“I have no idea, but I’m going to love finding out,” he replied. He was even more enthusiastic than usual, like a small child at a birthday party after too many sweets. “You’ve got to agree with some of my ideas now, Gail, haven’t you? You might even have to revisit some of your Amarna dating,” he jabbed.
She was absolutely stunned. “I don’t know,” was all she could say. “I don’t know.”
That the news showed proof of extra-terrestrial life was amazing.
That it had been intelligent extra-terrestrial life was barely credible.
But that such intelligent life had managed to carve the very same Amarna Stickman, in all of its glory, into the surface of a rock a hundred million miles away on Mars left Dr Gail Turner utterly speechless.
Chapter 36
Larue’s English was certainly good enough to get the general idea of the book Martín had given him, and he had now read enough of it to know what to do next. Nevertheless, he continued to flick through it with increasing interest, dwelling on a series of photos of the archaeological excavation. In one shot, an attractive young lady and a much older, bearded man stood proudly beside a large rectangular stone in the desert. Another picture showed a row of bookshelves covered in scrolls and clay tablets of varying sizes. The picture he was most interested in, however, was of a large engraving on a wall showing the symbol from Mars next to a bunch of hieroglyphs.
He called Martín back in to his office, and when the Spaniard entered he snapped the book shut. He opened his desk drawer and took out a large wallet. “So, you’ve met Dr Turner before?”
Martín smiled proudly and nodded. “Yes, in London. I was visiting some friends and we went to one of her lectures.”
“Why?” Larue was intrigued as to why a young man with a master’s degree in physics would be interested in archaeology.
“A friend of mine was studying history, and recommended that we all go to the lecture with him, because we were doing nothing else that afternoon.” He looked at the signed copy of the book. “He was also too shy to ask her to sign his copy of the book, so I did it for him. I got confused and she signed it for me instead. My friend was quite upset and told me to keep the book.”
Larue smiled at his little story.
“Martin, I think that this cover-up is not over. I don’t believe for a second that whoever is behind it will simply turn over and admit defeat. We will be accused of the same fakery as we are accusing them of.”
He opened his drawer and withdrew a credit card. He placed it on the desk in front of him. “This book is very interesting, but from what I can see it doesn’t make any reference to Mars. And yet here we are. Dr Gail Turner will no doubt have made progress in her research in the last few years. Maybe she knows something she wasn’t able to publish at the time. While we are unable to get close to the findings on Mars, we should look to this site in Egypt to help explain what is going on.
“Your encounter with her, no matter how brief, does give you an icebreaker of sorts, and she may help us find out more. I want you to find her and get more information.” He pulled a piece of paper from the drawer and, along with the credit card, pushed it across the desk. “This is the pin number for the business card, which you may use as required.”
“But Monsieur, I am not a detective!” he complained.
“You are a researcher in my department. This is your research.” Larue closed the drawer and gestured for him to leave.
As the door closed behind him, Martín looked down at the handful of items he was carrying. His assignment was certainly outside the normal remit of the ESA, he thought to himself, shaking his head. But although he was initially apprehensive, he quickly realised he’d just been given a golden opportunity to satisfy his own curiosity, as well as that of his boss.
He strode to his desk and opened up a browser window on his laptop, and started tracking Dr Gail Turner down.
Chapter 37
Seth Mallus shut the door and took his seat opposite Dr Patterson at the imposing desk. Bright sunlight poured through the window of the meeting room. Outside, an old man cycled past whistling and in the distance a group of children could be seen playing with a football on the sandy beach. Palm trees swayed gently as seagulls drifted on the warm breeze.
Dr Patterson was looking out of the window with interest.
“It’s amazing what can be achieved with modern technology, Doctor,” Mallus told him. “When my father was a boy, the most impressive computers could barely play chess. Now, in simulator windows like this they can make us think that we are enjoying a summer’s day in California, while in the distance, sitting at a small table, two men who don’t even exist are themselves playing chess to the level of the Grandmasters.”
One of the boys playing football on the beach was arguing with the others. He was holding the football close to his chest, and shouting at the top of his voice. Dr Patterson could not make out what he was saying, but the outcome was clear. Three of the other boys suddenly jumped on him, trying to wrestle the ball away from his grip. Within a minute, they had seized it and were triumphantly marching off to their friends, where they quickly resumed their game. The first boy picked himself up from the sand, nursing his jaw. Blood was dripping from his nose. He stole a glance at the other boys as he retreated to the promenade by the beach. The three dimensional effect was staggering, to the extent that had he not been assured it was a computer simulation the thought would never have crossed his mind.
“Man will never change, Dr Patterson. Our playground simply gets larger, the footballs more expensive, and the games more deadly.” He swung his chair round to look at the scientist. “The strong and powerful continue to make the rules, and there is one absolute certainty: the longer you play, the more likely you are to get hurt.”
Patterson wasn’t sure what Mallus was alluding to, but his threatening tone was making him nervous. “I see,” he lied.
Mallus leant forward and pointed to the scientist’s folder, which he had placed on the desk in front of him. “Tell, me; since we last saw each other, has anything enlightening sprung to mind?” he asked.
“I’ve made some progress, but nothing noteworthy. I was very surprised when -”
“You turned the news on this morning?” Mallus finished the sentence for him.
“I didn’t expect them to find it so soon. And I certainly didn’t expect to see it on TV.”
Mallus looked at him closely then shook his head. “The leaks to the press have caused us to accelerate our project somewhat, but there is still too much that we do not understand regarding Aniquilus, too much that you have not been able to tell us, despite your best attempts. This is why, if all goes well, Dr Gail Turner will be joining you tomorrow to start helping.”
Patterson looked at him in disbelief. That he was assigned some help from one of the other research teams was one thing, but Dr Gail Turner...
“She can read the text, from what the reports say, largely without the aid of a translating device like you, Doctor. And you know everything about Mars and a great deal about Aniquilus. Of all the people in the list you provided me with, I believe the two of you will make the best pairing.”
There was a shout from the virtual world outside the window, barely audible through the ‘glass’, and Patterson looked up to see the same fight over the football happening all over again. Following his gaze, Mallus shook his head and snapped a command at the screen, which promptly changed to a sprawling cityscape; Mallus’ office had gone from a beach to the topmost floor of a virtual skyscraper.
After a short pause to take the view in, Mallus looked at him intently. “Something has to be done to stop it, Doctor. The book is the key, I’m certain of that. I’m also certain that we don’t have much time left.”