Rogue Command (The Kalahari Series) (39 page)

“Ha! You are indeed a stranger! Rhodes is an island to the east. It lays just one thousand cables distant . . . but a day’s sailing in a good ship. There is a small fishing village by the same name, but that is all.
This
place, my friend, is the Island of Theira, and this city,
Atlantis
– the seat of power of the Sea Sapiens. Were you sleeping on your journey?”

“Err, well, you could say that. I didn’t feel so well.” Richard forced a smile alongside his excuse.

“Yes, this is true. If you are only used to the rock and sand then the sea can be disorientating.” The kindly man nodded his understanding.

“That figure . . .” Richard raised his hand and pointed towards the sea. “How long has it stood there? I mean, when was it built?”

“The Colossus of Atlantis . . . ? It has stood for a thousand years. Next spring there will be celebrations to mark its millennium. It was cast in the new metal of the time – bronze – and manoeuvred itself into position. The engineering of our ancestors knew no bounds. You do not know of our fabled Colossus?”

“Yes, I know of it. Of course I do.” Richard looked directly at the man. “Are you a mathematician?” he probed.

“I am an architect.”

Richard paused thoughtfully and then his eyes narrowed. “Have you heard of Athens?”

The man’s brow furrowed and he thought for a moment. “No . . . not Athens! But Athena is well known.” He pointed vaguely. “A small town on the Attica periphery – a place where this world’s aura has been found to be unusually strong. We plan to build a temple there as part of the coming celebrations. There is a place, a hill on the edge of the town, that we have called Acropolis; it is a suitable site. I myself prepare plans for the temple. I have devised a new style for it and called it Ionic,” he said proudly. “It will be of similar design to the Temple of Homer here in the city and on a similar scale, but the architecture will be a mixture of the ancient Doric style devised by our forefathers and my new Ionic columns will be more decorative, you understand. My associates will have a hand in its construction.” Suddenly the man became suspicious and his easy smile dropped. “But this is not common knowledge. Do you have friends in the Senate?”

Richard nodded but looked evasive and then he stared again at the Colossus. “The power source for that statue – do you know where it is now?”

The man seemed surprised. “Such questions,” he said. “Eridu has a similar stone. Each of the four tribes was bequeathed one.”

“Where is the stone kept? Can you tell me?”

“In the Temple of Atlantis of course!”

“Would you take me there – just to see it, you understand? I hear it is inspiring.”

The man nodded. “At least you have knowledge of that. However, you are deficient in its praise. I should say it surpasses inspiring. The great temple has stood from the very beginning.” His expression grew kindly again. “There is nothing to hide. I have work there . . . I will show you.”

The man stood and beckoned Richard to follow him. They left the quayside bound for the city. Presently, Richard found himself in the main precinct again. It bustled with people. Many acknowledged the elderly man with a polite bow of their heads, as one would to a luminary.

Richard’s guide continued to walk in an easterly direction and after some while Richard realised that he was entering a much older quarter of the city. It was then that he caught sight of the temple. The man pointed to its conical peak towering above the rooftops and in a scholarly fashion he quoted dimensions and angles, but Richard had no idea of the units to which he referred.

The structure appeared to be made of translucent glass. In Richard’s estimation it was, perhaps, another half kilometre before they reached the Grand Plaza that Diomedes described as the ‘meeting place’. When they finally stepped from behind a tall, but time-ravaged, stone building to gaze unimpeded across the plaza, Richard pulled up short. His mouth fell open and he was speechless, as before him stood a glass pyramid in the same proportions as the Great Pyramid on the Plain of Giza – it could have been an exact replica. He stared in awe. The edifice sparkled in the sunlight like an unearthly prism and its backdrop was a sky so bright and blue and clear that it was beyond imagination.

Diomedes could see Richard’s amazement and he was astonished by it. “As long as this structure has stood it has been of small interest to the people. Only during the great joining do they gather.” Diomedes looked sideways at Richard. “Surely you know of this, for Eridu is similar.” There was suspicion in his tone.

“I will be honest, Diomedes, if I may call you that. I come from beyond Eridu. I don’t know of this . . . joining. Please . . . tell me.”

Diomedes gestured for Richard to follow him again and they walked together across the paved plaza towards the pyramid. It was empty of people and at least 500 paces to the pyramid’s base. “It is clear that you are not one of us, but your aura is strong and strangely it has the tolerance of the feminine side; because of that I trust you.” He put a hand on Richard’s shoulder. “The joining is when we communicate with our brethren on the Red World. It is an ancient ritual but happens infrequently now – only during the whole circle eclipse, when there is near total darkness – because the power of their stone fades.”

Richard pointed towards the sky. “You use this structure to communicate with similar pyramids on Mar—, I mean with the other world?”

“Yes, of course!”

Richard was hearing this for the second time. He thought back to his quest to find the Ark of the Light almost five years earlier and the encounter with the hologram of Professor Simpson-Carter in Khartoum. The Professor had said that the pyramids on the Plain of Giza were observatories. Richard had remained sceptical, but Carter appeared to be right after all!

Diomedes broke Richard’s thoughts by saying: “Come, I will show you.”

Richard and Diomedes climbed the flight of stairs that were cut with precision into the otherwise smooth glass face of the pyramid. The main entrance was a gaping square hole in the structure about sixty metres above the ground. Inside was an enormous cone-shaped cavern. It immediately reminded Richard of the interior of the Temple of Osiris – inside the Pyramid of Khufu – where Naomi had taken him during his search for the Ark. Only in this case, in Atlantis, it was filled with light and air and warmth – not dark and malodorous as in Egypt.

A shimmering rainbow-like spectrum stretched from the near corner on Richard’s right, across to the far corner on his left. So vivid were the seven colours that they appeared to be projected by a precision optical imager. The radiant arc reached high above their heads. There was a dynamic quality to it, as if it were alive. Richard could see that it was created by a prismatic effect, where the bright sunlight that entered the pyramid was refracted by thick glass walls. The colours offered a spectacular show that widened Richard’s eyes in wonderment.

The two men walked to the geometric centre of the cavern where a raised circular plinth supported a glass altar. The altar was cylindrical in shape and similarly constructed of translucent glass. It was approximately one metre high and on its flat top, and apparently shaped from a single block, was a chalice. Diomedes shook his head and put a staying hand on Richard’s shoulder when he attempted to step onto the plinth. “That place is for those who attend to the stone,” he explained, and turned and pointed to an opening high in one of the slanting walls of the pyramid. It was the aperture of a small square shaft. “When the alignment of the heavenly bodies is precise – ours with the red world – then the power of the stone reaches out and our message is passed.”

“
You send a message
? How? By light? By energy?”

“The High Priests and Priestesses have that ability. It is knowledge that is passed down their ancestral line and will continue for eternity.”

Richard looked at him and drew a deep, thoughtful breath, and then he pointed to the chalice. It was 10 metres from where he stood. “The crystal . . . I mean the
stone
 . . . it’s there?”

Diomedes nodded. “It is said that only once in the annals of time has it been removed.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Richard, nodding with enlightened expression. “To power the Colossus, when it stepped into position!”

“It was constructed on the other side of the island. Remnants of the foundries are clearly evident. Folk law still tells of the great walk.”

“Thank you, Diomedes, for your trust,” said Richard, aware of the passing time – whatever time reference there might be in ‘memories’. “I have learned what I needed. I should go back to the precinct, position myself near the Temple of Homer. Someone waits for me there.”

Strasbourg – simultaneous

A heavily built man of Asian origin walked purposefully along a darkened street. Heavy drizzle wetted his jacket. He stopped outside a house and looked up, eyeing brass numerals that were fixed to the wide front door – Number Eleven appeared to confirm the address. He cast a wary eye in both directions and then climbed the few steps whilst pulling a small electronic device from his pocket. He scrutinised the tiny backlit screen, opened the adjacent security box and tapped a series of keys. The code released locks on the door which sprang open a few centimetres. He pushed the door open further and looked inside – the hallway was dark and quiet. He stepped back a few paces and raised his arm as a signal. Moments later a black sedan drew silently to a halt outside the neighbouring house. Three men climbed from the vehicle – one with some difficulty. Guardedly, the men made their way back to the house. None of them had a spritely step and one had a pronounced limp. They climbed the steps to the house in question and promptly disappeared inside.

The tall man had dark, shiny hair. He wore a black leather coat with large lapels, a white shirt, a black tie and black shoes – traditionally laced, not fastened. His face was narrow with high cheek bones and his look was slightly gaunt. The heavily built man looked Chinese and muscular. He wore a shorter black jacket of synthetic leather with more contemporary styling. His head was shaved and his neck thick. He looked hard. The other two men were of pensionable age, although both looked relatively fit. Dressed similarly, they each wore blue denim jeans and dark, bomber-style jackets, one blue and the other dark brown. They had a military bearing.

The tall man pointed a bony finger first at himself and then at the ceiling, and then he pointed to the oriental man and waved his finger in a circle, indicating for him to search the ground floor rooms. He gestured for the two older men to follow him; he seemed to know there was someone above them. Before climbing the stairs he checked the time: it was just after midnight.

Upstairs, after a brief search, the first three rooms proved empty. One of the older men stepped out of another bedroom backwards and silently closed the door behind him. He met the tall man’s cautious glance on the landing and held up one finger and nodded. Then the three men gathered outside the last door. The oriental man came up the stairs shaking his head and giving the all clear. The tall man reached inside his coat and pulled out a pistol, gripping the door handle with his other hand. The oriental man did the same but retrieved a long knife with a thick blade; one of the edges was serrated. They stood ready to enter.

Without a word being spoken the tall man edged the door open. There was subtle lighting inside – brighter than on the landing – but no movement. He opened the door further and held back for a moment. All was silent. It was likely that the occupants were sleeping. Then he turned to the oriental man and gestured for him to enter.

The big man slipped inside the room and then, a few moments later, he said in a forced whisper: “Quickly! Come in!”

The tall man burst through the doorway, pistol raised.

“You won’t need that, Mr Rhinefeld. Look!” said the oriental, and he pointed to Richard and Naomi lying on the floor, seemingly fast asleep. “Apart from these two, the room is clear.”

A faint, lopsided smile contorted the scarred face of the tall man. He slowly lifted his black hat from his head, held it against his chest and looked down upon the couple – smugness widened his smile. He walked across and kicked Richard hard in the side. “Wake up!” he demanded.

There was no response from Richard, not even a stir. One of the men in blue jeans stepped over. He lifted his hand to stop another kick. He saw significance in the way that Richard and Naomi’s hands were bound and knelt down beside Naomi to examine the link. He seemed to recognise something in the particular way they were joined and the expression they shared. Keeping a few centimetres clear, he ran a hand over the length of Richard’s body; he was feeling for something. And then he stopped and touched Richard, pressing in the area that he had been kicked; there seemed to be a complete immunity to pain – a complete immunity to any external stimulus. He shook Richard gently; there seemed also to be an inability to wake him. The man glanced up at his accomplice and then looked down at Naomi and began a similar examination. The tall man clicked his tongue and shifted impatiently.

“Vot are you doing?” he barked.

“He is sensing an energy field . . . an extrasensory energy,” explained the other man in blue jeans.

The man kneeling put a hand on Naomi’s forehead and closed his eyes. With his other hand he gripped Naomi’s left wrist and felt her pulse. After a few moments he looked up and nodded slowly in an enlightened fashion.

“There is some kind of psychic link between them,” he said. By his accent, it was clear the man was an American.

Rhinefeld put a foot on Richard’s chest and pressed down. “He dies . . . Pull them apart!”

“Wait!” said the standing accomplice, and he quickly went to Naomi. He crouched down next to his friend and made his own examination. “Leon’s right!” he exclaimed. “On a spiritual level, these two are joined like lovers. You part them like this and there will be damage – they may both die . . . You willing to risk that?” This man was also an American; he had the nasal slurring of the Bronx.