David Golemon - Ancients

Niles Compton nodded, signaling an end to that discussion. He cleared his throat, undid his top button, and then slid the knot in his tie down. He picked up the file with the field report in it.

"This Addis Abba archaeology team--their dig was similar to our own?"

"As far as we know, it was an information-and-acquisition dig only. No one knew what would be found."

Niles turned in his chair and typed a command on his computer. The main ten-by-fourteen-foot monitor came alive, and he and Jack looked into the clean room on level forty-three of the artifact-sorting room.

A straitlaced technician no older than thirty stepped up to the monitor. Professor Alan Franklin smiled and nodded at Niles.

"Mr. Director, good morning."

"What have you got so far?" Niles asked.

"Well, the team brought back some very rare finds. Artifacts, I may add, that had no business being in the area where they were unearthed. For instance," he turned away and pulled up a shard of pottery, which he held very delicately in glove-encased fingers, "this little item: I can tell you, even before my assistant hands me the carbon-14 test results, that it predates anything we or anyone else in the world has on record. The pottery is almost porcelainlike in looks and made from a material civilizations have never used before in the making of pottery. Initial analysis says it's made from crushed volcanic glass."

"That's interesting, but--"

"Now here's the twilight-zone moment, Mr. Director. The shard itself had no business being in Ethiopia. We suspect that a great and powerful flood event may have carried it against the Nile's flow from the Mediterranean. The design is usually associated with a carafe and is a cross between Greek and Egyptian lineage."

"Your point is ...?"

"You don't see? It should not exist. A cultural exchange between Egypt and Greece couldn't have happened before 3700 BCE." The professor accepted a handed printout. "Just as I suspected, carbon-14 dating places the aggregate material in the shard between 11,000 BCE and 14,000 BCE, give or take five hundred to a thousand years. This is totally amazing!"

"Have your team run the carbon-14 testing again. Test everything our team came back with."

"Yes, sir, we're on it."

Niles turned off the monitor and faced Collins. "You're steeped in history, Jack; tell me, have you ever heard of anything that old?"

"No."

"You know why?"

Collins knew he was not going to like the answer.

"The Egyptian and Greek civilizations didn't even exist at that time."

"Then who made this little item that was unearthed two thousand miles away from where it was made? And what event could have been powerful enough to make the Nile River reverse its flow?"

"That's what we need to find out. In addition, what artifact could those mercenaries have been looking for that was important enough to kill for?"

"I think maybe I'll bring in our new operatives at the FBI we recruited last year, it's time they earn their keep anyway. They can also find out who was on the other end of that cell-phone conversation in Africa."

Director Compton nodded, agreeing that Jack should contact FBI Special Agent William Monroe in New York to bring him up to speed on Ethiopia.

"This could be a find that changes the face of history. It would predate any known civilization by at least four thousand years."

The Event Group had a mission.

The large conference room was situated 160 feet below street level, under one of the oldest manufacturing firms in Europe. Grouped around this table were men and women from most western nations of the world, plus Japan, India, and Hong Kong.

The flags arrayed along the walls of the conference room were bright red and each carried a symbol handed down since the time of the Caesars, and each one differing only slightly from the others. A large golden eagle was prominent on all of them. Some had sloping lines that resembled a bent swastika clutched in the eagle's powerful talons, while others depicted more bizarre symbols from antiquity. The prevalent theme of all the flags was the golden eagle emblazoned over a scarlet field.

The most recently designed flag, the symbol of the Third Reich, was not present. The episode in the 1930s and '40s had almost dealt the Coalition a deathblow and the flag had become an embarrassment, especially to the younger and far more radical element now sitting among the old guard.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen and ladies, this meeting will come to order," said the small man known as Caretaker. He rapped a gavel on his small desk in the rear of the luxuriously appointed room. "We have many items to discuss this evening."

The twenty-six men and five women who made up the Juliai Coalition, named for the esteemed Roman family that was the precursor to the Caesars, calmed and took their seats. Though many were there for reasons outside that of legacy, they had many things in common. One of these was the fact that they were the richest private citizens in the world. Not one name would ever show up on any registry of the world's richest people, and you would never find the likeness or name of any Coalition member in a gossip column or tabloid. They did not bicker with governments in courts of law over the cornering of markets or the breakups of conglomerates so large that their value could not be computed. The Juliai Coalition answered to no power in the world.

"We will forgo the reading of the last meeting's minutes to concentrate fully on this first day of initial operational testing."

There were nods and smiles around the conference table. Then a lone figure at the center stood and chimed a knife against a water glass.

"The gentleman from Austria, Mr. Zoenfeller, has the floor," announced Caretaker.

"Before we have the report read to us from operations, I would like to bring to the attention of this council that we have ongoing missions to find the Atlantean Key. Without it, I daresay we will have more episodes like the one this afternoon."

There were a few nods and words of agreement with the large, gray-haired man, but they were far fewer than the hard looks coming from the younger majority.

"What was wrong with the initial tests of today?" asked a tall man with a head of boyish blond hair. "This is why we have started with nations that have neighbors who will eventually have to be dealt with. We all agreed that pinpoint strikes were not necessary, so it was effective to start with these locations." He was staring at the Austrian with mild contempt.

"The young gentleman from America has voiced the standard 'toe the line' opinion of the youth in this room. An opinion, I might add, that rings of dictate and not council."

Only a few of the older people rapped their knuckles on the polished table to indicate their agreement. With a bemused look, the American Coalitionist took note of those few who sided with the Austrian.

Nonplussed by the limited agreement, the old man plodded on.

"I must say, the tests today were reckless and their random destruction will attract attention to our endeavor. Without the Atlantean Key, we have no pinpoint-strike capability. We can and will harm the economies of friendly nations, and that, ladies and gentlemen, will affect most of us in this room directly."

The aged man from Austria sat down. The tall American watched but remained standing, intent on finishing his statement. Now was the time to hammer home his points against the old guard of the Coalition. As he waited for the murmurings to subside, he decided upon a gentler approach. After all, he really hadn't expected that the circle of destruction would spread so far across the Iranian border in the afternoon strike of Thor's Hammer.