Jones, ever the professional, ignored him and focussed on the charred and bloodied figure crushed within the folds of metal that had once been the sedan. Then he pulled his cell phone out and called the pre-programmed number.
“It’s done,” he said simply.
On the other end of the line, the man who had answered did not smile. He simply replied, “Good,” and then hung up and began dialling another number.
As he waited for the encrypted connection to be answered, the man glanced at the information on his computer. It displayed a medical report for Doctor Karen Weingarten, signed off by one Emmett Braun who had known the sick girl only as Jane Doe. It confirmed everything he wanted to know.
Weingarten had been an archaeologist working on the UNESCO funded Sarisariñama Expedition in Venezuela, one of the last places on earth he had expected someone with her ‘condition’ to be discovered.
Of course, he knew all about the expedition. It had been on the news for over a year now, ever since a billionaire playboy with nothing better to do had illegally base-jumped into an enormous sinkhole on one of the country’s famous table-mountains. His chute had been caught on the holes’ thick foliage, swinging him into the vegetation encrusted wall. But there, totally unexpected, hidden for hundreds of years by the thick vines and lush tropical vegetation, was a doorway, hewn into the rock. That doorway had led to a series of passageways tunnelling into the three-hundred square mile summit, sparking enormous academic debate over its origins.
Over eight thousand feet above sea level and defended by almost vertical cliffs on all sides, the summit of Sarisariñama had a uniquely isolated ecosystem with numerous endemic species of fauna and flora. Its four giant sinkholes burrowed over a thousand feet into the mountain and one of them, Sima Humboldt, was over a thousand feet wide. No thorough scientific study had been conducted on the summit since 1976, and no archaeological expedition had ever had cause to set foot there.
Hundreds of miles from the nearest road and accessible only by helicopter, Sarisariñama was one of the most isolated places on the planet. And it hid a secret far more powerful than a simple doorway.
A voice on the other end of the phone answered. “Yes?”
The man was quick to the point. “Braun confirmed it.” He eyed the computer screen again, looking at Weingarten’s plump but pretty face and wondered, not for the first time, how she had managed to get herself caught up in all this. Then he thought about the rest of the U.N. expedition- a multi-disciplined team of archaeologists and anthropologists, along with a host of biologists, botanists, zoologists and entomologists. The scientists were supported by a team of local workers, cooks and porters and an international film crew documenting the adventure.
But now, the entire expedition was in his way.
They had to be removed.
His next words, his orders, were cold and hard. “You have a go.”
2:
Black Death
The Labyrinth,
Sarisariñama Tepui,
Venezuela,
With a final shove,Benjamin King burst through the prison of thick vines and fell unceremoniously onto the ground.
“Ben!” he heard Sid cry out in shock as her boyfriend suddenly vanished in a cascade of rotting greenery and crumbling stone. She wafted away the plume of dust from King’s passage and pushed into the hole in the wall, shining her torch through the gloom.
It took a few seconds for Sid’s eyes to discern King’s dark skin, betraying his African descent, amidst the gloom. “Ben?”
“I’m okay,” he coughed.
The passageway they had been exploring had led to a dead-end but King had realised that the blocking wall was different to the surrounding walls. Whereas the rest of the underground labyrinth of tunnels running through the mountain had been constructed with painstaking precision, every block cut perfectly to
“It’s done,” he said simply.
On the other end of the line, the man who had answered did not smile. He simply replied, “Good,” and then hung up and began dialling another number.
As he waited for the encrypted connection to be answered, the man glanced at the information on his computer. It displayed a medical report for Doctor Karen Weingarten, signed off by one Emmett Braun who had known the sick girl only as Jane Doe. It confirmed everything he wanted to know.
Weingarten had been an archaeologist working on the UNESCO funded Sarisariñama Expedition in Venezuela, one of the last places on earth he had expected someone with her ‘condition’ to be discovered.
Of course, he knew all about the expedition. It had been on the news for over a year now, ever since a billionaire playboy with nothing better to do had illegally base-jumped into an enormous sinkhole on one of the country’s famous table-mountains. His chute had been caught on the holes’ thick foliage, swinging him into the vegetation encrusted wall. But there, totally unexpected, hidden for hundreds of years by the thick vines and lush tropical vegetation, was a doorway, hewn into the rock. That doorway had led to a series of passageways tunnelling into the three-hundred square mile summit, sparking enormous academic debate over its origins.
Over eight thousand feet above sea level and defended by almost vertical cliffs on all sides, the summit of Sarisariñama had a uniquely isolated ecosystem with numerous endemic species of fauna and flora. Its four giant sinkholes burrowed over a thousand feet into the mountain and one of them, Sima Humboldt, was over a thousand feet wide. No thorough scientific study had been conducted on the summit since 1976, and no archaeological expedition had ever had cause to set foot there.
Hundreds of miles from the nearest road and accessible only by helicopter, Sarisariñama was one of the most isolated places on the planet. And it hid a secret far more powerful than a simple doorway.
A voice on the other end of the phone answered. “Yes?”
The man was quick to the point. “Braun confirmed it.” He eyed the computer screen again, looking at Weingarten’s plump but pretty face and wondered, not for the first time, how she had managed to get herself caught up in all this. Then he thought about the rest of the U.N. expedition- a multi-disciplined team of archaeologists and anthropologists, along with a host of biologists, botanists, zoologists and entomologists. The scientists were supported by a team of local workers, cooks and porters and an international film crew documenting the adventure.
But now, the entire expedition was in his way.
They had to be removed.
His next words, his orders, were cold and hard. “You have a go.”
2:
Black Death
The Labyrinth,
Sarisariñama Tepui,
Venezuela,
With a final shove,Benjamin King burst through the prison of thick vines and fell unceremoniously onto the ground.
“Ben!” he heard Sid cry out in shock as her boyfriend suddenly vanished in a cascade of rotting greenery and crumbling stone. She wafted away the plume of dust from King’s passage and pushed into the hole in the wall, shining her torch through the gloom.
It took a few seconds for Sid’s eyes to discern King’s dark skin, betraying his African descent, amidst the gloom. “Ben?”
“I’m okay,” he coughed.
The passageway they had been exploring had led to a dead-end but King had realised that the blocking wall was different to the surrounding walls. Whereas the rest of the underground labyrinth of tunnels running through the mountain had been constructed with painstaking precision, every block cut perfectly to
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