The Pandora Chronicles - Book 1 (A Scifi Adventure Thriller) (13 page)

“Okay, then,” Briggs said. “Here’s a story. You like stories don’t you, Professor?”

He cleared his throat.

“Sometime after Europe invaded the New World, the secret society known only as the Order was formed. No one knows its exact origins. Some claim it might have been the Buccaneer shift, while others point their fingers at the Church. Whatever it was, this thing operated just like a terrorist organization—cells everywhere, in every facet of society. They believed that a bunch of gods came down during the birth of humanity and helped us out. Supposedly, these gods gave us artifacts which hold terrible power. The leaders of the Order kept details on these artifacts in a series of red leather-bound journals.”

Briggs paused for effect.

“But you already know all this,” he said. “Here’s where it gets interesting. We have records of a priest and a duchess, both members of the Order, boarding a privateer ship. They altered the vessel’s course and headed in the opposite direction, in search of a mythological city. We strongly believe the place to be El Dorado. That vessel was the
Belladonna,
and its captain was a certain Jack Finnegan.”

Nick’s eyes widened at the mention of Finnegan’s name. Briggs caught that movement and smiled.

“Yes,” Briggs continued. “No one knows how their voyage ended, but the official story is they all got sick and died out at sea. The ship was found on fire and later given to Sir Francis Drake. But a few months later, a certain duchess—remarkably similar to the one who was supposedly killed on that ship—bought a dozen acres of land for a family she was starting.”

Briggs’s eyes were wide open and he bore the crazed look of a scientist who had solved the puzzle of a lifetime.

“Finnegan and Tier did survive their voyage,” he said. “And together with their son Ollie Fletcher, born Oliver Finnegan, they founded a small militia. This militia was, in fact, financed by the same guys who funded the Order. So, you see, the Order and this militia, which later evolved into the compound you grew up on, are one and the same. One side was dedicated to finding the artifacts and safeguarding them, while the other was scared to death that the gods would show up again, and trained to fight them off.”

Briggs smiled. “That peak your interest, Professor?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “That seems like a lot of speculation to me, Director.”

Briggs let out a laugh. “But I haven’t gotten to the best part yet.”

“Oh, goody.
More
bullshit.”

“The intel mentions something about certain special people,” Briggs said. Nick did not like the look on his face. It reminded him too much of a crocodile about to snap some poor gazelle’s neck. “In all our sources, we kept coming up across the word
Select
. Know anything about that?”

Nick kept his poker face.

“You should,” Briggs continued, “since you’re apparently one of them. See, the Order believed that the gods blessed some individuals with special powers. Made them smarter, gave them visions and such. Hell, these folks
 
were geniuses through and through. And according to some very interesting studies taken from Order records, you Select guys are supposed to have some psychic homing beacon with these artifacts.”

“Oh, so I’m super-powered now?” Nick asked sarcastically.

“That wouldn’t be the phrase I would use,” came a female voice from behind him.

Nick turned his head and saw a beautiful vision of a woman walking towards them.
 

She was tall, slender, and proud, and carried herself with the poise and confidence of a queen. She wore a pencil skirt which showed enough of her legs to make Nick fantasize, but wouldn’t be considered indecent in a work environment. A white blouse hugged her figure like a second skin, framing some very enticing curves. Her face had Nordic features and was slightly angular, with stark blond hair tied into a ponytail. Two strands on her sides were twisted into braids and encircled her head, like a crown of gold. She frowned at Nick with icy blue eyes, giving him a look of disregard that was almost insulting.

It took him a while to place the voice and the slight angle of her jaw, but Nick recognized her as the woman who drugged him in the cab in Spain.

“Y-y-you!” he stuttered.
 

Briggs chuckled. “Pick up your jaw, Solomon. I believe you guys have met already.”

The blonde woman took a seat in front of Nick, next to Briggs. Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her—he wasn’t sure whether to be aroused or scared.

“Professor Nick Solomon, meet your official handler,” Briggs said, indicating the woman next to him. “Agent Excalibur.”

Chapter 19

“My what?”

Excalibur grinned at Nick’s horrified expression. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “In this case, I think he means babysitter.”

“Only if you’re the naughty kind,” Nick shot back.

Her skin visibly crawled. “Despite what you might believe, Mr. Solomon,” she replied, “you are not God’s gift to women.”

“It’s Professor Solomon.”

“That would imply you’re smart and responsible,” she sniped.
 

Nick placed his hands on the table, rattling the handcuffs as loudly as he could.
 

“What’s your problem with me?” he asked. “Did we use to date or something? Cos you seem to have a personal vendetta against me.”

“I just don’t like your type,” she replied in a tone that suggested anything but warmth. She cleared her throat and slid a manila folder across the desk. “Have a look at those, please.”

Nick sighed and opened the file. Inside were satellite pictures of buildings—the compound he grew up on. The images included the training fields, equipment sheds, and even the main barracks. The images were quite old, showing areas that Nick knew no longer existed.
 

At least, that’s what Google Maps had told him last time he checked, about six years ago.

“Where’d you get these?” he asked, looking over the images and reliving some of his childhood memories. “This place no longer exists.”

Excalibur sat back, giving Nick a good view of her slender neck and the open blouse, showing enough of her chest to waver his concentration.

“I’m good at my job,” she replied.

Nick frowned at her, then looked at the images again. “This is way too detailed. No way this is real, not unless you knew what you were looking-”

Time froze as something clicked in his brain, as if a phantasmal hand flipped a switch. He looked at Agent Excalibur again, this time taking in her features with an analytical mind, noticing things like her mannerisms and the way she pursed her lips when she got impatient.
 

At the same time, he remembered his childhood days; his friends, his lessons, the dumb little acts of rebellion. Like a computer, his mind filtered through every face, every voice, and every person he had ever met while on that remote hell hole, until he finally found her.

They were both nine when they first met. She was of mixed nationality, with a Swedish father and a British mother. She was raised in both countries, and her accent was a hybrid of both, giving her voice a unique, exotic tone. She looked like a real life version of the angel Nick’s mother hung on the Christmas tree. In fact, that was their very first conversation: Nick staring at her and asking her whether she was an angel. She blushed and said she did not understand in broken Scandinavian English.
 

Nick’s memories sifted through days of innocent childhood laughter, mostly of her and a few other friends giggling as Nick acted the fool and got berated by the various instructors.

She was the one he missed most when he left. How could he forget her name?
 

His mind suggested it was a defense mechanism—forget everything, erase the past and start over.

Her name. What was her name?

“Solomon.”
 

Nick felt a rough hand squeeze his shoulder and shake forcefully.
 

“Hey, Solomon.”

Nick came back to reality, back to that interrogation room. Briggs had his fingers clasped on his shoulder while Excalibur sat there with only the faintest look of concern on her face. Nick felt blood trickle down his nose.

Briggs offered him a tissue. “What happened?”

“His mind went into hyperdrive,” Excalibur said. “Basically, his brain acted like a supercomputer, in terms of filtering, processing, and analysis of data. Something must have triggered that state. The question is, what?”

Nick gulped down water, desperate to drown his headache.

“You,” he gasped. “I know you.”
 

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah, we grew up together,” Nick continued. His heart was pounding at a painful rate. “You’re… you’re Maddie. Maddie Scriivenn.”

The gun appeared so fast in Briggs’s hand that Nick felt the whiplash of air on his eyes. The director hold the pistol inches from Nick’s eyebrow.

“How the hell do you know that?” he growled.

“I-”

“Did you hack into our mainframe?” Briggs asked loudly.

Excalibur—Maddie—checked her phone. “All systems are intact, Director. He didn’t do anything. It was all in his head.”

Briggs slowly pulled the gun away. “How is that even possible?”

“I guessed.” Nick’s voice was shaky.

“That was one hell of a guess,” Briggs said. “Care to explain how you came to know a classified government secret?”

Nick closed his eyes and tried to calm his raging heartbeat. “Her voice,” he said. “The way she pronounces her
a
’s is Scandinavian, but when we were in the cab, her accent was slightly British. Not the kind that you fake, but rather the kind you try to hide when you don’t wanna reveal your true identity.”

Briggs looked towards the blonde sitting next to him. The way she was scowling reminded Nick of a wild cat.

“Her cheekbones,” Nick continued. “That would be an insignificant feature had I not met her when we were kids. It’s a common facial structure amongst Scandinavians, and one she can’t do anything about—at least not without some major surgery. Finally, the way she purses her lips.”

Maddie, whose lips were, indeed, pursed, became aware of her action and relaxed her facial muscles.

“At first, I thought it was a sign of impatience, but she did it far too often, especially when looking at me. That makes it a sign of distress. Meaning, she was expecting something to happen and
that
indicated she knew me beforehand.”

Excalibur lightly touched her lips and said nothing.

“Hot damn,” Briggs said. “All that from thirty seconds in the same room? I’m starting to think there ain’t nothin’ mythological here at all.”

“Where the hell do you get off, acting so bloody casual?” Excalibur snapped. Her question was directed at Nick, and there was no attempt to mask the contempt and anger in her voice.
 

“Do you have any idea what happened to the rest of us after you ran away?”

Both men were now staring at her.

“We were lost,” Excalibur went on. “Our precious Select was gone. We all looked up to you, even when you screwed up for a laugh. ‘Look at Nick,’ they would say. ‘Do what Nick does. Follow the Select’s example. He will lead us in our time of need.’”
 

She snorted. “So, you can imagine how crazy they went when they found out you ran away. All the leaders started acting out on their own. Most of them jumped off the nearest tall building. Others tried to go on, pushing us to become Select. They figured that if all humans had a trace of the gene, then we could awaken it, too. They put us through torture—actual torture—in an attempt to make one of us their new savior. Almost everyone I knew was dead one way or the other.”

“Then, the authorities stepped in. The NSA integrated what was left of us into this agency, and we spent all this time looking for a solution and a new Select.”

She turned her icy blue eyes at him and Nick visibly recoiled. “And about six years ago, your name pops up again. Nick Solomon, archaeologist extraordinaire. Mr. Tomb Raider himself. Why, Nick? Why leave?”

It took him a second to find his voice. “It was insane,” he answered. “I mean, come on, alien gods? A ragtag group of kids training to fight them? A few predestined individuals? Sounded like the plot of a bad sci-fi movie.”

He looked her in the eyes. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Maddie. If it’s any consolation, you were the one that made it the most difficult to leave.”

“Wasn’t enough to stop you,” she shot back.

“I was going insane,” he continued. “The pressure on me was too much, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. That’s why I chose archaeology. I wanted to desperately find answers, to scientifically prove that none of those stories ever existed.” He shook his head. “We deserved a normal life. We never asked to be part of their stupid war. So, when I realized that they would never let us be normal, I ran.”

“Did you manage?” she asked. “Did you get a normal life?”

“No, not really.” Nick swallowed down the growing lump in his throat. “So, what now? I go back to that crazy-ass place?”