The Atlantis Plague(116)

The lantern light only half-illuminated Shaw’s face, and in that instant Chang thought the man, who was likely in his early thirties, momentarily appeared much younger.

The face—that younger face—Chang knew it. Where had he seen it?

Years, decades ago. Right after he had delivered Kate from her mother’s body, from the tubes.

In the memory, Howard Keegan, the Director of Clocktower and one of two members of the Immari council, sat behind a massive oak desk in his office. Chang fidgeted nervously in the chair across from him.

“I want you to do a thorough exam of the boy you extracted from the tube. His name is Dieter Kane, but we call him Dorian Sloane now. He’s having some trouble getting… acclimated.”

“Is he—”

Keegan pointed his finger at Chang. “You tell me what’s wrong with him, Doctor. Don’t overlook anything. Just give him a full workup and come back here, understand?”

When Chang had finished the examination, he returned to Keegan’s office, taking the same seat in front of the gargantuan desk. He unfolded his pad and began making his report. A few significant scars on his lower back and buttocks, indicative of past severe corporal punishment, perhaps two or three years before present. Physically, quite fit. Two centimeters taller than the average for his age. Several recent bruises, likely connected… Chang looked up. “Do you suspect abuse?”

“No, for God’s sake, Doctor! He’s the abuser. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“I’m afraid I don’t—”

“Listen to me. Sixty years ago, when he went into that tube, he was the sweetest kid in the world. When he came out, he was as mean as a damn snake. He’s a borderline sociopath. That tube did something to him, Doctor, and I want to know what it is.”

Chang just sat there, unsure what to say.

The side door to the study burst open, and Dorian ran in.

“Stay out, Dorian! We’re working here.”

Another boy ran in behind Dorian, bumping into him. He peeked out from behind Dorian’s shoulder. The face.

The two boys retreated, pulling the heavy door closed behind them.

Keegan sat back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Chang hated the silence. “The other boy…”

“What?” Keegan leaned forward. “Oh, he’s my son, Adam. I’m raising Dorian as his brother, hoping it will help give him some stability, some sense of family. Dorian’s own family is dead. But… I’m scared to death that Dorian’s darkness, his sickness, will infect Adam, corrupt him. And this is a sickness, Doctor. Something is very, very wrong with him.”

Chang was back in the stone corridor, the memory gone, the dim light returned. He stared at Adam Shaw, the half of his face he could see. Yes, it was him. Dorian’s adoptive brother. Keegan’s son.

“What?” Shaw demanded.

Chang took a step back. “Nothing.”

Shaw closed the distance on him. “Did you hear something?”

“No… I…” Chang grasped for words, some excuse. Think. Say something.

Shaw smiled slowly. “You remember me, don’t you, Chang?”

Chang froze. Why can’t I move? It was like some invisible snake had bitten him and a paralyzing poison was coursing through every inch of his body.

“I was wondering if you would. It’s too bad. Martin remembered me too.”

“Help!” Chang yelled out, a split second before Shaw drew the knife from his belt and slashed quickly across Chang’s throat and windpipe, spraying blood on the stone wall and sending Chang to the ground, gurgling, clasping his opened throat, fighting for a breath that wouldn’t come.

Shaw wiped the bloody knife on Chang’s torso, then stepped over the dying man. Shaw placed an explosive on the floor of the tunnel, quickly armed it, and ran deeper into the tunnel.





Kamau stopped at the sound. It sounded like a cry for help. He turned to Janus. The man had something. A weapon?

Kamau raised his rifle.

A blinding light, brighter than anything Kamau had ever seen, assaulted him. A sound, not a vibration, some sort of tuning fork went off in his head. He fell to his knees. What was Janus doing to him? He felt like his head was swelling, as if his brain were exploding from the inside out.

Janus stepped past him without a word.





The cry for help stopped David in his tracks. Who was it? The killer was making his move.

The sound was close. An adjacent tunnel? An intersecting tunnel?

Kate’s voice was a whisper. “David—”

“Shhh. Keep moving.” He led the way, racing through the tunnel now. Before, David had paused at every opening, sweeping his assault rifle left and right.