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  THE SMITHSONIAN OBJECTIVE

  A Morpheus Initiative Short Story

  By David Sakmyster

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For more information e-mail all inquiries to:

  [email protected]

  Visit David Sakmyster on the World Wide Web at:

  www.sakmyster.com

  Cover Illustration and ebook layout by Stanley Tremblay, www.findtheaxis.com

  The Morpheus Initiative Series

  The Pharos Objective

  The Mongol Objective

  The Cydonia Objective

  .

  Grand Canyon, Arizona

  3:47 PM, September 12

  Near the summit of one of the canyon's highest internal peaks, the seven-thousand-foot geological marvel fancifully named The Isis Temple, Diana Montgomery hauled herself over a jutting incline of red sandstone slate, rolled onto her back and took a moment to catch her breath.

  The ferocious sun simmered in a cloudless sky and thrust the shadows of the canyon's cyclopean inner structures over each other and the walls of the North Rim. She gazed to the west, toward the peak of the striated plateau called The Cheops Pyramid; muscles wincing from the six-hour ascent, she took a deep breath and tried to sit up.

  She was close. Another five hundred feet, according to the crude map she'd found in the Smithsonian archives back in Washington. Almost there. Almost to the cave. To the discovery of a lifetime. She just-

  Two thick ropes dropped from above. Rocks tumbled free from the wall, shards of limestone and shale shattering at her feet. And then heavy boots thudded onto the ledge, and as she tried to move, two black-clad men withdrew large automatic handguns and aimed them at her face.

  She knew that finding the map was a little too convenient. Especially given the explosive nature of what she might discover up here.

  Two months ago, an anonymous package had arrived at her office. Inside was a newspaper article from the Arizona Gazette dated April 5, 1909, which detailed an explorer's incredible archaeological find at the Grand Canyon. Also in the package, the sender had included a series of letters to the Smithsonian from interested researchers – all of which apparently had gone unanswered, at least to anyone's satisfaction.

  She went to her boss, Assistant Director Darien Simcoe, demanding to be shown anything relating to the Gazette article. Seeing she wouldn't let it go, he reluctantly retrieved an item from the archives on one of the restricted sublevels below the Smithsonian. It was the journal of one G.E. Kincaid, a freelance explorer, not officially on the Smithsonian's payroll – although the Gazette had inferred that he was.

  The journal mostly matched the story in the Gazette, describing Kincaid's adventures along the Colorado River. But the final page, which wasn't in the Gazette, had a map detailing his hike up from the river to this very monument, "The Isis Temple" – a fitting name given what kind of artifacts Kincaid claimed to have found there within a cave.

  But one final item in the anonymous package had stood out from the rest, galvanizing Diana's obsession. It was a sketch: a charcoal drawing on a loose sheet of paper showing Diana herself, an avid rock climber before her work at the Smithsonian became too demanding. In the sketch, she was on a ledge on the Isis Temple. But the oddest part was that there were two ropes ascending off the page.

  At the time, Diana believed the artist had merely assumed she would need to arrange for experienced guides. But now, with the two military-attired men aiming a small arsenal at her, in almost the same pose as the picture, she knew differently.

  Someone had set her up.

  "Get on your feet, Ms. Montgomery."

  The other man grabbed her under the arms and hauled her to her feet. She pulled free, spun around. "What the hell is this? Who are you?"

  Her mind was racing. Maybe some of the wilder rumors she'd heard were true: that this whole area was off limits, ruthlessly protected by a government agency trying to hide what Kincaid had found out here.

  The other climber – shorter, wearing glasses with mirrored lenses in which she could see her terrified face – shoved her against the hot rock wall.

  "This is ridiculous," she spat. "I'm an associate of the Smithsonian Institution. I-"

  "No, ma'am, you're not. Got a call from your boss yesterday, claiming you had stolen confidential museum property, that you were to be apprehended on sight."

  Damn Simcoe. She hung her head after an upwards longing glance to where a small cave beckoned. What about that anonymous package? Was that Simcoe too? None of this made any sense.

  Dejected, she headed to the edge. The soldiers put their guns away, secured their harnesses and prepared to rappel alongside her when suddenly another figure dropped almost silently behind them. Dressed in khakis, with a leather hat partially covering hair as red as the layers of shale behind him, the newcomer sprang up from his crouch and delivered a kick to the first soldier, sending him sprawling over the edge.

  The other spun around, arms up in a fighting pose, but the red-haired man ducked a punch as if he knew exactly when it was coming, rose up and slammed a fist into the soldier's chin, knocking him back. His heels slipped off the edge and his arms spun wildly.

  Diana watched open-mouthed as the newcomer stepped right up to the flailing soldier, placed a finger on his chest, smiled and pushed.

  She scrambled to the edge and looked down to see both men dangling sixty feet below, spinning wildly, slamming against the rock wall and bouncing off.

  A hand gently caught her shoulder. "Come on," he said, with just a touch of urgency. "That won't stop them long."

  Diana shot to her feet, met the man's piercing blue eyes, then glanced up to the cave. "Were you…?"

  "Up there? Yeah, hiding since last night, waiting for them to make their move."

  "Great, then you can get me back up there? We can-"

  "Sorry but that's not where we're going."

  "What? But the map…" She paused. Could she trust someone who appeared all of a sudden, dressed like Indiana Jones minus the whip? "Wait, who the hell are you?"

  He continued smiling, and the sun sparkled mischievously in his eyes as he slipped a large waterproof backpack off his shoulders. He proceeded to extract several expandable metal rods and unravel what looked like the fabric of a parachute. "My name's Xavier Montross. And I sent you the package."

  Diana stared at him. "You? Then-" She stopped talking as soon as she focused on what it was he was busy assembling. "What the hell is that?"

  "Hang glider."

  She took her eyes off him long enough to look down the sheer cliff wall. One of her attackers was still out cold, dangling in the winds. The other, his face bloody, was climbing swiftly, fixing her with a vile look.

  "We don't have much time," Xavier said.

  Diana shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers."

  He stopped assembling the triangular apex and the handles. "All you need to know, Diana Montgomery, is right here." He reached into his backpack one more time and retrieved a sketchbook. Flipped to a dog-eared page, ripped it free and showed her the charcoal drawing:

  An image of her likeness, standing at a podium before a rough outline of an audience. News cameras. On a table
sat a collection stones and urns with clear Egyptian hieroglyphics.

  "What is this?" she asked, just as the wind whipped the page out of her hands and sent it soaring over the canyon's deep, shadowy abyss. She thought for a moment, even as she saw the rope at her feet moving, the peg shifting with the climber's weight as he ascended. "Wait. That drawing – the one you sent me. It was exactly what just happened."

  "So?"

  "So, you knew they'd be here. Maybe you're Simcoe's man, or you're working with these thugs and-"

  Xavier shook his head as he put away the sketchbook and zipped up the pack. "The answer is much less credible, and yet perfectly simple." He bent down, extended the hang glider's wings and attached a harness to his back.

  "What could be simpler?"

  He grinned. "I can see the future."

  In the ensuing seconds, Diana couldn't recall the actual events that led her to leap off the six-thousand foot high ledge with a man she had only just met. But something about his obvious belief in what he was saying led her to strap herself in and wrap her arms around his chest just as she heard the grunts of the soldier reaching the top.

  And then she was flying, soaring out into thin air. As they launched themselves out over the majestic gorge, the sublime beauty of this natural wonder worked its magic and calmed her nerves. She relaxed her hold on his broad chest, loosened her legs from his, then gasped as they made a turn around the temple and angled down toward Cheops' Pyramid.

  She thought she heard gunshots behind her, along with a cry of frustration, but then they were descending, weaving slowly left and right, swooping through the rainbow of geologic strata along the canyon walls. Past promontories and spurs, peaks and plateaus she had only dreamed of climbing one day.

  "Where are we going?" Her voice carried, echoing off the sandstone towers.

  "Marble Canyon," Xavier said, turning his head. Somehow, his hat remained in place. "You were duped, Diana. The map was a fake."

  "How could you possibly know that? Oh wait – right, you're psychic."

  The glider caught an updraft that took them past another towering mesa dotted with sycamore brush and rebellious pines. "I knew it was a fake because I've seen the actual entrance. I saw Kincaid, just as he found it."

  Diana laughed. "Really? What are you going to tell me now, that you're over a hundred years old?"

  "Don't be silly. I said I saw it, not that I was there." They rounded the mesa, coming close enough to reach out and almost touch its crumbling shale façade. "I'm what you would call a 'Remote Viewer'. I've always been able to see things, glimpses of other times and places. Mostly in the future, but sometimes, if I focus enough on the objective, I can see into the past as well."

  "Okay, so you believe you can whatever – remote-view things. Why all this? Why'd you send me that package?"

  "Because I knew you'd come, but not for anything so trivial as recognition or fame."

  Diana's lips, already cracked, opened and the dry canyon air rushed in.

  "You're here, Diana Montgomery, because of your father."

  How the hell could he possibly know about that?

  "You got your love of climbing from him," Xavier said. "But after your mother died, you drifted away. Hadn't seen your father in years until you found out he was here, giving climbing tours. Two years ago, right after he emailed you that he had something important to show you, something you of all people would appreciate, he died from a fall."

  Diana was speechless. She still recalled the day after the funeral, the day she had come out to the area north of the Phantom Ranch, to a slope where they had found his body. She'd searched, but no one claimed to have been along with him on the ascent, and no one saw a thing.

  It was a mystery still gnawing at her two years later when that package arrived, hinting at a find in the same area where her father had died. It didn't take a genius to put the pieces together. Her father had been after the same thing. Only now, it was starting to look like he was murdered because of it.

  Still reeling from their landing along the banks of the raging Colorado River as much as from Xavier's incendiary revelations, Diana somehow wasn't surprised to see a sturdy raft ahead, laden with supplies.

  Xavier untied himself from the harness and quickly discarded the glider into the river. "I've been practicing out here all summer." He gave her a wink and tipped his hat. "Waiting for you."

  She put her hands on her hips. "All right, spill it. So you're going to tell me that what Kincaid supposedly found out here is the real deal, and that the Smithsonian is covering it up – and killing anyone who stumbles on the secret? What is it, that we had seafaring Egyptians who made it across North America thousands of years ago, found this canyon and stashed some goodies in the caves?"

  Xavier adjusted his backpack and headed toward the boat. "Not at all. I'm going to tell you something far more controversial."

  "What the hell could be more controversial?" Her words echoed like pinballs between the narrow canyon walls.

  The brim of the hat lowered as he turned toward her. "The truth, Ms. Montgomery."

  They navigated the rough rapids and finally arrived at the fabled Redwall Cavern. Diana studied the yawning, shadow-rimmed entrance. It would fit Kincaid's description – of a cavernous interior that could potentially hold thousands of people. "This is it?"

  "No. An entrance was here. But not anymore. Your boss's predecessors made sure that the tunnels accessed by Kincaid near the back of Redwall Cavern were demolished. Sealed up forever."

  "Then where…?"

  Xavier steered them around a bend, leaving the cavern behind. They sailed into slanting shadows as the dizzying rock walls turned a shade of purple, as if welcoming royalty. "Do you know the native Ute myth about the origin of the Grand Canyon?"

  Diana thought for a moment, recalling it. "Yes, of course. A wise chief was so overwhelmed by the death of his wife that he couldn't be consoled until a god named Tavwoats offered to prove to him that she had gone on to a happier land. But the stipulation was that the chief had to promise to never again seek that magical trail to the land of the dead. The chief agreed, and Tavwoats rolled a great ball of fire across the desert, and as it spun, it parted the earth and mountains and made a path to the land beyond death. He guided the chief through this massive canyon until they came to the Spirit Land where the chief saw his wife was happy, and he saw no more reason to mourn."

  Xavier pulled the boat up to a jutting formation of red sandstone marked with deeper hues of purple. He dropped the anchor, then uncovered a tarp in the boat, revealing scuba gear and two air tanks. "And then what did that pesky Tavwoats do?"

  Blinking at the tanks, Diana struggled to answer. "Not trusting the chief to honor his vow, he caused a massive river to flood over the trail, obscuring the path forever."

  Nodding, Xavier pointed to the gear. "Forever's just about up."

  After swimming carefully through a descending passageway, completely dark except for the murky light from Xavier's underwater flashlight, they emerged through a curiously circular aperture into a small cave.

  "How did you find this place?" she asked after spitting out her regulator. She wore just her shorts and a tight tank top, and Xavier was now shirtless, wearing only the boxer trunks he had on under his khakis. He again slung his waterproof backpack over his shoulders.

  "Told you, I'm a-"

  "Remote-viewer, right." Diana stepped gingerly onto the cold rock as Xavier's flashlight beam bounced around over the cavern's narrowing walls, illuminating a tunnel stretching into the darkness.

  "Come on. They've probably found our boat by now."

  "What?"

  "Hurry, we're almost there."

  For a moment, Diana just stood there shivering, terrified suddenly to take another step. But then his hand found hers, their wet fingers closed, entwining, and he gently pulled her alongside him.

  The next few minutes
might have been hours. She couldn't be sure of anything. She imagined they were descending, step by step, toward the ruins of some ancient subterranean city, and at one turn she had the sudden conviction that they stood at the edge of a vast, yawning cavern. Xavier's light speared out, stabbing into the impenetrable gloom. She felt a breeze wafting up from below, carrying the scent of something nostalgically sweet, and she thought she heard a sound like waves thrusting against a glassy shore.

  She desperately wanted to find a trail, make her way down there and dive into that sea. She heard whispers, contented and pure, and could have sworn one of them sounded familiar.

  "Dad?"

  "Don't listen," Xavier hissed and tugged at her hand. "We can't linger, not at this spot."

  "But…" She thought of the legend of Tavwoats and shuddered with a sense of forbidden pleasure as she resisted Xavier's pull. But then her feet were moving, the sensation was gone and they were in an ascending passage.

  Then she heard something that chilled her blood: voices behind her. And way back in the winding dark – flashes of distant lights.

  "They're coming," Xavier said, just as his light stabbed through an arched doorway, reflecting back a vision of a golden plated wall chiseled with pictographs. She got a glimpse of something like a sarcophagus propped up in the corner, and a sense of a chamber cluttered with boxes, urns, pottery, chests…

  And then they were inside the room and Xavier pushed her on ahead and gave her the flashlight as he dug into his pack. She saw a sleek gun appear in his hand as he knelt, waiting for their pursuers.

  "How did they find us?" she asked.

  "I'm afraid they must have seen us dive, then figured out the rest. They were prepared for everything. Ready to defend this secret with every available resource."

  Diana aimed the light around the walls, trying to resist the temptation to study the hieroglyphics and gaze at the artifacts. Everything seemed genuine – but then again, appearances could be forged. But what possible reason-?