Apocalypse

by Dean Crawford

  ‘I can find someone,’ Jarvis promised. ‘There’s a lot of ex-navy guys running fishing boats down in Miami, people who can keep this discreet.’

  ‘We’ve got to follow this trail,’ Lopez said. ‘We need to find out whatever it is that Charles Purcell wants us to see.’

  Ethan looked again at the message in the diary.

  ‘And we need to find out who Ivy Mike is and locate him,’ he said.

  Mitch Hannah chuckled as Ethan looked quizzically up at him.

  ‘Ivy Mike is not a person,’ Mitch said. ‘It’s the code name for an event, the first ever detonation of a thermonuclear fusion bomb by the United States, back in the Cold War.’

  ‘Just like the first atomic bombs of the Manhattan Project,’ Lopez said. ‘But why would an event from that era have any bearing on what Charles Purcell is doing?’

  Ryker leaned back against the edge of the table as he tugged at his beard.

  ‘It’s not about Charles,’ he replied. ‘Charlie wasn’t involved in the Ivy program, he’s too young. But he inherited his mathematical genius from his father, Montgomery Purcell.’

  ‘Who was a NASA scientist too,’ Ethan recalled. ‘He was one of the chief scientists who worked on Ivy Mike and the United States’ entire thermonuclear program during the fifties,’ Ryker confirmed. ‘He was a pioneer, one of the greatest physicists to have come out of the Manhattan Project.’ Ryker looked up at them. ‘Charlie’s telling us that if we want to find out what’s going on here, we need to find out exactly what his father was doing during the Cold War.’

  ‘Get on it,’ Jarvis ordered him. ‘Find out everything you can on Montgomery Purcell. Ethan, Nicola, with me. We’re going to find that downed aeroplane.’

  18

  MIAMI TERRACE REEF, FLORIDA STRAITS

  June 28, 10:51

  ‘I want to know exactly what’s going on here.’

  Dennis Aubrey joined Joaquin Abell on the quarterdeck of the Event Horizon as the engines churned the crystalline waters of the Florida Straits and rotated the yacht gracefully into the current, her captain skillfully programming the engines to maintain precise position in waters too deep for an anchor. Large enough for a helicopter pad to be located near the stern, the vessel shone a brilliant white beneath the sun. Aubrey watched as dozens of crewmen in identical, dark-blue IRIS jumpsuits swarmed down from the bridge to where a pair of large, bulbous-looking craft sat on the open deck.

  ‘All in good time, Dennis,’ Joaquin replied as he surveyed the yacht.

  The deep-sea submersibles – named Intrepid, and Isaac, after Joaquin’s father – were painted a bright orange and consisted of three large oval chambers, each tightly connected to the other and festooned with a complex assembly of robotic arms, multi-directional propellers, lights and small portholes of 6-inch-thick glass. The bow sphere was dominated by a single, larger acrylic dome, within which Dennis could see the cockpit. The craft had the appearance of giant, brightly colored insects.

  ‘I’ve never done this before,’ Aubrey pointed out.

  ‘Don’t fret, Dennis. It’s perfectly safe, although at a depth of two thousand feet it only takes a crack two microns thick to collapse the hull and kill everybody inside.’

  Dennis shot Joaquin a glance of concern. Joaquin burst out laughing and clapped his hand on Dennis’s back with enough force to dislodge his spectacles.

  ‘Relax, Dennis. The Isaac and the Intrepid are as safe as can be. Come on, let’s go, shall we?’

  Aubrey straightened his glasses and followed as Joaquin strode across to the Isaac and climbed a ladder set alongside the hull toward an open hatch above the central oval. Aubrey reluctantly followed the younger man down into the cramped interior, which was filled with a dazzling array of equipment and instruments. Joaquin made his way forward into the cockpit and settled down behind the control console as Aubrey joined him in the cockpit and strapped himself into a spare seat.

  Behind Aubrey, more men dropped down into the submersible. They wore the same blue jumpsuits as their comrades aboard the yacht, but in addition they carried shoulder-slung M-16 rifles and belt-kits containing spare ammunition clips and grenades. The men buckled themselves into their seats with practiced efficiency. Aubrey stared at them and then at Joaquin, who pretended not to notice his anxiety. Moments later, Joaquin started the submersible’s batteries and disconnected the power lines from the yacht as the top hatch was sealed and a large crane hoisted the Isaac off the deck and down into the churning ocean.

  Joaquin keyed his microphone.

  ‘Isaac is clear, batteries operational. Release the harness.’

  A dull thump reverberated around the Isaac’s hull, and then the submersible sank slowly beneath the waves as Joaquin blew the air tanks. The light from the sky shimmered through the rippling waves above, and shafts of sunlight flickered down past the submersible as it descended into the deep water of the Florida Straits. Aubrey’s stomach felt as though it too were plunging into unknown depths, and he felt a slight sweat on his forehead.

  Joaquin leaned forward and peered up through the acrylic dome toward the surface to see the Event Horizon already underway again.

  ‘We’re based near the edge of the Miami Terrace reef,’ he explained calmly, ‘a large aquatic feature that drops a thousand feet, perfectly concealed from any vessels passing above us.’

  ‘Does coral grow that far down?’ Aubrey asked, unable to prevent his voice from twisting an octave higher.

  Joaquin smiled. ‘It does, but you know by now that we’re not here to see coral, Dennis. I just know that you’re desperate to find out what IRIS is doing here.’

  ‘You’re giving Benjamin Tyler false hope,’ Dennis insisted. ‘Seeing into the future is not possible.’

  ‘Yes it is,’ Joaquin countered. ‘As a physicist, you know that it is possible, provided the right conditions exist.’

  ‘Perhaps, but we just don’t have the technology to create those conditions.’

  ‘Don’t we?’

  Aubrey did not reply, his prodigious intellect distracted as he calculated depth values, speeds and the crushing pressure of the water that would be pressing down upon them in the abyss. At the same time he rifled through the vaults of his mind for some way in which an ordinary man like Joaquin Abell could see into the future.

  Outside the bulbous portal the water turned a deep blue and the shimmering curtains of light faded as the Isaac plunged into the depths. Joaquin flipped a series of switches above his head, illuminating the interior of the submersible as the ocean outside darkened until it became as black as ink. A lone manta ray glided past, glowing in the Isaac’s lights as though illuminated by a full moon on a dark night, only to fade into the darkness as it swam effortlessly away.

  Aubrey could see that Joaquin was guiding the Isaac toward the edge of the reef shelf, following a magnetic compass and a GPS locator screen to find his way in the absolute blackness. As they reached a depth of two thousand feet, Joaquin fired the external thrusters and advanced slowly through the impenetrable darkness until, ahead, a dim galaxy of lights appeared, glistening like stars in an immense night and illuminating the sides of a geometrical object that loomed before them. Aubrey leaned forward to peer through the acrylic bubble, and then his jaw began to fall open as he whipped his spectacles off and stared wide eyed.

  ‘Oh my God, what is that?’

  Joaquin guided the Isaac toward a bright rectangle of light beaming from beneath the nearest structure to them, perched on the edge of the abyss.

  ‘That, Dennis, is IRIS’s Deep Blue research station.’

  The vast construction before them resolved itself in the Isaac’s glaring lights. A huge interconnecting web of surge-resistant domes, each standing on multiple legs elevating them some twenty feet above the seabed. They glowed with a dull metallic sheen, small lights shining within like the windows of a spaceship that had just set down on the moon. The largest two domes lay close to each other in the center, towering spheres
of hexagonal steel panels painted to prevent them becoming fouled with sea growth. Connected to each other by a single steel-reinforced cylinder passage running along the seabed, each of the two main domes was connected by shorter passages on the opposite sides to two smaller domes that formed the four corners of the complex.

  Aubrey turned in his seat to look at Joaquin. ‘Did IRIS build all of this?’

  ‘Not all of it,’ Joaquin replied.

  ‘What have you got in there?’

  Joaquin did not reply, piloting Isaac low along the surface of the seabed and beneath one of the smaller domes, where a rectangular shaft of light beamed down onto the seabed. The Isaac was maneuvered carefully into place, and then Joaquin reached out and flipped a series of switches that released compressed air into the submersible’s auxiliary tanks. Slowly, the Isaac rose up, and Aubrey watched in fascination as the submersible broke the surface of the water into the center of the dome.

  Bright light filtered into the submersible as Joaquin began powering the vessel down. Inside the dome, which looked to Aubrey like a purpose-built dock, IRIS personnel threw lines to secure the Isaac before Joaquin shut off the thrusters and the main power.

  ‘Welcome to the safest research base on the planet,’ he grinned, climbing out of the captain’s chair as his armed security force clambered out of the hull and onto the dock outside.

  Aubrey followed Joaquin and stretched his legs as he took in the new and unfamiliar surroundings. The dock was filled with neatly stored fuel lines, oxygen tanks, diving suits and all manner of nautical equipment that fascinated and intimidated Aubrey at the same time. He looked at Joaquin.

  ‘What’s this base for?’

  Joaquin turned silently and beckoned with a finger for him to follow. Aubrey obeyed and followed Joaquin to a bulkhead that led into an enclosed passage heading toward the larger central domes. Small oval portals peered out into the immense blackness beyond the reinforced walls of the passage, causing Aubrey to shiver as he walked.

  ‘Don’t worry, Dennis,’ Joaquin said. ‘The cylindrical shape of these passages makes them stronger: they are easily robust enough to withstand the pressure.’

  ‘The funds for a complex this size are not present in IRIS accounts,’ Aubrey said accusingly. ‘Where on earth did you get the finances to build this place, if not through the company itself? Is this why that family is trying to sue IRIS?’

  ‘All in good time,’ Joaquin said. ‘Right now, your main concern is providing technical support.’

  ‘For what?’ Aubrey asked.

  ‘This way.’ Joaquin directed him toward another bulkhead, which opened onto a long curving corridor that seemed to circumvent the first of the larger, central domes.

  ‘What’s in there?’ Aubrey asked, gesturing to their left as they walked around the perimeter.

  ‘Storage,’ Joaquin replied dismissively. ‘Some artifacts.’

  Joaquin led him around to the passageway that connected the mysterious first central dome to the second, and they hurried through to the entrance hatch of the second main dome.

  Aubrey climbed through the hatch, and as he stood up his heart seemed to skip a beat.

  Before him was a huge steel sphere that sat in the center of the dome. On Aubrey’s left was a curved control panel and walkway that hugged the wall across one half of the dome’s circumference, whilst on the opposite side was a row of supercomputers.

  An array of ten huge plasma screens dominated the upper circumference of the dome’s walls, all staring down toward the sphere in the center. On each screen Aubrey could see news reports beamed from around the world, the anchors reading off autocues and reporters detailing tales of woe from far-flung corners of the world. The massed voices of the news teams filled the command center with a murmur of commingled words.

  Huge electrical cables that ran from the walls of the dome snaked their way toward the center, along with countless wires looped over railings above to descend into the giant sphere.

  Aubrey began walking toward the twenty-foot-wide sphere, aware now of a dull humming sound that seemed to reverberate through his chest as he walked. He noticed that the sphere itself was plated with metal devices that he identified as immensely powerful electro-magnets. Aubrey recognized what he was looking at almost instantly.

  ‘A spherical tokamak,’ he murmured in fascination. ‘Used to control plasma in nuclear fusion experiments.’

  A row of small, rectangular observation windows that ringed the circumference of the sphere flickered with eerie bursts of light, as though a thunderstorm was raging within.

  ‘What’s inside the tokamak chamber?’ Aubrey asked, his gaze fixed on the sphere.

  ‘Don’t get too close,’ Joaquin warned. ‘It’s not easy to look inside.’

  Aubrey hesitated, but then his curiosity got the better of him and he approached the steps that led up to one of the windows in the surface of the sphere. He noticed as he approached that each of the windows looked out toward one of the plasma screens mounted on the interior of the dome walls.

  Slowly, his enraptured gaze fixed upon the flickering lights, Aubrey peered inside the huge sphere, and as he did so he felt his bowels clench and his breath catch in his throat. The tokamak chamber consisted of a vacuum tube surrounded by a series of magnets, normally designed to contain the immensely hot plasma created by nuclear fusion reactions. One set of magnets was wired in a series of rings around the outside of the tube, but unlike normal tokamaks that Aubrey had seen in experimental reactors, the magnets were not physically connected through a common conductor in the center, which normally formed a toroidal chamber through which the plasma flowed. Instead, the central column that usually housed the solenoids was absent, forming a perfectly spherical interior.

  The interior of the sphere flickered as jagged sparks of electrical energy leapt and twisted like writhing luminous snakes from the sides of the chamber toward the center. They danced in blue halos around ten video cameras that were mounted on heavily braced metal stands to stare out through the windows toward the plasma screens beyond. Aubrey’s face was reflected in the unblinking lens of the nearest camera facing him.

  But it was the object in the center of the chamber beyond that captured and held his fascination.

  Suspended within hovered a sphere of absolute blackness, a darkness so deep that as Aubrey gazed upon it he felt as though he were plunging into an endless abyss. He realized that the magnetic field generated within the chamber was suspending the sphere in mid-air, unimaginable forces chained and bound by immense electromagnetic fields. Although the sphere was featureless, reflecting nothing, it seemed to pulse with a terrifying energy, as though alive. Aubrey stared for a moment into that infernal blackness and felt his guts turn to slime. He forced his gaze away, and noticed that up on the inside wall of the sphere was a large analogue clock that looked ordinary in every way except one.

  The second hand was ticking far too slowly.

  Aubrey turned away from the sphere and felt sweat on his forehead. He knew precisely what the object inside the sphere was, and it terrified him. He turned to Joaquin, his voice constricted.

  ‘My God, what on earth have you done?’

  19

  SOUTH BEACH, MIAMI

  June 28, 10:58

  ‘You sure about this guy?’

  Ethan glanced across at Jarvis as he drove the Yukon off North Ocean Boulevard and onto Alton Road. Brilliant sunshine glittered off the manmade harbor that enclosed Palm Island, a haven of multimillion-dollar homes as well as a thriving tourist center. Rows of quays provided moorings to both enormous private yachts and smaller vessels.

  Jarvis shrugged.

  ‘He was solid enough back in the day. He’s a former United States Navy SEAL who was attached to my rifle platoon in Iraq back in 1991. He left the service a few years back and now runs a fishing business for tourists.’

  ‘You don’t sound like you’re sure,’ Ethan persisted.

  ‘He likes liquor,�
� Jarvis explained, ‘and he never was much one for authority.’

  ‘Sounds like my kind of guy.’

  Jarvis turned the Yukon right into Miami Beach Marina and drove slowly to the end, where barricades prevented vehicle entry to the marina. He parked and got out as Lopez shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun.

  ‘That’s the one,’ she said, pointing at a boat and reading the name on the stern. ‘Free Spirit.’

  Ethan led the way as they walked toward the vessel. The little ship looked to Ethan’s eye to be a 43-footer sports fisherman, but judging by the stained hull and tired-looking rigging that sagged from her main mast, she’d been plying the Straits since the time of Blackbeard. Chrome fittings were dulled by both age and neglect, and the painted lettering on the stern was flaking away. There were racks of oxygen tanks and diving suits, which would save them having to hire extra gear, and he could see an atmospheric diving suit strapped to a rack near the bridge house. It was over six feet in height and constructed of glass-reinforced plastic; he had seen them from time to time in the US Marines, used by Navy SEALs and depth-rated for around 2,000 feet.

  He walked to the boarding ramp and looked at Jarvis.

  ‘You wanna call him out?’ he suggested.

  Jarvis strode up the ramp onto the vessel’s stern. ‘Scott? You in there?’

  Ethan watched as Jarvis waited for a response, but the only sound remained the lapping of the water against the jetty and the boat’s hull. The old man tried again.

  ‘Scott Bryson? It’s Doug Jarvis.’

  The silence continued. Ethan was about to step forward when a hatch on the Free Spirit’s deck suddenly crashed open and a tousled head with a thickly forested jaw popped up to squint at the unexpected visitors. The first thing that Ethan noticed was the black patch covering Bryson’s left eye.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Doug Jarvis, 15th Expeditionary Marines, Iraq. We worked together.’

  Ethan watched as Scott Bryson’s brow furrowed as though he were trying to remember his own name, and then the eyebrow above his patch arched comically.