by David Cline
“Usually I would argue against such high compliments of one of my colleagues,” Wilkins said. “But Danville deserves every bit of that one. His brain is like one giant database.”
“Looks like ancient jewelry,” Danville said. He squinted at the camera. “Few thousand years old. Biblical artifact perhaps?”
“That’s what I thought too,” Amara said. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“What are you planning to do while these two clowns traipse off to Asia?”
Wood looked at her. They had not discussed what they were all going to do next.
Amara hesitated. “I think I want to verify whether Hitler made it to South America. Follow his tracks across Argentina. I am an archeologist not a historian, but I feel duty bound to shed light on the matter if I can. Such a discovery would rewrite history.”
Danville gave Wood an impressed look, as if surprised that Amara was not just a pretty face. Wood shook his head disappointed that Danville would even think he would fraternize amongst anything less.
“You have money to get around?” Danville asked.
“I can tap into some savings,” Amara said.
Danville shook his head. “I will see what I can do to hire you temporarily as a S.A.T.R.A. employee and subsidize your research. You wouldn’t mind reporting to me every day for the next few weeks, would you?”
Amara beamed at him. “Not at all.”
“Perfect,” Danville said. “I will lobby on your behalf and get it done. Let us get to work gentlemen.” He raised his hand and killed the connection.
Wood stood up and stretched his arms out. He yawned so wide his jaw cracked. He looked at Wilkins and Amara. “The Middle-East and Hitler tomorrow, hot tub tonight?”
Wilkins raised a plastic water bottle as though giving a toast. “Finally, the man speaks some sense.” He opened the door. “Shall we?”
Chapter 9
Atlantis Massif
The rotor blades of the helicopter cut into the headwind as it sped 200 mph westward, high above the Atlantic. The incessant roar of the powerful engines had numbed Gisela’s mind, despite the headphones over her ears. She looked out the thick window through a wisp of white clouds and saw the blue water far below. It was hard to tell from such an altitude, but the ocean looked calm.
Gisela adjusted the microphone that hooked in front of her mouth. “What is our position?”
In front of her, the co-pilot leaned forward and looked at some instruments. He was wearing a light green jacket with some patches that must have distinguished him in some way. His accent was thick, and she could not quite place it, which irritated her. Over her lifetime, she had become a linguistic expert. She spoke seven languages fluently and could understand twice that. She guessed West Africa.
“We are approximately 30°8'N latitude 42°8'W longitude. ETA is about five minutes.”
She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. It had been a long 48 hours. In and out of airports both large and small. She had hoped to get some sleep on the long helicopter ride, but the noise would not permit anything of the sort. The chartered helicopter was an older model, and comfort was something the designers must not have considered.
A gasp through her headphones caused her to bolt upright. The pilot was pointing straight ahead. She leaned forward and tried to catch a glimpse of what he saw. Far in front of them, on the ocean’s surface, a large planetary shape gently bobbed up and down. She smiled to herself and sat back. She had heard rumors about the oceanic research center that Odessa had created but had not yet had the pleasure of seeing it firsthand.
Her stomach did a summersault as the helicopter dropped suddenly. The nose pitched downward as it began the descent. She glanced into the cockpit and saw the altimeter’s thin arm rotate counterclockwise. She reached behind her and hoisted a heavy backpack onto her lap.
The skids touched down gently like a bird on a branch, and the door to her right immediately opened sideways. A strong ocean breeze filled the small cabin. She removed the pea green headphones and grimaced as her ears were exposed and unprotected against the pounding rotors.
She jumped down and ducked low as two figures guided her away from the vicious machine. Gisela did not look back but heard the engines whine as the pilot rose again into the air.
When the noise faded, a man in a lab coat reached out and grabbed her backpack. “Welcome to the Meereshöhle,” he said. “My name is Doctor Lukas. I oversee all operations on this hybrid of human ingenuity and cutting-edge technology.” He gestured behind him.
Gisela hesitated and then loosened her grip on the pack. After staring daggers at anyone who got anywhere near it the last few days, it was hard to give it up. She had made it though. Her mission was complete.
She looked around at the strange vessel she now stood on. From high above, it had looked like the planet Saturn. The center was a large white dome shaped like half of a soccer ball. Surrounding it was a large flat circular disk that rose about 10 feet out of the water. Gisela looked past the center and guessed that the diameter was about 100 yards across. Much of the flat deck was comprised of solar panels that rotated with the sun for maximum efficiency. Four sleek windmills, all equal distance from the middle, spun in the brisk ocean wind. Other than those, there was nothing but water in every direction.
“This location is remote,” Gisela said. “How close is the nearest piece of inhabited land?”
“A few hundred miles,” the man said. He handed the backpack to an older woman who walked quickly across the platform and disappeared inside the dome. “It’s both a blessing and a curse.” He smiled at her. “How was the last leg of your journey?”
“Loud,” she said.
He nodded. “Well, you will find it quiet here. Especially when the weather is agreeable.” He looked at the spot where the woman had just disappeared. “I assume that everything in Tokyo went smoothly?”
Gisela rubbed her tired eyes and nodded. “I personally handed off the atmospheric software to our contact in Barcelona and brought the rest here as requested.”
He looked at her and his eyes glowed. “Perfect,” he said. “Everything is finally beginning to come together.”
“How many people live here?” she asked.
“31,” Lukas said.
Gisela looked sideways at the dome. It was a large space but not big enough for 31 people.
Lukas saw the confusion on her face. He pointed downward. “What you see from above is only the tip of the iceberg as they say. Below us, an underwater structure descends five stories into the water. Each level has its designated purpose. Living area, research labs, launch station. The entire structure is self-sufficient. Water generators both collect rain and filter sea water. The entire topside is one giant solar panel that charges the state-of-the-art batteries on board.” He pointed up at the windmills. “Of course, we have fuel in case of emergencies.”
Gisela nodded as she took everything in. “Quite impressive,” she said. “Why here? We are in the middle of the Atlantic. What is so special about this geographic location.”
Lukas smiled again and then gestured for her to follow. She fell into step beside him as they walked across the deck.
“I assume that you of all people don’t need to be reminded how things work. Am I correct?”
Gisela nodded. “Plausible deniability,” she said, under her breath.
“Exactly. There are teams like ours scattered across the globe all with unique objectives. None more important than the next. Some have been working for decades. All teams consciously ignorant to the affairs of the others. Only the Inneren Kreis knows and manages all. Each team is a cog in the machine. We only know what the end goal is. Not the means to bring it to pass.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “It’s the end goal which motivates us to press on. I have spent my lifetime working and waiting for the moment that I feel is finally approaching.”
Two slender white doors parted. Gisela followed Lukas inside. Thick glass windows al
lowed large quantities of natural light. Gisela was surprised to see a plush and comfortably furnished interior. A large sectional couch surrounded a wooden table littered with books. Two large TV screens were mounted in the wall. A silver door with numbers above revealed an elevator. The number 4 was currently highlighted.
“We have it pretty good here,” Lukas said. Gisela picked up a hint of guilt in his voice. “It’s like working inside a luxury hotel. Although I am not familiar with the situations in which our comrades work, I have heard that many are required to work with less than desirable amenities.” He held up his hands as though to vindicate himself. “I am just a scientist.” He pointed to a dark wooden door. “Through there is where the bridge is. It’s usually vacant while we are anchored.”
They walked across the room. “To preserve power, everyone takes the stairs unless occasion requires the utility of the elevator,” Lukas said. He led her to another door which opened to a narrow staircase.
Gisela grabbed the railing and looked down through the small gap toward the bottom. A shiver ran up her back knowing that everything beyond this point was underwater.
After descending one floor, Lukas opened a door and led her down a narrow corridor. The hallway was carpeted in a thin and sturdy beige. Small LED lights illuminated their path.
Lukas stopped in front of a white door. “These are your temporary quarters while you stay with us.” He opened the door. “There are no locks because everyone is committed to just one thing. The success of our mission. Everything else is irrelevant. I am sure you are tired, so get some rest. I will report your arrival and await further instruction. It won’t be long until you are called upon for another important service.”
Gisela thanked him and closed the door. She was surprised to find the far wall was one giant piece of glass. She walked over and pressed her face against it. About 10 feet above her, the surface of the water sparkled in the sunlight. She looked out expecting to see schools of fish but then remembered that they were in the middle of the ocean and not near any kind of reef. She looked down and saw the black abyss.
There was a knock at the door. She hurried to open it.
“I forgot to tell you. Dinner is in three hours if you are up to it. Top floor.”
“Thank you,” she said. Lukas turned to leave. “Before you go,” she called out after him. “Why are we here? I just cannot think of any feasible reason to park a floating hotel in the middle of the Atlantic. To be frank, as impressive as this all is, I can’t help but think it’s a waste of precious resources.”
He faced her with a patient grin. “A few miles to the east of our location lies the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. You familiar at all with oceanic geology Gisela?”
“Only a little,” she admitted.
“Well, we are currently floating over Atlantis Massif. An incredibly special underwater mountain about the size of Mount Rainier. Instead of being composed of Basalt, like much of the ocean floor, Atlantis Massif is made up of a very dense green rock called peridotite. Have you ever heard of it before?”
Gisela shook her head.
“Peridotite is a rock that is found only deep within the bowels of the earth. Deeper than the crust in fact.” There was a short pause and when Gisela did not respond, he continued. “The lithosphere, or the crust, is on average about 19 miles thick. However, the very presence of this special rock indicates that the mantle is a lot closer than 19 miles. Over the course of the last year, we have mapped the entire ocean floor around us and have discovered something extraordinary. We have found the thinnest place on earth.”
Gisela looked at him trying to put all the pieces together. “How does that help us?” she asked after a long pause.
Lukas smiled and turned to walk away. “It’s as though mother nature purposely created a door for us to enter.”
She watched him disappear around a corner before closing the door. She collapsed onto the bed. How could accessing the inner layers of earth help them? She turned the question over in her mind until sleep caught her unaware and her unconscious drifted through an eerie world of dark shadows and whispers.
Chapter 10
The flight from Buenos Aires to Yerevan Armenia was one of the longest Wood had ever flown. He watched three full length movies and then checked their progress on the digital map in front of him. They weren’t even halfway there. It got so bad, he broke his rule and resorted to sleeping pills. Usually, Wood had a no pill policy. But flying coach on an 18-hour flight called for desperate measures. The pills did their job and he was knocked out until Wilkins shook him awake 10 hours later as the plane taxied on the tarmac.
Both Wood and Wilkins were well traveled. Their time in the Seals, and now working for S.A.T.R.A, had taken them to every continent multiple times. But neither of them had ever been to Armenia. Located between the Black and Caspian Seas, Armenia was a country easily forgotten. The only reason they were there now was because Mount Ararat sat on the extreme eastern border of Turkey, and the Yerevan International Airport was geographically closer.
Wood rubbed his eyes as the seatbelt light turned off and everybody around them rose. He never understood why everyone stood up right as the plane came to a complete stop. It always took at least five minutes for the line exiting the plane to reach his row. Instead, everyone preferred to stand hunched over, as though by doing so would signal the departing crowd to accelerate their pace.
Wilkins sat back in his seat and cracked his neck both directions. He reached up and rotated a knob so air blew down on him. When Danville had selected the seats during the booking process, Wood had told him select the aisle and the window seat. He hoped that no one would want to sit between two strangers. It was a gamble, but a strategy that worked well if the plane was not full. They had gotten lucky this time.
“You heard from Stalbridge yet?” Wilkins asked.
Wood pulled his backpack out from under the seat in front of him and placed it on his lap. “Haven’t even turned the satellite phone on yet. I will let you have the honors.”
Wilkins shook his head. “No way Nick. This Ararat business was your idea. I am just here to make sure you do not disappear in this part of the world. Armenia is said to be an equal mix of the Middle East and Europe.” He stuffed the headphones into a small velvet bag and pulled the cord tight. “Either way, should be an adventure.”
Wood looked down at his hands and slowly moved each finger. “You think we’re crazy for flying halfway around the world because some stranger gave us a piece of paper while we rode a public bus in Paraguay?”
Wilkins smiled at him. “I think you’re absolutely crazy. But you know I will always have your back. Even if we strike out, this trip will only amplify your mystical reputation among the other S.A.T.R.A. employees.” His smile broadened. “They will be talking around the water cooler years from now. ‘Remember when Wood and Wilkins ditched their research site in South America and flew around the world to visit a mountain that some stranger on a bus mentioned in a note?’”
Wood rolled his eyes. He lifted the window cover and looked outside. The weather was mostly overcast. “I just can’t get the man’s face out of my mind,” Wood said. “There was almost a look of masked terror when he sat down. I was about to knock the guy out.” He hesitated. “But something about his expression unarmed me. He looked at us with a desperate hope, like we could do something.”
“He definitely knew more about us than we knew about him,” Wilkins said.
Wood nodded. “I want to call Danville and hear what he has discovered about the mysterious mountain. But I just know Stalbridge is waiting to let loose on us.”
“Let’s acquire something worth reporting before we turn the phone on,” Wilkins said. “If we find something interesting, maybe it will pacify the old colonel.”
“Agreed.”
Wood observed the people around them. Everyone wore western style clothing. At least they wouldn’t have to go shopping. It was always the first thing Wood did when he arrived for th
e first time in a foreign country. Dress like the natives to blend in with everybody else. Some people spent their whole lives trying to stand out from the crowd. Wood spent his trying to blend in. It was safer that way.
They both stood as the slow procession out of the plane finally reached their aisle. They shouldered their bags and stepped sideways past each row.
The airport was small but modern. As they exited the long tunnel and entered the terminal, Wood heard live music and spotted a piano. An old man with grey hair and a suit that did not quite fit serenaded the passengers as they waited for their flights. No one paid any attention. They were all hidden behind bright electronic devices.
Wood made a large arc and deposited a few dollars into an empty tip jar. The man smiled up at him with grateful eyes. As he walked away, Wood noticed the song was now played with more gusto and feeling. He saw the look Wilkins gave him. “Pearls before swine,” Wood said. “Mozart could play for these people and no one would bat an eye. It’s a real shame.”
As they neared customs, they were approached by an airline employee. “Please do me a favor,” he said, in a strong accent. “Put some small items in your bag and I give you deal on hotel when I meet you on the other side.”
Wilkins laughed at the man’s brashness. “I ain’t smuggling nothing into the country for you Skippy. You’d have to give me something worth a lot more than a discounted hotel rate.”
The man looked at Wilkins for a second, as though surprised to be met with similar candor. After a moment, he moved on to the next poor sucker behind them.
They passed through customs without any problems and then ignored the myriad of voices that all promised the lowest taxi fare into the city. They walked down a flight of stairs to the bus terminal. For $6 they both bought tickets to the border.
The ride was uneventful, and Wood used the time to admire the city. There were beautiful plazas with fountains and long green grass. Intricate pathways crisscrossed in symmetrical patterns and formed large geometric shapes. Square gardens were decorated with vibrant orange and white flowers. Every few blocks a large church glittered in the sunlight. He was almost sad to see the buildings disappear and be replaced by the rural wilderness.
