Helios (Cerberus Group Book 2) Read online

  FIVE

  Cerberus Headquarters, Rome, Italy

  It did not take long at all for Carter to recognize that she was out of her depth. She was able to muddle through the wealth of information, particularly the official documentation that included very precise data she could verify for herself, but her unfamiliarity with the subject left her feeling underequipped. Distinguishing fact from fiction, where the more extravagant claims of the conspiracy theorists were concerned, was not her forte.

  The stated goal of the HAARP project, Carter learned, was to use radio waves to excite plasma in the ionosphere—a five-hundred-mile-thick region of the Earth’s atmosphere, which began almost fifty miles above the surface—and then observe the results. In layman’s terms, the HAARP scientists were using a thirty-three-acre microwave oven to set the upper atmosphere on fire, just to see what would happen.

  It was easy to see how people could be alarmed by that prospect. A single match was all it took to start a raging forest fire.

  The idea had originated in the 1980s from an unlikely source, a physicist working for a petroleum company who was looking for an alternative means of transporting Alaska’s energy bounty out of the remote wilderness, to the port city of Valdez, hundreds of miles away. The proposed idea was to use that energy on site to power a microwave beam which would excite plasma in the ionosphere. How the energy would be recovered was not apparent, but the idea of heating the ionosphere opened the door to other intriguing possibilities of interest to the Cold War era military.

  With precisely aimed radio waves, it might be possible to nudge tropical cyclones on the other side of the world, or see through solid ground to detect hidden enemy bunkers and missile silos. The potential was significant enough to prompt the construction of the quarter-billion dollar antenna array, but whether it had delivered on any of those extravagant aims remained uncertain. The scientists denied that such lines of research were being pursued, and the conspiracy theorists and critics made claims that defied the limits of reason.

  According to official sources, HAARP was an enormous antenna array—one hundred and eighty antennas, lined up in a thirty-three acre rectangle—capable of both receiving and transmitting high frequency radio waves between 2.7 and 10 megahertz. By contrast, commercial FM radio stations operated between 88 and 100 megahertz, and military-grade radar frequencies reached into the gigahertz range, as did most microwave ovens. Even if the official specs were understating the output potential of the HAARP array, there were limits that could not be exceeded. HAARP was a powerful antenna broadcasting a weak signal, into a region of space that was bombarded by broad spectrum electro-magnetic radiation. Every second of every day in its 4.6 billion years of existence, the sun showered the Earth with 170 billion megawatts of EM radiation. It collided with gas molecules in the upper atmosphere, stripping away electrons and creating bands of ionized plasma visible to the naked eye. The effect was known as the Aurora Borealis in the north, and the less well-known Aurora Australis in the south. By contrast, HAARP’s maximum output was 3.6 megawatts.

  HAARP could be compared to a struck match, but the ionosphere wasn’t a dry forest—it was already on fire. One more little flame wouldn’t make much difference.

  But there were claims that Carter could not ignore. A Russian military journal had warned that heating the atmosphere might result in an electron cascade capable of destabilizing or flipping the Earth’s magnetic poles, which would wreak havoc with electronic communications and even leave the planet’s surface vulnerable to deadly cosmic radiation. Another claim, which under any other circumstances would have seemed ludicrous, was that HAARP could be used to transform the upper atmosphere into a lens to redirect solar radiation, amplifying or refracting sunlight in a way similar to what had been reported on the East Coast of the United States.

  Had someone, using the HAARP array in Alaska or something like it on an even bigger scale, triggered the global explosion of earthquakes and the unusual solar event? Based on her understanding of the science, it was unlikely but not unthinkable.

  “I need a consult,” she said after ten minutes of reading. “With an expert.”

  Dourado, who had spent the time immersed in the alternate reality of cyberspace, glanced over. “What kind of expert?”

  “Physics,” Carter decided.

  “You’ll need to narrow it down a bit,” Dourado said.

  The question flummoxed Carter for a moment. What sort of expertise did she need? “I need someone to help me make sense of HAARP, but who can also tell me a little about the earthquakes and the solar event.”

  “So an expert but not a specialist.” Dourado scanned through several pages of virtual information. “Most fields of physics deal with theoretical applications, so we’ll focus on applied physics. I’ll cross-reference with people who worked on HAARP or similar projects.”

  A list of names appeared on the screen, along with a brief curriculum vitae detailing academic affiliations, areas of research, notable papers written, and significant awards won. There was an additional notation at the end of each listing, the words ‘Recruitment code’, followed by a three digit number.

  “Recruitment code? What’s that?”

  “This is the database of scientists who might be valuable to the Herculean Society. That’s how Dr. Pierce found you.”

  Carter had not been aware of it, but it seemed like a logical arrangement. “What do the numbers mean?”

  “There’s an algorithm… It’s kind of complicated, but the short answer is that the computer looks at a variety of factors.”

  “What kind of factors?”

  “Like I said, it’s complicated. Some geniuses are easier to work with than others. And there are a few I wouldn’t trust with the key to the washroom. If someone scores above a certain number, we make sure that they receive funding or employment with one of our subsidiaries. All very discreet of course. It takes more than a high score to get admitted to the inner circle.”

  Carter wondered what her recruitment score had been, but thought better of asking. “I’m not looking to hire anyone. I just need to ask a few questions.”

  Dourado gestured to the screen. “Take your pick.”

  “Can you organize it by proximity? I think this is going to take more than a phone call.”

  The page refreshed, displaying candidates from across Europe. One name stood out to her, a Japanese scientist—Ishiro Tanaka—working in Geneva, Switzerland. Although his CV was extensive, including eighteen months at HAARP, his recruitment score was conspicuously lower than the others.

  “Tanaka’s in Geneva,” Carter murmured. “CERN is in Geneva.”

  CERN—the European Organization for Nuclear Research—was one of the world’s leading scientific institutions. It was also the location of the Large Hadron Collider, a particle accelerator ring twenty miles around, where physicists tried to, among other things, recreate the Big Bang and produce miniature black holes.

  “It is,” Dourado confirmed, “But Tanaka works for Marcus Fallon at Tomorrowland.”

  “Fallon? I feel like I should know that name.”

  “He’s like Mark Zuckerberg, Elon Musk, and Bill Gates all rolled into one.”

  Carter, a native of Seattle, recognized the last name, but the other two were no more familiar than Fallon’s. “I guess I’m a little behind the times. How long would it take me to get there?”

  Dourado began checking travel information. “It looks like the earthquakes have everything screwed up right now. The trains are all on hold until the track repairs and inspections are complete. Flights are backed up. No word on how long that will last.”

  “What about the roads? Can I drive it?”

  Dourado brought up a map with the most direct route from Rome to Geneva marked in blue. On the map, it looked like a short distance; Switzerland and Italy were neighbors, but the two cities were separated by more than five hundred miles. “No major road closures being reported, but it’s a good nine hours.”
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  “I can always listen to an audiobook.”

  “Maybe I can pull a few strings. Geneva is also where the International Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders are headquartered. Maybe I can get you on a relief flight.”

  Carter kept staring at the map. “Cintia, can you put the earthquake map up again?”

  Dourado did so with a keystroke. Carter moved closer, staring at the clusters of dots.

  There it is. Why didn’t I see this before?

  “Does it look to you like Geneva could be the center of the earthquake activity?”

  “I…guess?”

  “The quakes all happened at about 1000 UTC. What’s the time difference for Switzerland?”

  “Same as here. Plus two hours during the summer.”

  “So the quakes happened at noon. When the sun was directly overhead, more or less.” One of the problems with working in an underground laboratory was that it was easy to lose track of the time. “What’s the time difference between Switzerland and New York?”

  “Six hours,” Dourado said, without having to think about it.

  “So the quakes were hitting the East Coast at about six a.m. Shortly before sunrise. Which according to multiple reports, was more than a minute late.”

  “You think there’s a connection?”

  Carter continued to stare at the map. “Tell me about this man Tanaka works for.”

  “Marcus Fallon. Easy. He’s kind of a hero of mine. The ultimate tech guy. He invented The Stork.”

  Carter shook her head to signal her ignorance.

  “‘He brings bundles of joy!’” Dourado seemed to be mimicking an announcer’s voice. “No? The Stork is a robotic aerial parcel delivery system…a package drone. It’s revolutionized online retail.” Dourado shrugged then went on. “Fallon is on the forefront of robotics research and AI. They use his software in self-driving cars. But his real passion is space colonization. His facility in Geneva, Tomorrowland, is a test laboratory focusing on robotic systems for building space stations and terraforming other planets.”

  “So he would have use for someone like Tanaka. Does he have any military contracts?”

  “I don’t know, but he’s an American living in Switzerland, so I’d say probably not.” Dourado narrowed her eyes. “As much as I don’t want to believe it, if anyone was capable of building a bigger version of HAARP, it would be Marcus Fallon. He’s got the genius and the money to do it.”

  “I’m not accusing him, Cintia. I just want to ask a few questions.”

  “That’s not what I mean. If he is responsible for what happened today, he’s not going to put out the welcome mat for you. Maybe you should wait until...” She left the sentence unfinished, but it was easy enough to figure out what she had left unsaid.

  “I’m sure we’ll hear from them soon.” Carter gave her a patient but reassuring smile. “Look, it’s probably nothing. I’ll ask Tanaka my questions, and that will probably be the end of it. But if something more is going on, every second might count. Saving the world is what we do, right?”

  SIX

  Arkaim, Russia

  The four-foot drop to the passage’s limestone floor knocked the wind out of Fiona. Before she could recover, Gallo landed on top of her, slamming her down a second time. She lay there stunned for several seconds, aware of the chaos behind her but unable to do anything to help. The wall blocking the end of the passage continued to move for a few more seconds as the chamber floor finished its rotation, then all was still. As Pierce turned and sagged against the wall, Fiona realized that Lazarus was no longer with them.

  Without any hesitation, she began speaking the words—the same words that had come to her almost unbidden in the chamber above.

  In her efforts to unlock the Mother Tongue, Fiona had operated from the assumption that the Siletz tribal language, which her grandmother had taught her, contained echoes of the original master language, much the same way that Romance languages—Spanish, Italian, French, and others—were connected to Latin roots. Drawing out those traces was a process of trial and error, but she had achieved some success by chanting old tribal songs and prayers, while focusing on a specific task. It was like trying to figure out the solution to a combination lock by turning the dial and listening for the clicks of the internal mechanism.

  The correct words were only part of the solution. There was also a mental component to it. The phrase that brought golems to life was simple, but the shape and size of the stone automatons was variable, a function of her focused intent.

  As she spoke, using every word and phrase she could remember from her tribal language that had anything at all to do with opening doors or making stones move, she closed her eyes and tried to visualize the passage as it had been only a few moments before. She imagined the rock floor transforming into something as insubstantial as smoke, and Lazarus stepping through to rejoin them.

  Nothing happened.

  Nothing was going to happen.

  “It’s not working.”

  It wasn’t me.

  “Try again.” Pierce said. “You made it work before.”

  She shook her head.

  “Erik is trapped up there,” Pierce insisted. “We can’t leave him.”

  “I know.” Her voice was sharper than she intended. She took a deep breath, trying to quell her rising panic.

  George put a hand on her shoulder and asked, “What’s different now?”

  “I’m too far away.”

  “You were standing in the center,” Gallo said. “That’s important?”

  “I think so.”

  “You also knew where to go. And which passage to take.” Gallo looked down the new passageway. “How about now?”

  Fiona realized that her concern for Lazarus had blinded her to the subtle sensation that had guided her earlier. She took another calming breath, closed her eyes, and reached out for it again. She had been exaggerating a little when she had said that the place was speaking to her. It wasn’t anything quite so overt. The feeling was more akin to an urge, like irresistible curiosity. And as she pushed down her concern for Lazarus, the feeling returned.

  She turned and faced down the passage. “We need to keep going.”

  Gallo glanced over at Pierce. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right, George. We need to keep digging.”

  George looked back at the sealed passage behind them, and then nodded. “If anyone can take care of himself, it’s Erik.”

  “I think when we find what we’re looking for, we’ll be able to get him out of there.”

  He hefted the scuffed backpack onto his shoulder and gestured for her to lead the way. “I believe you.”

  As before, the passage followed a gradual but constant curve, spiraling down, auguring deeper and deeper into the limestone karst beneath the ruins of Arkaim. The further they traveled, the more convinced Fiona was that they were on the right track. She was worried about Lazarus, but she also believed that the only way to help him was to find whatever the ancient Originators had concealed deep underground. She just wished there was a way to let him know that he had not been forgotten.

  After what felt like fifteen minutes of walking, the passage opened up, as if the spiraling borehole had intersected an enormous underground void. The passage was still there, only now it was more of a balcony cut into the wall of a circular chamber, curling around it like the threads on a screw. Stalactites and flowstone cascades hung down from the ceiling like extrusions of cooling candle wax, but otherwise, the walls and ceiling were artificially smooth.

  Fiona approached the edge and shone her light into the darkness below. Something glinted up at her, like a single star twinkling in the night sky. Pierce and Gallo joined her, and two more stars appeared—their headlamps reflecting from the still surface of a pool.

  “That’s where we have to go,” she told them. “It’s down there.”

  “What’s down there?” Pierce pressed, but she had no answer for him.

  The balcony—more o
f a ramp—corkscrewed around three more times before disappearing beneath the surface of the pool. Pierce stopped at the water’s edge, gazing into it, but the mirror-like surface revealed nothing of what lay beneath. He turned away and shone his light on the wall to their left. “It looks like the water level fluctuates quite a bit. Probably with the seasons. Could have been the city’s water reservoir.”

  “No.” Fiona shook her head. “I mean, it might have been that, but it’s something else, too.” She turned so that she was facing the center of the pool. “That’s where I have to be. This whole place revolves around it like an axis.”

  “Looks pretty deep,” Gallo said. She nodded to Pierce. “I don’t suppose there’s an inflatable raft in that pack.”

  “We’ll have to put that on the list for next time.” George gave a nod to Fiona. “But we don’t need one.”

  Fiona smiled and lifted a victorious finger. “Now this I can handle.” Then she focused on the water and whispered, “Emet.”

  It was the Hebrew word for ‘truth,’ but like many other words in that language, it had deep roots in the Mother Tongue. Emet was part of the longer phrase versatu elid vas re’eish clom, emet, which, when combined with a focused intention, could bring golems to life, though emet was usually enough to do the trick, if her head was clear.

  The perfect mirror-like surface of the pool was shattered by dozens of ripples, which intensified into a churning froth. Pierce took a step back as water splashed onto the walkway. “You’d think I would get used to this, but every time I see it, I’m impressed all over again.”

  Fiona smiled, but tried to ignore him as she held the Golem’s image in her mind’s eye. Pieces of rock—some as big as monster truck tires, some mere grains of sand—came together to animate the inanimate.

  A colossal man-shape erupted from the water, soaking the three figures on the walkway. Most of the golem was submerged, everything below the middle of its massive chest. The top of its head was more than twenty feet above the surface, suggesting the pool itself was at least twice as deep. An arm rose out of the water, a massive hand made of irregular stones cemented together with thick sediment. It reached out for Fiona.