Phillip winces again, and a flash of something green passes between his eyes. He’s seen it before. “Do you know anything of ancient Egypt?”
“Not really my thing. But I’m sure it will be on my list.”
“How about ancient lighthouses? Or any lighthouse for that matter? Personally, I’m obsessed, fascinated by them, especially the Pharos—”
“Can’t say I’ve thought about them much, but I can see the attraction. Beacons of light and hope and safety and all that. And I hear the society of Keepers are a pretty cool bunch.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Well, next for me is actually a much colder place than the Egyptian deserts.”
Phillip shivers. “Colder than where we’re about to climb?”
“Antarctica! That’s partly why I’m here — climatizing myself to the elements.”
“A little different, I’d say. Different altitude and all, but I’m impressed you’d choose such a desolate place. Not many would think to go there, even after considering the length of time to sail and the lack of ports or hospitable places to stay.”
“Definitely won’t have that tea from last night!”
“True. I’m curious though. Why there?”
“I don’t know exactly.” His face turns away, and looks to the south, somewhat longingly. “I’ve always felt a pull. I’ve drawn it. Been fascinated with maps, highlighting a certain area like it’s special to me somehow. Maybe in a past life!”
“Oh… right. Hindu?”
“I am. Although, who can say. We may believe in reincarnation, since well, it makes more ideological and moral sense than your Christian one-and-done message. But this may be something else. I do not know for sure.”
Crowe thinks for a moment. “Speaking of maps, have you seen the Piri Reis map from 1513? It shows—”
“Antarctica ice free!” Hassid’s excitement mounts. “Yes, yes! And recent satellite imagery confirmed the actual outline to be as it was drawn. Meaning…”
“Meaning either the good Ottoman cartographer had access to older maps, from some ancient seafaring race from a time Antarctica was in a different climate, or—”
“Or what? What else could it be?”
“Or it could be that he was psychic. That he has… this Sight, or whatever you would call it. Maybe he could see into a different time and map how it once was. A thousand, ten thousand, a million years ago even.”
Hassid lowers his glasses and stares at Phillip, wide-eyed. “I am indeed glad we have met, my new friend. Destiny, perhaps. And I do hope we meet again on our respective paths to enlightenment.”
“I don’t know. I hope so as well, but I feel… not.”
“That is a shame, then. I hope you’re not as good a seer as you think.”
Phillip shrugs. “I’m just figuring this out. New to me, and maybe it’s nothing but a hangover from that exceptionally wondrous tea, but still, I sense our story is not done. It’s like…” He stares at his friend some more. “I don’t know how to put it. I’m trying to see it but it’s like I’m not asking the right question.”
“That’s an odd way of putting it. What should be the right question?”
Phillip thinks for a minute. “Maybe: ‘How will our destinies coincide again?’”
“Ah, if not in person, then perhaps in what we do. What we find, who we influence?”
“Perhaps. Or maybe it means something to do with our… children?”
Hassid grins. “Yes! For that, I would need to eventually find a woman, but that too, is on my path of enlightenment.”
Phillip laughs again. “As it should be. For me as well.”
Hassid coughs, then raises his hands. “Perhaps not children, even. Maybe your ‘right question’ should be, if not us directly, and if reincarnation is the truth of our existence, in our next lives, do we meet up again? Perhaps both the wiser and stronger?”
“That is a real possibility,” Phillip admits. “Maybe as the avatars of Shiva and… Thoth I would guess.”
He shudders and again looks at Hassid differently.
But Hassid has moved. He makes his way forward, hefting his backpack and calling for the guides. “Come, my American friend in search of knowledge! Let us ascend the great mountain and challenge the gods themselves!”
“Crowe… Crowe…”
The chopper pilot called his name again. And again, and for the longest time, Caleb waited for his father to answer.
Then he came back to the present, to this New York rooftop on the opposite side of the world. The winds were much warmer here but just as fierce, vying for his attention and pushing him toward action — or understanding.
What did it mean?
That Pakistani man, definitely not the crimson enemy he had just viewed. He would have been his father’s age by now — pushing seventy at least. And of course, the wrong race.
But he assured Caleb that he had met his father, and this is what the vision showed him. The one connection — Antarctica. Something there…
And what else had they talked about?
Making more logical and moral sense than your beliefs?
Reincarnation?
Caleb had to probe this angle more, but the pieces were falling into place. What he didn’t understand was even if that were the case, and the crimson enemy, this Raiden, was also this wide-eyed, enthusiastic young soul journeying with his father decades ago, how did Raiden recall that event? He wasn’t psychic, which meant there was something else at play, something to deny the typical amnesia aspect of the process. The reincarnated souls typically did not remember anything of past lives, and that was the point: to start again with a clean slate. Of course, there were stories about dreams and glimpses under hypnotic regression, but for the most part you remembered nothing.
Caleb turned and made his way to the chopper, sensing the urgency had just notched up.
The pilot was screaming now, something about a breach and the building under attack. “They’re coming up! Hurry!”
Caleb broke into a run, still thinking about the possibilities, about the arrogance he sensed in the red man, about his claim to have collected the experiences of countless lives. And he thought of Antarctica, and the cavern that was, even now, calling to him.
All the answers would be found there.
When they lifted off, he had a call to make.
19
The next few minutes were a blur for Alexander and the others. Blindly splashing through the low tide canals of Nan Madol. No time to marvel at the architecture, no time to attempt remote views of the past, to scry the builders or mages, or aliens or whatever mystical means assembled these colossal building blocks into such wondrous precision.
Gunshots split the air, louder as Nina returned fire. She ducked, found cover and produced an MP5, blasting away at pursuers. Alexander didn’t know if she targeted the choppers above, the pair of jet skis following, or the men in black, coming on foot.