The Atlantis Prophecy

48

CONRAD LED SERENA through the dark corridor to another metal door, the sixth they had encountered. They hadn't seen any more Marines, and security cameras were nowhere to be found. But Conrad was beginning to wonder if they were ever going to get out of there, much less in time to stop Seavers.

He used Seavers's severed finger to open the door and walked into a round conference room dominated by a circular stone table and thirteen white marble busts in alcoves evenly spaced along the wall. In the center of the table was the terrestrial globe.

"The lair of the Alignment," Serena said. "These busts look to be the work of Houdon."

"Who?" Conrad asked, his eyes searching for another way out, but he couldn't find one.

"Houdon," Serena repeated. "A French sculptor during the Enlightenment who made famous busts of Washington and the Founding Fathers. I've seen his work on exhibit at both the Louvre in Paris and at the Getty in Los Angeles. Only these aren't America's Founding Fathers. These faces belong to the other Founders, to the Alignment."

Something about the dimensions of the room struck Conrad as familiar and he felt drawn to an empty section of wall between two of the busts. As he stood there, his eyes adjusted enough to make out the faintest outline of a doorway. He pushed it with his hand and the previously invisible door slid open.

"I'll be damned," he said. "This is just like the shafts in the sublevels of P4 and the Great Pyramid."

"The Great Pyramid?" she repeated.

"When I was under the Library of Congress, I saw a monument the Masons proposed in the same chamber that held the celestial globe," he said. "Some kind of American Memorial, like they feared the worst and wanted to preserve their memory-and America's-through a monument that would stand as long as the pyramids. This is where I think both they and the Alignment knew it would be, wherever we are. So the Alignment basically graded the site. All it's waiting for is the pyramid on the surface."

"And it's going to go up as soon as America falls," Serena said.

"We've got to hurry," he said. "If this is like P4, then I know the way out."

He started for the door but Serena didn't budge.

"I told you, Conrad. I can't go with you. I can't risk spreading bird flu contagion on the surface and doing the Alignment's dirty work."

He stared at her. "But I gave you my homegrown vaccine, Serena. If it didn't work, you'd be showing symptoms by now."

"We don't know that for sure, Conrad. And I can't take that risk. You're going to have to stop Seavers yourself."

"And what are you going to do in the meantime?" he demanded.

"I'm going to stay here and wait for you and the cavalry to come back." She walked up to him, tears streaming down her face, and kissed him. "But if we get out of this alive, I'm going to walk out of here with you and walk away from my life as a nun. If you still want it, we're going to start a new life together."

He looked into her wet eyes. "What about the Church?"

She wiped her eyes. "I was supposed to betray you, Conrad, to use you to find the globes and take them from you. Please forgive me," she begged. "You have to believe I'm sorry."

Conrad could see she was. "But you always told me you believed that the Church is the hope of the world."

She shook her head. "Jesus is the hope of the world, Conrad. And the hope of the Church. We are called to be the Church and serve people in His name. I don't have to be a nun to do that. And I don't want to go on without you. I told you. I knew it the moment Max took me to your room and I expected to see your body instead of Brooke's."

"You swear to God?" he said.

"You know I don't like those kinds of oaths, Conrad. But, yes, I swear before God." She then threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Conrad, go."

He hesitated, then gave her a pistol and swipe card. "In case you change your mind," he said and shut the door, leaving her alone with the globe and the faces of thirteen dead white men.

Serena stared at the faces of the thirteen marble Houdon busts. The founding fathers of the Alignment in America. They were so lifelike that she half-expected them to speak to her in the shadowy chamber.

And then one of them did.

It was the second to her right, a face oddly strange and familiar.

When she leaned forward to study the face, she suddenly recognized it.

She gasped. "Oh, my God."

Remembering the names from the Newburgh Charter that she had memorized, she now knew why Cardinal Tucci wanted the globe at the Vatican.

Dear Lord, my promise to Conrad.

She paced before the globe and her jury of the deceased, praying to God for some answer. The shot that Conrad had given her was clearly kicking in, and she was feeling stronger, more alert. So alert that it frightened her.

The Americans already had the celestial globe that the Masons had buried beneath the Library of Congress. If Conrad succeeded in stopping Seavers, as she prayed he would, then the Americans would have both globes. But if he failed, she now realized that the Alignment would control not only America but also the Church.

With a heavy heart she knew what she had to do.

Conrad, forgive me.

Conrad ran through a maze of corridors until he reached a door without a biometric keypad that would require the finger from Max Seavers. That suggested he was reaching the outer, less secure perimeter. He only needed to use one of the Marine's swipe cards to unlock it. He cracked the door open and sighed at what he saw: another dark corridor. When he was sure it was clear, he made his way out.

This corridor was different, and he immediately sensed it was some kind of neutral bridge between the Alignment's secret bunker and the larger world. At the end of it was a pinprick of light and a dull roar. He edged cautiously toward the door that emerged in the light when suddenly it was flung open. A Metro engineer stepped in and froze when he saw Conrad.

"Shit, you military people always scare me," the engineer said, "skulking around down here like shadows."

"And because of us you get to celebrate Independence Day," Conrad said and kept walking, without looking back.

Conrad emerged from a utility door onto a lower platform of the L'Enfant Plaza Metro Station. With no less than three Metro lines intersecting here, it now made complete sense why the Alignment chose the bunker below as their place to meet. But he was spotted across the platform by a D.C. police officer instantly, whose hand went to his mouth as he radioed in.

Conrad ran up the escalators to a food court tunnel, where four more policemen were coming toward him.

The underground food court connected him to the Loew's L'Enfant Plaza Hotel, and when he cut across the lobby he emerged into the bright light of day and blinked.

There must have been several thousand motorcycles and leather-clad bikers revving their engines in front of him. Their black leather jackets said Rolling Thunder, and the backs of their bikes boasted American flags.

Conrad caught up to the rear of the group and scanned the nearest tattooed and bearded bikers prepping their machines. He found an old-timer in his sixties with a handlebar mustache and beer gut wearing a black "Ancient Riddles" T-shirt. He was wiping the chrome fork of his BMW chopper.

Conrad stole a helmet on the ground and brazenly walked up to the man. "Hey, partner, my bike's busted and I could use a lift," he said as he offered his hand. "I'm Conrad Yeats."

The rider rose to his surprisingly tall six-foot-four-inch height and looked down at him. "Anything for the Griffter's kid. My name's Marty. Hop on."

Conrad jumped on the chopper as Marty hit the accelerator and they rode off to join the others in the parade.