The Atlantis Plague: A Thriller (The Origin Mystery, Book 2)

  “You’re not a believer?”

  “I believe the whole world is circling the drain and Immari International is the only piece of shit that floats.”

  “Then… let’s hope it continues to float. Major, I’m a bit exhausted from my trip.”

  “Sure.”

  Rukin called two soldiers in and instructed them to escort David to quarters and arrange for round-the-clock guard.

  Alexander Rukin stubbed out the cigarette and stared at the words on the page.

  The door opened, and Captain Kamau, his second-in-command, entered.

  The tall African spoke slowly in a deep voice. “You buy his story, sir?”

  “Sure. It’s about as real as the Easter Bunny.” Rukin lit another cigarette and peered into the pack. Three left.

  “Who is he?”

  “No idea. He’s somebody though. A pro. Maybe one of ours, probably one of theirs.”

  “You want me to call it in?”

  “Please.” Rukin handed him the strip of paper. “And put him under heavy guard. Make sure he sees nothing more than what the Allies can already see from the air.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kamau studied the ship of paper. “Colonel Alex Wells?”

  Rukin nodded. “I’m not certain it’s a fake name, but it’s strangely similar to Arthur Wellesley.”

  “Wellesley?”

  “The Duke of Wellington. Defeated Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo. Never mind.”

  “If he’s a fake, why don’t we take him now? Interrogate him?”

  “You’re a good soldier, Kamau, but you’re lousy at intelligence work. We need to know what we’re dealing with here. He could lead us to a bigger fish or reveal a larger operation at work. Sometimes you use the small fish as bait.”

  The major stubbed out the cigarette. He was good at waiting. “Bring him a girl. See if he’s more talkative with her.” He glanced at the cigarette pack again. “And get me some more smokes.”

  “The commissary ran out yesterday, sir.” Kamau paused. “But I heard Lieutenant Shaw won some in a card game last night.”

  “Really? It’s too bad they got stolen. Some men are sore losers.”

  “I’ll see to it, sir.”

  David rubbed his eyelids. He was certain of two things: that Major Rukin hadn’t bought his story, and that he couldn’t shoot his way out of here. David decided he would rest, then try to take the guards at the door. After that, he wasn’t sure.

  A soft knock interrupted his internal debate.

  David stood. “Come in.”

  A thin woman with flowing black hair and light caramel skin stepped in, quickly closing the door behind her. “Compliments of Major Rukin,” she said softly, not looking at him.

  The girl was beautiful, truly. The more of this world David saw, the less he liked it.

  “You can go.”

  “Please—”

  “Go,” David insisted.

  “Please, Mister. There will be trouble for me if you turn me away.”

  In his mind’s eye, David saw the girl climbing on top of him after he’d fallen asleep and running a knife blade across his throat. He wouldn’t put it past Rukin. He couldn’t take the risk. “There could be trouble for me if you stay. Go. I won’t tell you again.”

  She exited without another word.

  Another knock, more urgent this time.

  “I said no—”

  The door opened, revealing a tall African man. He nodded to the two guards and walked in, closing the door firmly.

  A single phrase ran through David’s mind. Game Over. “Kamau,” he whispered.

  “Hello, David.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Immari Operations Base at Ceuta

  Northern Morocco

  For a long moment, neither David nor Kamau said a word. They simply stood there, staring at each other.

  David broke the silence. “Have you come to take me to the major?”

  “No.”

  “Have you told him who I am?”

  “No. Nor will I.”

  A single question ran through David’s mind: What side is he on? He needed a way to test Kamau’s allegiances without revealing his own. “Why haven’t you told him?”

  “Because you have not told him. I believe you have not done so for a reason, though I do not know what it is. Three years ago, you saved my life in the Gulf of Aden.”

  David remembered the operation: a combined Clocktower strike force from several stations had worked to dismantle a pirate ring. Kamau had been an operative from the Nairobi station. He was a skilled soldier who had simply been unlucky that day. His team had boarded the second of three pirate ships and they had quickly been overrun—it had been impossible to estimate the number of combatants inside each ship. David’s team had secured their boat, then moved to reinforce Kamau’s team. It had been too late for many of the members.

  Kamau continued. “I had never seen anyone fight the way you did. I have not since. If keeping your identity a secret can help repay my debt to you, I will keep it. And I will help you, if you want it, if you are here to do what I believe you will.”

  Was it bait, David wondered, to draw him out? In his mind, he inched toward trusting Kamau. He needed more information. “How’d you end up here?”

  “I took a piece of shrapnel in the leg three months ago. Clocktower gave me medical leave, and I wanted to get out of Nairobi. I had family in Tangier. I recuperated there until the plague hit. It wiped the city out in a few days. I made my way here. They gave all the Clocktower operatives commissions in the Immari Army. I was assigned the rank of captain. Station chiefs were made lieutenant colonels, which is partly why Major Rukin believes your story. Northern Africa is dangerous for anyone alone, even a soldier. I took refuge here; I had no other choice.”

  “What is this place?”

  Kamau looked confused. “You do not know?”

  David focused on him. The next answer would reveal where Kamau came out, what he really believed. “I want to hear it from you.”

  Kamau straightened. “This is a wretched place. Hell’s doorstep. It is a processing center. A place where they bring the survivors from Africa and the islands of the Mediterranean. And soon, those from southern Spain.”

  “Survivors…” David said. Then it occurred to him. “Of the plague.”

  Kamau looked at him with even more confusion.

  “I’ve been… out of the loop for a while. I need you to bring me up to speed.”

  Kamau told him about the global outbreak and the fall of nations around the world. The rise of the Orchid Districts and the Immari master plan. David took it in. It was truly a nightmare scenario.

  “They bring the survivors here,” David said. “What do they do with them?”

  “They separate the strong from the weak.”

  “What do they do with the weak?”

  “They send them back, on the plague barges. They feed them to the sea.”

  David sat down at the table, trying to grasp the horror. Why?

  Kamau seemed to read David’s mind. “The Immari are building an army. The largest in history. The rumor is that they found something in Antarctica. But there are so many rumors. They say Dorian Sloane has returned. That he cannot be killed. What Rukin told you is true: there was an explosion yesterday in Germany, at the Immari Headquarters. There is talk of all-out war, but the Allies have another problem. They say that their miracle drug, Orchid, no longer works, that the wave of death has restarted around the world. People believe this is the end.”

  David rubbed his temples. “You said you thought you knew why I was here.”

  Kamau nodded. “You are here to destroy this place, are you not?”

  As the words were spoken, David made up his mind. Was this the measure of a soldier, to fight a just fight, even if it was lost? What else could he do? He desperately wanted to find Kate, but he wouldn’t run, not from this. In that moment, more than any other in his life, he knew what he was. He would die fig
hting. Actually, it was becoming a habit for him. He tried not to think about that, about awakening in the tubes, about what he was. Here and now—that was what mattered. “Yes. I’m here to destroy this place. You said you would help me?”

  “I will.”

  David eyed Kamau, still trying to decide whether he trusted him. “Why haven’t you tried before? You’ve been here for…”

  “Two months.” Kamau paced away from David. “I did not know the Immari plan before I arrived here. Nor did I know Clocktower was their covert ops branch. I was shocked and horrified when I learned the truth.”

  David knew the feeling. He let Kamau continue.

  “I was trapped here in Ceuta. The world was desperate. I only knew that survivors came here and found refuge. I had no idea… that I would make a deal with the devil to survive. There was no way for me to take the base. I had no choice. Before yesterday, there were almost a hundred thousand Immari troops stationed here.”

  “And now?”

  “About six thousand.”

  “How many would fight with us?”

  “Not many. I would trust no more than a dozen with my life. And we will be asking for their lives.”

  A dozen to fight six thousand. Losing odds at best. David needed an angle, some fulcrum to change the dynamic.

  “What do you need, David?”

  “Right now, some rest. Can you hold Rukin off, keep him from figuring out who I am?”

  “Yes, but not for long.”

  “Thank you. Come back at oh-six-hundred, Captain.”

  Kamau nodded and left.

  David climbed into bed. For the first time since he had walked out of the tube, he felt confident, grounded. He knew why: he had an objective now, a mission to complete and an enemy to defeat. That felt good. Sleep came quickly.

  CHAPTER 38

  Immari Sorting Camp

  Marbella, Spain

  The Immari soldiers had directed Kate and the other survivors who had pledged to one of the white resort towers, assigning two people to each room. The sun had set hours ago, and Kate peered out the sliding glass door now, just as she had seen the Orchid residents gazing out yesterday, when Martin had led her out of the spa building, revealing the camp for the first time.

  There were no lights on the Mediterranean. She had never seen it so dark. There was only a faint glitter across the sea, from a city in northern Morocco.

  “You taking that bed?” her roommate asked. She motioned to the bed closest to Kate, near the window.

  “Sure.”

  Her roommate set her things on the other double bed and began ransacking the room—looking for what, Kate couldn’t imagine.

  Kate wanted to open the pack and search for anything she could use, but she was too drained, physically and mentally.

  She placed the backpack under the covers, climbed in, and let sleep take her.

  She wasn’t in an Atlantean structure, Kate knew that instantly. It felt more like a villa in a Mediterranean city, perhaps from Marbella’s Old Town district. The marble-floored corridor led to an arched wooden door. Kate had the impression that if she opened it, something important would happen, some revelation.

  She took a step.

  There were two doors to her right. She heard movement inside the closest.

  “Hello?”

  The movement stopped.

  She walked to the door and slowly pushed it open.

  David.

  He sat on the end of a king-sized bed with disheveled sheets. He was shirtless, bent over, unlacing his tall black boots. “There you are.”

  “You’re… alive.”

  “Apparently I’m hard to kill these days.” He looked up. “Wait. You thought you’d never see me again. You’ve given up on me.”

  Kate closed the door. “I never give up on anyone I love.”

  Kate awoke with an eerie sensation: she could remember every second of the dream, as if she had been there. David. Was he alive? Or was her mind giving her hope? She needed to focus. Martin. Escape. Those were the priorities now.

  The first rays of sunlight were creeping into the room, and her roommate was already up.

  Kate opened the backpack and began searching it. She opened the small notebook and turned to the first page.

  Martin had scribbled a message to her.

  My Dearest Kate,

  If you’re reading this, they’ve caught us. For the past 40 days, this has been my greatest fear. I tried 4 times to get you out. But it was too late. Of the 30 patients that died in the trial, I hoped each one would lead us to a cure. But we ran out of time. Since your father disappeared 29-5-87, I spent every waking hour trying to make you safe. My failure is complete.

  Grant my last wish: save yourself. Leave me. It’s all I ask.

  I am proud of the woman you’ve become.

  Martin

  Kate closed the notebook. Then she read it again. Martin’s message to her was clear. And touching. But she sensed there was something else. She took a pencil from the pack and circled all the numbers. Together, they read:

  4043029587

  A phone number. Kate sat up in the bed.

  “What is that?” her roommate asked.

  Kate was so lost in thought she almost didn’t hear her. “Um… a… crossword puzzle.”

  Her roommate set her book down and rolled over, suddenly interested. “Can I have it when you’re done?”

  Kate shrugged. “Sorry, I wrote on it.”

  Her roommate scowled, got up from the bed, and padded on heavy feet to the bathroom without another word. The lock clicked.

  Kate fished the satellite phone out of the pack and dialed the number.

  The sat phone beeped once, then clicked, and a voice began immediately, in a manner that told Kate that it was a recording. The voice was female; an American.

  “Continuity. Status follows. Recording time: 22:15 Atlanta Local, Plague Day seventy-nine. Trial 498: result negative.”

  Trial 498. What was the last trial she had done—where Marie Romero had died? The tube Martin had begged her for, the result he uploaded into the thermos-like cylinder? 493? There had been five trials since then, obviously at other sites.

  “Network status: down. Dial zero for operator.” The speaker paused and then the voice changed. “Continuity. Unsere Situation ist…”

  The message was repeating in German. Kate hit zero on the keypad. She heard rustling in the bathroom.

  If her roommate saw the sat phone, she would report it immediately, and Kate would be interrogated. The soldiers had set forth the “honor code” of the survivors’ tower: all “members” had to turn in any weapons or electronics. They weren’t searched—part of the Immari brainwashing was apparently to pretend they were voluntary members, not prisoners, and forced searches would have shattered the charade. Still, the Immari had set out severe consequences for any signs of dissent. Anyone caught with anything suspicious, anything shiny and sharp or with an on-off switch, was immediately transferred to the other tower—with those who didn’t pledge.

  Kate held the phone behind the pillow, where her roommate wouldn’t see it if she emerged from the bathroom. Kate lowered her head to the phone, halfway behind the pillow and listened.

  A woman answered, speaking quickly. “Access code?”

  It took Kate a second to process what she had said.

  “I…”

  “Access code.”

  “I don’t know it,” Kate whispered as she eyed the door.

  “Identify yourself,” the woman said, with a hint of concern or possibly suspicion.

  “I… I work with Martin Grey.”

  “Put him on the line.”

  Kate thought for a moment. In the back of her mind, she wanted to hold back, to extract more information, but how? She was out of time—and options. What choice did she have but to tell her story and ask for help?

  The bathroom door clicked.

  Kate dropped the phone behind the pillow. Then remembered to hit
the end button.

  She looked up to see her roommate eyeing her.

  Kate tried to focus on the notebook she held in her other hand. “What?” she said innocently.

  “Were you talking to somebody?”

  “Myself.” Kate held up the notebook. “Helps me with spelling. I’m a terrible speller.” And liar, she thought.

  The suspicion lingered on her roommate’s face, but she returned to her bunk and resumed reading.

  The next three hours passed in silence. Kate lay on her bunk, thinking, wondering how she could get Martin out. Her roommate read, occasionally laughing.

  The breakfast call came and her roommate was up and at the door in seconds. She paused. “You coming?”

  “Gonna let the line die down,” Kate said.

  The instant the door closed, Kate dialed the number again.

  “Access code?”

  “It’s me again. I work with Martin Grey.”

  “Put Dr. Grey—”

  “I can’t. We’re separated. We’ve been captured by the Immari.”

  “What’s your access code?”

  “Look, I don’t know it. We need help. He kept me in the dark. I don’t know anything, but Martin is going to die in hours if we don’t get some help.”

  “Identify yourself.”

  Kate exhaled. “Kate Warner.”

  The line was silent and Kate thought maybe it had been disconnected. She glanced at the phone readout. The seconds were still counting up. “Hello?” She waited. “Hello?”

  “Hold the line.”

  Two beeps came, then a man’s voice, young, crisp, focused. “Dr. Warner?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Paul Brenner. I’ve been working with Martin for some time. I’ve actually been… I’ve seen all of your reports, Dr. Warner. Where are you now?”

  “Marbella. The Orchid District. The Immari have taken it over, and the city.”

  “We know.”

  “We need help.”

  “The operator said that you and Dr. Grey are separated.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have access to Dr. Grey’s research notes?”