The Atlantis Gene (The Origin Mystery, #1)

“I couldn’t do it.” Dorian turned away from Martin. “As much as I hated Kate for what her father did to my family, I couldn’t bring myself to kill my own child. It’s still in a lab, in San Francisco. That’s what I wanted to tell you, Martin. All your meddling, it hasn’t amounted to a damn thing. I’ve won. A science team is extracting the fetus now for study. We’ll have a viable Atlantis Vaccine soon, maybe even a few weeks or months. And we’ll use it selectively—”

A tech interrupted Dorian. “We’re ready, sir.”

“Gotta go, Martin.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Martin stared at him.

“I’m sure you woul—”

“I know why you’re going down there.”

“You know—”

“The note,” Martin said, “that you pinned on those children. I know what was in it. A letter in German, from a hopeful little boy telling his ‘Papa’ that the children were carrying bombs and that he needed to get to an entrance as quickly as possible. You’re blind, Dorian. Look at the facts. And the carcases of those primates in lab three. The Bell down there was active when we arrived. And so was the one on the iceberg with the sub several weeks ago. It killed the men on our research team. And we found bones below it. Your father never slept in a tube, he was human, very human inde—”

“He was a god. And he’s not dead. I’ve never seen his bones,” Dorian said defiantly.

“Not yet. But we wi—”

“He’s down there—” Dorian insisted.

“Even if he is, which I doubt, he would be 127 years old.”

“Then I’ll see his bones or whatever I can find, but I’ll know. And I’ll see some other bones. Female, early thirties. And then I’ll finally complete my destiny. I’ll remove the Atlantis threat once and for all.” Dorian motioned to the security guards. “Make sure he doesn’t get out of here. Heavy guard. If they don’t need him for the research on the fetus,” he turned and looked Martin in the eyes and said, “kill him.”

Martin’s stoic face didn’t betray a shred of emotion.

One of the technicians walked over and led Dorian aside. He spoke hesitantly. “Sir, about going down there, it’s, we think you should wait.”

“Why? The suit will protect me from radiation, you said—”

“Yes, that’s true, but there could be other damage from the blasts. Fire. Possibly damage to the structure, the entire thing could collapse for all we know. We’re getting some data on the structure in Gibraltar — Director Craig found some sort of archival videos. The structure was actually shattered by methane blasts similar to the nukes we sent, well, actually more powerful, but we know the structures aren’t indestructible—”

“What do you suggest?”

“Wait a few days—”

“Out of the question. I’ll wait a few hours, at most.”

The tech nodded.

“There’s something else. After I enter the Tombs, lower three warheads down this drill shaft. If anyone besides me or my father comes out, human, Atlantean, or otherwise, set them off. Deploy the rest of the nukes down the other drill holes, rig them all to detonate simultaneously.”

“The blasts would melt the ice—”

“The blasts would save the human race. Do it.”





CHAPTER 122


David opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying on a skinny cot with a gel-like mattress that contoured perfectly to his body. He leaned forward and the gel reacted, helping him up. He smelled something, like garlic mixed with licorice. Actually, it was worse than that. David raised his hand to cover his nose, but the smell only got worse. Where was it coming fro— no — it was on him, a black paste, on his chest and shoulder, and leg. God it stank, but… his wounds felt better. The paste had eaten through his shirt, but it seemed to be repairing his wounds. He stood, then instantly collapsed back to the gel-cot. Not quite 100%.

“Take it easy.” It was the man who had incapacitated him.

David scanned the room for a weapon. The spear was gone.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I assumed they sent you to kill me, but when I saw your wounds… I figured they would have sent someone… in better health.”

David scrutinized the man — he was a man — David could see that now. He was in his late 40s, or maybe early 50s. His face was haggard, as if he hadn’t eaten or slept much for some time. But it was more than that… The man’s face was hard. A soldier, maybe a mercenary.

“Who are you?” David got another whiff of the black goo on his chest and turned his head, trying in vain to get away from it. “And what have you done to me?”

“Frankly, I’m not even sure. It’s some kind of nano-paste, like gelatinous robots. They seem to be able to heal about anything. I don’t know how it works, but it does. You’ll be right as rain soon. Maybe within a few hours.”

“Really?” David studied the wounds.

“Perhaps sooner. It’s not like you’re going anywhere. Now tell me who you are.”

“David Vale.”

“Organization?”

“Clocktower, Jakarta Station,” David said automatically.

The man stepped closer to David and drew a pistol.

David realized what he had said. “No, I was working against the Immari, I just now found out that Clocktower was their organization.”

“Bullshit. How did you find me?”

“I didn’t. I’m not looking for you. Hell, I don’t even know who you are.”