The Atlantis Gene (The Origin Mystery 1)

“The children are carrying nuclear warheads in those packs, Kate. They have less than thirty minutes left. We can deactivate them remotely, but you have to tell us what you did.”

Kate stepped back from the mirror. It was insanity. Who would do this to two children? She couldn’t trust them. She wouldn’t tell them. They would only hurt other children; she was sure of it. She had to think. “I need some time,” she mumbled.

The image of the packs disappeared from the mirror.

A few seconds passed, and the door swung open. A man wearing a long black trench coat stepped robotically into the room and… Kate knew him.

How could it be? Flashes of expensive dinners, her laughing as he charmed her, a candle-filled apartment in San Francisco, him unbuttoning her shirt, his head moving down her, kissing her stomach — a stomach without a scar. And the day she told him she was pregnant — the last day she ever saw him… until now, here.

“You—” was all Kate could manage. She stepped back as he marched into the room. Kate felt her back hit the wall.

“Time to talk, Kate. And call me Dorian Sloane. Actually, let’s dispense with the aliases. It’s Dieter. Dieter Kane.”

CHAPTER 111

Immari Tunnels

Gibraltar

David watched the man pace across the room, the man he had known as Howard Keegan, Clocktower Director, the man who now claimed to be Mallory Craig.

“You’re lying. Craig hired Pierce almost a 100 years ago.”

“That’s true, I did. And we’ve been looking for his journal almost as long. Pierce was an extremely clever man. We knew he sent the journal to the Immaru in ‘38, but we weren’t sure it made it there. I was curious what he would say, how many secrets he would reveal. When you read it, weren’t you curious about the deal he made with us? Why he stayed, working for The Immari for almost 20 years after the Spanish Flu killed his wife and unborn child? What did he call it? His ‘deal with the devil.’” The man laughed.

David slipped the gun out of his belt. He had to keep him talking, at least a bit longer. “I don’t see what it has to do with you.”

“Don’t you? Why do you think Pierce would have worked with us?”

“You would have killed him.”

“Yes, but he didn’t fear death. You read the journal’s end. He would have welcomed it, would have killed us all in a blaze of glory. We had taken everything from him, everything he loved. But his love for his child was more powerful than his hatred. As I said, Patrick Pierce was very clever. The second he emerged from the tube, he knew what they were. Hibernation tubes, suspension chambers. In that makeshift hospital in the warehouse above us, he made a deal. He would put Helena’s dead body in one tube, and Kane would put Dieter, his dying son, in another tube. Both men became obsessed with medical research. They dreamed of the day they could open the tubes and save their loved ones. Of course, Kane’s ideas were more radical, more racially charged. He became obsessed with finding a way to survive the Bell. He took it to Germany, and… you already know about the experiments. We knew Pierce was working against us, planning something. In 1938, right before Kane’s expedition, he demanded Pierce go into a tube while he was gone.”

“Why not just kill him?”

“We would have liked to, but as a I said, we knew he had written a journal, and that he was making other plans against us. We assumed their execution was contingent on his death, so we were in a tough position. Kane didn’t trust him, and Pierce didn’t have a choice — we had something he valued much more than his own life. But he made a smart deal. He demanded I be put into the last tube — he knew I would unravel his plans and kill him in his sleep. While Kane was gone, we would both be put on ice. We would be brought back when Kane returned or in 40 years, whichever was sooner. Kane had laughed when Pierce demanded the 40-year clause. He never dreamed he wouldn’t return, but of course he didn’t. We only found his sub a few weeks ago in Antarctica. And Pierce and I woke up in 1978, in a different world. Our organization, the Immari, was practically gone; only the shells of our corporations and certain overseas assets remained. The Second World War had decimated us. The Nazis had appropriated many of our assets, including the Bell. I set about rebuilding Immari, and Patrick resumed his role of thwarting me. I began by reviving the organization I founded, my division of Immari, the world’s first global intelligence organization. You’re familiar with it. Clocktower. The Immari intelligence branch.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not. You know it. You saw the messages we sent in ‘47, the ones embedded in those New York Times obituaries. Why would Immari messages be marked with the words clock and tower? You had to have realized then, when you saw the decoded messages — or perhaps even before. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you’ve known what Clocktower was from the second you heard how many agents were under Immari control. You knew it when the cells fell so quickly. Think about it. Clocktower wasn’t compromised by Immari, it was an Immari division, a unit with one purpose: to gain the trust of the world’s intelligence bureaus, to infiltrate them fully, to ensure that when the day came, when we unleashed the Atlantis Plague, that they would be powerless, utterly blind. Clocktower had one other purpose: to collect and contain anyone who was on to the Immari master plan — people like you. The entire time you’ve been at Clocktower, we’ve been watching you, trying to find out how much you know and who you’ve told. It’s the only solution. People like you don’t break under interrogation. And there’s another advantage. We’ve found that, over the years, most agents join us when they learn the full truth. You will too. That’s why you’re here.”

“To get indoctrinated? You think I’ll join up if I hear your rationale.”

“Things aren’t as they seem—”

“I’ve heard enough.” David raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

CHAPTER 112

Immari Research Base Prism

East Antarctica

Kate shook her head. How could he be here? She wouldn’t cry. All she could manage was, “Why?” Her voice cracked, betraying her.

Dorian’s expression changed, as if remembering something frivolous, a needless item he’d forgotten at the grocery store. “Oh, that. Just repaying an old debt. But that’s nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you don’t tell me what you treated those children with.” He moved closer to her, forcing her into the corner of the room.