The Atlantis Gene (The Origin Mystery 1)

All four men hurried into the centipede and the door slid closed behind them.

Nothing happened for several minutes. Robert’s arm began to tire, and he wondered how much longer he should wait. There was no question now, they weren’t drilling for oil. But what were they doing? And why did they need marshmallow suits to do it? Why didn’t he need one — or the monkeys for that matter?

He might get an answer soon. The marshies were bounding out of the centipede, making for the hole like Umpa-Lumpas running from a T-rex. They backed the cover machines off, and the cage seem to explode out of the hole. It bounced a few times as the cable snapped back and forth. Finally it settled to hover a few feet off the ground, and the men stabilized it, and jerked the door open.

The monkeys were covered in white or gray… snow maybe? Both lay lifeless in the cage. When the men pulled them out, the white stuck to them — it wasn’t snow. They threw each monkey into a separate white body bag and raced them through the entrance of the second centipede section. As the door opened, Robert got a glimpse of two children, sitting on a bench inside a glass cage, waiting, as if they were next.

CHAPTER 100

New Delhi, India

“Wait here. If I don’t come out in 15 minutes, find a police officer, and tell him a robbery is in progress inside the store,” David said.

Kate scanned the street and the exterior of the store — Timepiece Trading Company. The street was busy, filled with older cars and Indians zooming by on bikes. David had told her that the store was one of a series of Clocktower’s covert outposts, a sort of back door communication channel where local sources and agents could send messages to central. His theory was that it may have been activated if Clocktower was still operational. That was a big if. If Clocktower had fallen — fully — then the Immari would be watching, or more likely manning, these outposts, waiting to clean up any rogue agents and loose ends.

Kate nodded, and David was in the street, limping toward the store; in the blink of an eye, he was inside. Kate bit her lip and waited.

The store was crowded. All the clocks seemed to be in glass cases, or at least the ones that weren’t standing on the ground. Every item looked so fragile, so intricately made, so breakable. David felt like the proverbial bull in a china shop as he tried to squeeze between two standing glass cases, forcing his wounded leg to cooperate.

It was dark inside the store and bright outside; he could barely see a thing. He brushed against a case full of antique hand watches, the kind men with monocles and a shiny vest might wear. The case shook, and the time pieces jingled as their edges touched and tiny pieces rattled. David grabbed the case, trying to steady it as he balanced on his good leg. He felt as if one false move could bring the whole place down.

A voice rang out from deep inside the store. “Welcome, sir. How may I be of service today?”

David searched the room once, then again, finally finding the man behind a tall desk toward the rear of the store. He limped over to him while trying to avoid the standing glass mines. “I’m looking for a special piece.”

“You’ve come to the right place, sir. What sort of piece?”

“A Clocktower.”

The clerk studied him. “An unusual request. But you’re in luck. We’ve located several Clocktowers for customers over the years. May I know more about what you’re looking for? Age, shape, size? Any information is helpful.”

David tried to remember the exact words. He never thought he’d have to use them. “A piece that tells more than time. Forged from steel that can’t be broken.”

“I may know of such a piece. I’ll need to make a phone call.” His voice changed. “Stay here,” he said in a flat tone. Before David could answer, the man disappeared behind a cloth that hung over a doorway.

David strained to see and hear, but nothing emanated from beyond the cloth. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He had been inside for 10 minutes. Would Kate keep her promise?

The clerk returned. He wore a blank, unreadable expression. “The seller would like to speak with you.” He waited.

What David wouldn’t have given for a gun at that moment. He simply nodded and stepped behind the desk. The clerk pulled the cloth back and pushed David into the darkness. He could sense the clerk reaching over his back, toward his head, but before David could turn, the clerk’s arm was coming down toward his chest, fast.

CHAPTER 101

David turned just as the clerk’s hand came down.

Light flashed all around him. Above, a single light bulb swayed back and forth. The clerk held the string cord in his hand. “The phone is just there,” he said, motioning toward a table in the corner. The phone receiver was made of molded thick plastic, like the ones in phone booths in the 80s. The type that could bludgeon someone to death. The phone was just as old. A rotary dial.

David walked to the table and picked up the handset. He pivoted his body to face the clerk. The man had taken a step toward him.

The line sounded dead. “Central?” David said.

“Identify,” a voice said.

“Vale, David Patrick.”

“Station?”

“Jakarta,” David said. He couldn’t quite remember, but he knew it didn’t go this way.

“Standby.” The line went dead again. “Access code?”

Access code? There was no access code. This wasn’t a boy scout’s secret hideout. They should have voice-print identified him the second he said his name. Unless they were playing for time. Surrounding the building. David tried to get a read on the clerk as he held the phone. How long had he been inside? 10, maybe 15 minutes by now?

“I…don’t have an access code…”

“Hold the line.” The voice returned. More nervous? “Given name?”

David considered the request. What did he have to lose? “Reed. Andrew Michael.”

The response was quick. “Hold for the Director.”

Two seconds passed and then Howard Keegan’s grandfatherly voice was on the line. “David, my God, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you alright? What’s your status?”

“Is the line secure?”

“No. But frankly my boy, we’ve bigger problems at the moment.”

“Clocktower?”

“Fallen. But not broken. I’m organizing a counterstrike. There’s another problem. A plague is sweeping the globe. We’re racing the clock here.”

“I think I have a piece of the puzzle.”