Return to Atlantis: A Novel (34 page)

“That’s true for most people. Which is why the histrionics aimed at the financial world over the past few years are ironic at best, and hypocritical at worst. Anyone taking the time and effort to analyze the data that was freely available would have seen that the boom before the economic crash was unsustainable. But”—he shrugged—“nobody wants to believe that the good
times will ever stop rolling, so they fail to plan for the inevitable.” He gave his passengers a meaningful look. “Well, almost nobody.”

“You
did
make plans,” said Eddie.

“We did. By
we
, I mean the Group. It’s our business to plan for the future. Not just for the next year, or the next electoral cycle. We plan for
decades
ahead, generations.”

“That seems a bit presumptuous,” Nina said.

“Only those who prepare for the future deserve a hand in shaping it.”

“So the Group is a collection of merchant bankers?” she asked. Eddie couldn’t suppress a smirk. “What?”

“That’s Cockney rhyming slang,” he told her. “For wan—”

“Yes,
thank
you for that, honey.”

A small tic under Warden’s right eye betrayed his impatience. “Some of the Group’s members are bankers, yes. But I’m more of … an investor, you could say. An investor in the future. I put capital where it’s needed to ensure that the Group’s long-term goals happen. Not just here in the United States, but all over the world. The Group is an international organization with one ultimate goal: global order.”

“So you’re like the Bilderberg Group?”

A dismissive snort. “The Bilderberg members just talk. We
act
.” The limo paused at the airport’s outer gate for the barrier to be raised, then turned onto a road and headed for the distant lights of Washington. “We want to end human conflict.”

“That’s kind of a grand plan,” said Nina, deliberately challenging. “Everyone from Alexander the Great through Genghis Khan up to Hitler has had their own ideas on how to do it. And they’ve all failed. What makes yours any different?”

His answer shocked her. “You, Dr. Wilde. You make our plan different. You make it
possible
.”

“This is all coming back to those bloody statues, isn’t it?” Eddie rumbled.

Warden ignored him, fixing his stern blue eyes on Nina. “Competition over resources is the cause of most conflict in the world. Specifically, energy resources. Wars are fought, lives destroyed, tyrants propped up just so that we can literally burn a mineral sludge—and the system of global politics and economics has become so warped by this fact that it’s now dependent on it. Governments can’t imagine things being any other way … but just as the recent economic crash was bound to happen, a total collapse is inevitable if things continue as they are.”

“I know we have booms and busts,” said Nina, “but a complete collapse? Really?”

Warden’s tone became more lecturing. “All the economic models that shape the world are based on the conceit that growth can be—
must
be—infinite. A child could point out the flaw in that idea, since we live in a finite world, but just as nobody wanted to believe that the debt bubble would burst while they were living the high life on the back of it, so no one wants to play the role of Cassandra now.”

“Not even the Group? You seem to have a lot of influence, to put it mildly.”

“We do, but not even we’re powerful enough to overturn the system. Until now, the most we’ve been able to do is guide it.”

“Until now,” Nina echoed. “By which you mean, you’ve got me.”

“You make it sound as though you’re my prisoner,” Warden said. The downturned corners of his mouth strained slightly upward, which seemed to be as close as he ever came to an actual smile. “If you want to get out of the limo, just say so.”

“We want to get out of the limo,” Eddie immediately responded.

The tic returned. “After you’ve heard what I have to say.”

“Thought there’d be a catch.”

The elderly man looked back at Nina. “The Group has been planning for this eventuality for a long time. But sometimes wild cards—
Wilde
cards, even, if you’ll excuse the pun—mean that major changes can happen very quickly. Earth energy is one of those cards, and you, Dr. Wilde, are the one who holds it.”

“How much do you know about earth energy?” she asked.

“As much as anyone. We have access to the IHA’s files, everything that Jack Mitchell did at DARPA, Leonid Vaskovich’s work, the repository at Silent Peak, and more besides. The most important things we know about it, though, are first that a very particular kind of superconducting material is needed to channel it. And second, that a living organism is also needed for the process to work.”

“You mean a person.”

He shook his head. “In theory, any kind of organism can generate the effect, as long as its DNA contains the specific genome sequence that makes its bioelectrical field compatible. In practice, though …”

“There’s only me,” Nina said grimly.

“You’re the only
known
example. There must be thousands, even tens of thousands of people in the world who can also activate the earth energy effect. King Arthur and the Atlantean priestess Nantalas are two people from history who could, so it’s likely that their ancestors—and descendants—also had the gene. But nobody knows who they are.”

“And it’s not exactly easy to test for ’em,” said Eddie. “
Hey, would you mind holding these statues to see if they levitate and you have visions?
Might raise a few questions.”

“Exactly. Which is why you, Dr. Wilde, are so important to the Group’s plans—and why Harald Glas is determined to kill you to stop them.”

The reminder that she was still a target placed a cold stone in Nina’s stomach. “Why is Glas so opposed to
you? Victor Dalton said he used to be a member of the Group.”

Warden’s permanent scowl somehow managed to deepen. “Dalton,” he said distastefully. “I’m hoping to have some news about him soon. But yes, Harald was one of us—until a few months ago. Your discovery of all three statues meant that a plan we’d thought of as merely a contingency, a kind of best-case scenario, suddenly had the potential to become very real. He was opposed to it. Violently opposed.”

“Why?” Nina demanded. “And what
is
this plan of yours?”

He leaned forward. “Unlimited power. If we can harness earth energy, then it ends at a stroke our reliance on fossil fuels, and thus the conflicts over control of them. Oil, coal, gas—they become unnecessary if you have limitless power generated by the planet itself.”

“So that’s why Glas has a problem with it,” said Nina, making the connection. “It’d put him out of business.”

The not-quite-smile returned. “Precisely. Harnessing earth energy would be a paradigm shift on a par with the invention of the automobile—and if your livelihood back then was making buggy whips, you’d very soon be out of business. But if an angry buggy whip maker had assassinated Henry Ford, some other car manufacturer would have taken his place. In your case, though … you’re irreplaceable.”

“Wait, so this guy wants me dead just to protect his
profits
?” Nina cried. “Oh that’s great. Yay for capitalism!”

“We can provide you with full protection. You’re very important to us.” The old man sat back. “So that’s the Group’s plan, Dr. Wilde. As to how it can be accomplished, that depends entirely on your cooperation. And yours, Mr. Chase. You said that this was about the statues. That’s true—they’re a vital part of what we hope to achieve.” He turned back to Nina. “If you were to help us, you would use the statues to locate what the Atlanteans
called the sky stone—a meteorite, of course, but one composed of a naturally superconducting material that channels earth energy. Once we have it, we’ll be able to build power stations around the world at confluence points. Not only that, but the potential of a diamagnetic material that can be made to levitate without needing a power source is incalculable. It would revolutionize air travel, for a start—aircraft could be made completely pollution-free.”

“And what about the, ah, biological aspects?” asked Nina. “I can’t exactly travel the world nonstop laying hands on your power plants to make them work. I kinda have plans of my own.”

“You won’t have to. If you give us a blood sample, we’ll be able to sequence your DNA to isolate the specific gene that allows you to cause the effect. With your permission, of course,” Warden added. “Once we have that, it can be implanted into some other organism. It doesn’t even have to be an animal—a plant might work, even bacteria.”

“Hear that, love?” said Eddie. “You can be replaced by a bucket of germs.”

She gave him a sarcastic look. “If that’s what turns you on …”

A low buzz came from Warden’s jacket, and he took out a phone. “Yes?” he barked into it. “Where we discussed? Excellent. What channel?” He disconnected and touched a control on his armrest. Part of the polished wood hinged upward, a small television screen rising smoothly out of it. He turned it to face Nina and Eddie. “I think you’ll enjoy this.”

A news channel came on, showing the entrance to what looked like a restaurant. The crawl at the bottom of the screen read
ARRESTED BY FBI. BREAKING NEWS: FORMER PRESID
 … As they watched, four suited men bustled another out of the door.

Even though their prisoner was trying to hide his face from the waiting TV camera, he was instantly recognizable. Victor Dalton.

A breathless female newscaster attempted to keep up with the story. “These pictures, taken just minutes ago, show FBI agents removing former US president Victor Dalton from a restaurant on K Street in Washington, DC. The details are still sketchy, but from what we understand, the disgraced president has been charged under the Espionage Act”—her voice conveyed near disbelief—“on suspicion of releasing classified information to unauthorized personnel.” On the screen, Dalton was shoved into the rear seat of a black SUV. “As yet, we haven’t received any statements from the Justice Department or the White House, but as soon as we do—”

Warden muted the sound. “Well?”

“Well … wow,” said Nina, not sure how to react. “I take it that was your doing.”

“It was. We knew Dalton had a grudge against the Group—he blamed us for not keeping him in office after his little videotaped indiscretion, even though it was obvious his position was untenable. We didn’t realize he’d actively sided with Glas against us until it was too late, but we certainly weren’t going to let it stand.” There was a disquieting matter-of-fact ruthlessness to his voice.

“So what happens to us?” Eddie asked. “First thing he’ll do will be try to drag us down with him. Seeing as we blackmailed him into getting us into Silent Peak.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” said Warden, with another grim unsmile. “He’ll have much larger concerns than personal vendettas. Some of the other skeletons in his closet will come to light.” He retracted the screen, then glanced through a window. “Ah, we’re almost there. We can continue this discussion in my home.”

The limo slowed, turning through a set of automatic gates onto the lengthy drive of an especially large house. It pulled up outside, the driver quickly exiting to open the door for his passengers.

“Nice pad,” said Eddie as he got out. “So this is how the top one percent live.”

“More like the top one percent
of
the top one percent,” Nina replied. Warden’s home was an elegant three-story building that had been styled after a British Georgian mansion—or, for all she knew, genuinely was one that had been transported across the Atlantic brick by brick. Either way, its value would be well into the multimillion-dollar range … and she imagined it was not the investor’s only property.

Warden led them inside, taking them down a long hall displaying artworks traditional and modern to a door at the far end. He paused at it. “Before we go inside, I’ll first ask you both to remain calm. The Group sometimes has to make deals with people we would rather not work with. My other guest is one of those people. And I know that you’ve had bad experiences with him in the past.”

With that, he opened the door … to reveal Alexander Stikes in the large room beyond.

“What the
fuck
is he doing here?” Eddie yelled, taking up position to shield Nina. “Get that bastard out of here, or I’ll do it for you!”

Stikes was seated on a long couch, not in the least surprised to see the new arrivals. He moved his left arm to reveal a gun in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket. “Let’s not have any unpleasantness, shall we, Chase? We’re all guests here.”

“Not for long,” said Nina. She rounded on Warden. “If that murdering son of a bitch is working for you, I think any business we might have had is finished.”

“If you’ll let me explain,” he said, quietly but firmly. “As I said, sometimes needs must. Mr. Stikes had obtained the statues—”

“Stolen,” she cut in, with a hate-filled glare at the former SAS officer.

“Stolen, yes, but he had possession of them. That forced us to negotiate with him.”

“And Sophia,” Eddie growled. “Where does she fit in? Is she one of your fucking Group too?”

“Absolutely not,” snapped Warden, with genuine loathing and anger at the accusation. “Sophia Blackwood was Harald Glas’s responsibility. For God knows what reason, he took her in after your last encounter with her in Switzerland. When Mr. Stikes contacted us through Ankit Jindal, Glas sent her to act as our representative—without consulting the rest of us.”

Eddie was becoming more furious by the moment. “Are you telling me,” he said in a low, deeply threatening voice, “that Kit was working for you?”

Warden lowered his head. “Unfortunately, yes. And all I can do is apologize for what happened.”

“Apologize?”
Eddie exploded. “He
murdered
my friend to protect Stikes—to protect those fucking statues! Fuck this. Nina, we’re going.”

He turned to leave, but Stikes stood, reaching for his gun. “You’re not going anywhere, Chase.”

“Stikes!” Warden practically barked the name. “Sit down and shut up. And put the gun away. You don’t do a damn thing unless I tell you to. Understand?” Stikes’s face was a picture of thinly veiled anger as he returned to his seat.