EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum (20 page)

4

Thursday, 21 May (9:43 a.m. EST)

Daniel took a bite of an apple as he studied the scribbled words and timelines on his whiteboard. Almost every dark project he’d crossed in his career as an Omni was represented. Each had some connection to the beacon – some loose, some substantial.

He retraced the complicated timeline, starting with the journey of Germany’s
Schwabenland
and ending with the American nuclear operations of 1958, Argus and Blackfish. The details of Blackfish were particularly suspicious, as two nuclear devices had been detonated in the ocean near the beacon. Were they trying to destroy it?

Now there were more details to add to the mess. A tunnel penetrated into the Antarctic mainland, and inside were two dead submarines, one German and one American. Both were misplaced, historically speaking.

Daniel sighed. He could explain nothing, and Horace’s words constantly pressured him:
existential implications.

He had an idea, and called Sylvia over to the meeting area.

“Find something?” she asked and sat on the couch.

Daniel took Horace’s chair. “No,” he replied, “but perhaps we can take a different approach – speculate a bit.”

It contradicted their training. An unreferenced speculation proven incorrect in an Omni’s monograph was a gaffe that could result in termination. Daniel didn’t know what termination meant, exactly, but he was sure it would be something like being reassigned to some mundane analyst job. The possibility of being assigned to research the farming economics of a place such as Nicaragua, or Burundi, was a strong deterrent.

“What choice do we have?” she asked. “We’re under time pressure. It would take years to go over everything we have. We’re not writing a monograph here.” She nodded for him to continue.

“My thoughts exactly,” he said, relieved. “We start with the beacon and assume that, when all of this started, someone knew much more than we do.”

“Seems reasonable – it’s clear we’re still missing information.”

“And we have to assume we’re not getting more.”

“What’s your theory?”

“We assume that everything we know about the history of that location, the Weddell Sea and the surrounding area, has to do with the beacon,” he proposed. “The beacon is the center of everything.”

“So the mission of the
Schwabenland
, and the U-boat with which it rendezvoused, was to do what?”

“The Germans knew of the beacon before the
Schwabenland
sailed,” Daniel explained. “Its mission had nothing to do with whales, or even submarine bases. They were there because of the beacon – to study it with the hope that it could be useful.”

“Pre-war or wartime, it was quite a commitment just to study it.”

“They must’ve known something we don’t,” he suggested.

“Could they have constructed it?”

“No way,” he answered. “It’s unlikely that any country could do it – even in the present day.”

“Did they think it was a weapon?”

“Perhaps,” he replied. “Or an advanced technology of some kind – like we do – maybe extraterrestrial. For the sake of argument, let’s just assume that they knew it was important, and potentially powerful.”

He winced and shook his head. It unnerved him to make assumptions he couldn’t corroborate. “And I’m assuming their efforts weren’t based entirely on Captain Cook’s log – there must have been more.”

She shrugged. “How was Red Falcon involved – as implied by its emblem on the crates and files?”

He shook his head. He stood and went to the whiteboard on his side of the room. Sylvia followed.

He mapped out what they had just discussed. The differences between the verified facts on the left side and the list of conjectures on the right were revealing.

“Supposing the beacon is the reason for all of this,” he continued, “then why not jump into the deep end and say it was the underlying purpose of Red Falcon, and maybe even of the war itself?”

“The reason for World War II?” she asked with an expression of skepticism. “It’s Unlikely. There would’ve been battles in the Antarctic region.”

“Not if the Germans kept it secret.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think this is leading anywhere.”

Daniel may have felt the same if his mind hadn’t gone into overdrive. His subconscious was milling away at something his conscious mind was too distracted to notice. He looked at the board; something was hiding in that tangled mountain of facts and conjectures.

5

Thursday, 21 May (10:40 a.m. EST – Antarctica)

McHenry breathed heavily as he shook the sleep from his head and picked up his buzzing communicator.

“You’re needed on the conn,” the voice said.

He got up from his bed, pulled on his hat, and exited his quarters for the control room. As he passed through sonar he noticed the men were all staring intently at their computer screens. He arrived at the conn and joined a half-dozen others staring at the bank of monitors.

His first officer was leaning over a consul next to a navigator.

“What do we have, Diggs?” McHenry asked.

Diggs popped up his head. “Have a look for yourself,” he said and pointed to the monitor of the forward camera.

McHenry studied the image as he walked closer. His stomach tightened immediately. It appeared that the tunnel narrowed drastically, like a pinched copper pipe. “Tight fit,” he said. “The question is whether it stays that narrow, or widens afterwards.”

“We’ve imaged the best we can using mounted sonar. There’s a good chance that it’s only a temporary constriction,” Diggs explained. “But we can’t tell for sure.”

McHenry wished they still had
Little Dakota
. There was no way he was blindly taking the
North Dakota
into a tunnel with such little clearance.

“Send out the dive team, sir?” Diggs suggested.

“What’s our depth?”

“Ninety meters,” Diggs replied. “We’ve elevated slightly in the last few kilometers.”

“Get as close to the ceiling as you can and send them out,” McHenry ordered and turned to Diggs. “Let’s talk.”

McHenry followed Diggs to the ready room.

“I take it that we’ll be continuing on if the tunnel widens again,” Diggs said as they went inside.

“Yes,” McHenry replied, as he closed the door behind them. “We’ll take it as far as it goes.”

“Where do you think it ends up – what’s at the end?” Diggs asked as they sat across from each other at the table.

It was a question McHenry asked himself about every ten minutes. One answer was that it led to nothing, the tunnel would just terminate at a wall and that would be it. Then they’d have to find a way to turn the
North Dakota
around.

“There’s something of significance in here –
or there was
,” Diggs said.

“Possibly,” McHenry agreed. “Or it could just be a case of two subs chasing each other and ending up in here – making it look like it has some importance.”

“Pretty big coincidence,” Diggs said, “being in such close proximity to the beacon.”

“It’s not that close.” On a global scale 100 miles seemed close. But searching for something within 100 mile radius meant covering over 30,000 square miles.

“It’s the closest landing point to the beacon,” Diggs argued.

“It’s just an ice shelf. What would be the utility?” If the beacon were active during that time, those subs were well aware of it. Diggs was right; it was about the beacon.

After an hour of consulting with Diggs and downing a finger of whisky, McHenry’s communicator chimed. He picked it up. “Status?”

“Divers are back,” the man said.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Tunnel widens again after the constriction, but it will be a tight fit,” the voice said. “Also, the divers want to talk to you, sir.”

“Why?”

“They found some manmade structure on the other side.”

McHenry twitched as his heart picked up pace. “On my way,” he said and then turned to Diggs. “Looks like you might be right. Let’s go.”

6

Thursday, 21 May (10:01 p.m. CST – Baton Rouge)

The Bullfrog wasn’t as busy as it had been the first time he’d been there, when he’d rendezvoused with Jennings and Natalie Tate. Now Jennings was dead, and Natalie was back in her FBI home office in Chicago. Will hadn’t heard anything from his FBI handlers in days. His patience had run out.

He walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. Mounted high on the back wall above rows of liquor bottles were five large television screens, four of which showed sporting events. The fifth showed a CNN News report on naval exercises near Antarctica.

Five men sat around a tall rectangular table on the far side of the bar and drank beer. He recognized three of them from his first visit to the Bullfrog. The two newcomers also had bumps on their foreheads, like the others. They talked amongst themselves and didn’t seem to pay much attention to what was going on in the rest of the bar.

Will searched for a place to sit where he could lean against something to keep him upright. He spotted a booth far from the men and with a view of the games. He walked over to it and slid in, close to the wall. He pulled his baseball cap down low over his eyes, and put his phone on the table so he had an excuse to lower his gaze. He took a swig of beer and concentrated. He separated, and looked upon his body from above. It looked stable.

He moved about 50 feet to his left to a position directly above the men and listened. At first the sound of music and patrons drowned out the men’s voices. He moved closer and concentrated, filtering out the intruding noise.

One man talked about getting food and another about a movie that was playing at a local theater. It was small talk. They seemed to be waiting for something.

After some unknown time he began to feel tired. Just as he was about to go back to his body, one of the men looked up and said, “Here he is.”

A scrawny, unshaven man walked towards them from the entrance. His gait was odd – as if his stride was too long for his body, making his head bob up and down. His black hair was thick and fell over his eyes, but it didn’t conceal the blemishes on his forehead.

“We have everything we need,” the man said as he sat down, directing his words to a massive man wearing a black bandanna and sitting directly across from him.

The other men nodded in approval.

“I want them all,” the skinny man said, hardly above a whisper. “Management, engineers, accountants –
everyone
.”

“Won’t there be some in there that have no idea what the company has been doing?” the man in the black bandana asked.

“I know who the guilty ones are,” the skinny man argued. “Only needed the names.”

“You have them?”

The skinny man nodded.

Will suddenly found himself back in his body, staring blankly at a young blonde woman with a purple and gold bow in her hair.

“Sir?” she asked. “You okay?”

Will forced a laugh. “Must’ve dozed off waiting for my wife to call,” he said, and glanced at his phone.

She smiled. “Did you need anything?”

He glanced at his half-full beer glass. “No, I better wait until she gets here.”

The woman nodded and went to another table.

His thoughts went back to the conversation he’d just heard. The men had some plans and, better, they had names. At first he was tempted to let them go ahead with it, but then he reconsidered. As hard as it was for him to swallow, he acknowledged that there were innocents who worked for the company. That meant engineers and accountants – Syncorp also developed legitimate medical technologies. All he knew was that he wasn’t going to turn these thugs in to the FBI. He only trusted Denise and Jonathan, and he wasn’t going to drag them into anything yet. He needed more information.

He’d wait for the men to leave, and then follow them home.

7

Thursday, 21 May (11:55 p.m. EST – Washington)

The traffic was thicker than normal for a Thursday night in DC. As Daniel pulled in his driveway, he glanced at the clock on the dashboard and estimated that the trip took him 20 minutes longer than most nights. The house was dark. He got out and opened the back door of his Toyota Corolla, leaned in, and pulled his jacket and briefcase from the back seat. When he closed the door, he yelped before he knew what caused his reaction.

A man stood an arm’s length away, staring at him.

Daniel tried to speak, but his mouth only expelled air, like what happened to him sometimes in nightmares – a common occurrence as of late.

The man spoke instead. “Daniel Parsons,” he said. His voice was deep, and had a subtle accent. The streetlight glared just above and behind the man’s right shoulder, concealing his face in shadow.

“Who are you?” Daniel asked. He was frightened by the panic in his own voice.

“Please,” the man said. “I mean you no harm.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk. There’s a restaurant around the corner,” the man said and tilted his head over his left shoulder. “Let’s go sit in there for a few minutes.”

Daniel stood still, considering.

“I have something that will help you with your investigation,” the man added, “and might keep you alive.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Daniel said, now worried that his Omni identity was blown.

The man grabbed Daniel’s right arm with a large hand. “I know about the beacon.”

Daniel had no words.

The man released his grip. “Please,” he said, and again gestured in the direction of the restaurant. “Our interests coincide.”

His brain seemed to freeze for a second before he finally agreed and reached for the door of his car to deposit his briefcase.

The man grabbed his arm for the second time. “I’m armed,” he said in a low voice.

Daniel shuddered. “No, I … I’m not …”

The man let go, and seemed to watch nervously as Daniel leaned into the back seat. Daniel made sure his hands were clearly visible as he backed out again.

They walked down the driveway and turned right, toward a diner on the corner of his street and a larger boulevard.

They walked in silence for five minutes and then entered the restaurant. A young woman showed them to a booth. The smell of coffee and breakfast food soothed Daniel’s nerves. The man removed his jacket and hat and sat across from him, finally revealing his face in the light. He had a dark complexion, black-grey hair and eyebrows, and intelligent, brown eyes that turned down at the corners.

“You can call me Avi,” the man said.

“You’re Israeli,” Daniel said, recognizing the accent. The name clinched it.

The man shrugged, but did not affirm Daniel’s assertion.

The woman who had seated them returned with a carafe of coffee and two mugs. Both men turned down food menus. The woman filled the mugs and left them alone.

“What’s this about?” Daniel asked.

The man stirred cream in his coffee as he cleared his throat and replied, “I understand the sensitivity of your position. I don’t want anything from you.”

“I don’t know what you mean by my
position
,” Daniel responded, trying to maintain a look of ignorance.

“I can elaborate on the specifics of your work, if you like,” Avi said. “Shall I begin with your title, or shall I describe some of your recent projects? Perhaps I could just mention a name: Jonathan McDougal, you know him?”

Daniel’s skin puckered in goose bumps, and he fought a shiver.

“That’s a yes,” Avi said as he took a sip of coffee. “I also know you two made a trade.”

Daniel remained silent.

“It’s odd how we interact – our two governments,” Avi continued. “We’re allies – strong allies – yet we keep secrets from one another. Well, sort of. We’re both familiar with the knowledge possessed by the other, if that makes sense, but the details we keep to ourselves. This practice would normally be okay – it keeps our relationship interesting. But the circumstances have become too serious to continue this way.”

Daniel knew from his time as a CIA operative that what the man said was true.

“The puzzle is quite complex – the one on which you currently work,” Avi said. “But it is impossible to solve if key pieces are missing.”

“How do you know what pieces we have?” Daniel asked.

“Why must it always come to proof,” Avi said, and took a sip of coffee. “Okay, I suppose it’s good that you require some convincing. You already know about the Red Wraith project and now, I suppose, you’ve discovered its objective.”

It was a question Daniel perceived as rhetorical. He nodded.

“So what’s the goal?” Avi asked.

Daniel didn’t want to answer the question. As it stood, he’d have to tell his boss everything that was happening, and he’d likely have to go through a polygraph screening to make sure he wasn’t a further risk.

Avi waited for a full thirty seconds and then sighed. “It was to controllably separate the soul from the body. Correct?”

Daniel nodded. He flushed with embarrassment. He’d only made that connection recently. Either the Israelis knew of this fact long ago, or they’d acquired the information from someone inside the CIA. Either was a cause for concern.

Avi continued, seemingly conceding that Daniel would confirm nothing. “You’re probably thinking the objective is to create beings with special powers so that they can spy, kill, wage war, and the like. And that’s certainly possible. But you should know that there might be another purpose.”

Daniel had no idea what was the man was talking about, but he’d suspected that there had to be more to it than making super-spies. “How do you know these things?” Daniel asked. “How could you know more than we do?”

“Why do you think Israel has been hunting Nazi war criminals for the past half-century?”

“Justice.”

“Justice is secondary,” Avi replied. “There’s more.”

“Yes?”

“Information,” Avi said. “Why do you think so many Nazis were found in South America, Argentina specifically? It was undoubtedly a good hiding place for a while after the war. But many of them were there well
before
the end of the war – even before Germany started losing.” Avi took a sip of coffee. “Why?”

Daniel didn’t know the answer.

“It was convenient,” Avi said.

“For what?”

“To get to Antarctica,” Avi answered. “And what’s there, Daniel?”

“The beacon,” he blurted. “You said it already – by the car.” He wanted to make it clear that he hadn’t divulged any information – something to keep his mind straight for the polygraph test that was to come.

“Just the beacon?”

Daniel was confused, but silent.

“A base, perhaps?” Avi seemed to speculate. “More than that.” He reached into his coat pocket and brought out a small data storage device. He set it next to Daniel’s cup.

“What is it?”

“Every Nazi war criminal captured by Israel since the end of the war had been interrogated by Israeli intelligence – Mossad,” Avi explained. “The uncensored transcripts of those interviews are on this device.”

“Why are you giving this to me?” Daniel asked, suspicious. Even as he spoke he was tempted to grab the device and run for the door.

“I know who you are, what you do, and with whom you work,” Avi said in a matter-of-fact manner. “I have been authorized to give this to you. After all, our two countries are friends.”

“Why me?” Daniel argued. “Why not give this to the director of the CIA, or the President?”

“What happens at our level – the highest level of intelligence – is not known to our temporary leaders,” Avi explained. “Presidents come and go, as do the usual intelligence operatives and appointed leadership. You and I …
we
are in for life. We are the true protectors of our countries. We are the thinkers, and the protectors of our secrets.”

He understood now: Avi was the Israeli equivalent of an Omniscient.

“This is a race,” Avi said. “And Russia and China are in it – everyone is in it.”

“What do they know?”

“Too much,” Avi answered. “Why do you think Chinese and Russian subs are in the area? Why do you think someone launched a torpedo at your submarine?”

“We’ve been making a lot of noise there,” he replied. “They’re worried that we’ve laid claim to something that will make us more powerful – the beacon.”

“It’s more than that,” Avi replied. “They know what you know, and are one step ahead of you. They’re already looking for William Thompson. And you are not.”

“William Thompson?” Daniel didn’t recognize the name.

Avi stared back at him blankly for a few seconds. “You don’t recognize the name?”

Daniel shook his head.

“He’s the Red Box inmate who’d converted.”

“Inmate 523?”

Avi nodded.

Daniel’s heart seemed to drop into his stomach. The Israelis had already identified the man, and it was therefore likely others had as well. “We know he’s important, but didn’t have his name,” Daniel confessed. But now he did, although he’d still have to confirm it – he’d probably ask McDougal to confirm it.

“He’s the key to something,” Avi said. “He was in Chicago a few months ago, but we lost him. Find him.”

“I don’t understand his importance,” Daniel said.

“He can separate his soul from his body,” Avi said. “He’s the most advanced human being on the earth. And he’s absolutely unique – there will probably never be another like him. It took over a half-century of torture to obtain him.”

“Why does his ability to separate make him so important, and how is he connected to the beacon?”

“That we do not yet understand, but we believe he has a purpose,” Avi replied. “You must figure it out.” As he concluded his statement, he stood and put on his hat. “Wait for five or ten minutes before you leave.”

Daniel nodded. He wasn’t going anywhere. As Avi walked out Daniel slipped the memory drive into his pocket. He stirred his coffee and wondered how he was going to sleep.