The Atlantis Prophecy

35

"MY FATHER always said your father was one sick bastard," said Brooke, who sat on the bed after Conrad finished the pastrami sandwich that room service finally delivered and recounted the events since his father's funeral. Everything except Serena, which admittedly was leaving out a lot. "You can't actually believe you're a sleeper agent sent by George Washington into the future to save America? This isn't about the future of the republic, Conrad. This is about your father continuing to mess with your mind from the grave."

Conrad paced back and forth, aware of Brooke looking at him like a crazy person and all the while expecting a knock on the door from Serena.

"Brooke, this is what I know: Washington entrusted a secret to Robert Yates, a secret passed down through the generations to my foster father, who then spent the better part of my childhood training me to unlock it. And I also know that the L'Enfant map, the celestial globe, and the people trying to kill me are for real."

"Who is trying to kill you, Conrad?"

"I told you, the Alignment."

She sighed. "A mystical group of warriors who use the stars to chart the rise of their master civilization?"

"Yeah, and Max Seavers is one of them."

She blinked. "The head of DARPA?"

"Yep. This belongs to him." Conrad showed her the finger of Max Seavers.

"Oh, my God!" She stared at it in horror and looked like she was about to vomit. "What have you done?"

"Relax, he's alive." Conrad pocketed the finger in his bathrobe. "Which is more than I can say about the guard he shot in the head."

Brooke sat still on the bed, her eyes darting back and forth as if she was processing everything he was telling her. He realized just how crazy it sounded. But at some point he was going to have to deal with the feds, and Brooke through her father Senator Scarborough was his best shot for exoneration. Unless, of course, he wanted to spend the rest of his days hiding out in a monastery and refurbishing toner cartridges.

"Show me this document you found inside this globe."

"I hid it somewhere."

She narrowed her eyes. "You don't have it with you?"

"No, but it had a kind of star map on one side and George Washington's signature at the bottom of the other side."

"And this is the reason you walked out on me and got mixed up in this crazy conspiracy? Some map and a signature?"

"Maybe," he said. "I think the star map was originally drawn in invisible ink. But it's what's on the other side that got me into trouble."

"But you said there's nothing on the other side, just a signature."

"I think the rest of that side was written in dissolvable ink. Washington sometimes signed iffy contracts in an ink that would dissolve after a while, effectively making them disappear."

"And you found this invisible-visible parchment in a golden celestial globe?"

"It looked more like copper, really, but yes. And I think the star map leads to the other globe."

Her eyes widened. "There's another globe?"

"Yeah, but I don't know where just yet. I can't believe I was so stupid. There are always two-a celestial globe and a terrestrial globe. Even the old Mason knew it, I could see it in his eyes, but he said nothing."

He was aware of her looking at him in shock and awe. Shock at his lunacy and awe that he apparently thought it was true.

"Do you hear yourself, Conrad? How am I or my father or anybody else supposed to believe you? Show me something other than chopped-off fingers to back up your story, Conrad!"

"How about this?"

He showed her the silver cornerstone plate. The markings captured her attention immediately. He recalled her family had some Masonic background.

"This is the cornerstone plate, Conrad. You actually found the cornerstone of the U.S. Capitol."

"I told you I did."

She looked up at him, hope in her eyes. "No, you don't understand. This is a legitimate story. This is something you unveil on July 4, a piece of Americana. I'll get you to tell your story on Fox. Whatever crazy-ass stuff you add, well, nobody can deny you found this."

"Or that I was the one responsible for the incidents at the Capitol and Library of Congress."

"Let me work on this, work with my dad, bring you in somehow."

"Bring me in? You make me sound like a dog you're afraid is going to come in out of the rain and crap on your carpet."

"If the paw fits, Conrad. Now get dressed."

Conrad walked into the closet and removed his bathrobe. He slipped the finger from Max Seavers into his expensive suit pants and put one leg in after the other.

"Say, Brooke," he called out. "What was his name?"

"Whose name?" she answered from the bedroom, sounding preoccupied, like she was on the phone.

"Your dog's name."

"His name was Rusty," she called back absently as she spoke quietly in the bedroom.

That's right, he thought, remembering that day in the park. Her dog was named after some early American scientist her father admired-David Rusthouse or something like that.

Conrad slid his belt through the last loop of his pants, eager to bolt. Any minute Serena would walk in and find him with Brooke, and then he would have still more explaining to do. But the reality was that after what happened at the Library of Congress tonight, nobody was going to believe anything he had to say. Not Serena nor the feds.

His only hope was to find that second globe. To do that he had to find some kind of landmark in Washington, D.C., that aligned with the setting sun, just like in the starburst on George Washington's sword at the western edge of the L'Enfant map in the Savage portrait.

The problem was that the land at the western edge of the district was developed as residential housing or preserved like Rock Creek Park. In other words, there were no obvious monuments or landmarks he could think of.

And then it hit him.

Ritty. The name of Brooke's dog wasn't Rusty. It was Ritty.

As in David Rittenhouse, a famous astronomer during the founding of America who worked closely with Ben Franklin and Benjamin Banneker.

As in Sarah Rittenhouse, the grand dame who two centuries later "saved" Montrose Park in Georgetown from development.

But what was Sarah Rittenhouse really trying to preserve the parkland for?

Conrad felt his pulse explode:

The terrestrial globe!

The armillary dedicated to Sarah Rittenhouse was in fact the landmark he was looking for-a monument to the terrestrial globe that Washington buried somewhere below!

How could I have missed it?

Then he knew the answer: In his mind he had always associated the armillary sphere with Brooke's dog, who was urinating on the memorial's base that day he followed the canine back to Brooke's shapely legs and they reconnected.

He quickly tucked in his shirt, and then froze.

How could Brooke forget her own dog's name?

Suddenly their meeting in the park-their entire "reconnection"-smelled like a setup from the start. She must have known that he liked to jog in the park and simply put herself in his path. The irony was that he must have jogged past that armillary a thousand times and never imagined its secret. And neither, he guessed, did Brooke.

Brooke had stopped talking in the bedroom.

From behind Conrad could hear the click of a slider. Slowly he turned and saw her pointing an automatic pistol at him.

"I'm sorry, Conrad." She shook her head. "That fucking dog."