Thomas Greanias - The Atlantis Prophecy

Washington slipped the Newburgh Treaty into his pocket, then watched as the sealed globe with the forgery penned with dissolvable ink was lowered to the bottom of the trench into a hollow stone block. On the reverse side of the forgery was something the assassin back at the stone house missed: a star map in invisible ink that would reveal itself later should the globe ever see the light of day.

But that would be centuries from now, Washington thought.

Mortar was poured on top of the trench to seal it. Then a few spades of dirt to cover it. Come morning a silver plate marker would be placed at the bottom of the trench and on top of it the cornerstone to the U.S. Capitol.

"You have what you want," Washington told them. "Why not be rid of me?"

"You have been indispensable, sir. And we salute you. If only you were of more sturdy character, you would have let us crown you, and then you could have led us and America into her destiny this generation instead of forcing her to wait for another."

"America will prove you wrong," Washington said.

Four soldiers were posted to guard the celestial globe until the cornerstone-laying ceremony, and the 13 officers dispersed in every direction. Four each to the north, south, and east, and one lonely horseman, Washington, to the west.

It took Washington a half hour to reach the wild outskirts of the Federal District and make it to Peirce Mill along Rock Creek. He followed the winding waters through rocky ravines and dense, primeval woods. At the end of his journey was a cave, hidden among the dense ferns, shrubs, and other foliage. A shroud of gray moss and tangled vines over the entrance made it all but invisible.

Washington tied Nelson to a hickory tree, parted the curtain of tangled vines and stepped inside, where a flicker of light was visible in the distance. He followed the cave to the end, where a larger cavern or hollow appeared and a shaking Hercules, his most trusted slave, held a torch over an ancient Algonquin well surrounded by several barrels of gunpowder.

Washington gazed at Hercules and the round sackcloth by Hercules' buckled shoes. He bent down and removed the sackcloth to reveal another copper globe.

The globe was almost identical to the one he had just seen buried atop Jenkins Heights. But this one was terrestrial, originally paired with its sister but now separated for a special purpose. He stared at the unique topography the cartographer who crafted the globe had carved so long ago, marveling at it.

Washington moved his finger along the 40th parallel on the globe, feeling for the seam. He found the spring and the globe cracked open. He removed the signed document from his overcoat, placed it inside the globe and closed it up. Then he nodded to Hercules, who knotted some rope around it and lowered it down the well.

Washington watched as the coil of rope by Hercules' feet unwound. Deeper and deeper the globe descended until it rested at the bottom of the well. Putting on his Masonic apron, Washington took out a trowel and threw a simple spade of dirt into the well. Then he sat down on a barrel of gunpowder and held the torch as Hercules rolled up his sleeves, picked up a shovel and began filling the bottom of the well with dirt.

Every now and then Hercules would pause to dust himself off, and Washington could only marvel at his slave's fine clothing, gold pocket watch, and ornate buckles. Hercules was probably the best dressed slave in the United States. It was a shame to involve him in all this nasty business.

"Do you realize you are a finer specimen of fashion than I am, Hercules?"

"You allow me to sell leftover foodstuffs, sir."

"And your profit?"

"About $200 last year, sir."

Washington shook his head. This was a new world.

Finally, they lowered two kegs of gunpowder down the well, and left a long trail of powder behind them as they exited the cave.

Outside in the dark, Washington took in the fresh air and looked at his nervous slave.

"You'll be going back to Philadelphia by way of New York," Washington told Hercules and handed him an envelope intended for Robert Yates, chief justice of the New York Supreme Court. "You know where the designated drop box is buried?"

Hercules nodded. "Just outside that farm."

"That's right," said Washington. "You best be going now. We'll talk again when I'm back in Philadelphia."

"Yessa," Hercules said, and ran off through some branches to his horse and untied him.

Washington watched Hercules gallop off and then turned to the cave and removed his pistol.

Washington raised his arm and leveled his pistol at the cave. "God save America," he said and fired a single shot.

There was a flash from somewhere deep inside the cave, and then a deep, thunderous explosion, setting off several more as the entire back of the cave collapsed. A blast of dust and the smell of sulfur billowed out from the mouth of the cave, burying the globe until Kingdom Come or until Stargazer could come for it, however fate would have it.

When the smoke cleared, Washington was gone.

Conrad found the cave on the other side of the creek behind its cloak of vegetation. He parted the curtain of roots and entered the damp passage. It felt like he was going back in time, searching for his lost childhood, his origins, his father. In a way, he was. Because here in this cave everything came together: Tom Sawyer, those many days with his dad digging out the cave, even the Sarah Rittenhouse Armillary in the park a hundred feet up where he used to jog.

It was always here, he marveled. All this time.

There was a movement in the dark, then the blinding glare of a headtorch. Conrad blinked for a moment until he saw Serena's angelic but dirty face, a halo of light behind her, and a shovel on her shoulder, ready to bring it down on his head.

"Thank God, Conrad," she said. "You made it. I wasn't sure if I got your directions right."

He wanted to wrap his arms around her, tell her how much he loved her and drag her away from all the nonsense that kept them apart. Instead, he grabbed her by the throat.

"You dirty, pretty liar," he told her. "You knew there were two globes all along, and you didn't tell me."

"They always come in pairs, Conrad," she said, choking. "Terrestrial and celestial. I assumed you knew that."

He tightened his grasp. "Or maybe you and your friends at the Vatican wanted to keep them for yourselves."

"Please, Conrad, I know you didn't kill Brooke."

He looked into her dark, smoky eyes and let go.

She gasped for air.

"Brooke," he muttered, remembering his last glimpse of her tied to the bed in the hotel room, feeling the hurt of what must have happened to her after he left pressing down on him. "Seavers did it, I swear."

"I know," Serena said, swallowing hard, trying to catch her breath. "Here, take this. We don't have much time."

She handed him a shovel.

IT WAS JUST AFTER 7 P.M., the sun setting over the horizon, when the corporal from the Army Corps of Engineers crawled out of the sewer on R Street near the armillary to break the news to Max Seavers, who had the area roped off by his disguised Detachment One Marines.

Seavers, who was hunched over a geological survey of Rock Creek Park in the relative quiet of the playground by the armillary, had noticed the drilling had stopped. "What's wrong, Corporal?"

"We tagged something, but we're not sure what," the corporal said. "So we're tripping right now."

"English, Corporal."

"The casing-er, the tube we dropped down to set off the charges, developed a spur of some kind. So we're bringing the drill bit back up. Once we've tripped the bit back up, we'll send down a mill to bore out the casing. After we retract the mill, the bit will have to be tripped down again."