun.
Sarah leaped from the chair and backpedaled, and Gleason turned to face Tia.
“I said, give me the headset.”
“No.”
Sarah’s breath caught in her chest as she watched Jack move to Gleason’s side. He straightened his spine and folded his arms over his wide chest. “The man said no.”
Dr. Curtis waddled forward and took a spot in front of Gleason. Then Gwen pulled away from her brother.
“What are you doing?” Griffin asked with surprise. The answer came when Gwen strode forward to join the others.
Sarah felt her stomach turn and heart skip as if jolted by a car battery. Despite raging terror, she joined the others.
Tia’s face hardened like cement. She sneered and raised her weapon.
“Leave them alone,” Enkian said softly.
“We don’t need them anymore,” Tia complained.
“We don’t know that,” Enkian said. “Leave them to their work. We are not barbarians. We know friendship.”
“Coulda fooled me,” Jack quipped.
“I let you win this round, Mr. Dyson. Don’t give me reason to regret it.”
Sarah returned to her seat. Her mind was aflame, thoughts shooting like bolts of lightning through her skull. Then the electricity began to fail. The lights dimmed, the sounds faded, and Sarah knew the narcolepsy was forcing its way through the door.
Chapter 27
Perry took slow, deep breaths, forcing his mind to take charge of his body. A sense of panic was threatening to choke out his reason. He laughed to himself. What was reasonable about this? He was descending through an ice pipe to a world more hostile than the reaches of space. He was encased in a life pod made of plastic, metal, and rubber, warmed by heating elements spread throughout the suit and circulated by small fans. He could do nothing but wait. He doubted there was another situation in which a man was more helpless. Climbing to the top was impossible, and falling thousands of feet into frigid water was far more likely.
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br /> He could feel himself tensing and his heart galloping. Sensors in the elastic garment he wore relayed that information to the top.
“You okay, Perry?” Gleason asked, keying the mike.
“Yeah,” he answered, wishing he could see the face on the other end of the connection. “Did I mention I’m claustrophobic?” Above, he knew everyone in the Chamber heard his words over the speakers.
“Um, no, I didn’t see that on your job application.”
“I must have forgotten to include it.”
“Seriously, bud, how are you doing?”
“I’m adjusting. It’s a tight squeeze, but I seem to be sliding down like Grandma’s homemade ice cream.”
“Your heart rate is up, and your respiration is climbing.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Perry said. He didn’t need anyone to tell him his heart rate was up. “I’m just testing the sensors.”
“They work fine, Perry. Take a few deep breaths and think of your favorite beach.”
“Will do. How are things topside?”
“Fine,” Gleason said. “Sarah was considering a nap but decided against it.”
Perry picked up on the message. Sarah had started an episode. It was something Perry had feared; he was also surprised it hadn’t already occurred. Gwen said that undue stress could trigger spontaneous sleep. He was sure Sarah was under more stress than she had ever been in her life.
“Soon as she heard your voice she perked right up.”
“Odd,” Perry said. “I usually put women to sleep.”
“Are you kidding? I hear you’re a two-cup jolt of caffeine to the ladies.”
Perry smiled. Gleason was no Jack Dyson when it came to humor, but he knew when a well-placed quip was needed. “Tell her she owes me dinner.”
“She accepts,” Gleason said. His tone cooled. “You’re a third of the way there, pal.”
“Roger that,” Perry said.
He fell silent.
A third of the way—over three thousand feet. About the same distance below him was the column of water that filled the lower 30 percent of the shaft; below that, Lake Vostok.
The image of the ziggurat flashed in Perry’s memory. Enkian truly believed the structure was the real Tower of Babel. He even quoted a portion of the biblical account. Perry had known from the beginning that an abnormal structure was below the ice. Satellite imagery and radar readings from an air survey had shown the widening lake and the massive object. But the Tower of Babel?
Dr. Curtis had been skeptical, too, and Perry couldn’t blame him. Even now he was having trouble believing that people had populated the continent under the ice. Scientists had discovered many animal and plant fossils. Current theory was that Antarctica had once been further north and part of the larger continent, Gondwana, that he had told the others about. But even given that, it was hard to believe.
“Hey, Gleas,” Perry said. “Put Dr. Curtis on the horn.”
“Dr. Curtis?”
“Yeah, I have a question or two for him.”
A moment later: “Perry, it’s Dr. Curtis.”
“Do you still carry that handheld computer with you?”
“I do.”
“Didn’t you tell me it had a Bible program on it?”
“Yes, among other things.”
“Pull it out and find the Tower of Babel story. The one our new host quoted.” Perry could imagine Dr. Curtis reaching into his parka pocket and pulling out his Compaq handheld computer. Perry often carried one. In fact, he had one in his quarters. Like a regular computer, it contained a set of programs: spreadsheets, word processing, calculators, address books, and even Internet connectivity—if they were close to any wireless Internet access sites.
“Got it.”
“Help me pass the time,” Perry said, focusing to remember the story. “All of this happens after the flood, right?”
“That’s right. We don’t know how long after. It’s at least several generations.”
“If I remember right, a group of people settle in some valley and decide to build a structure to keep them from being dispersed.”
“The land of Shinar,” Curtis said.
“Which is modern Iraq.”
“That’s right,” Curtis said.
“And the tower was to keep the people unified?”
“Partly.” He began reading. “ ‘Come, let us build for ourselves a city, and a tower whose top will reach into heaven, and let us make for ourselves a name, otherwise we will be scattered abroad over the face of the whole earth.’ ”
“So pride was the real problem.”
“And disobedience.”
“Right,” Perry said. “They built the tower so they wouldn’t be scattered, but they ended up being scattered anyway.”
“Exactly. God scatters them.”
“That’s what I’m curious about. Does your Bible program have links to the original Hebrew?”
“Of course,” Curtis said. “You want me to look up the word scattered?”
“I do.”
There was another pause. “Got it. The Hebrew word puts is a hiphil verb, imperfect waw consecutive, third person masculine singular.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, it means God did the scattering.”
“The people didn’t scatter because their language had changed. That was part of the judgment, correct?”
“Yes. The verse reads: ‘So the Lord scattered them abroad from there over the face of the whole earth; and they stopped building the city.’ ”
“ ‘Scattered them abroad,’ ” Perry repeated. “ ‘From there over the face of the whole earth.’ ” He thought for a moment. “Say, Doc, you don’t suppose . . .”
“That God literally transported people from one place to another? Well, it could mean that. But to put them in Antarctica . . . well, no one can live down here, especially a primitive people.”
“What if ‘down here’ wasn’t down here? What if, like geologists have said, that Antarctica was part of a larger continent?”
“That’s the prevailing theory.”
Perry wished he could scratch his head, a simple feat made impossible by the suit. “After that account comes the table of nations. Isn’t there someone with a name that means ‘to divide’?”
“Yes. Peleg is listed in the genealogy that follows the Babel account, but the verse you’re thinking of comes sooner. Let me check. Here it is, Genesis 10:25: ‘Two sons were born to Eber; the name of the one was Peleg, for in his days the earth was divided; and his brother’s name was Joktan.’ Is that what you had in mind?”
“What was Peleg’s brother’s name?” Perry asked.
“Joktan. It means smallness or to make small. Wait a minute. Are you implying that Peleg’s name is a reference to the splitting of the continents and that his brother’s name refers to the newer, smaller continents?”
“I’m just hanging around killing time, Professor.”
“Perry, most scholars believe Peleg’s name refers to the splitting of earth for irrigation. You know, he dug water canals. To go beyond that is absurd.”
“Hey, Doc, what am I doing right now?”
“You’re being lowered down . . . an ice shaft . . . to take a brick stone from a . . .”
“Yeah, that’s my point.” Perry changed tones. “How about it, Enkian? Is that your plan? You want to finish what your ancestors failed to do? You want to build a new nation centered around the old Tower of Babel?”
Perry heard a muffled sound over the speakers, then, “I suggest you focus on your work.”
“I’m just asking a question.”
Pain pierced Perry’s ears as a loud crack came over the speakers. He recognized it as a gunshot.
“Doc? Doc! Gleason? Jack?”
“It’s all right, buddy,” Jack’s voice said. “Our friend just wanted to make a point. He fired a round with the barrel near the mike.”
“No kidding? My ears are ringing like a fire alarm. Is ev
eryone okay?”
“Yeah, there’s a nice hole in our pretty ceiling, but that’s the only injury. However, I think the Bible study is over.”
“I understand.” Perry thanked God that no one was lying dead three thousand feet above his head—at least not yet.
Jack slipped off the headset and handed it back to Gleason. “That was a little over the top, don’t you think?” he said to Enkian.
“You don’t know what over the top means. I am growing impatient.”
“If you don’t like our work, you can go down there and do it yourself.”
Enkian turned from Jack and faced Tia. “Bring the items in. It’s time to set up.”
Tia nodded and chose twenty men to accompany her.
“Set up for what?” Jack asked.
“Church,” Enkian said with a smile.
“Somehow I think our ideas of church are very different.”
“You’re coming up on the water,” Gleason said.
Perry acknowledged the transmission and felt himself tense. His rate of descent didn’t slow. The only sensation he had was something pressing against his feet. He steeled himself as if the frigid water were about to pour over him. He felt no change in temperature, but the fans that circulated the warm air in the suit sped up.
“Feet wet,” Perry said. “Descent unaltered.” The suit was designed to be slightly heavier than the surrounding water displacement, allowing him to sink. He tilted his head forward and watched as water lit by his helmet lights rose to his face shield. Bits of slush floated on the surface.
“All sensors are operating, Perry. External temperature is . . . cold. Suit temperature remains constant. Still comfy?”
“Still?”
“We’re with you all the way, buddy.”
“I know,” Perry said. “Next stop, Lake Vostok.”
“Bring me a postcard. You know how my kids love to get postcards.”
“If we survive this, Gleas, I’m taking everyone to the Bahamas. I’ll have to dock Jack’s wages to do it, but he won’t mind.” Perry heard something distant.
