Subterranean (4 page)

Ashley shrugged, trying to discourage conversation, and turned away.

“So many secrets,” Ben mumbled.

She nodded. “Perhaps shortly we'll have a few answers.”

He remained quiet. Still, she sensed his presence at her shoulder. His cologne was musky and rich; his breathing, deep and even.

She shifted. The auditorium was almost full. Now it was getting warm in here. She wished they would fix the thermostat.

“Do you trust him?” he asked in a whisper.

“No,” she answered, looking straight ahead. She knew who he was talking about. “Not at all.”

From a doorway, Blakely watched the auditorium fill. His team was gathered in the five front seats. He signaled his assistant, Roland, across the room.

Roland nodded and raised a microphone to his lips. “Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. We're ready to begin.”

After a few more moments of bustling and last-minute arrivals, the doors to the auditorium were closed and the lights dimmed slightly. Blakely climbed the dais and stood behind the lighted podium. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. He knew his speech by heart, words carefully crafted.

Blakely tapped the microphone, testing it. His tapping also signaled the murmuring crowd to hush. “First, thank you all for joining us.” He paused. “I know it has been a hardship to leave your regular lives behind so abruptly. But in a few moments, I'm sure you will be convinced that the disruption was well worth it.”

He picked up a remote control for the slide projector and pressed a button. A photograph of a snowcapped mountain with a plume of dirty smoke appeared on the screen. “Mount Erebus on Ross Island just off the coast of Antarctica. One of three volcanic cones on this continent. At the base of this volcano is the U.S. research station, McMurdo. My home for the past five years.”

He clicked the button to zero in on a group of low metal buildings clinging to the surface of a gray glacier. A satellite array sprouted like a bizarre spider from the rooftops. “I have been conducting geothermal studies for the past ten years on some hot rifts still active deep under the cone and under the neighboring Ross Sea. NASA assisted with this research. Their third shuttle, six years ago, made radio scans of the earth's crust, looking for oil fields and other such pockets. I commissioned a scan of Mount Erebus and found some amazing things.”

He tapped the button, and a cross-sectional diagram of the crust under the volcanic cone appeared on screen. A murmur arose from the crowd. “As you can see, an intricate cavern system was discovered below Erebus, spreading hundreds of miles.”

He clicked to the next slide. “Closer investigation with sonar and radar revealed a huge cavern separated from the deepest rift by a mere six hundred meters of stone.” He guided a pointer to show the network of rifts that led to the massive pocket. “We named this cave Alpha Cavern. Almost five miles in diameter, the cavern floor was plumbed at two miles below the surface of the continent. Almost three times deeper than man has ever stepped foot.”

The next picture showed a group of smiling men, faces encrusted in dirt and dust, posing in front of a large raw-edged hole. “After three years of work, we blasted and mined our way into this chamber. It took another year to wire and set up a camp on this chamber's floor.” A spot-lighted set of Quonset huts and tents appeared next on the screen. A three-story wooden building protruded from the middle. A second, similar building, a mere skeleton of wooden framing and scaffolding, was under construction. “Alpha Base,” he noted. “We worked in secret. Access restricted to those with the proper clearance.”

The next slide caused his audience to gasp. Blakely smiled slightly. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present a mystery.”

Ashley, who had been rubbing her eyes and yawning, wondering what all this talk of volcanic activity and mining had to do with her, bolted out of her seat. It had to be a hoax. What she saw blew a mile-wide hole in accepted anthropologic theory.

The photograph projected on the screen revealed a spot-lighted section of the cavern wall. Dug into the wall was a network of cliff-dwelling homes, rising several hundred feet up the wall. Unlike the organized Anasazi cliff dwellings she had studied in New Mexico, dwellings with distinct terraces and geometric conformations, these cavern dwellings were more rudimentary, crude, a haphazard series of rough caves.

Blakely continued after the audience's reaction had subsided to a quiet murmur. “Unfortunately, no one was home”—nervous laughter tickled across the room—“but we discovered a few scattered artifacts.” He clicked through the next series of slides. One of the slides was the diamond fertility figurine.

Ashley was numb as she settled back into her seat. She raised her hand. “Excuse me, Dr. Blakely.”

He acknowledged her with a wave, then paused to sip from a glass of water.

“Has the site been dated?” she asked.

He swallowed, nodding. “We did some cursory radio-carbon dating. As near as we can tell, about five-point-two million years.”

“What!” Ashley jumped out of her seat a second time. “That's impossible.”

“It's been repeated at several labs,” he replied, his smile condescending.

The eyes of the auditorium were now upon her. Some lighting technician even highlighted her with a small spot. She shaded her eyes with a hand. “But the first hominids, the earliest ancestor of modern man, only appeared on the planet four million years ago. And these early hominids did not have the tools or social structure to build anything like this.”

He shrugged. “That's why we're here.” He clicked for the next slide: a photograph of a tunnel in the base of the wall. “These tunnels leave this colossal chamber in many different directions, connecting to other caverns and tunnels. We believe that down one of these passages lie the answers to the questions raised by Professor Carter. Who built the dwellings? Who made the carvings? Where are they now?”

The audience remained stunned, silent. Ashley sat back down, still in shock.

“I have put together a small team to begin that exploration. To venture deeper into the maze of tunnels and discover what else may lie below. The group will be led by Professor Ashley Carter, an expert in paleoanthropology and archaeology. The others on the team are leaders in their respective fields.”

He pointed to a blond-haired woman seated several chairs over from Ashley. “Accompanying the team will be Professor Linda Furstenburg, a biology professor from the University of Vancouver, to study the unique biosphere we've discovered down there. Also a geologist, Khalid Najmon,” he said with a nod toward an Arab gentleman seated with his legs crossed to Linda's left. “He, as many of you know, will be assisting us in mapping the riches below Antarctic ice. His findings may alter our view of this continent.”

Blakely finished by pointing out the other two men seated in the front row. “All the way from Australia, Benjamin Brust, a world-renowned cave explorer, will be mapping the intricacies of this unique cavern system. And that smartly dressed man in the uniform is Major Michaelson of the U.S. Marines, who, with two other trained military men, will be accompanying the team to aid in logistics and protection.”

He waved his arm to encompass the group before him. “Ladies and gentlemen, here is your team.” A murmur of applause spattered across the crowd.

Ashley tried to sink deeper into her seat.

After some further details were explained and a handful of questions answered, the meeting ended. Satisfied, Blakely left the podium.

In the adjacent room, he sighed and loosened his tie. The first part was over. Roland, who had been his assistant for over fifteen years, entered with the slide tray. Blakely nodded to him.

“That went very well, sir,” Roland said as he boxed the slides. “The government representatives and your other financial backers seemed very pleased.”

“Yes,” he said with a tired smile. “I think so too.” He pulled off his jacket and let it drop on a nearby chair. He sat down in another.

Roland placed the slide carousel in a cardboard box. “No one even suspected there was a previous exploration team.”

He shrugged. “They have no need for that information right now.”

“But what if—”

“We're much better prepared this time. Don't worry. We won't lose this team.”

F
OR THE SECOND TIME IN AS MANY MONTHS
, A
SHLEY
stuck her nose in Major Michaelson's face. Even now, outfitted in his dress blues, she recognized the same blue-eyed plastic soldier boy who had escorted Dr. Blakely to her doorstep. “I don't care if you and your two goons come along with my team,” she said, accosting him just outside the auditorium. “I want it made perfectly clear right now. This team is
mine
.”

He stood straight, not pulling an inch from her face. “Ma'am, I have my orders.”

She hated surprises like these. Blakely should have forewarned her that there would be armed escorts accompanying her team. “This is a scientific mission. Not a military one.”

“As Dr. Blakely explained, we're merely going along for defensive reasons. For safety.”

“Fine,” she said, staring him square in the eyes. “But you remember, even though you may be carrying the guns, I give the orders. Understood?”

He did not blink, just nodded slightly. “I have my orders, ma'am.”

She ground her molars, squelching an outburst. What could she do? She stepped back. “As long as we understand each other.”

“Is there some trouble, ladies?” Ben had appeared at her elbow. He smiled, but there was a tightness to his lips as he eyed the major.

Ashley sensed Ben's edginess, nothing like his earlier casual attitude. Probably isn't too keen on the idea of being surrounded by guns either, she thought. “No,” she said aloud. “We're just clearing up a few points.”

“Good. We're going to be buried together for the summer in a hole two miles deep. Let's start out friends.” Ben stuck out a hand toward the officer.

Major Michaelson ignored Ben's hand. “You do your job, and I'll do mine.” With a nod toward Ashley, the major turned and strode away.

“Nice bloke,” Ben said. “Real friendly.” The sarcasm in his voice was tough to miss.

“I didn't need rescuing.”

“Pardon me?”

“I can handle Major Michaelson without your intervention.”

“I could see that.” Ben looked hurt. Honestly hurt. “But that wasn't the reason I came over. I talked to Professor Furstenburg and Mr. Najmon. We're all going to the hotel bar. I just wanted to invite you along.”

Ashley glanced down, embarrassed by her rude remark. It wasn't Ben who deserved her wrath. She had just needed someone to vent her frustrations upon, and unfortunately he was at hand. “Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—”

“Don't give it another thought.” A smile had returned to his lips. “Us Aussies are a thick-skinned breed. So how about coming along?”

“I should be getting back to my room. My son. He's upstairs.”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “You brought your son? How old is he?”

“Eleven,” she said defensively. “He's been on digs with me before.”

“Cool. Nothin' like getting your kids involved with your work.” He pointed to a white hotel phone on the wall. “Why don't you check up on him? If he's fine, c'mon and join us.”

She'd expected to be lambasted for dragging her son halfway across the globe, and his response eased her tension a bit. Maybe it
was
all right that Jason came along on this once-in-a-lifetime adventure. “You're right. Let me just call him.”

A quick call from the lobby phone found Jason still hooked to his Nintendo Game Boy like an addict. She could hear the blips and dings of his portable video game in the background. “Can't talk, Mom. Almost to level twenty-three. I've never been this far. And I got three lives left.”

“Sounds great, honey. Listen, I'll be up in about an hour. Is that all right?”

“Sure, sure. Whenever. I gotta go.”

“Have fun, then.” The line clicked off. She sighed and headed toward the bar.

After all, it would be good to get to know her teammates better before the trip tomorrow.

Maxi's, the hotel bar, was the designated watering hole. The decor was a Paris motif, with tiny café tables and intimate booths. A French flag hung over the bar. The tables were crowded now with the evening theater crowd. Espresso, café latté, and exotic drinks cluttered the tabletops. In contrast to the European trappings, the Latin music was loud, with a throbbing rhythm.

A booth in a distant corner had already been staked out by her team. She saw Ben ferrying drinks across the room. Balancing a beer and three cocktails between two hands, he maneuvered through the maze of elbows and feet, arriving with most of the drinks still in their respective glasses. Ashley slid into the booth just ahead of him.

Sliding in next to her, Ben passed her a glass. “If I remember, the lady likes whiskey.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

“You two seem to know each other already,” said the Egyptian geologist, Khalid Najmon, who sat across the booth next to Linda Furstenburg. His smile glowed against his desert tan, handsome in a dark way. “Have you known each other long?” he asked before taking a sip of his wine.

“No. We sat together at the meeting,” Ashley explained. “Otherwise, we're complete strangers.”

Ben feigned hurt feelings. “‘Strangers' is such a dirty word.”

“Well,” Khalid said, “while Mr. Brust was fetching drinks, I've been getting better acquainted with Professor Furstenburg.”

“Please, call me Linda.” She blushed a bit and kept pushing a loose strand of blond hair back over an ear. Her manner was outwardly relaxed, but she kept glancing around the room with glassy eyes.