David Golemon - Ancients

"You're kidding?"

Jack Collins just smiled and walked into the darkness beyond the lights.

William Winthrop Tomlinson came from an old line of wealth that stretched back far before the Revolutionary War in the United States and then even further back in Europe. It would have taken a specialized team of IRS agents approximately a hundred years to unravel the intricate web of hidden properties and ownerships to discover the fact that he was three hundred times wealthier than the public figurehead who led the nation's and world's periodicals on that subject. He had used that family wealth wisely. He was now the most powerful man in the Coalition. Money was never an object to attain; it was a means to gather what he really craved--power, the power of rule.

Tomlinson was watching the dark sky outside his window as his private Boeing 777 streaked across the night sky, heading to New York. The remains of his salad and bottle of wine were still in front of him on the ornate cherry table.

He did not look around when one of his assistants leaned over with a fax. He absently continued to look out the wide window.

"Sir, this is quite important," the young assistant stated quietly.

The expensively attired Tomlinson still watched the night sky. Ignoring the man at his side, he merely held up his left hand and accepted the fax. He waited until the assistant had turned silently away and gone back to the office areas of the large aircraft. Then he reached out, lifted the crystal wineglass, and sipped the two-hundred-year-old vintage that came from his private stock in the belly of the giant plane. After savoring the deep richness of the wine, he finally looked at the paper in his hand.

0023 hours: Silent alarm tripped at storage station JC-6789. Security dispatched from New York City at 0031 hours by air. Observed a US federal agency raid upon property. Artifact examiner Krueger was removed from property in restraints. Artifacts confiscated and removed from secure location. Instruction require. --L.M.

Tomlinson raised the wineglass and drained its contents in one large gulp. His eyes were steady but belied the fact that his insides were crawling. He squeezed the wineglass almost hard enough to break the exquisite crystal, but then used his formidable willpower to calm himself. He pushed a call button beside the window frame.

"Yes, sir?" the assistant asked as he stood beside the large leather-covered chair.

"Signal our main asset in New York and order her to take care of this development in Westchester." Tomlinson looked at the assistant for the first time and his blue eyes were penetrating. "By any means necessary. There will be no expenditure of funds or personnel too extreme to that end. Is that clear?"

"Clear, sir."

"And inform Dahlia that this information is for my eyes only. The rest of the Coalition is not to be informed as of yet. In addition, I want her most up-to-date research and information on the Atlantean Key, and the plate map currently ongoing in Massachusetts, to come directly to me. I want all Westchester materials recovered as early as possible and the name of any agency involved in the raid on Coalition property. An extreme effort on this front is required, and I stress once more, regardless of losses ."

The man nodded and quickly turned away to fax the instructions to New York.

Whoever was responsible for this action in Westchester was about to be introduced to the wrath of the new chairman of the Juliai Coalition.

The president stared at the situation report from Korea. As a former general, he understood the dire consequences of an unstable man and his shaky regime that held a nuclear trigger in his hands. The sit-rep said there had been a limited artillery exchange between the Second Infantry Division and Korean shock troops lining the border. Almost a hundred Americans and South Koreans were dead and a like number of Northern troops.

The intelligence reports that had flooded his desk in the last twelve hours were full of long fitness reports of Kim Jong Il, but what was not printed was the fact that no one really knew where the man was coming from, or where he was going, and in international politics that wasn't good.

"How do we stand on getting the Second Infantry Division reinforced?"

The chairman of the Joint Chiefs opened a file folder and read from a report. "We have the 101st Airborne Division on alert for deployment, as well as the 82nd fast-response units. But I'm afraid they were scattered for the July Fourth holiday and will take at least forty-eight hours to recall and deploy."

The president looked at Kenneth Caulfield and grimaced. "That's it, Ken? What about moving more air force units into Kempo from Japan--how are we looking on that front?"

"We have sent elements of the Third Tactical Fighter Squadron in from the Philippines, where they were conducting joint maneuvers with that government. We're also moving the John F. Kennedy and George Washington carrier groups into position off the coast of North Korea, but that will take more than four days."

"Jesus, can the Second ID hold if the North comes across the border?"

Caulfield lowered his eyes and shook his head. "Six hours' defense is estimated without tactical-weapons authorization."

The president looked stunned.

"We still have hope of the ceasefire holding as we make our case at the UN," said National Security Advisor Nate Clemmons. "But Kim is still claiming that we and the South Koreans were responsible for the seismic activity off their coast."

"What about the ships depicted in this surveillance footage of theirs?"

"CIA traced the ship's registry on each of the three vessels in question. They are registered to the Mid-China Oil Corporation, with exploratory permits issued legally from Seoul."

"Is there any scientific authority in the world that could prove this ridiculous theory he's spouting about these ships or aircraft being responsible for an earthquake? I mean, does Kim have any firm ground to stand on here?"

"In his country's weakened state, Mr. President, does it really matter? We are dealing with a wounded, very paranoid man here. Forget about walking softly; we have to hit this bastard with a heavy stick and do it before he has the advantage of tank divisions on the south side of the thirty-eighth parallel," General Jess Tippet, commandant of the Marine Corps, said, facing the others around the long table.

"As of this moment I want every single entity of our armed forces breaking their asses to get the Second Infantry Division some help. Strip whatever forces you need to strip. I also want our best minds working on this earthquake crap that he's thought up as an excuse to move south. I want a firm and decisive answer if this seismic thing could possibly be a manmade event."

The warehouse used for East Coast storage was a temporary-use facility only. Items recovered from digs, or in this case the raid on the Westchester mansion, could be secured and a precursory examination done before the trip out to the Nellis complex and the secure labs and vaults there.

While Jack and his recovery team took a needed rest, five stories below street level, the items recovered in the raid were getting their initial examination by an East Coast Event team of technicians called in from their various universities. These scientists and techs had the highest of security clearances and all worked for the Event Group in one capacity or another. The leader of the forensic effort was Professor Carl Gillman of NYU. He would work the archiving of the scrolls and artifacts until a better-equipped team from Event Group Center could arrive on station.