Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2)

by Robert Storey

  ‘Did you think I would allow you to succeed?!’ Konstantin said, to the two Vatican cardinals.

  Major Lanter moved in front of Avery and Zinetti, as did his four Swiss guards, and Ruben.

  ‘You’re too late,’ Zinetti said, drawing Dowling to him. ‘We have what we came for. You’ve failed!’

  Konstantin saw the pendant clutched in Dowling’s hand and his expression darkened. ‘The instrument of the Devil. Is that your play, Satanist? You deceive yourself. The fallen one doesn’t share power.’

  ‘You will never leave this place,’ Zinetti said, his expression exultant, ‘but our way forward is clear. Heaven’s Gate awaits and we have the one person who can open it!’

  ‘Quiet!’ Avery said, livid at the Italian’s disclosure.

  Konstantin laughed. ‘Then I know,’ – he drew a long knife alongside his sword and looked at Sarah, who stood off to one side – ‘who to kill first.’

  Chapter Two Hundred Forty-Nine

  Washington D.C., USA.

  Deep beneath the White House, five people remained ensconced inside the President of the United States’ nuclear bunker. They were the former Director General of the GMRC’s Subterranean Programme, the Chinese premier, a disgraced English newsreader, a young German computer hacker and the leader of the free world himself, John Harrison Henry. The sixth member of their group appeared in the centre of the room, his virtual image a full-sized holographic representation beamed in from an unknown location.

  Da Muss Ich, the world’s most wanted terrorist, pointed to the countdown clock. ‘What’s it to be, John Henry? Risk accepting my help for a chance to save your nation and the entire surface of the planet, or condemn billions to certain death?’

  The sound of muted gunfire echoed into the bunker from beyond the sealed blast door and John looked at the time. There was no time:

  ‘It’s not too late, Mr President,’ Bic said. ‘It’s never too late.’

  John didn’t know what to do. Could he really hand over a nuclear arsenal to the world’s foremost terrorist? In any other circumstances it was unthinkable, insane – diabolical.

  ‘Did you think you won the election fairly,’ Bic said. ‘You were chosen to lead, do you know why?’

  John shook his head and glanced at Steiner.

  ‘Because they thought you were the weakest, the stupidest. A self-centred philanderer who was too much of a coward to stand up to the might of the GMRC.’

  John clenched his fists.

  ‘They gave you twenty times more airtime than your rivals,’ Bic said, ‘which is the same as rigging the vote. Airtime equals votes. That is fact.’

  The hologram changed to an image of the night sky and the flickering light that grew ever brighter, ever nearer. ‘Do you wonder what those jets were doing patrolling the skies prior to your conference, Mr President? They weren’t sent to protect you. They were seeding the skies to create cloud cover to blind the populace to their approaching doom.’

  John remained in tortuous indecision. ‘You’re a terrorist. The biggest terrorist who’s ever lived.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said a voice.

  John turned to look at the young German.

  ‘You’re right.’ Eric pointed at Bic, who had reappeared on the cracked wallscreen. ‘He is a terrorist, but he’s not the biggest terrorist who’s ever lived. Hitler was, or those who manipulated him were. How do you think the world’s biggest countries, the world’s greatest powers, are where they are today? It’s because they take from others. Do you want to know what the biggest terrorism is, Mr President? My country perpetrated and experienced it beyond anything your country ever has. War is the greatest terrorism. War. Any war. War is terrorism and terrorism is war. They’re opposite sides of the same coin. You cannot have one without the other. If you sanction war, if you go to war, you are a terrorist. Not just a terrorist, you’re the ultimate terrorist. There’s no getting away from it. It’s like Da Muss Ich says, it’s fact. You can dress it up any way you like, but at the end of the day, if you sanction war, you’re the same, if not worse, than the single suicide bomber. Do you know why? Because the suicide bomber doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what he is. Nations kill people and justify it by promoting hate and lies, which are used to convince itself and the people it governs that the action was justified. War begets war, terror begets terror, and every nation’s actions will return to haunt its children and its children’s children. Maybe not in a year, or even a hundred years, but the price will be paid, until the cycle is broken. But now you have the chance to use nuclear weapons to save life and you say no?’ Eric shook his head as Jessica took his hand to stand by his side, her expression proud.

  ‘Hear his words, John Henry,’ Bic said, ‘and hear the truth. Nations go to war in order to seize material wealth from atop the bloody corpses of men, women and children, the most pointless and evil of pursuits man has ever known. You have a chance not just to save the world, but to forge a new lasting peace by helping us destroy the very scourge which promotes this material insanity beyond any other, capitalism itself. I don’t wish to see the world burn, Mr President, I only wish for justice for all. Is that so bad?’

  John winced. The youngest among them, and Bic himself, had spoken words John didn’t just agree with, they were ideals he’d championed himself. It seemed he and the terrorists were more alike than he would’ve ever cared to admit.

  Professor Steiner moved to the fore. ‘Contact NORAD, Mr President, or the Pacific fleets. Confirm the trajectory. What have you got to lose?’

  John hesitated, then nodded, and found himself moving to the room’s main console. He motioned to Steiner. ‘Can you work this?’

  Steiner gave a nod. He accessed a hidden keyboard and moments later a massive screen dropped down from its place of concealment in the ceiling. Various military charts and radar data displayed in a mind-boggling array, while two U.S. naval officers appeared in separate windows in a section reserved for live feeds. The name beneath the man on the left read: Fleet Admiral Yates (Pacific Command), while the name of the man on the right read: Fleet Admiral McCormick (Atlantic Command).

  ‘Mr President?’ Yates said, saluting. ‘Do you know this channel isn’t secure?’

  ‘There’s no time for that, Admiral. I need you to track something for me.’ He looked at McCormick. ‘Both of you.’

  Admiral McCormick nodded and John glanced at Steiner, who signalled he was ready. ‘I’m sending you the coordinates now.’

  Yates grasped onto a rail, as his ship crested a large wave. He turned to his left as someone passed him a piece of paper and then looked back at the camera, his brow creased with concern. ‘Mr President,’ he glanced to his left and said, ‘is this right?’

  ‘Admiral?’ John said.

  ‘Mr President, I can confirm we’re tracking a large object approaching from beyond our atmosphere.’

  ‘Destination?’ John said, his heart rate increasing.

  Admiral Yates scanned over the readout and his concern deepened. ‘New Mexico, Mr President.’

  ‘Did you hear that?’ John looked again to Admiral McCormick, stationed aboard the USS Enterprise, a super-carrier moored off the east coast.

  McCormick nodded.

  ‘Can you confirm?’ John said.

  Admiral McCormick put his finger to an earpiece and then said, ‘I can confirm, Mr President, the object will be entering our atmosphere in,’ – he checked a clock – ‘just over eleven minutes.’

  As John’s worst fears were realised, Admiral Yates said, ‘Do you have further orders, Mr President?’

  John looked Steiner in the eye and then motioned to Bic, ‘Send them the rest.’

  Bic hesitated, but then did as requested and the two admirals received further printouts.

  ‘We cannot confirm these objects, Mr President,’ Yates said. ‘They’re beyond our range.’

  McCormick nodded in agreement and John looked to Steiner and said, ‘I need confirmation of thos
e other asteroids.’

  ‘I believe I know someone who can assist you with that, Mr President,’ Bic said. ‘I’ve been able to re-establish a connection to someone in a rather unique position.’

  John saw Steiner give the cyberterrorist a curious look, before a fuzzy holographic image appeared in the centre of the room.

  ‘Commander Magnusson?’ Steiner said in shock. ‘Is that you? We thought you were dead.’

  The image sharpened and a man wearing a NASA uniform saluted and said, ‘In the flesh, Professor Steiner. In the flesh,’ – Tyler Magnusson produced a tired smile – ‘alive and well.’

  Chapter Two Hundred Fifty

  Pilot Commander Tyler Magnusson stood in front of the video camera aboard the GMRC’s clandestine stealth Space Station, which remained hidden in deep Earth orbit. It had been a long time since he’d last spoken to another human being and the sensation was an odd one, but not unwelcome. He’d long feared he was losing his mind. His body no longer felt like his own, and he often had strange blackouts where he lost days at a time. But, perhaps the oddest thing was that he no longer required any food or water. Anything he swallowed came right back up, as if he had no stomach at all. Most of the time the notion of eating or drinking didn’t even enter his head, which was a great timesaver, but otherwise it was as disturbing as the tiny lights that twinkled beneath the surface of his skin. He looked down at the phenomenon and clenched his fist, then looked back up at the camera.

  ‘I’m sorry, Professor,’ Tyler said. ‘What did you just say?’

  Steiner gave him a look of concern and motioned to the man next to him. ‘President Henry wants to know if you can be trusted. Can you tell us about what happened to your crew?’

  Tyler nodded. ‘Murdered by the GMRC. They destroyed the U.S.S.S. Archimedes, along with the world’s other space stations. Anything I can do to help, just say the word. I’m your man, Mr President.’

  ‘Can you confirm the trajectories of the other asteroids, Pilot Commander?’ John Henry said, peering at him through the camera on Earth.

  ‘I can do better than that, Mr President,’ Tyler said and hit another button on his console. ‘This is a direct feed from NASA’s Deep Space Detection Array.’

  John Henry and Professor Steiner looked at the feed and Steiner turned back to Tyler. ‘Thank you, Commander. Stay safe, we’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Roger that.’ Tyler switched off the feed and pressed a button on the computer console next to him, turning off the station’s simulated gravity. His magnetic boots activated in response and he walked across the metallic floor through zero gravity to look out of the sweeping window, located in the space station’s circular command centre. ‘Good luck, Professor,’ Tyler said as he watched the fast-approaching asteroid. ‘You’re going to need it.’

  ‘Well done, Tyler Magnusson,’ said a sibilant voice which came through the room’s speaker system.

  ‘I just told them the truth,’ Tyler said. ‘Just like you wanted. Just like everything you want.’

  ‘And you will be rewarded,’ the voice said. ‘But I still have work for you to do.’

  Tyler nodded, it wasn’t like he could refuse as, when he did, that’s when the blackouts occurred and he’d awake to find the job completed as requested. He held up his hand to look at the lights that moved beneath his skin and wondered if he’d ever be normal again. Somehow he doubted it, but whatever controlled him, he wouldn’t stop trying to defeat it. I’ll never stop trying, he thought and glanced at the emergency hatch which led into space. The notion of killing himself had come before, but when he’d tried to end it all, the thing that controlled him made sure he experienced the most intense pain imaginable, making it impossible to move or even think. He looked back at the asteroid, which shone bright against the immense blackness of space, and prayed his family were safe back on Earth. He’d been told they’d been taken care of, but he was yet to see proof of their survival. He’d wanted to ask Professor Steiner for help, to tell him what was happening to him, but he knew he had to bide his time to act and that a moment would come when he could make his move. When that would be, he didn’t know. But when it comes, he thought, I’ll be ready. He continued to gaze at the asteroid, which grew ever closer. I’ll make sure of it.

  Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-One

  ‘It’s confirmed,’ Admiral Yates said. ‘The data from NASA’s Deep Space Detection Array is verified. There can be no doubt, the threat is real.’

  ‘I concur,’ Admiral McCormick said.

  John shook his head, as he tried to take in the implications. ‘My God.’

  ‘That’s not all, Mr President,’ McCormick said. ‘NORAD are saying it’s clear skies. Which means they either don’t know about the imminent threat—’

  ‘Or they don’t want us to know,’ John said.

  McCormick gave a nod. ‘Either way, our defences are compromised.’

  ‘I take it you want this kept secret, Mr President?’ Yates said, his expression grim.

  John nodded, but his face must have shown his confusion.

  Admiral McCormick’s image grew larger on the screen as he moved closer to the camera. ‘We’re with you, Mr President.’

  Yates nodded. ‘What are your orders?’

  John looked at the two men and felt his confidence grow. ‘Keep this channel open,’ John said to both men, his mind kicking into overdrive. He made a decision and said, ‘And ready the fleets.’

  ‘What for, Mr President?’ McCormick said. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, we’re pretty busy out here. One wrong move and its World War Three.’

  John glanced at the radar maps and saw a sea of ships facing off against one another on both fronts. He looked at Steiner again, then back at his Naval Command, and said, ‘A nuclear strike.’

  ‘YES!’ Jessica said from nearby.

  ‘Against who?’ Yates said. ‘The Chinese? Europe?’

  ‘Not a who – a what.’ John glanced at his Chinese counterpart, who stood nearby.

  The expressions on the two officers’ faces remained steadfast, albeit uncertain, and John said, ‘Just be ready for my command, gentlemen.’ He gestured to Steiner and the transmission ended.

  ‘But what about the nuclear football?’ Eric said. ‘You don’t have it.’

  ‘It’s little known,’ – John produced a digital key from his pocket and pressed a button under the console – ‘but there are actually three footballs.’ A concealed compartment popped open and he presented his eye to a retinal scanner, then used his card to unlock the enclosed safe. ‘The one that stays with me. One with the Vice President and,’ – he removed a metal case – ‘a spare inside the nuclear bunker itself.’

  Jessica clasped her hands together in hope and John placed the case down and used his biometrics to open it. He removed a sealed card and flexed it in half to break the outer sheath.

  ‘The timer,’ Jessica said. ‘What’s happening?’

  John looked at the clock, which had split in two:

  ‘The time of impact is not what we should be worrying about,’ Bic said. ‘In order to prevent the asteroid causing irreversible destruction, we need to ensure it’s destroyed far enough from the planet. Which means we need to breach the exosphere’s lower boundary, the exobase, which is one thousand kilometres, or six hundred and twenty miles, from sea level. The latest generation of intercontinental ballistic missiles is four times faster and more adaptable than their predecessors and can reach this threshold in approximately thirty-seven seconds, at ninety-six thousand kilometres an hour, or twenty-six point six seven kilometres per second.’

  ‘Get me the Pentagon,’ John said to Steiner.

  The professor shook his head. ‘They’ll be compromised, like NORAD.’

  ‘Then how can we launch? I have the codes, but they only authenticate the use of nuclear weapons, they don’t actually launch them.’

  ‘Professor,’ Jessica said, as Steiner swapped looks with Bic. ‘You have a plan, don’t you?’

&nb
sp; Steiner rubbed his cheek and adjusted his spectacles.

  ‘Professor?’ Jessica said again.

  Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Two

  A distant explosion echoed through the elevator shaft leading up from the nuclear bunker to the White House residence above. Two more GMRC Special Forces Marines abseiled down towards the sound of fighting below, their helmet visors aglow in the dark as they disappeared into the depths. Meanwhile, in the foyer above, Malcolm Joiner tapped his foot in impatience within his exoskeleton as he waited for news from Agent Myers, who remained unresponsive via radio.

  ‘What’s happening down there?’ Joiner said, as more of his soldiers prepared for the descent.

  Joiner checked the status of the state-of-the-art nanobots that continued to repair the trauma he’d sustained during the operation to remove the explosive device from his brainstem. The device given him by the surgeon indicated his recovery was close to ninety per cent, which was probably why he was feeling better by the minute. Joiner looked at the large laser, destined to cut through the blast door. ‘Get it down there,’ he said. ‘We need to get into that bunker.’

  One of his soldiers nodded and continued his preparations, before a shimmering form emerged through the open doors of the elevator shaft.

  A single rectangular slit of light glowed from within a camouflaged helmet and Joiner gaped in disbelief as the unseen visor retracted to reveal a familiar face.

  ‘Your new look’s an improvement,’ Ophion Nexus said. The assassin glanced from Joiner’s disfigurements to the GMRC Special Forces unit, who’d gone stock still, having been taken unawares by Ophion’s sudden appearance.

  Joiner’s eyes narrowed. He despised Nexus with a passion and the feeling was mutual. Screams echoed up from below and a sneer spread over Joiner’s face as he realised conflict was inevitable.