Atlantis (20 page)

“What happened to his plane?”

“It's down, sir, inside the borders of the Angkor Gate. Bright Eye did manage to get a picture of it and pinpoint the location. I’m having that picture forwarded to Mister Michelet to aid him in trying to recover the plane and his daughter.”

There was a short silence, then National Security Adviser Bancroft spoke. “You wouldn’t just have happened to have set all this up, would you have Foreman?”

“Set what up?” Foreman asked.

“Michelet sending his survey plane over Angkor Gate?”

“Sir, Michelet Technologies has been interested in that area for many years. It was inevitable that they would eventually send some sort of reconnaissance. As I said earlier, there was no way I could directly warn Michelet against doing that. I did send him enough information so that he had an awareness of the danger.”

“A very carefully worded reply,” the President noted. “What if these Gates appear elsewhere? What happens?”

“I can only make an educated guess at that, sir, based on Devil’s Sea, Bermuda Triangle and Angkor. There is a legend of an ancient capitol city of the Khmer Empire, a city called Angkor Kol Ker. Apparently the Angkor Gate overran it in 800 AD.”

“And?” the President impatiently demanded.

“And the city was devastated. An empire that was perhaps the strongest on Earth at its time disappeared and its capitol is now only known as a legend.

“And that was only one Gate, not sixteen, like we’re seeing now. I also have a suspicion what is happening now predates even that long ago event. I’ve talked with Professor Takato Nagoya, who runs the Japanese team that is investigating the Devil’s Sea Gate. Based on various data, he thinks that what is happening now happened once before in Earth’s history.”

“When was that?”

“Ten thousand years ago. Nagoya believes that the legend of Atlantis, as related by Plato in the
Timaeus
and
Critias
, two of his dialogues, tells the true story of what happened when all these Vile Vortices grew into Gates and tried to connect. He believes that a highly advanced human civilization was destroyed to the point where it is only a legend. That one of the Vile Vortices, now known as Bermuda Triangle Gate or the Bermuda Triangle, opened on top of Atlantis and destroyed it.”

“Hogwash!” Simmons exploded.

“Doctor Nagoya does has several doctorate degrees, Professor Simmons; in fact he is one of Japan’s foremost scientists. Mister President, I believe we are facing a dire threat not only to these specific areas but to mankind as a whole. It wasn’t hogwash or poppycock that destroyed Bright Eye; or made the
Scorpion
disappear so many years ago; or that knocked Michelet’s plane out of the sky.

“I believe we are being invaded through these Gates, sir, and we cannot sit on our current level of scientific knowledge insisting that it can’t be so, when in fact, it is already happening. We cannot intellectually appease this threat. Something’s happening, sir, and I don’t believe we have the time or the latitude to stick our heads up our asses and ignore what is going on.

“Sir, there is a long history of men in power, men who have the responsibility given to them, of not waking up to threats before it is too late. Remember Chamberlain in 1939 with Hitler? They had facts then, which they chose to ignore or squeeze into their own fanciful imaginings.”

“You’re walking a very dangerous line there,” the President’s voice was ice cold.

“Sir, if you think I am worried about my career or my pension or my position or anything else other than this threat, you are wrong. This invasion is real and this time there won’t be anywhere for people to run to and our country won’t be left alone.”

There was a long silence.

“And now?” the President finally asked. “What do we do now?”

“Sir, I'm hoping to find out what is on the other side in the Angkor Gate and then to formulate a plan of action.”

“How are you going to do that? Nothing has come back from there.”

“As I told you earlier, sir, one man did. He is currently with Mister Michelet. When he went in, he was contacted in some manner by something or someone inside that area. There was also a radio transmission to him just before Michelet’s plane went down from what appears to be one of his old teammates inside the Angkor Gate. I don’t know how that could be, but it’s the best lead we have. The man went in once and came out. I'm hoping he can do it again, this time with more information. In the meanwhile, I do have a list of actions that will put us in position to respond in a variety of ways once we find out what is really going on.”

“And if we don’t find out what is really going on?” the President asked. “God help us then, Mister President,” Foreman said.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Even though it was three in the morning, a blast of heat hit Dane as he stepped onto the short staircase pressed up against the plane's door. But more than the heat, the smell brought back a cacophony of memories. An odor of exotic food, human sweat, and the faint tinge of disease and dirt made him feel for a moment that he was back in Saigon so many years ago.

Dane looked at the lights reflecting off the runway: Don Muang Airport was not that much different than it had been when he'd come here on R & R. Dane felt the same rush of bad feelings come over him that he had then. This was a sick place. Dane had only spent a day in Bangkok, holed up in a motel room before catching the first flight back to Vietnam and, for him, the peace and security of MACV-SOG's base camp. There was too much human misery in Bangkok, too much hopelessness and he couldn’t block it out.

“There's our man,” Freed said, nudging him and bringing him back to his present circumstance.

Dane saw the black limousine waiting for them. Chelsea at his side, he followed Michelet, Freed and Beasley to the car. Chelsea leaped in and curled up in the spacious center between two wide leather seats that faced each other.

An old man was inside. Michelet sat next to him, shaking his hand. “Lucian, it is good to see you.”

Dane estimated that Lucian was at least 70, if not older. Dane’s guess was the he was one of the original French ex-patriots, booted from Vietnam when the communists took over and shifting his business two countries west.

“You've met Mister Freed,” Michelet made the introductions. “This is Mister Beasley and Mister Dane.”

Lucian turned clear blue eyes on each man and nodded his liver spotted bald head, before returning his gaze to Michelet. “I reported to Mister Freed about what--” he paused as Michelet raised a finger ever so slightly.

“Is the equipment we requested ready?” Michelet asked.

Lucian inclined his head. “The plane and helicopter are here at the airfield, fueled and ready. The crews are on standby. The men are with the plane. They are the best I could get under short notice so they may not be as good as you would like.” Lucian seemed ready to say something more about that, then changed his mind. “I had the bomb you requested already put on board the plane. As far as the specialized equipment you asked for, I have arranged a meeting with a man who can supply you with what you require.”

Michelet's face darkened in the dim glow inside the compartment. “I don't have time to barter. I told you to take care of that for me. The gear should be here!”

Lucian met his gaze. “I never deal directly in weapons or drugs. That is how I have survived in this part of the world all these years. I might not have much life left in me, but I wish to have it end by natural means. You will not be overly delayed. This man is most efficient. We must make a short side trip to pick up the equipment.”

Lucian rapped a walking stick on the thick glass separating their compartment from the driver and the limousine began moving.

Dane reached down and curled his fingers in the hair on Chelsea's rump, slowly massaging the thick muscle underneath. She turned her head toward him and gave a low whine.

The old Frenchman was hiding something, Dane was sure of it. Whatever it was that he had been about to say when they first got in the car was important, but something that Michelet didn't want Dane to know about. Dane glanced out the back window and noted a pick-up truck following them, three men in the bed, a heavy caliber machine-gun mounted on the roof of the cab. Lucian did indeed have a strong desire to remain healthy.

They wound their way through palm-lined street, which were crowded even at this early hour. There were more cars on the street and no American GIs, but it reminded Dane very much of Saigon. Southeast Asia was a place where the hands of time moved slowly. They passed farmers pulling carts loaded with produce for the markets that would open soon.

The limousine turned a corner and went down a narrow alley. Dane tensed, a feeling he had not experienced in a long time stabbing through him.

“It's an ambush,” he said quietly to Freed.

The security man looked at Dane, then out the tinted windows at the buildings looming close overhead on either side. His hand slid inside his jacket but other than that, he did nothing. Dane thought briefly of the reaction such a statement on his part would have brought from the members of RT Kansas, then he forced himself to relax. If they were attacked he was going to have to trust Lucian's men to protect them, unless of course, it was Lucian who was setting the trap. Dane doubted that with the man in the car with them.

A set of warehouse doors swung open at the end of the alley and they were inside. Dane tensed, ready to roll out the door, but surprisingly, the feeling abated slightly as the doors closed behind them. Lucian stepped out, followed by Michelet.

“What was that about?” Freed hissed at Dane, before exiting.

Dane just shook his head and pushed his way past the other man. “Stay,” he ordered Chelsea who looked none too thrilled with the order, but complied, burying her nose between her front paws in the heavy carpeting inside the car and furrowing her eyebrows at Dane.

The pick up truck with the heavy machine gun had followed them in, but it immediately turned around in the confined space behind the limo, ready to lead the way out. The interior of the warehouse was lit by naked light bulbs, spaced twenty feet apart and hanging down from the ceiling. The far wall was about forty meters away and the interior was full of crates.

Five Cambodian men stood waiting behind a long table on which were laid two large footlockers. Lucian walked up to the table and waved his cane over the lockers. “Your equipment,” he said simply.

“Check it, Freed,” Michelet said.

The Cambodian in the center raised his hand. “The money first.”

“Freed, check the gear,” Michelet repeated as he slid the metal briefcase onto the table.

The Cambodian grabbed the case and his fingers worked at the latches as Freed swung open the first locker. Dane walked up next to Freed. Inside were six M-16A2s, still in their original wrappings. Thirty round magazines were stacked in the corners along with several cans of 5.56 ammunition. There were also a dozen green canvas bags, which Dane immediately recognized as Claymore mines.

“The key!” the Cambodian hissed angrily, holding up the briefcase.

Michelet reached into his pocket and held up a small metal key. “You have the money in hand. You get the key when we finish checking the equipment we have purchased from you. If you try to open that case without the key, a special charge inside will incinerate the money.”

Lucian looked from the men on one side of the table to the other. “The money is in the case, Sihouk.”

Sihouk hissed something in Cambodian and the other four men spread out, their hands hovering near the waistbands where the handles of large caliber handguns were prominently displayed.

“The money is in the case and you will get the key,” Lucian said again. “Let them make sure they have what they need.”

Sihouk said something and his men halted, ready.

Freed threw open the second locker. Several bulky packs were inside along with some plastic cases. Dane reached in the first locker and pulled one of the M-16s out. He grabbed a 30 round magazine, made sure it was loaded, then slid it into the well of the weapon, seating it home with an audible click that edged the tension in the warehouse up a few more degrees.

“What are you doing?” Michelet demanded.

“Playing the game with you,” Dane said. He wasn't overly worried about Sihouk and his men. They had their money and Dane knew Michelet would give them the key. He was concerned with the feeling he'd had coming into the warehouse. “I'm not going to stand here with empty hands while you guys play who's more manly.”

Dane held the M-16 casually at his side, the muzzle pointing toward the ground. He smiled at Sihouk. The Cambodian met his gaze, and then slowly the other man smiled also, revealing two gold teeth. Dane could read the betrayal behind that smile, but he knew no one else could.

“All here,” Freed announced.

Michelet tossed the key. Sihouk caught it. As Freed and Dane carried the gear to the trunk of the limo, Sihouk opened up the briefcase. He smiled once more, hissed a command and then the five Cambodians were gone, disappearing into the darkness.

“Let's get out of here,” Lucian said. “I don’t like even transporting this sort of equipment.”

Dane had pulled out a second M-16 when putting the weapons in the trunk along with several magazines. He tossed the weapon to Freed as they got back in the limo. “Don't say I never gave you anything,” Dane said as he followed the weapon with four magazines. “I think getting out of here is going to be more difficult than getting in was.”

Freed loaded his rifle as the limo turned around. The doors opened and the pickup truck drove out into the alley, the limo following closely behind.

Dane felt the sense of dread even more sharply than before. “Stop!” he yelled as the front edge of the limo passed between the doors. The driver reacted automatically, slamming on the brakes.

The pick-up truck exploded in flames as a rocket-propelled grenade slammed into it. Several lines of tracers roared down from the surrounding rooftops peppering the street and truck. A second grenade slammed into the street just in front of the limo. Dane kicked open his door, weapon at the ready as Michelet, Beasley and Lucian hunkered down inside, protected from the bullets by the car's armor plating and bullet proof glass, while Freed went out the other side.