Old Earth (22 page)

“It’s a picture of a vase found in a Massachusetts quarry in 1851.”

“Intricate. More like a candle holder.”

“Well, maybe. Who knows? It was embedded in a rock.” Greene paused. “Would you like to know how old researchers claim it is?”

“The rock or the vase?” McCauley said.

“Well, considering the vase is inside the stone, both!”

“What?”

“Look again. Inside the stone. Try 534 million years old.”

McCauley laughed. “Impossible.”

“Here’s another.” Greene handed Alpert the second photograph. McCauley slid closer on the already crowded leather couch.

“This is from the Chernogorodskiy mines in Russia. See the rail-shaped piece of aluminum machinery? It was discovered in a piece of coal. Again,
in a piece of coal
. The metal was dated to the time of the coal’s formation—three hundred million years ago.”

McCauley laughed again. “By whom, the Moscow Ballet?”

Greene ignored the snarky comment. “Another.” It was a drawing, not a photograph, of a semi-ovoid device. “This came from a French coal mine in the 1880s. Workers broke open a block of rock and
voilà
—a metallic tube. Put a sixty-five million year sticker on it.”

“You said it. It’s just a drawing. A sketch,” McCauley argued.

“Yes, quite accurately a drawing. A photograph of a drawing, though in a sense, wouldn’t Native American petroglyphs be considered sketches?”

“I’ll give you that one,” McCauley admitted.

“Okay class. I have more. Check this out. A human handprint.”

They examined the photo of a stone with a human hand spread out next to it.

“It’s a fossil uncovered in limestone. One hundred ten million years old. And here, a fossilized human finger discovered in the Canadian arctic. Again, one hundred ten million years ago. Another fossilized hand from Bogota, Columbia. One hundred thirty million years old. And this footprint, found in a shale deposit near Delta, Utah.”

“Three hundred up to six hundred million years old,” McCauley proclaimed.

“Jesus, you’re familiar with this?” Alpert asked.

“No way, I just know my Utah shale.”

“I saved the best for last.”

Greene pulled one more photo from his refrigerator files.

“They call this a Klerksdorp sphere. It was excavated from a mine near Ottosdal, South Africa. It’s not one of a kind, either. Miners have been digging them up for decades.”

The object was oval with three parallel lines which ran across the entire circumference. “Two types have been found. One solid bluish with flecks of white, the other, hollow. Both were recovered with pyrophyllite.”

“That can’t be,” McCauley insisted.

“Why?”

“Why? Because pyrophyllite dates back to Precambrian.“

“So?”

Dr. Alpert now jumped in. “Precambrian is the oldest of the planet’s geological ages and covers the largest span of time in earth’s history. Roughly eighty-eight percent. It began with the planet’s formation 4.5 to 4.6 billion years ago and continued through the emergence of complex multi-celled life forms billions of years later.”

“Its record is evident through different layers of sedimentary rock, laid one on top of another over eons,” she continued by heart. “There was almost no oxygen until 2.4 billion years ago when oxygen was released from the oceans through photosynthesis of cyanobacteria. It wasn’t breathable until some eight hundred million years ago. That’s when complex organisms began to emerge. And yes, there are fossilized remains of early plants and animals within the sediments. But a man-made metal sphere?”

Greene let the question settle, then simply added, “Who said
man
-made?”

• • •

Parked diagonally across the street and three homes down from Greene’s ranch house sat a rented black Lincoln Navigator. The driver kept the motor idling and the air conditioning blasting to keep the interior cool. He had a straight in view of the subject’s house and all the comings and goings. The driver, a dedicated man, had already emailed out the first photographs from his Wi-Fi capable Canon digital/video camera. Now he just waited.

This was a relatively easy job, with no fingerprints to clean up or trails to cover for the retired SAS officer and ex-Halliburton security chief. His assignments came in encrypted messages. Deadly boring or adrenalin pounding, it was all the same. He didn’t ask what or why. Money took the question mark out of everything. He was a veteran and, unlike the firm he worked for, he didn’t have to be a believer.

Thirty-four

“Now your turn, doctors. I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to listen to me go on and on about something you could have seen on online.”

McCauley stood. “Mr. Greene, I want to thank you. You’ve been very generous with your time. It’s been entertaining to say the least. But ancient aliens are not going to cut it for us. They’re great for your audiences, but not for me.”

“Excuse me. My fault. I didn’t make myself clear,” Greene offered. “Give me a few more minutes to explain. Maybe I can get beyond your discomfort.”

“A few minutes,” Katrina said agreeing with McCauley that Greene was beginning to sound too far-fetched.

“Thank you,” the researcher responded. “Maybe this will help. What is not mankind is not necessarily alien.”

“Say that again,” McCauley implored.

“What is not mankind is not necessarily alien. And the reverse as well. Not alien does not have to be human in the developmental terms as we know it.”

McCauley stopped and gazed past Greene and all his boxes, beyond his house and all the way to the cave system. “I’m not sure I get where you’re going.” He paused to consider an interpretation. “Are you suggesting that accounts of ancient civilizations
may,
and let’s keep it at
may,
have existed on earth with some degree of technological know-how?”

“Sticking to the narrow confines of your comfort zone, Dr. McCauley, I really don’t have any scientific fact to support that. That said, I’m not a scientist. I merely research and discuss what I come across. Anyone can do it. The fact is, no one else has to the same extent.”

“But you believe those pictures are authentic?” Alpert injected. “The artifacts and fossils and—”

Greene interrupted Alpert.

“Reports. Research. You could have done a Google search and come up with the same thing. Can I stand behind any of them? Hell, I get the government to release loads of documents. Does that mean what
they
wrote is true? Was an FBI investigator covering his butt? An Air Force pilot citing a UFO encounter as an excuse for a poor decision he made in the air? Are the dates of relics from Russia, South America and Asia to be taken as credible when respected scientists haven’t laid their fingers on them?

“I have great stories and fabulous photographs. The largest download of previously classified documents anywhere in the country. But validity?” Greene shrugged his shoulders. “Beats the hell out of me.”

“Then, with all due respect, what the fuck are you talking about?” Quinn McCauley couldn’t have been more direct.

“You stood in front of a metallic wall you couldn’t see and felt a prime pyramid that doesn’t make any sense. And yet you question things that I bring up that are equally confounding. Again, why do we assume we know everything there is to know?” He paused. “Why do we do what we do? To see if we’ll ever be lucky enough to uncover a
something
that no one else has discovered, hoping to add to a greater wealth of knowledge,” Greene continued. “Proving a theory we’ve long held or just being surprised by a big old aha!”

“You are by far one of the oddest people I’ve ever met,” McCauley said. “But you’re right.”

Greene smiled. “I have an idea. Give me a few minutes.”

Greene went to work on his desktop and began printing out a number of pages.

“Here you go,” he said after a few minutes. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have any success, but nothing ventured…”

“What is it?” McCauley asked as he scanned the papers.

“Articles on people who might be able to fill in some blanks. Then again, they may just shut you down or worse send you down a deeper rabbit hole than even I’ve done. Oh, what the hell. I like you. You’re a nice couple—

“We’re not a—” Katrina quickly cut in.

“A nice couple of academics.”

“Oh,” she replied, somewhat embarrassed.

“So,” he said leaning over and pointing to the papers, “start with this guy. Gene Krein. He’s a TV producer who does a show for Nat Geo called
World’s Greatest Cover-ups Uncovered.
”

“Really?” Alpert asked incredulously. A TV producer?”

“Believe it or not, they can do worthwhile research.”

“I bet.” It was Alpert’s retort. “Does it show up in their programs?”

“Well,” Greene acknowledged, “that’s another thing entirely. But I’ve worked with Krein. Worth a try.”

“More?”

“Yes. A retired archeologist/historian somewhere in New England. He must be pretty old by now. Not sure where, but I’ve read his work. DeCoursey Fales. He used to teach in Boston. Emerson College. Imagine a teacher with that name? I love it. I understand he made some cool discoveries years ago. Here’s his picture. It might lead to something.”

“Maybe
he
should call the TV producer.” Alpert offered.

“You tell him when you meet. I also think you should talk to this old French spelunker. Bovard.” Greene handed them a picture and contact information. “If anyone knows caves he does. I’ve never met him, but I know his work.”

Greene checked his watch. “Okay, I have to wrap this up. I’ve got a live webcast tonight and I’m way behind on my homework.”

“But you’ve got another,” Alpert noted. Greene held more printouts.

Greene gave it some thought. “Well, yes. I’m just not sure.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I met him at a convention.”

Given Greene’s following, this worried her. “What kind of convention?”

“Ah,
sciency
.”

“
Sciency
?” Alpert responded. She didn’t like the sound of that either.

“Well, maybe more science fiction. But don’t get me wrong. He’s the real deal.” Greene turned back to his computer, quickly found an article and printed it out.

“Area 51?
Star Wars
?” McCauley said.

“Actually
Star Trek
.”

“Further into the abyss,” McCauley complained under his breath.

Greene heard him.

“No, really. A lot of PhDs go to these things. You’d be surprised. There’s real enthusiasm for research at these things.”

“And a lot of people dressing up. What’s he wear?” McCauley asked completely sarcastically.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked.” He handed McCauley the article. “A black jacket and a collar. He’s a Vatican priest.”

Thirty-five

MAY 10, 1633
ROME, ITALY

“Assuredly, we can all reflect on the meaning of time,” Galileo argued. “It is not ours to control any more than the truth. You may do what you want with me now, but it’s temporal only to us; a pyrrhic victory for you and those who sit in judgment of science.”

Father Vincenzo Maculano sat silently. His fellow inquisitors had left, as had the Vatican scribe. Just two men now, continuing to explore a most uncommon ground.

“Tell me Father, how did you find out?” Galileo asked.

The inquisitor smiled. “Quite simply. Your coterie.”

“My coterie? I don’t understand?”

“The thinker doesn’t think?” Maculano declared. “Are you so old that you have forgotten your friends Pino and Santori?”

Thirty-six

BAKERSFIELD, CA

“Father Eccleston. Jared Eccleston. A Paulist. He does his research through an agency called The STOQ Project. STOQ for Science, Theology and the Ontological Quest.”

“Ontological?” McCauley was unfamiliar with the term.

“Metaphysics focusing on the nature and relations of being; the essence of being.”

“Oh, that ontological,” McCauley joked.

“Don’t worry, Dr. McCauley. I had to look it up myself,” Greene admitted. “STOQ embraces chemistry, earth and environment sciences, botany, genetics, molecular biology, biochemistry, and neuroscience. But Father Eccleston also crosses over into astronomy. Kind of a Brother Astronomer. Pretty incredible turnaround for the church that made an example of Galileo.”

“I guess.” McCauley said not really knowing.

“Just promise me that if you figure out more, you’ll give me a call. I’m dying to know.”

• • •

“What do you think?” an anxious Katrina Alpert asked as they left Greene’s house.

“Wait,” McCauley said. “The hundred foot rule.”

“The what?”

“One hundred feet. Sorry, I guess it would be more like thirty meters. Thirty meters before you talk about a house you’re going to buy after you see it. Thirty meters before you discuss a job interview after you’ve left. Breathing room, doctor.”

“Got it.”

Their rental car, a Ford Fiesta was parked in front. The short walk gave McCauley only a moment to think. But even that was cut short when he noticed something.

“Keep walking to the car,” he whispered, “but casually look up the street.” We passed that SUV, the black one, when we got here. The engine was running. It’s still running.”

She saw it, though couldn’t identify it by make and model. It was just big to her. “So?”

“So, that’s a long time to be sitting outside on a residential street.”

“My goodness, is the good doctor showing a paranoid streak?”

“Not paranoid, observant.”

In the car, they buckled and slowly rolled forward. When they passed the SUV, which McCauley ID’d as a Lincoln Navigator, he glanced at the driver.

“Jesus,” he said.

“Come on,” she replied without concern. “It’s hot, he’s sitting in air conditioning, probably waiting for someone.”

“Right. Us.”

“Is he following?”

McCauley checked his rear view mirror. “No.”

“Then…”

“He might have been waiting for us to leave.”

Alpert didn’t believe it.