Trojan Odyssey (37 page)

“The government must have a heavy investment in the facility.”

“I don't know about that, but they've been extremely cooperative in allowing Odyssey to operate without interference.”

“No one has ever sneaked through Odyssey security?” asked Pitt.

Huey smiled tautly. “Nobody who lived.”

“It's that tough to penetrate?”

“The entire island's beaches are patrolled by vehicles equipped with high-tech surveillance gear. Patrol boats circle the island, assisted by helicopters. Remote sensors detect movement along every path and road leading to the complex. It's said Odyssey engineers perfected sensory equipment with the ability to smell a human approaching the buildings, and distinguish them from animals.”

“There must be satellite photos?” Pitt persisted.

“You can buy them from the Russians, but they won't tell you what goes on inside the maze of buildings.”

“There must be rumors.”

“Sure, lots of them. The only one that has any substance is that it's a research and development installation. What they research is anybody's guess.”

“It must have a name.”

“Only what the locals call it.”

“Which is?” Pitt had to prompt.

“In English,” Huey finally replied, “house of the invisible ones.”

“Any reason?”

“They say it's because everybody who goes in is never seen again.”

“The local officials never investigate?” asked Pitt.

Huey shook his head. “Nicaraguan bureaucrats keep a hands-off policy. The word is that Odyssey management has bought off every politician, judge and police chief in the country.”

“How about the Red Chinese? Are they involved?”

“They're everywhere in Central America these days. They contracted with Odyssey about three years ago to build a short canal through Lake Nicaragua's western shoreline at Pena Blanca, so deepwater cargo ships can enter and exit.”

“The nation's economy should have profited.”

“Not really. Most all of the ships that use the canal are from a Chinese cargo fleet.”

“COSCO?”

Huey nodded. “Yeah, that's the one. They always dock at the Odyssey facility.”

Pitt spent the rest of the trip in silence, his mind sifting through the myriad of contradictions and unknowns of Odyssey, its strange founder and even stranger operations. As soon as Huey set the helicopter down at his company hangar two miles outside Managua, Pitt walked off by himself and called Admiral Sandecker.

As was his style, Sandecker minced no words. “Haven't you taken off for Washington yet?”

“No,” Pitt replied smartly. “And we're not going to.”

Sandecker knew something was on Pitt's mind and he went into neutral. “I assume you have a good reason.”

“Are you aware of a huge secret facility built and owned by Odyssey on an island in Lake Nicaragua that sits directly over the tunnels?”

“The closest I can come is a report I read on Odyssey expanding a canal from the ocean into the lake to allow entry for cargo ships.” Sandecker paused. “Come to think of it, the report was vague on the dock facilities the Nicaraguans were building at the port city of Granada a few miles east of Managua.”

“The report was vague because the dock facilities were built at Odyssey's complex on the island of Ometepe for their private use only.”

“What have you got in mind?” asked Sandecker, as if already reading Pitt's mind.

“I propose Al and I go into the complex and investigate their operation.”

Sandecker hesitated. “After your narrow escape from the tunnels, you're pushing your luck.”

“We're getting good at breaking and entering.”

“Not funny,” Sandecker said sharply. “Their security must be very tight. How do you plan to sneak inside?”

“We'll come in from the water.”

“Don't you think that they have underwater sensors?”

“Actually,” Pitt said pontifically, “I'd be surprised if they didn't.”

T
EN MINUTES AFTER
Sandecker conversed with Pitt, the admiral was staring at Hiram Yaeger in abject incredulity. “Are you sure about this? Your data must be in error.”

Yaeger was immovable. “Max is not infallible a hundred percent of the time, but on this one I believe she's right on the mark.”

“It's beyond belief,” said Gunn, reading over Max's projections.

Sandecker slowly shook his head, jarred by what he read. “You're saying the tunnels were built to divert the South Equatorial Current, which would in turn cause the temperature of the Gulf Stream to drop.”

“According to Max's computer model, eight degrees by the time it reaches Europe.”

Gunn looked up from the data files. “The effects on European climate would be cataclysmic. The entire continent would go into a deep freeze for eight months out of the year.”

“Let us not forget the effect of the Gulf Stream on the east coast of the United States, and the Maritime Provinces of Canada,” added Sandecker. “Every state east of the Mississippi and along the Atlantic shore could suffer a cold as bitter as that in Europe.”

Gunn said sarcastically. “Now there's a happy thought.”

“The Atlantic Drift's warm surface water is controlled by temperature and salinity,” Yaeger explained. “As its tropical waters move north, it mixes with the cold water coming down from the Arctic, where it becomes dense and sinks southeast of Greenland. This is called a thermohaline circulation. Then it gradually warms again and rises to the surface as it reaches Europe. The Gulf Stream's sudden drop in temperature could also cause the thermohaline circulation to collapse, a state that would accent the crises and last for several centuries.”

“What would be the most immediate results of such an event?” asked Sandecker.

Yaeger spread several papers across Sandecker's desk and began quoting the data. “Death and disruption would run rampant. In the beginning, thousands of homeless people would die from frostbite or hypothermia. Many more thousands might also die when the heating supplies quickly disappear because of the staggeringly high demand. All vital river traffic would come to a standstill, locked in ice. Ports would freeze throughout the Baltic and the North Sea, stranding ships carrying oil and liquefied natural gas used for heating, not to mention millions of tons of food imported from other countries. Most agriculture yields would be cut in half. Food shortages would be magnified because of the shortened growing season. Auto transportation would come to a halt because of freezing road conditions and heavy snowfall and a lack of fuel. Airports and railroads would be paralyzed for weeks at a time. People would be more susceptible to colds, flu and pneumonia. Tourism would vanish overnight. The European economy would go into complete chaos, with no end in sight. And that's only half the story.”

“So much for French winemaking and Dutch tulips,” Gunn muttered.

“What about the gas sent through the pipelines from the Middle East and Russia?” said Sandecker. “Can't the flows be increased to alleviate the suffering?”

“A drop in the bucket when you calculate the demand, not to mention the electrical power shortages that would come with severe winter storms. Max estimates at least thirty million homes throughout Europe would be left without heat.”

Gunn looked up from taking notes. “You said that was only half the story.”

“Further disruption and misery would come with the rising temperatures in the late spring,” Yaeger continued. “This terrible scenario will be enhanced by heavy rains and high winds. Violent and massive flooding will be the result. Rivers swelled by massive amounts of melted snow would burst their banks and flood thousands of cities and towns, destroying vital bridges as well as millions of homes. Avalanches and mud slides would bury entire towns and destroy vast stretches of highway. The loss of life following such an appalling cataclysm cannot be imagined.”

Gunn and Sandecker remained silent for a few moments. Then Sandecker broke the silence.

“Why?” he asked briefly.

Gunn spoke the single thought on everyone's mind. “What do Specter and the Red Chinese have to gain by such an atrocious scheme?”

Yaeger showed the palms of his hands in a helpless gesture. “Max has yet to come up with an answer.”

“Can it be Specter controls the gas coming into Europe?” queried Sandecker.

“We asked the same question and ran profiles on all the major gas producers that supply the continent,” replied Yaeger. “The response was negative. Odyssey has no natural gas or oil holdings anywhere in the world. The only minerals in which Specter has an interest is a group consisting of platinum, palladium, iridium and rhodium. For those, he owns the major deposits and producing mines in South Africa, Brazil, Russia and Peru. He'd have a monopoly on the world's reserves if he could gain control of the Hall mine in New Zealand that produces as much as the other countries put together—but the mine's owner, Westmoreland Hall, has refused all offers to sell.”

“If I remember my high school chemistry class,” Sandecker said slowly, “platinum is used mostly for electrodes like automobile spark plugs and jewelry.”

“It's also in high demand in chemistry laboratories because of its high resistance to heat.”

“I fail to see a connection between his mining operations and his plot to send Europe back to the glacial age.”

“There has to be a rationale,” said Gunn. “The return on investment for digging those tunnels would have to be astronomical to pay for the excavation. If he doesn't profit from the demand in energy, what can he possibly gain?”

Sandecker turned and stared thoughtfully out his window down at the Potomac River. Then he turned back and looked at Yaeger. “Those pumps, fed by the immense water pressure—could they be used to supply electricity? If so, they'd produce enough energy to power most of Central America.”

Yaeger said, “Pitt's report made no mention of generators. He and Giordino would have certainly recognized a power source when they saw one.”

Sandecker stared through his authoritative blue eyes at Gunn. “You're aware of the mischief those two want to carry out.”

“No, I'm not.” Gunn stared back at Sandecker, unintimi-dated. “I was under the impression that they're on a flight back to Washington.”

“There's been a change in plans.”

“Oh?”

“They advised me that they were going to make a clandestine inspection of a secret installation Odyssey has built on an island in the middle of Lake Nicaragua.”

“Did you give your permission?” Gunn asked, with an astute grin.

“Since when did you know them to take a ‘no' answer from
me
?”

“They just might come up with some answers to our dilemma.”

“Maybe,” Sandecker said grimly. “They also may get themselves killed.”

A
UGUST
30, 2006
B
RANWYN
I
SLAND
, G
UADELOUPE

T
HE PRIVATE AND
corporate jets began arriving on Branwyn Island fifteen miles south of Basse-Terre, one of the main islands of Guadeloupe in the Caribbean. Exotically designed minibuses with luxurious interiors and painted lavender pulled up to the aircraft to accommodate the passengers. After putting their luggage in the trunk, the drivers transported the travelers to elegant suites in a palatial belowground sanctuary that was only open to private guests of Specter. All those who departed the aircraft were women. None were accompanied by friends or business associates.

They all arrived alone.

The last plane to arrive landed at six o'clock in the evening. It was the familiar Beriev Be-210 of the Specter Corporation, which touched down at six o'clock in the evening. Specter, the only male to make an appearance, lumbered down the boarding steps, his great belly barely squeezing through the door. He was followed by a body carried on a stretcher that was completely covered by a blanket. Specter, wearing his signature white suit, then settled into the rear seat and poured himself a glass of Beaujolais from the bar.

The driver, who had chauffeured Specter on other occasions, was always amazed at how someone so gross could move so agilely. He stood for a moment and watched with curiosity as the form on the stretcher was unceremoniously shoved into the open bed of a pickup truck, without any consideration for the heavy rain that began to fall.

On the south end of the island, a bowl shaped like a sunken cauldron one hundred yards in diameter had been carved into the rock and coral. The concave depression had been hollowed out to a depth of thirty feet, deep enough so no passing boats or ships could observe any activities.

Inside the cauldron, thirty tall shafts of stone thirteen feet high stood evenly spaced three feet apart. It was a copy of the famous mystical monolithic structure known as Stonehenge, which means stone circle. The shafts were six and a half feet wide and three feet thick. Their tapered tops supported tenand-a-half-foot lintels, shaped to the curve of the circle.

The inner horseshoe-shaped circle known as the Trilithons contained five towering stones with their own lintels. Unlike the hard-grained sandstone of the original structure in England that was built between 2550 and 1600
B.C.
, these were cut from black lava rock.

The main difference between the old and the new structures was a huge block of marble carved and contoured like a sarcophagus. It was elevated nearly ten feet off the ground within the inner horseshoe profile and reached by steps leading up to a landing that encircled its walls ornately carved with the galloping Horse of Uffington.

At night hidden lights illuminated the interior of the bowl in lavender-colored streams that swirled around the shafts, while a single set of laser beams spaced around the outer circle soared into the nighttime sky. They were turned on briefly early in the evening before blinking out.

A few minutes before midnight, as if by command, the rain stopped. When the lights flashed on again, the floor of the center of the Trilithons was enhanced by thirty women in dresses draped like shawls and rippled with folds. Known as a peplos, from the ancient Greek, the voluminous dresses covered their legs and feet and came in a rainbow of colors with no two the exact same hue. Long red hairpieces adorned their heads as flecks of silver sparkled on their faces, necks and open arms. The silver makeup gave their facial features a masklike effect, making them all appear as if they might have been sisters of the same blood.

They all stood silent, staring at a figure stretched on the block of marble. It was a man. All that could be seen of him was the upper half of his face. His body, chin and mouth were tightly wrapped in black silk. He appeared to be in his late fifties, with a mass of graying hair. The nose and chin were sharp, with suntanned, heavily lined features. His eyes were wide and bulging as they darted around the lights and the tops of the columns. Seemingly adhered to the marble slab, he could not move nor turn his head. His only line of vision was upward, as he stared in terror at the laser beam piercing the black sky above him.

Suddenly, the swirling lights darkened while the lasers around the marble remained on. In a minute the lights spiraled on again. For a moment it seemed that nothing had changed, but then a woman had magically appeared in a gold peplos. Her head was covered by a mass of flame-red hair, long and shiny, that fell in a loose cascade to her hips. The skin on her face, neck and arms had pearl-white luster. She was slim, with a body whose shape flared with perfection. With feline grace, she walked up the stairs to the marble block that was now recognized as an altar.

She raised her arms and began to chant:
“O daughters of Odysseus and Circe, may life be taken from those who are not worthy. Intoxicate yourself with wealth and the spoils of men who attempt to enslave us. Seek not men without wealth and power. And when they are found, exploit, dispel their desires, plunder their treasures and step into their world.”

Then all the women raised their arms and chanted:
“Great is the sisterhood for we are the pillars of the world, great are the daughters of Odysseus and Circe for their path is glorified.”

The chant was repeated, swelling in volume before dropping almost to whispers as their arms were lowered.

The woman standing before the terrified man on the marble altar reached beneath the folds of her gown, produced a dagger and raised it above her head. The other women moved up the steps and surrounded what was about to become a pagan sacrifice. As one, they also produced daggers and held them high.

The woman who bore the image of a high priestess chanted:
“Here lies one who should not have been born.”

Then she plunged her dagger into the chest of the horrified man bound on the altar. Lifting the dagger with blood streaming from the blade, she stepped aside as the other women came one after the other and drove their daggers into the helpless man.

The circle of women moved down the steps and stood beneath the columns, holding the bloody daggers as if presenting them as gifts. There was an eerie silence for several moments until they all chanted:
“Under the gaze of our gods, we triumph.”

Then the laser beams and the swirling rays blinked out, leaving the pagan temple of murder in the black of the night.

 

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY,
the business world was stunned by the news that publishing mogul Westmoreland Hall was presumed dead after swimming off the reef of his luxurious beach house estate in Jamaica and vanishing. Hall went for his usual morning swim alone. He was known to swim beyond the reef into deeper water and allow the surf to return him to shore though a narrow channel. It is not known whether Hall drowned, was attacked by a shark or died of natural causes, since his body went undiscovered after an extensive search by Jamaican officials.

His obituary read:

Ten days later an item appeared in the business sections of the world's leading newspapers:

There was no mention that all the processed platinum ore was now being purchased by Ling Ho Limited in Beijing and shipped in Chinese cargo ships to an industrial center on the coast of Fukien Province.