The Pandora Chronicles - Book 1 (A Scifi Adventure Thriller) (17 page)

Nick ducked to the right and switched course. He sailed over a railing and onto another rooftop, this one full of linen washing—the perfect spot for a trap.

As the two gunmen entered the linen maze, Nick set his sights on one of them. He struck the man in the neck, but the thick muscle blocked the true intention of the strike, which was to silently render him unconscious. Instead, the man let out a grunt and was quickly silenced by Nick’s elbow.

The other gunman opened fire, but Nick’s quick reaction saved him. He twisted his grip and forced the first man into the line of fire, like a human shield. The man died from friendly fire, and Nick scooped up his weapon. Instinctively, he threw it aside and bolted in the other direction.

The second gunman saw the light from the gun Nick threw and thought it must have been the archeologist making a run for it. He opened fire and struck the firearm. By the time he realized his mistake, Nick had descended down a drainpipe and into someone’s backyard.

Nick was met by another washing line and an idea struck him. They hadn’t seen his face yet, which meant that if he were to get out of the monkey suit, he’d be no different from any other wandering tourist.

He found a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt that were roughly his size and stripped off his Hugo Boss suit. The red ledger had been taped around his chest under the blazer. He tore it off, wrapped it in a shirt, and put on his new clothes, leaving the suit neatly folded for the owner to find.
 

Across the street, a bicycle caught his eye. It was an old and rusty thing, and the seat looked uncomfortable, but the wheels spun, and that was all Nick needed. Dumping the book in the dented front basket, he hopped on the bike and began pedaling towards the pier as fast as his aching legs allowed him.

The journey took him twenty minutes, until Nick finally saw the boathouse. He tapped his earpiece and let them know he was at the front door.
 

Circuits greeted him at the door. Nick wanted to punch the coward in the face, but it looked like someone had already beaten him to it. Circuits was pressing an ice pack to his nose and had bloodstains on his shirt. The edges around his eyes were blackened.
 

So instead of hitting him, Nick rubbed his middle finger against his chin and smiled pointedly at the guy.
 

Circuits walked away without saying anything.

Locksmith grinned when he saw Nick walking in. “You’re alright in my books, Professor,” he said, handing him an open beer bottle.

Nick took a swig, relishing in the cool drink after his recent bout with death and the subsequent marathon. He unravelled the book and handed it to Locksmith.

“I still need you to unlock that,” he said. “In the meantime, I am going to change into my regular outfit and get some sleep.”

Locksmith nodded. “We’ll wake you up when it’s time to get to work again.”

Nick simply grunted in response, already halfway through his cabin, and wistfully eyeing the bed.

Chapter 25

A rapt knock on the door frame jarred Nick from his slumber. He couldn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but Nick was sure it involved people more attractive that the middle-aged Aussie standing at the door.

“Astrid’s on the line,” Locksmith said.
 

Once he saw that Nick had somewhat woken up, he left the archaeologist alone in his cabin. Nick checked the time and groaned. Four hours. That’s all he was given to rest from a heist gone wrong which ended with him being chased on a rooftop as gunmen fired at him.
 

Surely, after he had single-handedly delivered Astrid’s prized book, he deserved some rest.

When he finally made it to the common room, he carried a mug of very strong coffee and more sugar than was recommended. Astrid would most likely ask him to look at the book, and Nick’s mind was useless without some caffeine. The remaining four members of the team sat around a coffee table, looking at a laptop. Astrid’s face came into view as Nick sat down.

“Professor,” Astrid greeted him. “I seem to have missed quite the spectacle last night.”

Nick shot him a glare and said nothing. Yes, last night’s events could have been chalked up to bad luck or poor timing, but Nick’s suspicious mind was busy replaying all the conversations he had had with his team when he met them for the first time yesterday.

“In any case,” Astrid continued. “If you would all be so kind as to give me and the Professor some privacy, we have a book to authenticate. I have already sent coordinates for you to follow.”

Circuits was already out the door, headed for the wheelhouse. The Italian
 
couple rose somewhat solemnly. The woman frowned at Nick while her partner shrugged. Nick had already decided that the two scam artists were more amusing than dangerous. Locksmith tapped Nick on the shoulder and pointed at the red leather-bound ledger that nearly cost the archaeologist his life.

“Join us for a cold one when you’re done,” he said as he left. That made Nick smile—nothing like saving a man’s life to gain his alliance.

He sipped his coffee and picked up the ledger. Locksmith managed to open the clasp holding it shut, and Nick took a lot of care not to open the book too quickly, for fear that the leather cover might crack and break off. It was a very old book and years of use and seafaring had been unkind.

The first page was an elaborate, detailed drawing of a single entity being worshipped. It stood within a circle, presumably a representation of the sun. The figure resembled a man, in that it had arms and legs. But from its neck emerged a number of long, serpentine heads that flared to face each direction. A mass of limbs motioned violently, as if it were the most grotesque Siamese in existence, or someone had hurriedly conjoined a group of people together.

The bottom, beneath the god’s feet, was a mass of people bowing deeply so that only their bent backs were shown.

Something else caught Nick’s attention: the clouds swirling on top of the god. They were numerous, all clustered together, but each individual cloud had its own individual pattern. Solomon ran his fingers on them, discovering that the entire page was made from thick leather, and the picture was etched in it. To Nick, it looked like dried up skin, and it dawned on him that it was most likely human. His fingers felt small bumps inside each cloud. The patterns were confusing until he recognized one.

Constellations
, he thought.

By the looks of it, this picture was most likely Mayan. Nick saw the influences of their culture: a serpent-headed deity, accurate constellations, the sun as a holy figure, the attire of the worshipping people. Or perhaps it was the opposite—maybe it had been this picture that shaped the Meso-American culture. No one had all the answers yet, and there was a dark age of around ten thousand years which confounded scientists and anthropologists all around the globe.

Nick’s face must have betrayed some emotion.

“Find anything interesting?” Astrid’s voice crackled from the computer.
 

Nick turned the book to show him. “Just a painting,” he said. “More of an etching, really. This is the real deal.”

Astrid nodded. “Yes, I am glad your daring mission was not in vain. However, this picture is not what I am looking for. I want El Dorado.”

Nick tried not to snort and sipped coffee to keep his face from reacting to Astrid’s blatant lack of knowledge and respect. The man clearly had no idea what he had just made them steal.
 

Nick flipped the page, careful not to ruin the etching, and found himself looking at a table of contents. There still were no words, merely a set of depictions and corresponding Roman numbers. Nick was about to report his finding, when he felt something buzz in his head. At first he thought it was the caffeine finally doing its job, but this felt deeper, as if someone fired a taser gun inside his brain. And just like before, he felt connected to something beyond himself, with knowledge invading his mind until he began understanding what he was looking at. Nick felt as if he had been there when the ledger was being written, as if he had written the ledger himself.

With this new knowledge Nick began deciphering the contents of the book.

There were many icons drawn on the page, but they fell under three main categories: the coin, the sword, and the book.

The coin was the Order’s creed, explained in detail. Unlike other religious sects, it clearly stated its purposes and sacrifices, prompting those who cannot understand or comply to leave. This was the first lesson given to all initiates.

The sword explained the mission of the Order. They were privy to knowledge about God and His many aspects. They understood the dichotomy between one and many, and only those who fully understood that concept were allowed to climb through the ranks. These higher ranked members were tasked with protecting the gifts of God and His children, even from themselves if necessary. They were taught how to fight using arms and armor, empty hands, and more often than not, only their tongues and wit. They were taught how to listen and observe, how to hide in plain sight, and how to manipulate the crowds. They were information-gatherers, philosophers, monks, spies, assassins, soldiers, and heroes.
 

They were whatever God required them to be.

The third icon, the book, was their most precious secret. It told tales and legends, and within each story was supposedly the location of one of His gifts. Absolute faith was required to fully comprehend these stories and grasp the meaning beneath. Most of these stories revealed the existence of the Select and their role to guide mankind.

Nick’s mind compared the Order to their successors, to the compound he grew up on. Somewhere along the line, they grew fearful, arming themselves to fight both mankind as well as any alien god that came back for their so-called gifts. Their methods hadn’t changed, merely the weaponry and equipment used. The Select were paraded around as the next stage of evolution and an order of holy warriors had devolved into a paranoid militia.

“What is it?” Astrid’s voice brought Nick back to reality.
 

Nick shot his head up, trying to jar himself back.

“I think I may have found the key to understanding the book,” he replied. His voice still sounded distant, forcing him to loudly clear his throat. “It should help us narrow down the pool of information, but I will need a couple of hours.”

Astrid’s eyes flashed with irritation for the briefest of moments. “Time is not a luxury we can afford.”

“You’re gonna have to afford it if you want me to find where your golden pyramids are,” Nick shot back.

All the while, he heard a constant chopping noise in the distance. Nick had assumed it was a police helicopter and did not notice until the sound got so loud, it seemed like the chopper was right on top of them.

Suddenly there was a loud explosion, and Nick saw a pillar of water explode very close to the boathouse. He felt the entire barge shift, and he snatched the book away from the spilling coffee.

“What was that?” Astrid demanded. Nick ignored him and peered out of the window.

It was a sleek black helicopter with no markings and no identification numbers. The windshield was completely tinted, making it impossible to see the pilot, but Nick was sure whoever it was, they were highly trained. This was clearly a military helicopter, armed with a pair of machine-guns and at least six heat-seeking missiles.

Locksmith barged in, pushing past Nick with a rocket launcher propped up on his shoulder. “Got us a bloody big bird,” he said, aiming his weapon at the chopper. “Hit the decks.”

Nick dropped face down, just in time to see a trail of fire erupting from the back end of the RPG.

Chapter 26

As he ducked under a burst of flames, Nick was certain of two things.
 

One, that his hair was singed and smelled horribly.
 

Two, that nothing could possibly withstand the power of that rocket as it shot for the black helicopter.
 

He was right on only one account.

Locksmith had missed and the chopper veered its rear upwards, getting into position before opening fire. Bullets canvased the entire boathouse. Locksmith managed to get off another shot, but the stream of bullets caught the RPG mid-flight, and there was an explosion followed by a dust cloud. Nick’s teeth jarred as the impact shook the boat. Enemy gunfire tore at the hull, with a few bullets flying about as they ricocheted around.

From his position, Nick looked up towards Locksmith who stood still against the hail of fire. He made a gurgling noise and dropped the now-useless rocket launcher. Locksmith fell face forwards on the deck, very still. Nick crawled next to him, calling out his name. When he reached him, he rolled the man around and immediately regretted it. Locksmith’s face was a bloody mess, reduced to a pulp by gunfire.

The helicopter opened up a second burst of fire, this one more precise. Nick dove headfirst for the rocket launcher and rolled. A stray bullet bounced off the boat’s metallic surface and whizzed by Nick’s leg, slicing his left calf muscle. It was not a deep wound, but it made walking uncomfortable. The pilot ceased fire, giving Nick the opportunity to stand up. The enemy fired again, but Nick was already halfway through the door. The archaeologist lifted the rocket launcher, a thick barrel of high-density plastic, carbon and steel, against his chest. The circular shape deflected a total of three bullets, keeping them from ending Nick’s life and giving him time to hide behind the steel door.