Atlantis Found (70 page)

They
are
desperate to retrieve the sacred relics, Pitt thought, as the Mercedes pulled even and the gunners unleashed a gale of bullets that smashed into the cowl of the nose in front of him. But coming too close to the aircraft was a mistake. Giordino held both automatics in his hands and pumped both magazines into the Mercedes, striking the driver, who slumped over the wheel. The SUV then drifted out of its lane and crashed into the side of a giant truck and trailer hauling milk. The rear wheels of the heavy trailer smashed into and over the Mercedes, flattening the occupants and bouncing wildly over the wreckage before leaving it scattered in jagged pieces across the concrete.

“You can slow down now,” announced an exultant Giordino. “The posse is no more.”

“You’re a better shot than I gave you credit for,” said Pitt, easing back on the throttles, but still keeping the aircraft moving down the highway. When he was absolutely sure there was no more pursuit, he eased the aircraft onto a wide grassy area of Fort Davis Park and killed the engines.

Within minutes, they were surrounded by nearly ten District of Columbia police cars and forced to lie on the ground with their wrists handcuffed behind them. Later, after they were taken to the nearest station and questioned by two detectives, who thought their story of being chased from the airport for sacred Nazi relics belonged in
Alice in Wonderland,
Pitt convinced them to make a phone call.

“You’re entitled to your one call,” said Detective Lieutenant Richard Scott, a gray-haired veteran of the force.

“I’d be grateful if you made it for me,” said Pitt.

The detective plugged a phone into a jack inside the interrogation room and looked up. “The number?”

“I’ve never memorized it, but information can give you the phone number for the White House.”

“I’m tired of your nonsense,” said Scott wearily. “What number do you want to reach?”

Pitt pierced the detective with a cold stare. “I’m dead serious. Call the White House, ask for the President’s chief of staff. Tell him we, along with the sacred relics, are languishing in a police station on Potomac Avenue.”

“You’re joking.”

“You must have checked us out and found we’re ranking officials of NUMA and not wanted criminals.”

“Then how do you explain shooting up the highway with guns that aren’t registered?”

“Please,” Pitt coaxed. “Just make the call.”

Looking up the White House number, Scott followed Pitt’s instructions. Slowly, his face changed expressions like a comic actor’s. From suspicion to curiosity to downright bafflement. When he set down the receiver, he stared with newfound respect.

“Well?” asked Giordino.

“President Wallace himself came on the line and directed me to get you and your relics to the White House in the next ten minutes or he’d have my badge.”

“Don’t fret, Lieutenant,” Giordino said congenially. “We won’t time you.”

 
WITH sirens blaring and lights flashing, Pitt and Giordino and the bronze box were rushed to the northwest gate of the White House. Once inside, the bronze box was opened and searched under the watchful eyes of the Secret Service for weapons or explosive devices. The Nazi relics were removed from their leather cases and unwrapped from the linen and examined. Then, rather than go through the trouble of replacing and rewrapping again, Giordino simply took the sacred lance and carried it in one hand. Pitt kept the little bronze plaque and gave the sacred bloodstained flag to an agent. The silver urn he kept in his possession, firmly gripped with both hands.

The President’s secretary stood as she saw them approaching, surrounded by no fewer than four Secret Service agents. She smiled and greeted Pitt and Giordino. “The President and quite a few high-ranking people have been patiently waiting for you in his office.”

“We look pretty shabby for a reception,” said Giordino, surveying his rumpled clothing.

“If I may have a moment,” asked Pitt. “Could you direct me to the nearest bathroom?”

“Why, certainly,” she said sweetly. “The men’s room is just behind you to your right.”

In a few minutes, Pitt and Giordino entered the Oval Office. They were stunned to find the room crowded: the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the President’s cabinet and top aides, Admiral Sandecker with Hiram Yaeger and Rudi Gunn, several congressional leaders, and Loren Smith, who showed no fear or embarrassment by coming over and kissing Pitt square on the lips. There was a solid round of applause as Pitt and Giordino stood stunned with astonishment.

When the sounds of clapping hands and voices quieted, Pitt could not refrain from saying, “This is certainly a better reception than we got at the Gordons Corner airport.”

“Gordons Corner?” blurted Sandecker. “You were supposed to land at Andrews Air Force Base, where a reception committee was still waiting for you.”

“Yes,” said the secretary of state, Paul Reed. “What’s this about you being arrested and held by the police?”

“The Wolf family made an attempt to retrieve the relics,” answered Pitt.

“They tried to hijack the relics?” asked General Amos South of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “I certainly hope they failed.”

“They failed,” Pitt assured him. “We have the relics.”

President Dean Cooper Wallace walked up to them. “Gentlemen, the nation, no, the world, owes you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. Unfortunately, only a select few will ever learn how close the world came to chaos and what you did to prevent it.”

Vice President Brian Kingman stood beside the President. “It’s an injustice for you not to receive proper acclaim for your tremendous achievements, but if the story of how the world’s population came within minutes of being obliterated became known, there would be total chaos. The media would go ballistic, and despite the danger having passed, fear and terror would last for years to come.”

“Brian is right,” said the President. “Knowing Earth is susceptible to being struck by a comet or asteroid, or experiencing an earthquake, is hardly a concern of the public during their day-to-day existence. But they could never shrug off the thought of another madman like Karl Wolf and his family attempting to annihilate billions of people to fulfill a compulsion for world domination. Fear would run rampant, a situation we cannot allow to happen.”

“I don’t mind, Mr. President,” Giordino said, cheerfully brazen. “I’ve always hated the thought of people coming up and demanding my autograph while I was dining in a restaurant.”

Pitt turned away to suppress his laughter. Sandecker rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. The President looked blank, not knowing if the little Italian was joking or serious.

“I think what my friend is trying to get across,” said Pitt, “is that he and I are quite content to remain anonymous.”

At that point, everyone in the room began asking questions, mostly about how they had crossed the ice in the Snow Cruiser and saved the Special Forces teams. Then the President stared down and saw the spear in Giordino’s hand.

“Is that the Holy Lance I’ve heard so much about?” he asked.

Giordino nonchalantly laid the lance in the President’s hands. “Yes, sir, it is.”

Wallace held the lance over his head, as everyone in the room stared in awe.

“The most sacred relic in all of Christendom,” proclaimed Pitt. “It’s said the man who wields it can command the destiny of the world for good or evil.”

“Obviously, Hitler chose the latter,” said Admiral Sandecker.

“Is it truly the spear that pierced Christ’s body on the cross?” Wallace asked reverently, gazing at the spear point as if expecting to see a hint of dried blood.

“So says the legend,” said Pitt.

The President handed the lance to Secretary of State Reed. “You’d better take it, Paul.”

“What do you intend to do with it, Mr. President?” asked General South.

Cooper lightly touched the ancient spearhead. “I’m told the lance belongs in the treasure room of the Royal Palace in Vienna, from which Hitler stole it in 1938.”

Reed shook his head. “Never,” he said emphatically. “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but it must be hidden away, never to fall into malignant hands again and be used as a symbol for tyranny.”

After they had all examined the Blood Flag and the small bronze plaque thought to have saved Hitler’s life, Pitt went out to the desk of the President’s secretary, where he’d left the urn, and carried it into the Oval Office. He set it on the table before the fireplace. “The ashes of Hitler and Eva Braun.”

Then he stood back as the crowd in the Oval Office moved in closer to inspect the words etched in the silver. Their voices soon hushed and became quiet murmurs as they examined the container of the accursed remains of history’s most infamous despot.

“It makes me shudder simply to look at it,” said Loren, clutching Pitt’s arm.

Pitt gripped her around the waist. “I’m sure you’re not alone.”

“Too abhorrent to contemplate,” muttered the President.

General South looked at the President and said, “Sir, I think we should inspect the interior of the urn to make absolutely certain that ashes are truly inside.”

President Wallace looked around the office. “Does anyone object?”

“I also think it wise,” said Secretary of State Reed, “that the FBI labs do a thorough examination to prove they’re human.”

“Will you please remove the lid, General?” the President asked South.

Even the tough old soldier found it repulsive to touch the urn. Very reluctantly, he gently placed his fingers around the black eagle atop the urn and twisted it cautiously as he lifted. The lid came free and he set it on the desk as if it were tainted with a virus.

Everyone stood back whisper-silent as the President warily peered into the urn. His face took on a puzzled expression, and he looked up into a sea of grim, expectant faces.

“It’s empty,” he said vaguely. “There are no ashes inside.”

The word “empty” was repeated throughout the room. “This certainly is a twist no one counted on,” said Vice President Kingman, equally mystified.

“Is it possible the Wolfs took the ashes and rehid them?” General South said, voicing the thoughts of everyone present.

Only Giordino looked strangely contemplative. Then his face brightened as if he had suddenly witnessed a revelation. He turned and looked at Pitt queerly.
“Oh no!”
he muttered softly.
“You didn’t?”

“I did,” Pitt answered honestly.

“What are you talking about?” asked Loren. “Do you know who took the ashes?”

“I do.”

“Then who?”

“Me,” Pitt replied, his opaline green eyes reflecting fiendish mirth. “I flushed them down the toilet in the White House men’s room.”

FINAL BLESSING

 
THE DAY WAS TYPICAL for the nation’s capital, the climate hot and sultry. The leaves hung green on their branches and the cool breeze of the coming fall was nowhere to be felt. Crowds of people were standing in long lines to view the recently opened wing of the Natural History Museum, which housed more than three thousand Amenes treasures and artifacts that had been recovered from St. Paul Island, the
Ulrich Wolf
, and the ongoing excavation of the lost city in the Antarctic.

Members of the Wolf family, as expected, walked free from the courts. But an international investigative force was formed for no other purpose than to keep all family members under strict surveillance. There was no way the Wolfs would be allowed to attempt another world-domination scheme without being discovered and stopped dead in their tracks. Destiny Enterprises was no more, and with the death of Karl, the family was rudderless. And without their enormous hoard of wealth and assets, most were forced to endure a far less luxurious lifestyle.

The Chilean government had promptly appropriated the four gigantic Destiny Enterprises ships. After the fjord was extensively dredged to allow their access to open water, the giant superships began sailing the seven seas, carrying vast numbers of passengers and gargantuan cargos that had been thought inconceivable a few short years before. The
Ulrich Wolf
was sold to a conglomerate of shipping lines for a reported three billion dollars. With minor modifications, she was put into service as a round-the-world cruise city with short-term staterooms and privately owned apartments and condominiums. She was renamed the
Ocean Paradise,
and proved extremely popular because international flights could land and take off on her long upper deck runway while she was cruising far offshore.

The other three gigantic ships were purchased by cargo transport lines and oil companies and soon became familiar sights in the few major port facilities that could receive them. Because they showed that leviathan superships could be profitable, it was not long before six other ships of comparable size were under construction.

Admiral Sandecker, along with Pitt, Loren Smith, Giordino, and Pat, who had flown in to help set up the display of Amenes descriptions, were members of a party of VIPs who were invited to preview the exhibits before they were open to the general public. No matter how many times they had seen them, Pitt and Giordino were still amazed at the magnitude of the treasures on display. No one who beheld them could believe they came from a race of people who vanished nine thousand years ago, long before most prehistoric civilizations had emerged from the stone age.

The centerpiece under a spacious stained-glass rotunda was a grouping of the beautifully preserved mummies of the Amenes rulers found on St. Paul Island by Giordino and Rudi Gunn. Everyone stood in awe in the presence of those who had lived and died so far in the past. Pitt found himself wondering if one of these ancient people might have been his direct ancestor.

Nearly five hours later, they exited the exhibit through a side door held open by a guard and began walking across the mall toward the newly built Smithsonian Transportation Museum. Loren looked dazzling, her cinnamon hair falling to her shoulders and accented by the sun. She was dressed comfortably in a light blue sleeveless silk dress that was cut short, revealing a shapely pair of tanned legs. Pitt wore a green golf shirt and light-tan slacks. Al and Pat, shunning any formal look in the heat, both wore light T-shirts and shorts. Like a pair of young lovers, they held hands as they walked across Madison Drive and took the pathway across the Mall, with Sandecker in the lead, puffing on one of his elephantine cigars.