"One impacted. The other missed and returned to space."
"Are you suggesting the Amenes could accurately predict the date of the second comet's return?"
Pat simply nodded.
"The Amenes," said Yaeger, "were masters not only of the seas but of the heavens as well. They measured the movement of the stars with uncanny accuracy. And they did it without powerful telescopes."
"Suppose the comet does come back," said Giordino. "How could they know it wouldn't miss the earth and sail off into the great beyond again? Was their science so sophisticated they could calculate the time of impact at the exact position of the earth's orbit in space?"
"They could and did," Pat retorted. "By computing and comparing the different positions of the stars and constellations between the ancients' star map in the Colorado chamber with present astronomical star positions, we were able to arrive at our own date in time. It matched the Amenes prediction within an hour.
"The Egyptians devised a double calendar that's far more intricate than what we use today. The Mayans measured the length of the year at 365.2420 days. Our calculation using atomic clocks is 365.2423. They also computed incredibly accurate calendars based on the conjunctions of Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. The Babylonians determined the sidereal year at 365 days, 6 hours, and 11 minutes.
They were off by less than two minutes." Pat paused for effect. "The Amenes' computation for the earth's circuit of the sun was off by two-tenths of a second. They based their calendar on a solar eclipse that occurred on the same day of the year at the same site on the zodiac every 521 years. Their celestial map of the heavens, as observed and calculated nine thousand years ago, was right on the money."
"The question on all our minds now," said Sandecker, "is at what point in time did the Amenes predict the reappearance of the comet?"
Pat and Yaeger exchanged sober looks. Yaeger spoke first. "We learned from a computer search of ancient archaeoastronomy files and papers from the archives of several universities that the Amenes were not the only ancient astronomers to predict a second doomsday. The Mayans, the Hopi Indians, the Egyptians, the Chinese, and several other pre-Christian civilizations all came up with dates for the end of the world. The disturbing part is that, collectively, they arrived within a year of each other."
"Could it be simply a coincidence or one culture borrowing from another?"
Yaeger shook his head doubtfully. "It's possible they copied what was passed on by the Amenes, but indications are that their studies of the stars only confirmed the impact time passed on by those they considered as ancients."
"Who do you think were the most accurate in their prediction?" asked Pitt.
"Those of the Amenes who survived, because they were present during the actual catastrophe. They predicted not only the year but the exact day."
"Which is?" Sandecker prompted expectantly.
Pat sank in her chair as if retreating from reality. Yaeger hesitated, looking around the table from face to face. At last he said in a halting voice, "The time the Amenes predicted the comet would return and shatter the earth is May 20, in the year 2001."
Pitt frowned. "This is 2001."
Yaeger massaged his temples with both hands. "I'm well aware of that.
Sandecker hunched forward. "Are you saying doomsday is less than two months away?"
Yaeger nodded solemnly. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."
<<27>>
After the meeting, Pitt returned to his office and was greeted by his longtime secretary, Zerri Pochinsky. A lovely lady with a dazzling smile, she was blessed with a body that would make a Las Vegas showgirl envious. Fawn-colored hair fell to her shoulders, and she peered at the world through captivating hazel eyes. She lived alone, with a cat named Murgatroyd, and seldom dated. Pitt was more than fond of Zerri, but exercised iron discipline in not coming on to her. As much as he often imagined her in his arms, he had a strict rule about socializing with any members of the opposite sex employed with NUMA. He had seen too many office affairs inevitably lead to disaster.
"FBI Special Agent Ken Helm called and would like you to return his call," she announced, handing him a pink slip of paper with the number of Helm's private line. "Are you in trouble with your government again?"
He grinned at her and leaned over Zerri's desk until their noses were less than an inch apart. "I'm always in trouble with my government."
Her eyes flashed mischievously. "I'm still waiting for you to sweep me off my feet and fly me to a beach in Tahiti."
He pulled back a safe distance, because the scent of her Chanel was beginning to stir unnatural feelings within him. "Why can't you find some nice, stable, home-loving male to marry, so you can stop harassing an old, unanchored, derelict beach bum?"
"Because stable home-lovers aren't any fun."
"Whoever said women are nest-oriented?" He sighed.
Pitt pulled away and stepped into his office, which looked like a trailer park after a tornado. Books, papers, nautical charts, and photographs littered every square inch of space, including the carpet. He had decorated his workplace in antiques he'd bought at auction from the American President Lines elegant passenger ship President Cleveland. He settled behind his desk, picked up the receiver, and dialed Helm's number.
A voice answered with a terse "Yes?"
"Mr. Helm, Dirk Pitt returning your call."
"Mr. Pitt, thank you. I just thought you'd like to know that the Bureau has identified the body you shipped from the Antarctic and also the woman you apprehended last night."
"That was fast work."
"Thanks to our new computerized photo ID department," explained Helm. "They've scanned every newspaper, magazine, TV broadcast, state motor vehicle driver's license record, company security face shot, passport photo, and police record to build the world's largest photo identification network. It consists of hundreds of millions of enhanced facial close-ups. Combined with our fingerprint and DNA files, we can now cover a vast spectrum for identifying bodies and fugitives. We had a make on both women within twenty minutes."
"What did you discover?"
"The name of the deceased from the submarine was Heidi Wolf. The woman you apprehended last night is Elsie Wolf."
"Then they are twin sisters."
"No, actually, they're cousins. And what is really off the wall is that they both come from a very wealthy family and are high-level executives of the same vast business conglomerate."
Pitt stared in contemplation out the window of his office, without seeing the Potomac River outside and the Capitol in the background. "Would they happen to be related to Karl Wolf, the CEO of Destiny Enterprises out of Argentina?"
Helm paused, then said, "It seems you're two steps ahead of me, Mr. Pitt."
"Dirk."
"All right, Dirk, you're on the mark. Heidi was Karl's sister. Elsie is his cousin. And, yes, Destiny Enterprises is a privately owned business empire based in Buenos Aires. Forbes has estimated the combined family resources at two hundred and ten billion dollars."
"Not exactly living on the streets, are they?"
"And I had to marry a girl whose father was a bricklayer."
Pitt said, "I don't understand why a woman of such affluence would stoop to committing petty burglary."
"When you get the answers, I hope you'll pass them on to me."
"Where is Elsie now?" asked Pitt.
"Under guard at a private clinic run by the Bureau on W Street, across from Mount Vernon College."
"Can I talk to her?"
"I see no problem from the Bureau's end, but you'll have to go through the doctor in charge of her case. His name is Aaron Bell. I'll call and clear your visit."
"Is she lucid?"
"She's conscious. You gave her a pretty hard rap on the head. Her concussion was just short of a skull fracture."
"I didn't hit her. It was her motorcycle."
"Whatever," said Helm, the humor obvious in his tone. "You won't get much out of her.
One of our best interrogators tried. She's one tough lady. She makes a clam look talkative."
"Does she know her cousin is dead?"
"She knows. She also knows that Heidi's remains are lying in the clinic's morgue."
"That should prove interesting," Pitt said slowly.
"What will prove interesting?" Helm inquired.
"The look on Elsie's face when I tell her I'm the one who recovered Heidi's body from Antarctic waters and air-shipped it to Washington."
Almost immediately after hanging up the phone, Pitt left the NUMA building and drove over to the unmarked clinic used exclusively by the FBI and other national security agencies. He parked the '36 Ford cabriolet in an empty stall next to the building and walked through the main entrance. He was asked for his identification, and phone calls were made before he was allowed admittance. An administrator directed him to the office of Dr. Bell.
Pitt had actually met the doctor several times, not for care or treatment but during social functions to raise money for a cancer foundation that his father, Senator George Pitt, and Bell served on as directors.
Aaron Bell was in his middle sixties, a hyper character, red-faced, badly overweight, and working under a blanket of stress. He smoked two packs of cigarettes a day and drank twenty cups of coffee. His outlook on life, as he often expressed it, was "Go like hell and go to the grave satisfied."
He emerged from behind his desk like a bear walking on its hind legs. "Dirk!" he boomed. "Good to see you. How's the senator?"
"Planning on running for another term."
"He'll never quit, and neither will I. Sit down. You're here about the woman who was brought in last night."
"Ken Helm called?"
"You wouldn't have crossed the threshold if he hadn't."
"The clinic doesn't look highly guarded."
"Stare cross-eyed at a surveillance camera and see what happens."
"Did she suffer any permanent brain damage?"
Bell shook his head vigorously. "One hundred percent after a few weeks. Incredible constitution. She's not built like most women who come through these doors."
"She it very attractive," said Pitt.
"No, no, I'm not talking about looks. This woman is a remarkable physical specimen, as is, or should I say was, the body of her cousin you shipped from the Antarctic."
"According to the FBI, they're cousins."
"Nonetheless, a perfect genetic match," said Bell seriously. "Too perfect."
"How so?"
"I attended the postmortem examination, then took the findings and compared the physical characteristics with the lady lying in a bed down the hall. There's more going on here than mere family similarities."
"Helm told me Heidi's body is here at the clinic."
"Yes, on a table in the basement morgue."
"Can't family members with the same genes, especially cousins, have a mirror image?" asked Pitt.
"Not impossible, but extremely rare," replied Bell.
"It's said that we all have an identical look-alike wandering somewhere in the world."
Bell smiled. "God help the guy who looks like me."
Pitt asked, "So where is this leading?"
"I can't prove it without months of examination and tests, and I'm going out on a limb with an opinion, but I'm willing to stake my reputation on the possibility that those two young ladies, one living, one dead, were developed and manufactured."
Pitt looked at him. "You can't be suggesting androids."
"No, no." Bell waved his hands. "Nothing so ridiculous."
"Cloning?"
"Not at all."
"Then what?"
"I believe they were genetically engineered."
"Is that possible?" asked Pitt, unbelieving. "Does the science and technology exist for such an achievement?"
"There are labs full of scientists working on perfecting the human body through genetics, but to my knowledge they're still in the mice-testing stage. All I can tell you is that if Elsie doesn't die in the same manner as Heidi, or fall under a truck, or get murdered by a jealous lover, she'll probably live to celebrate her hundred and twentieth birthday."
"I'm not at all sure I'd want to live that long," said Pitt thoughtfully. "Nor I," said Bell, laughing.
"Certainly not in this old bod."
"May I see Elsie now?"
Bell rose from his desk chair and motioned for Pitt to follow him out of the office and down the hall.
Since entering the clinic, the only two people Pitt had seen were the administrator in the lobby and Dr.
Bell. The clinic seemed incredibly clean and sterile and devoid of life.
Bell came to a door with no guard outside, inserted a card into an electronic slot, and pushed it open.
A woman was sitting up in a standard hospital bed, staring through a window whose view was interrupted by a heavy screen and a series of bars. This was the first time Pitt had seen Elsie in daylight, and he was awed by the incredible resemblance to her dead cousin. The same mane of blond hair, the same blue-gray eyes. He found it hard to believe they were merely cousins.
"Ms. Wolf," said Bell, in a cheery voice, "I've brought you a visitor." He looked at Pitt and nodded.
"I'll leave you two alone. Try not to take too long."
There was no warning to Pitt about communicating with the doctor in case of a problem, and though he didn't see any TV cameras, Pitt knew without a doubt that their every movement and word was being monitored and recorded.
He pulled up a chair beside her bed and sat down, saying nothing for nearly a minute, staring into the eyes that seemed to peer through his head at a lithograph of the Grand Canyon hanging on the wall beyond. At last, he said, "My name is Dirk Pitt. I don't know if the name means anything to you, but it seemed to register with the commander of the U-2015 when we communicated with each other on an ice floe."
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but she remained silent. "I dove on the wreckage," Pitt continued,
"and retrieved the body of your cousin, Heidi. Would you like me to arrange for her to be transported to Karl in Buenos Aires for proper burial in the Wolf private cemetery?"
Pitt was treading a narrow path, but he assumed that the Wolfs had a private cemetery.
This time he scored points. Her eyes went reflective as she tried to cut through his words. Finally, her lips pressed together with obvious anger, she began to tremble and move. "You!" she spat. "You are the one responsible for the deaths of our people in Colorado."
"Dr. Bell was wrong. You do have a tongue."
"You were also there when our submarine was sunk?" she asked, as if confused.
"I plead self-defense for my action in Colorado. And yes, I was on the Polar Storm when your sub went down, but I was not responsible for the incident. Blame the US. Navy if you must. If not for their timely intervention, your cousin and her bloody band of pirates would have sunk a harmless ocean research ship and killed more than a hundred innocent crewmen and scientists. Don't ask me to shed tears for Heidi. As far as I'm concerned, she and her crew got what they deserved."
"What have you done with her body?" she demanded.
"It's here in the clinic's morgue," he answered. "I'm told the two of you could have grown from the same pod."
"We are genetically unblemished," Elsie said arrogantly. "Unlike the rest of the human race."
"How did that come about?"
"It took three generations of selection and experimentation. My generation has physically perfect bodies and the mental capacity of geniuses. We are also exceedingly creative in the arts."
"Really?" Pitt said sarcastically. Ànd all this time I thought inbreeding generated imbeciles."
Elsie stared at Pitt for a long moment, then smiled coldly. "Your insults are meaningless. In a short time, you and all the other flawed individuals who walk the earth will be dead."
Pitt studied her eyes for a reaction. When he replied, it was with detached indifference. "Ah yes, the twin of the co
met that destroyed the Amenes nine thousand years ago returns, strikes the earth, and decimates the human race. I already know all about that."
He almost missed it, but it was there. A brief glint in the eyes of elation mixed with rapture. The pure sense of evil about her seemed so concentrated he could reach out and touch it. It disturbed him. He felt as though she was keeping a secret far more menacing than any he could remotely conceive.
"How long did it take your experts to decipher the inscriptions?" she asked casually.
"Five or six days."
Her face grew smug. "Our people did it in three."
He was certain she was lying, so he continued to fence with her. "Is the Wolf family planning any festivities to celebrate the coming of doomsday?"
Elsie shook her head slowly. "We have no time for foolish revelry. Our labors have been spent in survival."
"Do you really think a comet will strike in the next few weeks?"
"The Amenes were very precise in their astronomical and celestial charts." There was a flick of the eyes from his face to the floor and a lack of conviction in her voice that made Pitt doubt her.
"So I've been told."
"We have. . . connections with some of the finest astronomers in Europe and the United States, who verified the Amenes' projections. All agreed that the comet's return was plotted and timed with amazing accuracy."
"So your family of uncharitable clones kept the news to themselves rather than warn the world," Pitt said nastily. "And your connections kept the astronomers from talking. Benevolence must not be in the Wolf dictionary."
"Why cause a worldwide panic?" she said carelessly. "What good would it do in the end? Better to let the people die unknowing and without mental anguish."
"You're all heart."
"Life is for those who are the fittest, and those who plan."
"And the magnificent Wolfs? What's to keep you from being killed along with the rest of the foul-smelling rabble?"
"We have been planning our survival for over fifty years," she said decisively. "My family will not be swept away by floods or burned by raging fires. We are prepared to weather the catastrophe and endure the aftermath."