The Nabatean Secret

by J C Ryan

The only people in the world who weren’t watching the goings-on with horror were the Nabateans.

  They were elated. At last! What should have happened weeks ago was now in full effect.

  It was only a matter of time before all their targets were brought down in ignominy.

  Jailed, or worse.

  Chapter 48 - Let’s get proactive

  With Crane’s “suicide” and the resulting media frenzy, Sean and Dylan were galvanized into action. They, of all the pro-Devereux players, were the ones unused to being passive and waiting for things to happen. The old joke went “There are three kinds of people in the world: those that make things happen, those that waited for things to happen, and those who wake up and ask, what happened?” Sean and Dylan were firmly in the first group.

  About ten days before, they’d left Kelly White and Russell McCormick at their weekend getaway cottage after the interrogation. They’d made no progress in finding McCormick’s handler. The aborted Congressional hearing had happened four days ago. It was frustrating them to sit around and wait for things to happen and then react to that.

  When they heard that Crane’s “suicide” was probably not suicide, it was the final straw, and they decided it was time to stop sitting on their thumbs waiting for the Nabateans to make the next move. In fact, it was time for a meeting of the brain trust—Bill, James, Irene, Carter, Mackenzie, and they needed to be in the same room at the same time and hammer out a plan.

  The safe house where Carter and Mackenzie had been staying for the past couple of days was a bit small for a summit meeting, so Sean offered his own luxury cabin in the hills west of Harrisonburg, near a little town called Rawley. It was a bit of a drive—two and a half hours—but they made good use of the time by all piling into a big SUV so they could talk on the way.

  It was the first time since Carter and Mackenzie went into hiding they had seen James, Irene, and Bill. So, first, Bill apologized for his indiscretions towards Carter and Mackenzie in the early days of this drama. They spent another half an hour or so talking about personal matters before they got to the purpose of their get together.

  Sean had already explained to each of them as he invited them he felt they’d been allowing the Nabateans to run the show while they all sat around biting their nails waiting for the next crisis. Doing so had placed them in a precarious position, where they had no control over anything. Everyone was prepared to brainstorm ideas about what the Nabateans’ agenda was and what their small group could do to disrupt it.

  By the time they arrived at the cabin, they had ideas for an agenda of items to explore. But first, Sean had to endure Dylan poking through every room in the four-bedroom, four-bath cabin, while loudly exclaiming, “You call this a cabin?” At one point, he spotted the guest cabin out back—a one-room bedroom suite with bath where Carter and Mackenzie would stay, and in a parody of an old movie, he declaimed in his best Crocodile Dundee accent, “This is not a cabin. That’s a cabin!”

  The others put their overnight luggage in their assigned bedrooms and complimented Sean on his hideaway. For his antics, Dylan was relegated to sleep on the pull-out sofa in the living room. Their host put on a big pot of coffee and broke out the donuts and pastries he’d brought along, and they got down to business at the huge dining table.

  First on their agenda was quantum computing, a subject Mackenzie had suggested on the ride. They’d known for some time the Nabateans used quantum computing. Mackenzie’s question was, “Why don’t we use it?”

  Now, as they got down to business, Carter addressed it. “Every IT person knows quantum technology is the future of computing, but I for one am not sure what that means. Who in the US is working on it?”

  Bill answered, “There are one or two companies based in DC who claim to have it. Both have government contracts, and you know what that means. They’re hampered by the regulations they must adhere to, so their research isn’t going anywhere fast. Everyone dreams about it, but few are doing anything with it.”

  Mackenzie asked her second pertinent question. “Why can the Nabateans do it when we can’t? Remember, they don’t have the benefit of the full library of the A- and E-Codices. We do. Why can’t we search for it, translate it, and use it?”

  Carter summarized the issue. “First, we don’t even know if there is anything about quantum computing in the Codices. But assuming there is, this is why we haven’t seen it yet—no one has asked for it. The way the translation works is our efforts are based on requests from authorized people and organizations. We’ve had a lot of requests for quantum physics information. DARPA, for example, has asked for antimatter, Zero Point Energy, and other quantum technologies. But nothing related to computing that I know of.”

  Sean leaned forward. “Assume something was there, maybe hidden in the other data concerning quantum technology. Who has been given access to translations over the past sixteen to eighteen months? Since the ‘chocolate box’ was installed in Russell McCormick’s car?”

  “Only DARPA that I know of. But to be sure, James has the list of who is getting what information. We can check that.”

  James spoke up. “Okay, I’ll check that. Let’s cut to the chase. What will it take to locate quantum computing technologies in the Codices, assuming it’s there?”

  “We just have to get the translators on it,” Carter said. “The plates and the servers storing the scans of the plates were confiscated by the CIA during the mop-up operation and are in DC.

  “Therefore, we must take Mohammed to the mountain. The translation equipment is still on Freydís, I assume. As are the translators. We must load them all up and send them to DC.”

  “Done,” Bill said. “But there’s some prep work to do as well. If we’re actually going to build one, we need some help. I’ll talk to my counterparts in several other agencies, including DARPA, about launching an IT project. It won’t be fast.”

  Everyone started talking at once with ideas about the IT project and who should be included. Sean rapped his knuckles on the table for attention. “We can’t wait for the usual government machine to get rolling. This is urgent. It should be handled like the Manhattan Project. Full steam ahead.”

  “It will still take some time. We have to assemble a team of the best IT minds we can find, maybe even from the private sector. Then we have to lock them in a deep, dark hole and feed them jelly beans and energy drinks until they produce a quantum computer.”

  Mackenzie wrinkled her nose at the thought of living on such a diet for more than an hour, but she understood the point. “Guys, maybe it’s a long shot.”

  Bill said, “Oh, it’s definitely a long shot, but it beats sitting around waiting for the Nabateans to take over the world. And even if we bring them down before this quantum computer magically appears, it will still be worth having.

  “Carter, who is the key person you need working with you to get the translations done?”

  “Liu, without a doubt.”

  Dylan shouted, “Yes! Now there’s a proposal I can support wholeheartedly without hesitation.”

  Everyone started laughing as Dylan pumped his fist when Bill said he’d have her in DC the following day.

  Bill excused himself to make some calls, saying he needed to get the ball rolling for the IT task force as well as giving Liu enough advance notice.

  Mackenzie and Irene rolled their eyes at that. One day wasn’t what they’d consider “enough advance”.

  Irene, who’d been quiet during most of the debate, suggested she could get some lunch together while Bill made his calls, and Mackenzie offered to help. They found the kitchen fully stocked. Sean wandered in behind them and explained he’d had his caretaker do some shopping, and everything should be quick and easy. Irene suggested, in that case, the men should be responsible for dinner, since she and Mackenzie were fixing lunch.

  “Barbeque it is,” said Sean with a grin.

  Soon, they had a plate full of sandwiches, a bowl of salad, and a selection of soft drinks on the tab
le.

  While everyone ate, they engaged in a lively debate about what Carter and Mackenzie had found at the Smithsonian.

  Carter explained he’d wondered about the Nabateans’ grasp of technology and their sophisticated business practices ever since he’d learned of the existence of the modern group.

  “Finding the libraries of the Giants, and knowing how much stock our ancestors put in the written word in our own civilization has made me wonder how the Nabateans got along without some kind of record. Mackenzie and I now believe we might’ve found a clue that could eventually lead us to the library of the Nabateans. I think it’s worth going to look for it.”

  Bill shook his head. “Carter, you’re needed here to help with the translation so we can build our own quantum computers. More to the point, you sound very uncertain if it’s even there. Besides, how are we going to smuggle you out of the country?”

  Mackenzie smiled. She’d made a couple of the same arguments to Carter already, and she knew he was ready for them. He didn’t disappoint her.

  “I know it’s a long shot, Bill. Archaeology is all about lost knowledge, uncertainty, long shots—such as the Alboran Codex. This kind of exploration requires first thinking through and analyzing the history and what clues we can find. We found a good clue in the records at the Smithsonian. It was a symbol I remembered seeing somewhere before, a ring of dolphins in the shape of a pentagon. And it took a while, but I remembered where I’d seen it. The record in the Smithsonian that had the symbol was an image of it, carved faintly into a rock. Guess where?”

  Mackenzie kept quiet, not wanting to spoil Carter’s fun. The others, baffled at his enthusiasm, shrugged, tilted their heads, and gave other non-verbal signals they had no guess.

  “Petra!” Carter exclaimed in triumph. “It’s carved into the very rock of the city where the Nabateans reached their pinnacle. Seeing it there in that image triggered a memory from a trip I took with my grandfather at the end of my sophomore year in college.

  “I’d already decided my life study would be archaeology. As a reward for excellent grades that year, my Grandpa took me on holiday to the center of ancient civilization. We spent eight weeks traveling around Italy, and where I’d seen the symbol was in Matera.” Carter paused for dramatic effect, but the blank looks on the faces of his audience disappointed him.

  “Come on, Matera,” he said again. With an exasperated sigh, he undertook their education. “It’s one of the oldest cities in the world. The Sassi, the core of the prehistoric city, is thought to be more than nine thousand years old. Carved from the rock, like Petra. Now do you get it?”

  James said, “Why don’t you lay it out for us, Carter? We’re not archaeologists, remember?”

  “Okay, I’ll spare you the lesson. Here’s the bottom line. The fact that the symbols appear in both places could mean that some Nabateans from Petra went and lived in Matera at some stage.

  “It could be that it was at the time when the Romans took over their country. It could be that those Nabateans took their library with them and hid it right under the noses of their new rulers. But it could have been the other way around—the people of Matera could have visited Petra and left their symbol there,” Carter concluded.

  Everyone except Mackenzie looked very skeptical. “Yeah, well, I don’t know, Carter,” Bill started. “It’s as you said, ‘lost knowledge, uncertainty, and long shots’. Why would they go and hide their library, that’s if they had one to start with, in Matera? What makes you think that would be a good place? Also, I’m not convinced what advantage having the ancient Nabatean library will give us over the modern-day Nabateans.”

  Carter replied. “It’s what we don’t know about them that’s dangerous, Bill. We might just learn a lot more about them than we know now, and as you know that’s not much.

  “As to why I think Matera could be the place—that dolphin pentagon for starters. Second, if you have a look at a map, you’ll see it’s almost a straight line by sea from Petra to Matera. Third, Matera is about five to six thousand years older than Petra. The Nabateans were known for their world-wide trading, and I’m willing to bet money on it there were Nabateans living in Matera at the time the Romans took over the Nabatean kingdom.

  “I agree, it’s a long shot. But if the dolphin pentagon is a clue, then shouldn’t we follow up on it? The only way to know is to investigate.”

  Bill shook his head. “You may be right, but you still haven’t convinced me how we can get you out of the country unnoticed.”

  “Who’s got custody of our jet?” Mackenzie asked. She knew very well the CIA had snatched it from INSCOM after Kelly’s admission she had no real grounds to hold it.

  James and Irene started laughing when Bill slapped his forehead. “Okay,” he said, “you can fly it out yourself, can’t you? But what about bodyguards?”

  “Excuse me?” Dylan exploded.

  “Are you up for a trip to Jordan?” Carter asked him.

  “Jordan? In your geography lesson a few minutes ago, I thought I heard you saying Matera was in Italy?” Dylan said, confused.

  “We need to go to Petra first. I’m all but certain the library isn’t there, but we need to be thorough. First Petra, then Matera.”

  It was time for the men to bring on the barbeque.

  ***

  After dinner, with the Nabatean library idea out of the way, it was Sean’s and Dylan’s turn to talk about what they thought they could do. They had McCormick, who should have been an asset but was proving useless.

  “Why is that?” asked Bill.

  “He doesn’t know who his handler is, or even how to get a message to him to meet. We might as well have let Kelly use that knife on him just to make sure someone like him doesn’t procreate,” Dylan said.

  Sean gave him an allaying look, but it was too late. Carter, James, and Bill had all winced at the implication, and James was looking at Sean for an explanation.

  “We, ah, didn’t think some of the details of our interrogation were important,” Sean began hesitantly.

  “I think you’d better fill us in,” James said.

  “Well, when Kelly discovered what a weasel McCormick had been, she was pretty hot under the collar,” Sean explained.

  “He admitted he’d abused a kid twenty-five years ago,” Dylan stated flatly. “That’s what the Nabateans have on him. When Kelly heard that, she went postal and offered to deprive him of his procreative parts. It was a surprisingly effective interrogation technique.”

  “Not so surprising,” Carter mumbled. Involuntarily, he crossed his legs.

  Bill clasped his hands over his ears. “I didn’t hear that—plausible deniability.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sean said. He shot Dylan another look, but based on his grin, Dylan was unrepentant.

  “Can we get back to how we might use the facts we know about him?” Irene had been less than amused by the story. The men seemed to have forgotten the President was already in hot water for unconventional interrogation techniques. A Bobbitt situation was the last thing the President needed.

  “Okay. Well, as Dylan mentioned, he’s clueless. Doesn’t know who his handler is or how to get hold of him. The only thing he’s got going for him is the data collection box in his car. We might be able to use that.”

  “What do you have in mind?” James asked.

  “Well… We might arrange an accident, smash up his car and the black box with it. Then they’d have to install another. We could put surveillance on it, and follow them when they come to pick up his new car,” Sean mused. “We might also then get a chance to look at that box.”

  “Problem is, if he doesn’t know who he’s working for, or what he’s even doing for them, the mechanics aren’t likely to either. However, having the chance to pull that box apart might be worthwhile. But that in itself poses the risk they would know we’ve discovered the box,” Dylan added.

  Sean nodded. “He’s right. Nor will it help to make McCormick disappear, as much as I’d l
ike to turn the bastard over to Kelly. I’ll tell you, it turns my stomach to leave him free, knowing what he’s done. Not only to that child but also the people killed and maimed at Patch Barracks because of him.”

  “And only God knows how many others over the past twenty-five years while working for these evildoers,” Irene added.

  “Be that as it may, it sounds like he’s a dead end for now. What if we attacked it from a disinformation approach?” Bill asked.

  “What do you mean?” Mackenzie asked. She, of everyone in the room, was the most ignorant of spy-talk.

  “Easy. We plant fake information in the translations they’re stealing. Misleading stuff that will make them act on it. We’ll watch for the action, and then we’ll have them. Or at least some of them. Hopefully someone who’ll have a better chance of leading us to the top.”

  “That sounds like a viable option,” said Carter. “We’ll need some time to come up with what we should plant. Let’s table that for further discussion tomorrow and get a good night’s sleep first.”

  ***

  The discussions continued the next morning, with James taking up the reins.

  “Bill, you know this already, but I’ll briefly explain for the benefit of the others. With Howard Crane’s death, there’s been pressure to step up the Congressional hearings. Of course, the revelations we were trying to avoid have both increased the pressure and have given the beloved Senator Michelle Davis more ammunition against us.

  “What we need to do right now is brainstorm ways to delay the hearing as much as we can, to give us time to smoke out the traitor in the National Security Council. We’re open to all ideas. Let’s hear ‘em.”

  “We’ve already considered some,” Bill interjected. “Executive privilege, for one.”

  “What’s that?” asked Mackenzie.

  “Basically, it’s when Congress says to the President, ‘we demand an explanation for this thing you did,’ and the President replies, ‘well, you can’t get one, because it has to do with national security.’”