Atlantis Found (20 page)

“The only real game on the island were elephant seals and penguins, but the colonel in his ignorance thought the island might teem with four-legged game. After climbing nearly a thousand feet up the mountain, he and his friends came upon a footpath laid with stones worn smooth with age. They followed the path to an opening hewn in the rock in the shape of an archway. They entered and saw a passageway that led deeper into the mountain.”

“I wonder if the entrance has been found and explored since then,” said Gunn.

“It’s possible,” Pitt admitted. “Hiram Yaeger checked it out for me, and except for an unmanned meteorological station set up by the Aussies from 1978 until 1997 and monitored by satellite, the island has been totally uninhabited. If their weathermen found anything inside the mountain, they never mentioned it. All records are purely meteorological.”

Little was leaning over the table, spellbound. “Then what happened?”

“The colonel sent one of his party back to the ship, and he returned with lanterns. Only then did they venture inside. They found that the passageway was smoothly carved from the rock and sloped downward for about a hundred feet, ending in a small chamber with dozens of strange and ancient-looking sculptures. They went on to describe unreadable inscriptions etched on the walls and ceiling of the chamber.”

“Did they record the inscriptions?” asked Pat.

“No symbols went into the captain’s log,” answered Pitt. “The only drawing is a crude map to the entrance of the chamber.”

“And the artifacts?” Sandecker probed.

“They’re still on the
Madras,”
explained Pitt. “Roxanna Mender, the wife of the captain of the whaler, mentioned them in a brief entry in her diary. She identified one as a silver urn. The others were bronze and earthenware sculptures of strange-looking animals she said she had never seen before. Under the laws of salvage, her husband and his crew intended to strip the
Madras
of anything of value, but the ice pack began to break up and they had to make a run for the whaler. They took only the obsidian skull.”

“Another chamber, this one with artifacts,” Pat said, staring as if seeing something beyond the room. “I wonder how many others are hidden around the world.”

Sandecker eyed Giordino waspishly as the little Italian chewed on his immense cigar. “It seems we have our work cut out for us.” He drew away his eyes from Giordino and trained them on Gunn. “Rudi, as soon as you can, expedite two expeditions. One to search for the
Madras
in the Antarctic. The second to check out the chamber found by the ship’s passengers on St. Paul Island. Use whatever research vessels are nearest the areas in question.” He turned to the men farther down the long table. “Dirk, you head up the search for the derelict. Al, you take St. Paul Island.”

Giordino sat slouched in his chair. “I hope our bloodthirsty little friends didn’t get to either place first.”

“You’ll know soon after you arrive,” Gunn said, with a straight face.

“In the meantime,” said Helm, “I’ll keep two agents on the hunt throughout the U.S. for any leads to the organization that hired the killers.”

“I must tell you, Admiral,” Little said seriously to Sandecker, “this is not a priority assignment for Central Intelligence. But I’ll do what I can to fill in the pieces. My people will concentrate on international corporate syndicates outside the United States that fund or search for archaeological searches. We’ll also investigate any discoveries that involved murder. Your new evidence pointing to a neo-Nazi order may prove invaluable.”

“Last but not least, we come to the lovely lady in our midst,” Sandecker said. He wasn’t being patronizing; it was the way he talked to most women.

Pat smiled in poised confidence at seeing every male eye focused on her. “My job, of course, is to attempt to decipher the inscriptions.”

“The photos the killers took should be processed by now,” said Gunn.

“I’ll need a place to work,” she said thoughtfully. “Since I am now a nonperson, I can’t very well walk into my office at the University of Pennsylvania and begin an analysis program.”

Sandecker smiled. “Between Ron, Ken, and myself, we have at our command what are perhaps three of the most sophisticated data-processing facilities and technicians in the world. Take your pick.”

“If I may suggest, Admiral,” said Pitt, making no attempt at impartiality, “because of NUMA’s continued involvement with the chambers and their contents, it may be more efficient for Dr. O’Connell to work with Hiram Yaeger in our own computer facility.”

Sandecker looked for some clue as to what was going on in Pitt’s devious mind. Finding none, he shrugged. “It’s your call, Doctor.”

“I do believe Mr. Pitt is right. By working closely with NUMA, I can be in close communication with the expeditions.”

“As you wish. I’ll place Yaeger and Max at your disposal.”

“Max?”

“Yaeger’s latest toy,” replied Pitt. “An artificial intelligence computer system that turns out visual holographic images.”

Pat took a deep breath. “I’ll need all the exotic technical help I can get.”

“Not to worry,” said Giordino with humorous detachment. “If the inscriptions prove ancient, they’re probably nothing but a book of ancient recipes.”

“Recipes for what?” inquired Helm.

“Goat,” said Giordino moodily. “A thousand and one ways to serve goat.”

14

“FORGIVE ME FOR ASKING, but are you Hiram Yaeger?” Fueled by enthusiasm, Pat had made her way through the vast computer network that covered the entire tenth floor of the NUMA building. She had heard computer wizards at the University of Pennsylvania talk in awe of the oceans data center of the National Underwater and Marine Agency. It was an established fact that the center processed and stored the most enormous amount of digital data on oceanography ever assembled under one roof.

The scruffy-looking man sitting at a horseshoe-shaped console pulled down his granny glasses and peered at the woman standing in the doorway of his sanctum sanctorum. “I’m Yaeger. You must be Dr. O’Connell. The admiral said to expect you this morning.”

The brain behind this incredible display of information-gathering power hardly fit the image she had of him. For some reason, Pat had expected Yaeger to look like a cross between Bill Gates and Albert Einstein. He resembled neither. He was dressed in Levi’s pants and jacket over a pure white T-shirt. His feet were encased in cowboy boots that looked as if they had suffered through a thousand calf-roping contests on the rodeo circuit. His hair was dark gray and long and tied back in a ponytail. His face was boyish and clean-shaven, and featured a narrow nose and gray eyes.

Pat would have also been surprised to learn that Yaeger lived in a fashionable residential section of Maryland, was married to a successful animal artist, and was the father of two teenage daughters who attended an expensive private school. His only hobby was collecting and restoring old, obsolete computers.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” said Pat.

“Weren’t you met at the elevator and shown to my domain?”

“No, I simply wandered around until I saw somebody who didn’t look like Dilbert.”

Yaeger, a fan of the comic strip character by Scott Adams, laughed. “I think I’m supposed to take that as a compliment. I deeply apologize for not having someone meet and escort you.”

“No bother. I took a self-guided tour. Your data empire is quite grand. Certainly nothing like the equipment I’m used to working with at the university.”

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” said Pat. “Shall we get to work?”

“As you wish,” Yaeger replied politely.

“Do you have the photographs taken of the chamber?”

“The photo-processing lab sent them up last night. I stayed late and scanned them into Max.”

“Dirk told me about Max. I’m anxious to see him in action.”

Yaeger pulled up a chair next to his but didn’t immediately offer it to Pat. “If you’ll step around the console and stand in the middle of that open platform just in front of us, I’ll demonstrate Max’s unique talents.”

Pat walked to the platform and stood in the center, staring back at Yaeger. As she watched, the computer whiz seemed to blur before her eyes and then vanished altogether, as she found herself surrounded by what her mind swore was some kind of nebulous enclosure. Then the walls and ceiling became more distinct and she found herself standing in an exact replica of the chamber. She had to tell herself that it was a holographic illusion, but it seemed so real, especially when the inscriptions began forming on the walls in well-defined clarity.

“This is fantastic,” she murmured.

“Max has all the symbols from the photographs programmed into his memory, but although we have a monitor the size of a small movie screen, I thought it would be helpful for you to read the inscription lines in their original perspective.”

“Yes, yes,” Pat said, becoming excited. “Being able to study the entire text in one sweep will help enormously. Thank you, and thank Max.”

“Come back and meet Max,” came Yaeger’s voice from behind the illusionary chamber. “Then we’ll get to work.”

Pat was on the verge of saying “I can’t,” because the chamber seemed so real. But she broke the illusion by stepping through the wall as if she were a ghost, and rejoined Yaeger behind the console.

“Max,” said Yaeger, “meet Dr. Pat O’Connell.”

“How do you do?” came a soft feminine voice.

Pat eyed Yaeger suspiciously. “Max is a woman.”

“I programmed my own voice into the original program. But I’ve made any number of modifications since then and decided that I’d rather listen to a female voice than that of a male.”

“She’s voice-activated?”

Yaeger smiled. “Max is an artificial intelligence system. No buttons to push. Just talk to her like you would a normal person.”

Pat looked around. “Is there a microphone?”

“Six, but they’re miniatures you can’t see. You can stand anywhere within twenty feet.”

Apprehensively, Pat said, “Max?”

On the huge monitor just beyond the platform, the face of a woman appeared. She stared at Pat in vivid color. Her eyes were topaz brown and her hair a shiny auburn. Her lips were spread in a smile that revealed even white teeth. Her shoulders were bare down to the tops of her breasts, which just showed above the bottom of the monitor. “Hello, Dr. O’Connell. I’m pleased to meet you.”

“Please call me Pat.”

“I shall from now on.”

“She’s lovely,” said Pat admiringly.

“Thank you.” Yaeger smiled. “Her real name is Elsie, and she’s my wife.”

“Do you work well together?” Pat asked facetiously.

“Most of the time. But if I’m not careful, she can get as testy and petulant as the original.”

“Okay, here goes,” Pat murmured under her breath. “Max, have you analyzed the symbols that were scanned into your system?”

“I have.” Max’s voice answered in tones that sounded positively human.

“Could you decipher and translate any of the symbols into the English alphabet?”

“I’ve only scratched the surface, but I have made progress. The inscriptions on the ceiling of the chamber appear to be a star chart.”

“Explain,” Yaeger ordered.

“I see it as a sophisticated coordinate system that is used in astronomy to plot the positions of celestial objects in the sky. I think it might suggest changes in the declinations of stars visible in the sky over a particular part of the world in past epochs.”

“Meaning that because of deviations in the earth’s rotation, the stars appear to shift positions over time.”

“Yes, the scientific terms are precession and nutation,” Max lectured. “Because the earth bulges around the equator from its rotation, the gravitational pull of the sun and moon is heaviest around the equator and causes a slight wobble to the earth’s spinning axis. You’ve seen the same phenomenon in a spinning top, due to gravity. This is called precession, and it traces a circular cone in space every 25,800 years. Nutation, or nodding, is a small but irregular movement that swings the celestial pole 10 seconds away from the smooth precessional circle every 18.6 years.”

“I know that sometime in the distant future,” said Pat, “Polaris will no longer be the North Star.”

“Exactly,” Max agreed. “As Polaris drifts away, another star will move into position above the North Pole in approximately 345 years. A hundred years before the time of Christ, the vernal equinox—Excuse me, are you familiar with the vernal equinox?”

“If I remember my junior college astronomy,” said Pat, “the vernal equinox is where the sun intersects the celestial equator from south to north during the spring equinox, making it a reference direction for angular distances as measured from the equator.”

“Very good,” Max complimented her. “Spoken like a college professor putting her class to sleep. Anyway, before Christ, the vernal equinox passed through the constellation Aries. Because of precession, the vernal equinox is now in Pisces and is advancing toward Aquarius.”

“What I think you’re telling us,” said Pat, elation beginning to grow in her chest, “is that the starlike symbols in the ceiling in the chamber display coordinates of the star system from the past.”

“That’s how I read it,” Max said impassively.

“Did the ancients have the scientific knowledge to make such accurate projections?”

“I’m finding that whoever carved that celestial map in the ceiling of the chamber was superior to the astronomers of only a few hundred years ago. They calculated correctly that the celestial galaxy is fixed and that the sun, the moon, and the planets revolve. The map shows the orbits of the planets, including Pluto, which was discovered only in the last century. They discovered that the stars Betelgeuse, Sirius, and Procyon remain in permanent positions, while other constellations move imperceptibly over thousands of years. Believe me, these ancient people knew their stuff when it came to stargazing.”