The Atlantis Gene (The Origin Mystery, #1)

“I’m surprised this didn’t come up in your research.” When he said nothing, she added “So… what do you think Toba stands for? I mean, I could be wrong here—”

“No, you’re right. I know it. But it’s just a reference to the effect of the Toba Catastrophe in the past — how it changed humanity. That’s their goal, to create another population bottleneck and force a Second Great Leap Forward. They want to bring about the next stage of human evolution. It tells me the why, which we didn’t know before. We thought Toba was a reference to where the operation would start. Southeast Asia, especially Indonesia makes sense. It’s one of the reasons I established operations in Jakarta, 60 miles from Mount Toba.”

“Right. Well, history can be pretty handy. And so can books. Maybe even as much as guns.”

“For the record, I read a lot. And I like history. But you’re talking about 70,000 years ago, that’s not history, it’s prehistoric. And by the way, guns have their place; the world isn’t as civilized as it looks.”

She held up her hands and sat back in the seat. “Hey, just trying to help here. Speaking of, you said you would help me find those kids.”

“And you said you would answer my questions.”

“I have.”

“You haven’t. You know why those two kids were taken, or you at least have a theory. Tell me.”

Kate thought for a moment. Could she trust him?

“I need some assurances.” She waited, but the man just stared at the other screen, the one with all the dots on it. “Hey, are you listening to me?” He looked concerned now, glancing about. “What’s wrong?”

“The dots aren’t moving.”

“Should they be?”

“Yeah. We’re definitely moving.” The soldier pointed to the seat belts beside her. “Strap yourself in.”

The way he said it scared her, but not like the man before, who had taken the children. He reminded her of a parent who had just realized their child was in danger. He was hyper-focused. His eyes didn’t blink as he moved quickly, securing loose articles around the truck, then grabbing a radio.

“Mobile One, Clocktower Commander. Alter course, new destination is Clocktower HQ, do you copy?”

“Copy Clocktower Commander, Mobile One altering course.”

Kate felt the truck turning.

The man lowered the radio to his side.

She saw the flash on the screen a second before she heard — and felt — the blast.

On the screen, the large SUV in front of them exploded, lifting off the ground and falling in a heap of flames and burning metal.

There was gunfire and then their truck veered off the road — as if no one was driving it.

Another rocket struck the street beside the truck, barely missing it. The force of the blast almost rolled the van over and seemed to pull the air completely out of the room. Kate’s ears rang. Her stomach throbbed where the seatbelt had cut into it. It was like sensory deprivation. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. She felt the truck fall back to the ground and bounce on its shocks.

Through the ringing she looked over. The soldier was lying on the floor of the truck, not moving.





CHAPTER 23


Secure Comms Room

Clocktower Station HQ

Jakarta, Indonesia


Josh had to think. Whoever had replaced the live feed of the door to the quiet room was no doubt outside, trying to get in. The glass room in the giant concrete tomb seemed so fragile now. It hung there, just waiting to explode, like a glass pinata. He was the prize inside.

Was there something on the door? A spec of orange? Josh walked to the edge of the glass room and looked closer. It was a tiny spec growing brighter, like a heating element. It made the metal look wet, yes the metal was flowing down the door. In that instant, sparks flew out of the top right corner of the door. The sparks slowly crept down the door, leaving a narrow, dark rut behind.

They were coming in — with a torch. Of course. Blowing the door — using explosives — would obliterate the server room. It was just one more safety measure, meant to give whoever was inside more time.

Josh raced back to the table. What to do first? The source, the message on Craigslist. He had to respond. His email address, [email protected], was clearly fake — that address had probably been available for all of 2 seconds after gmail launched — the source knew Josh would know that, knew he would see it for what it was — just another name with the proper length to decrypt the message using the code. The code… he would have to make up a message and name that followed the code.

He glanced over. The cutting torch was now 1/2 way down the right side of the door. The sparks burned toward the ground like a fuse eating its way to a bomb.

Screw it, he didn’t have time. He clicked the post button and wrote a message: