Atlantis Found (37 page)

“After the Amenes finally died out, centuries of paralysis set in before the Sumerians and Egyptians began to emerge from primitive cultures and gradually build new civilizations, using bits and pieces of the knowledge from the distant past.”

Pitt tapped a pencil on the table. “From what little I know on the subject of megaliths, it would seem that later cultures, having lost the original intent of the Amenes through the centuries, used monumental structures as temples, tombs, and stone calendars, eventually building thousands of their own.”

“In studying the available data on megaliths,” said Yaeger, “the very early structures show that the Amenes had a distinct form of architecture. Their style of building was mostly circular, with triangular-shaped stone blocks cut like interlocking pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, making them almost impervious to any movement of the earth, regardless of how severe.”

Stevens spoke very deliberately, as he replaced the globe in its socket inside the black skull. “Thanks to the efforts of Mr. Yaeger and Dr. O’Connell, it’s beginning to look as if elements of the Amenes culture and ancient heritage were passed through the centuries and eventually absorbed by the Egyptians, Sumerians, the Chinese, and Olmecs, who preceded the Mayans, and both the Asian Indians and the American Indians. The Phoenicians, more than any other civilization, took up the torch of deep-ocean navigation.

“Their revelations also help to explain why most of the gods and deities from nearly every later civilization in every part of the world came from the sea, and why all the gods setting foot in the Americas came from the east while the gods appearing in the early European cultures came from the west.”

Sandecker stared at his cigar smoke spiraling to the ceiling. “An interesting point, Doctor, that answers any number of questions about our ancient ancestors that we’ve puzzled over for hundreds of years.”

Pitt nodded at Pat. “What finally happened to the last of the Amenes?”

“Frustrated that their message would not be received and acted upon, they built chambers in different parts of the world that they hoped would not be found for thousands of years, and only then by future civilizations with the science to understand their message of danger.”

“Which was?” prompted Sandecker.

“The date of the second comet’s return to earth’s orbit and the almost certain impact.”

Stevens wagged his finger to make a point. “A recurring theme in mythology is that the cataclysm with its accompanying deluge will repeat itself.”

“Hardly a cheery thought,” said Giordino.

“What made them so certain there would be another devastating visitor from outer space?” wondered Sandecker.

“The inscriptions describe in great detail two comets that arrived at the same time,” answered Yaeger. “One impacted. The other missed and returned to space.”

“Are you suggesting the Amenes could accurately predict the date of the second comet’s return?”

Pat simply nodded.

“The Amenes,” said Yaeger, “were masters not only of the seas but of the heavens as well. They measured the movement of the stars with uncanny accuracy. And they did it without powerful telescopes.”

“Suppose the comet does come back,” said Giordino. “How could they know it wouldn’t miss the earth and sail off into the great beyond again? Was their science so sophisticated they could calculate the time of impact at the exact position of the earth’s orbit in space?”

“They could and did,” Pat retorted. “By computing and comparing the different positions of the stars and constellations between the ancients’ star map in the Colorado chamber with present astronomical star positions, we were able to arrive at our own date in time. It matched the Amenes prediction within an hour.

“The Egyptians devised a double calendar that’s far more intricate than what we use today. The Mayans measured the length of the year at 365.2420 days. Our calculation using atomic clocks is 365.2423. They also computed incredibly accurate calendars based on the conjunctions of Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The Babylonians determined the sidereal year at 365 days, 6 hours, and 11 minutes. They were off by less than two minutes.” Pat paused for effect. “The Amenes’ computation for the earth’s circuit of the sun was off by two-tenths of a second. They based their calendar on a solar eclipse that occurred on the same day of the year at the same site on the zodiac every 521 years. Their celestial map of the heavens, as observed and calculated nine thousand years ago, was right on the money.”

“The question on all our minds now,” said Sandecker, “is at what point in time did the Amenes predict the reappearance of the comet?”

Pat and Yaeger exchanged sober looks. Yaeger spoke first. “We learned from a computer search of ancient archaeoastronomy files and papers from the archives of several universities that the Amenes were not the only ancient astronomers to predict a second doomsday. The Mayans, the Hopi Indians, the Egyptians, the Chinese, and several other pre-Christian civilizations all came up with dates for the end of the world. The disturbing part is that, collectively, they arrived within a year of each other.”

“Could it be simply a coincidence or one culture borrowing from another?”

Yaeger shook his head doubtfully. “It’s possible they copied what was passed on by the Amenes, but indications are that their studies of the stars only confirmed the impact time passed on by those they considered as ancients.”

“Who do you think were the most accurate in their prediction?” asked Pitt.

“Those of the Amenes who survived, because they were present during the actual catastrophe. They predicted not only the year but the exact day.”

“Which is?” Sandecker prompted expectantly.

Pat sank in her chair as if retreating from reality. Yaeger hesitated, looking around the table from face to face. At last he said in a halting voice, “The time the Amenes predicted the comet would return and shatter the earth is May 20, in the year 2001.”

Pitt frowned. “This is 2001.”

Yaeger massaged his temples with both hands. “I’m well aware of that.”

Sandecker hunched forward. “Are you saying doomsday is less than two months away?”

Yaeger nodded solemnly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

27

AFTER THE MEETING, PITT returned to his office and was greeted by his longtime secretary, Zerri Pochinsky. A lovely lady with a dazzling smile, she was blessed with a body that would make a Las Vegas showgirl envious. Fawn-colored hair fell to her shoulders, and she peered at the world through captivating hazel eyes. She lived alone, with a cat named Murgatroyd, and seldom dated. Pitt was more than fond of Zerri, but exercised iron discipline in not coming on to her. As much as he often imagined her in his arms, he had a strict rule about socializing with any members of the opposite sex employed with NUMA. He had seen too many office affairs inevitably lead to disaster.

“FBI Special Agent Ken Helm called and would like you to return his call,” she announced, handing him a pink slip of paper with the number of Helm’s private line. “Are you in trouble with your government again?”

He grinned at her and leaned over Zerri’s desk until their noses were less than an inch apart. “I’m always in trouble with my government.”

Her eyes flashed mischievously. “I’m still waiting for you to sweep me off my feet and fly me to a beach in Tahiti.”

He pulled back a safe distance, because the scent of her Chanel was beginning to stir unnatural feelings within him. “Why can’t you find some nice, stable, home-loving male to marry, so you can stop harassing an old, unanchored, derelict beach bum?”

“Because stable home-lovers aren’t any fun.”

“Whoever said women are nest-oriented?” He sighed.

Pitt pulled away and stepped into his office, which looked like a trailer park after a tornado. Books, papers, nautical charts, and photographs littered every square inch of space, including the carpet. He had decorated his workplace in antiques he’d bought at auction from the American President Lines elegant passenger ship
President Cleveland.
He settled behind his desk, picked up the receiver, and dialed Helm’s number.

A voice answered with a terse “Yes?”

“Mr. Helm, Dirk Pitt returning your call.”

“Mr. Pitt, thank you. I just thought you’d like to know that the Bureau has identified the body you shipped from the Antarctic and also the woman you apprehended last night.”

“That was fast work.”

“Thanks to our new computerized photo ID department,” explained Helm. “They’ve scanned every newspaper, magazine, TV broadcast, state motor vehicle driver’s license record, company security face shot, passport photo, and police record to build the world’s largest photo identification network. It consists of hundreds of millions of enhanced facial close-ups. Combined with our fingerprint and DNA files, we can now cover a vast spectrum for identifying bodies and fugitives. We had a make on both women within twenty minutes.”

“What did you discover?”

“The name of the deceased from the submarine was Heidi Wolf. The woman you apprehended last night is Elsie Wolf.”

“Then they
are
twin sisters.”

“No, actually, they’re cousins. And what is really off the wall is that they both come from a very wealthy family and are high-level executives of the same vast business conglomerate.”

Pitt stared in contemplation out the window of his office, without seeing the Potomac River outside and the Capitol in the background. “Would they happen to be related to Karl Wolf, the CEO of Destiny Enterprises out of Argentina?”

Helm paused, then said, “It seems you’re two steps ahead of me, Mr. Pitt.”

“Dirk.”

“All right, Dirk, you’re on the mark. Heidi was Karl’s sister. Elsie is his cousin. And, yes, Destiny Enterprises is a privately owned business empire based in Buenos Aires. Forbes has estimated the combined family resources at two hundred and ten billion dollars.”

“Not exactly living on the streets, are they?”

“And I had to marry a girl whose father was a bricklayer.”

Pitt said, “I don’t understand why a woman of such affluence would stoop to committing petty burglary.”

“When you get the answers, I hope you’ll pass them on to me.”

“Where is Elsie now?” asked Pitt.

“Under guard at a private clinic run by the Bureau on W Street, across from Mount Vernon College.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“I see no problem from the Bureau’s end, but you’ll have to go through the doctor in charge of her case. His name is Aaron Bell. I’ll call and clear your visit.”

“Is she lucid?”

“She’s conscious. You gave her a pretty hard rap on the head. Her concussion was just short of a skull fracture.”

“I didn’t hit her. It was her motorcycle.”

“Whatever,” said Helm, the humor obvious in his tone. “You won’t get much out of her. One of our best interrogators tried. She’s one tough lady. She makes a clam look talkative.”

“Does she know her cousin is dead?”

“She knows. She also knows that Heidi’s remains are lying in the clinic’s morgue.”

“That should prove interesting,” Pitt said slowly.

“What will prove interesting?” Helm inquired.

“The look on Elsie’s face when I tell her I’m the one who recovered Heidi’s body from Antarctic waters and air-shipped it to Washington.”

 
ALMOST immediately after hanging up the phone, Pitt left the NUMA building and drove over to the unmarked clinic used exclusively by the FBI and other national security agencies. He parked the ’36 Ford cabriolet in an empty stall next to the building and walked through the main entrance. He was asked for his identification, and phone calls were made before he was allowed admittance. An administrator directed him to the office of Dr. Bell.

Pitt had actually met the doctor several times, not for care or treatment but during social functions to raise money for a cancer foundation that his father, Senator George Pitt, and Bell served on as directors. Aaron Bell was in his middle sixties, a hyper character, red-faced, badly overweight, and working under a blanket of stress. He smoked two packs of cigarettes a day and drank twenty cups of coffee. His outlook on life, as he often expressed it, was “Go like hell and go to the grave satisfied.”

He emerged from behind his desk like a bear walking on its hind legs. “Dirk!” he boomed. “Good to see you. How’s the senator?”

“Planning on running for another term.”

“He’ll never quit, and neither will I. Sit down. You’re here about the woman who was brought in last night.”

“Ken Helm called?”

“You wouldn’t have crossed the threshold if he hadn’t.”

“The clinic doesn’t look highly guarded.”

“Stare cross-eyed at a surveillance camera and see what happens.”

“Did she suffer any permanent brain damage?”

Bell shook his head vigorously. “One hundred percent after a few weeks. Incredible constitution. She’s not built like most women who come through these doors.”

“She
is
very attractive,” said Pitt.

“No, no, I’m not talking about looks. This woman is a remarkable physical specimen, as is, or should I say was, the body of her cousin you shipped from the Antarctic.”

“According to the FBI, they’re cousins.”

“Nonetheless, a perfect genetic match,” said Bell seriously. “Too perfect.”

“How so?”

“I attended the postmortem examination, then took the findings and compared the physical characteristics with the lady lying in a bed down the hall. There’s more going on here than mere family similarities.”

“Helm told me Heidi’s body is here at the clinic.”

“Yes, on a table in the basement morgue.”

“Can’t family members with the same genes, especially cousins, have a mirror image?” asked Pitt.

“Not impossible, but extremely rare,” replied Bell.