Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set

by Ernest Dempsey

  Helen acknowledged the people inside with a short glance, continuing to push forward until they had reached a more elaborate doorway. It was an air-lock entrance, the likes of which Joe had only seen in movies.

  On the wall next to one of the windows, a temperature gauge displayed red digital numbers that read 40 degrees.

  “Is that the temperature in there?” Joe asked.

  She nodded. “The flu vaccine needs to be kept cool. The temperature should be between thirty-six and fifty degrees. Forty is optimal.” She pointed at the intricate doorway. “That will be a clean room,” she said then stepped over to the other side of the corridor where a few lab coats and masks hung on a metal rack on the wall.

  She grabbed a coat off a hook and started putting it on. “You’ll need to wear one of these,” she stated. “And we’ll need to hurry.”

  Joe obeyed and quickly snatched a lab coat from the rack. He slipped it on over his coat then copied his wife, pulling a facemask over his nose and mouth.

  “We have to go one at a time through this air lock,” she said, pointing to a sign that backed up what she said. “I’ll go first.”

  Joe watched as Helen pressed the button that opened the automatic door, and stepped inside. When the portal closed behind her, she pressed another button on the inside edge of the next door. A stream of mist and air sprayed out from jet nozzles imbedded in the ceiling. After a few seconds of the sterilization process, a green light flashed next to the second door before it popped open.

  For a moment, Joe thought he heard footsteps tapping from around the corner. He wondered if the security guard had been alerted to who they were or the fact that they weren’t really employees of the company. He had to wait until the other door closed before he could open the first, but the thing was moving slowly. The noise was growing louder, and he feared any second the guard or several guards would appear around the corner.

  A green light came on next to the button and he pressed it hurriedly. As soon as the opening in the portal was big enough, he stepped inside and hit the second button, closing the door behind him and starting the sterilization process. The strange spray wasn’t wet. It felt more like a cool, dry powder. Grates in the floor sucked air downward, pulling the smoky substance into an air duct below. A few seconds passed before the second green light came on, and the door opened for him as it had for Helen.

  She was waiting on the other side as he entered the warehouse. “I thought I heard someone coming,” he said in a weak attempt to stay calm.

  Her face became concerned. “Quick, over here,” she moved toward a stack of plastic boxes and ducked down behind them. Joe followed closely and looked back just in time to see another person in a suit walking around the corner.

  “Crap,” he whispered.

  “Did you see anyone?”

  Joe nodded, crouching next to her. “I don’t think he saw us. He was looking at his cell phone. It was a guy in a suit, not security.”

  She looked relieved for a moment. “Still, we better get this thing and get out of here.” He agreed with a quick nod.

  “How do we know what we’re looking for?” he wondered, silently.

  She scanned the row of plastic wrapped packages across the aisle. There was a bar code on the top right corner of each one. “I guess we look at the labels.”

  “Right,” he hoped he didn’t sound like an idiot.

  Helen shuffled over to the row and examined the first label. “This one is going to Russia,” she said. “But it isn’t what we’re looking for. It’s some kind of antibiotic.”

  A sudden noise startled her from the other side of the row. She peeked through the crack between the shipments and was relieved to see it was just the robotic forklift. The machine picked up a pallet then backed its way down the aisle, out of sight.

  Joe put his hands out, asking if that was one of the shipments they were looking for. She responded by shaking her head quickly.

  Another noise echoed from down at the other end of the aisle, causing Joe and Helen to jerk their heads in that direction. One of the machines had turned their direction and was rolling along the concrete floor. The machine took up most of the space in the row, meaning Joe and Helen were going to have to move.

  Taking a chance, Joe eased his head back around the end of the row and stole a look through the glass to the corridor. The man in the suit had just finished putting on a mask and was taking the last remaining lab coat off the rack.

  “That guy looks like he’s coming in,” Joe informed Helen. “We have to get over to that other row or that thing is going to hit us. Gotta go now.”

  He grabbed Helen by the wrist and jerked her up, careful to keep low as they moved. The loader was moving closer as he stopped at the corner of the next row and took another cautious glance back through the glass. The man had his back turned, which Joe took as the perfect opportunity to move. They both stood in sync and rounded the end of the row, ducking behind the other side of the stack of supplies. A few seconds later, Joe heard the sterilization chamber power up, signaling that the man was about to enter the warehouse.

  While temporary danger had been averted, there was still the problem that the guy would likely find them eventually. And there were two other people in the room in lab coats. As soon as they were spotted, there would be no chance of escape. They had to move fast.

  Helen stayed crouched low and shifted over to the next row of shipments. She read the label, but again was disappointed. She was beginning to wonder if they were going to find anything.

  A buzzer made a sound from behind where Joe was crouching. It was followed by the click of the air lock door opening.

  The guy in the suit was in the warehouse, and Joe and Helen were running out of time.

  Chapter 38

  Armenian Mountains

  The temperature inside the inflatable tent was remarkably warm considering that just outside it, snow was piling up by the minute. The mountain winds combined with the storm to cause the sides of the temporary shelter to shake violently, testing the strength of the anchors Will had driven into the ground.

  Alexander Lindsey sat in a chair near one of the heaters, still wrapped up in his coat despite the warmth pouring out of the device next to his feet. His eyes poured over the pages of an old book he held delicately in his hands. The cover of it was brown leather. Its edges had been worn away through the years. The pages within were still in fairly good condition despite the apparent age of the book. The old man read the contents of the book slowly, not wanting to miss anything important.

  The room had been peaceful, other than the wind outside causing the nylon to flap back and forth. Will was busy cleaning one of his handguns, while Kaba did the same on a makeshift table they’d put together out of a few plastic crates.

  Out of the blue, the peace in the room was broken up by a short gust of cold air through the door as it followed the French archaeologist into the area. Snowflakes covered his hair and shoulders like a dramatic case of dandruff. He shook off the accumulation and stepped further into the dwelling.

  Lindsey looked up from his study with disdain. “Is there something we can do for you?” he asked in an impatient tone.

  DeGard faked gratitude and tilted his head one way in a mocking bow. “Thank you, Monsieur. But I am merely tired of the idle talk that is taking place in the other tent. I decided I would come over here to see what you three were doing. However, now that I am here, I can see it is no more interesting than the chit chat of those brutes you call your guards.”

  “Well, I am so sorry to disappoint you,” Lindsey lied, overdoing the sarcasm by a metric ton.

  DeGard didn’t seem to care. He reached down and pried up the leather book in his employer’s hands so the cover became visible. The Frenchman’s eyes narrowed as he tried to see what the man was reading. A curious expression crossed his face.

  “What is this?” he asked after moment of awkward silence.

  Lindsey eyed him suspiciously and pulled t
he book back a few inches. Will turned his attention to the conversation from across the room.

  “I see no harm in telling you,” the old man said, finally. “You may as well know. It’s a diary. And it is very old.”

  “Obviously it is old,” DeGard commented with a sneer. “There are not many books in existence from the period.”

  Lindsey stared up at DeGard over the tops of the wireframe glasses perched on his splotchy nose. He could tell the Frenchman was waiting for further explanation, but he wanted to make his employee wait for just a few more seconds. If he happened to beg, that would be even better.

  “Who did it belong to?” DeGard pressed.

  Lindsey lowered the book to his lap and closed it gently. “Its original owner was a man by the name of Sir Francis Drake. Do you know that name?”

  “Of course. Every historian knows Drake. He was one of the greatest pirates who ever lived. How did you obtain this diary?”

  “Privateer,” Lindsey corrected.

  “Whatever you want to call it, Monsieur. How did this book come into your possession?”

  Lindsey shook off the desire to have Will shoot the man dead right there. “Sir Francis was not just a pirate. He was a world traveler and a very learned man. He did not spend all of his time at sea, though history teaches us that is where his expertise was most renowned.” He took a deep breath before starting again. “On one particular journey, he and his crew sailed the Mediterranean to the coast of the Turkey. After securing their vessel, the men ventured deep into Islamic lands, something few Christians had done since the time of The Crusades.”

  Kaba looked up again from cleaning her gun. She had come from the area the old man was mentioning. While there were no fond memories for her there, cutting ties to one’s homeland was something even bitter reminders could not do.

  DeGard shook his head dubiously. Narrow eyes peered with suspicion at Lindsey. “Francis Drake went into Arabia? I have never heard this tale. Are you sure your sources are accurate?”

  The old man held up the book, wagging it at DeGard. “I’ve had this analyzed by three different experts. Every single one of them has said this was certainly written by Drake. Now, do you want to hear the rest of the story or do you wish to return to the other tent?”

  “I apologize. Please, continue.”

  Lindsey decided not to question the sincerity of the apology, instead going on with his tale. “While in the city we now call Istanbul, Drake and his men had found an inn to rest for the night, calling themselves traders from the west. The story says that even though the innkeeper was disinclined to harbor Christians, the gold Sir Francis offered far outweighed any misgivings the proprietor may have had.

  “During the night, Drake awoke from a frightful dream, in which he had seen a bizarre vision. Fearful any of his men might consider him to have gone insane, he kept it to himself and recorded the contents of the dream in this diary.” Lindsey finished by snapping the book like a whip to emphasize the ending.

  “So, it is just a book about Captain Drake’s dream?” the skinny man was unimpressed.

  Lindsey gave a smile as one would have given an ignorant child. “That is not all that happened, my dear DeGard. After the dream, Drake was extremely troubled. He believed he had a vision but could not divulge any of the information to his men for fear they would mutiny. So, in the middle of the night, he left the inn and headed into the city for some night air. As he strolled through the streets, he passed a window that flickered with candlelight. He couldn’t read the sign over the door because it was in Arabic, but the door was open despite the fact that it was late at night. For some reason, Drake was compelled to enter the building. Inside, he found an old man sitting on the floor next to a fire. Several candles burned in various places around the room.”

  A gust of wind rattled the walls of the inflatable tent, momentarily interrupting Lindsey’s story. DeGard looked around, seeming worried the structure would collapse or blow away. But after several seconds, the wind died down again, returning the room to the steady ripple of the nylon in the breeze.

  “As it turns out,” Lindsey continued, “the old man Drake found in the room was actually an alchemist.”

  “Alchemy?” DeGard scoffed again.

  “I am only telling you the story behind this diary and why it pertains to our journey now.”

  “By all means, Monsieur, go on.”

  “The Arabic alchemist told Sir Francis of a place where the eternal life could be found, where a substance grew from a tree that could sustain life perpetually.”

  Finally, DeGard understood the point of the old man’s story. “Ah. So, the book is a map?”

  “No,” Lindsey shook his head. “If it were a map, none of this charade would have taken place. The stones, the clues, all of it would be pointless if I had a map. Don’t you think?”

  The Frenchman didn’t react, feeling foolish for probably the first time in his life.

  Lindsey held up the book again. “This book contains a warning and instructions to anyone who is brave enough to enter the final chamber.”

  “A warning?”

  “Yes. Inside the final chamber, those who seek eternal life will face three tests. Those three tests must be conquered in order to gain access to the tree of life.”

  A deathly silence fell over the room again as DeGard absorbed the information. If what the old man said was true, it meant that Sir Francis Drake had kept a deep secret for most of his life. While the Frenchman was no expert on the history of the famous privateer, he believed he would have heard such an interesting tale as the one that had just been spun before him.

  Still, he had to push a little further. It was part of being a historian and a scientist. “I must ask, Monsieur. Where did you discover this diary of Sir Francis Drake? Surely something like that would have been hidden away or locked in a vault somewhere.”

  The old man had a sinister twinkle in his eye. For some reason, he enjoyed toying with his French employee. Perhaps because he had felt like the man had been disrespectful since the moment they had met. It didn’t matter anymore. Soon, DeGard would be dead, and Lindsey would have the key to eternal life.

  “Someone found it for me,” he said, trying to keep a mysterious tone in his voice.

  Kaba looked over again from the corner but remained silent. Lindsey didn’t acknowledge her glance, not wanting DeGard to know anything else.

  When he spoke, the Frenchman turned up his nose in defiance. “Very well. So, tell me, what are these three tests?”

  Chapter 39

  Atlanta, Georgia

  Helen and Joe crouched next to one of the stacks of vaccination packages. Over the row across from where they crouched, the clicking sound of hard sole shoes clicked on the concrete. The man in the suit was walking down the aisle. Where he was going was a mystery they didn’t want to know the answer to.

  The machine in the aisle behind them hummed along before stopping. Joe felt the pallet vibrate suddenly and realized the robotic lift was picking up the stack. Helen had the same realization, and they both leaned forward for a second. A moment later, the entire pallet was a few inches off the ground and was being pulled away from them, creating a gap in the row of shipments.

  At the same time the robot had centered the load and started moving back toward the back of the facility, Joe heard the voices of the two people in lab coats. The employees were about to round the corner of the aisle where Joe and Helen were hiding. Thinking fast, Joe grabbed his wife’s shoulder and pulled her into the empty space that had just been vacated by the machine.

  He leaned up against the stack of vaccinations with his back toward where the voices had come. They were continuing to move toward the entrance of the warehouse. For the time being, they were safe. But he didn’t want any more close calls.

  “We need to get out of here,” he whispered.

  She said nothing, but nodded in agreement. Taking his cue, she peeked down the lane in both directions to make sure the
cost was clear. Seeing no danger, she slipped across the smooth floor and crouched next to another stack of vaccinations. Helen examined the white shipping label for a second then turned to Joe with a sly grin.

  “This is it,” she mouthed silently while jerking her thumb at the product. He gave a quick nod and shuffled over to where she squatted by the wrapped plastic containers.

  Joe slipped a knife out of his pocket and in a quick motion had unfolded the blade. A few seconds later, he had opened up a long slit in the plastic wrap. The containers within were small, about the size of a shoebox, and were made from a thick, white plastic. Joe carefully slid one out, terrified that pulling one box out would cause all the others to tumble down onto the floor.

  Joe was relieved when that didn’t happen and placed the hard-shell box down on the floor between he and his wife. The company logo was on the top, as well as the description of what was inside. The label said it contained influenza vaccinations, though Joe and Helen feared it was something far more sinister.

  They both had the same thought simultaneously. But Joe voiced the concern first. “If we open this, and we are right, and it breaks, we could die.” His eyes carried his fear.

  She tilted her head slightly and answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “Then let’s not break it, sweetie.” Her southern accent and casual demeanor relaxed him a little.

  Helen reached down and unhooked the clasps that kept the box sealed. As she slowly opened the lid, a little cloud of mist escaped for a second. Joe looked up suddenly, worried they had already unleashed something. She shook her head, and continued to lift the lid. Inside were four, glass vials of clear liquid. Her thin, strong fingers wrapped around one of the tiny containers and started to pry it up out of its foam casing when a voice from the other end of the warehouse froze her in place.

  “What’s going on over there?”