The Secret of Atlantis

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Davis Faulkner relaxed his posture and tried to remember everything he had been told about the basic golf swing. Sometimes in life it was just too easy to forget the fundamentals, and this was one of those times. He was a busy man, and he had too much on his mind to remember the little things.

He gently corrected his balance, shifting his weight to the middle of his feet and gently angling his spine down towards the Bridgestone B330 ball awaiting its fate down on the tee. He flexed his knees and lowered his right side to ensure the ball was in perfect alignment with the left side of his head.

Faulkner remembered what his instructor had told him about the swing — bring the club head back first, then the hands, shoulders and hips should all move in one gentle, fluid motion. As he raised the club higher he shifted the weight to his right side. The momentum of the swing gained pace, and his shoulders were now a good way into their full rotation in preparation for the attack.

He began the downswing with a lateral shift, dropped his arms, pulled his right elbow into his hip and rotated his body towards the ball, making sure to keep his head up and away from the ball as he went. Then, with an accuracy and power than surprised him, he made contact with the ball, kicking his right knee inward and keeping his left leg straight. The club head smacked the ball high and fast into the bright, crisp Virginia air.

He straightened up as he watched it fly through the sky. Not bad for a beginner.

It was then he was aware of someone talking to him. It was Aaron Carlson his personal assistant, and he sounded even more anxious than usual.

“What’s up, Aaron?”

“It’s about the, er… mission, sir.”

“What about it? I don’t want any bad news right now, Aaron — not if it’s going to mess up my handicap.”

“It’s Colonel Geary, sir. He says they failed to take the island.”

Faulkner turned to face Aaron, and raised his club up to rest on his shoulder. This was not good news, and he had been expecting better from Geary. “What?”

“He says they had a greater defensive capacity than he had anticipated for such a small, private island.”

“And isn’t just how he would put it, too?”

“And there were jets… our jets, sir.”

“I see.” His mind began to whir.

“What should I tell him?”

Faulkner sighed and turned back around to face the driving range. He swung the club off his shoulder, nearly hitting Carlson in the face as he did so, and tried all over again to relax his posture and regain his composure. The Oracle wasn’t going to like this one little bit.

“So what do I say, sir?”

“Tell him to keep his goddam mouth shut.”

“Yes, sir.”

Davis Faulkner watched Aaron walk off the course and his mind began to race with this new development. The Oracle rarely accepted failure but there was a good chance his notorious bad temper might be soothed by his good news about almost certainly being elevated to the Vice Presidency in a few weeks. Davis Faulkner clung to that hope and took another swing into the great blue beyond.