Richard adjusted his first transparency into focus, slowly tweaking the knob until the image was as clear as possible. He then crossed the small room, his loafers shuffling on the thin carpet and switched off the lights. Only the glow from the projector now lit the short conference table and its three occupants. Returning to the table, Richard quickly flipped through his manila folder of transparencies to be sure everything was in order. He then looked up and across the table, addressing his small audience.
"First off," he stated, "I want to apologize for the use of transparencies, however the time needed to create slides was not available."
The men didn't reply. Richard knew they didn't actually care but he had to be sure about his voice before he began.
"Anyhow, this is what we have."
Richard turned to the wall behind him and to the image displayed by the projector. It was the image of a large block of ice, as tall and as wide as some of the full sized crates which sat next to it. The surface of the ice was quite rough and opaque, the block having recently been cut from a much larger ice berg. Besides its size, the block didn't seem overly significant, except that if one looked closely enough, the image of a man's face could almost be made out deep under the surface.
"Early yesterday morning, about nine A.M. eastern standard time, the US naval sub USS Dallas was making a standard patrol under the polar icecap when they began to pick up a faint EMP. Tracking it, they soon came to the edge of a polar ice shelf; the reading seemed to be coming from within the shelf." Richard turned back to face the men. "After close to an hour of repeated attempts to use sonar and EMF readings to try and detect some type of a power source within the shelf, a triple-E.T. was called out to investigate."
"A triple-E.T.?" one of the men interjected.
"Yes," Richard explained, "an Extreme Environment Excavation Team."
"They arrived about one-thirty that afternoon," Richard continued, "in a military ice-breaker, a ship fitted to transport men and equipment over ice. After about five hours, they were able to make their way down into the shelf far enough to extract this."
Richard gestured to the transparency image on the well behind him.
"It's a nine-by-nine-by-nine block of ice which appears to have a human male incased in it."
He stepped over to the image on the wall and began pointing out various locations in the ice.
"You can make out the man's head and face and right shoulder here from this view."
"Now," Richard returned to the table, "normally this type of event wouldn't have been much of an interest to the FBI, however, considering the location it was found, our director decided he wanted to get the bureau involved. It's not necessarily where in the ice it was found as it is how deep in the ice it was found. Counting how many ice layers deep it was in the polar cap, the water that incased this man froze to ice at least thirty-thousand years ago."
Richard paused for effect.
"Thirty-thousand?" one of the men ask incredulously. Richard had recognized this man when he had first entered the room. It was, Ernest Hartwell, head of internal affairs for the FBI and a good friend of their director.
"Yes," Richard answered, "at least."
Another pause for effect, Richard wondered if he was being overly dramatic.
"As you can imagine, this is quite a find. Before this, the oldest intact remains ever found were just under fifteen thousand years old, and they were definitely not as well preserved as our find here."
Richard reached over and removed the transparency from the projector and replaced it with another from his manila folder. The image displayed was of a man, wet and fully dressed in a pair of loose pants and a burgundy red tunic. He looked to be lying on a steel examining table.
"The block of ice was transported to our facility here under Langley where the ice was slowly thawed and we were eventually able to extract the remains. As you can see, the body is perfectly intact and the clothes are still very whole though require delicate handling. Now, using carbon dating, we've been able to date his clothes. First, let me assure you that the results were double checked and the triple checked by several different technicians. All came out with the same results."
Richard paused, hesitant to state his findings. He was afraid that if he was wrong about a find of this magnitude, his job would not be the only thing he'd loose.
"What were the results?" One of this audience asked.
He believed this gentleman was Sam Brighton, advisor to the president. Richard didn't feel anymore at ease.
"Well," he finally began, "according to the techs, there were only trace amounts of C14 left in the material, making it almost impossible to date. Eh, C14 is the carbon used in carbon dating. Its half-life is somewhere around fifty-thousand years, so the material is definitely older than that. By the amount of degradation, some techs believed it was at least sixty-thousand."
"Wait a minute," interjected the only man in the room Richard didn't recognize. He was a tall man, kind of thin and gaunt looking. His eyes, however, didn't waver and had a confidence that made Richard uneasy.
"You're saying that the clothes this man was wearing," continued the unknown attendee, "dated to be over fifty-thousand years old?"
Richard returned the gentlemen's gaze. "Yes, sir."
"But he was frozen only thirty-thousand years ago?"
"Yes, sir."
"So this man wore the same clothes for over twenty-thousand years?"
Richard was stumped, he hadn't thought of that. Flashes of him being found dead in his bathtub, raced through his mind.
"Uh, well, it appears that way," he stumbled.
The gentlemen scowled, obviously not satisfied with the answer. Richard coughed and glanced down at his folder of transparencies, trying to regain his confidence.
"Uh, what's possibly more interesting, however," Richard continued, "is the quality of the clothing itself. As, I said, it requires delicate handling as the fibers are quite old and fragile, but from a few pieces we extracted and examined, the stitching on the clothing is close to the quality you find today with machine stitching. Very fine, strong fibers weaved together in a very precise and close knit. The style is obviously different as the fibers used came from a material like hemp but further analysis showed that the plant definitely was not hemp."
"What about the body?" the presidents advisor spoke up, "Was he dated to the same time as the clothing?"
Richard was hoping to get to those types of answers closer to the end.
"Well, we ran the body through an MRI and a few x-rays. From the dental images, we believe the man was no more twenty-five when he was frozen, most likely a few years younger. MRIs show that he was in good health when he was frozen and that all his internal organs are still intact."
"X-rays and MRIs?" again it was the unknown gentlemen. "No carbon dating was done on the corpse?"
Richard coughed as he reached up and pushed his thin glasses up the bridge of his nose, a nervous reaction. Though it was in no way his fault that a carbon dating was not done, Richard felt that the fact that a more thorough examination of the body was not possible was his failure as a project leader.
"Well, we attempted a carbon dating, but had a hard time extracting a sample from the remains." Richard's eyes dropped to the table. "In fact, we've had an extremely difficult time penetrating the remains in any fashion." He raised his eyes back up to meet their gaze. "It seems that the body is impervious to harm. We've tried puncturing him, burning him, laser scalpels, carbon scalpels…we even tried deep freezing parts of his hair in hopes of breaking strands off. Nothing seems to work. His body is also rigid and quite stiff. It takes the effort of two to position his limbs and we can't seem to open his mouth."
"Can't open his mouth?" The gentlemen's gaze seems to be getting harder by the minute.
"Yes, sir. We've even had one of the guards attempt it. A stout young man named Daryl, big guy. He and a few of our technicians tried prying his jaw open to no luck. We even attempted to wedge the, uh, wedge end of a hammer in between his teeth but couldn't get it in past the lips."
The gentleman again scowled and sat back in his chair.
"Most of the physicians believe it is some form of rigimortis and his jaw must have fussed to his skull. Without the access to perform an autopsy, however, there is no way to be sure. As far as our difficulty to harm the remains, no one has given a plausible possibility, yet."
Richard felt that the briefing was heading down hill fast.
"All the information we've got on him as come only from the x-rays and the MRIs. Everything we have shows that the remains are not a day over twenty-five or so. Many of the physicians have stated that it is uncanny how preserved the remains are. Even incased in ice, cellular decomposition should have progress quite a bit in the time he has been entombed."
Remembering something, Richards's voice picked up, happy to report any type of findings available.
"We did, however, discover the remains of cells under his finger-nails. These cells were easily removed and didn't give us the same trouble as the rest of his remains did, most likely because they are not cells from his body. When tested, the cells dated off the chart which is again past the fifty-thousand year mark. This additional evidence of a time period greater than that found in the ice suggests that the method of dating the age of ice in the polar cap by counting its layers may get quite a bit less accurate the deeper you go."
"What type of cells were these?" Presidential advisor Brighton, again.
"Uh, human, sir. Human skin cells, they believe, but it's difficult to tell with the extreme decomposition."
"Have you found any trace of the EMP that the Dallas detected?" This time it was Ernest Hartwell, leaning forward in his seat.
"Ah, yes." Richard answered. He then slipped the current transparency off the projector and replaced it with another.
It was the picture of a long dagger, shot of its length from over head. The dagger seemed to be sitting on a similar metal table from the previous image. The dagger's blade was long and curved. On the outside curve was the sharpened end, running the length from the hilt to the blades tip. The inside curve had a series of small, wickedly curved, jagged points. These points diminished in size the closer they were to the hilt. The hilt was formed of several overlapping horns of gold whose curves faced the blade while their ends pointed toward the pommel. The handle looked to be made of wood and was carved in a scale like pattern down its length. Finally, the pommel was a crown-looking cap on the end of the handle, also made in gold. Across the flat portion of the blade was engraved an interconnecting series of small, angular symbols.
Next to the dagger had been set a foot-long wooden ruler. The ruler had no doubt been added to give the viewers a sense of the daggers size. The dagger looked be about an inch longer than the ruler's twelve inches. Lastly, several sharp cuts and scraps could be seen in the table around the dagger, contrasting greatly with the blade's flawless surface.
Richard appraised the picture for a moment then turned back to the men at the end of the table.
"This item was found with the remains. Its composition is as shown. The blade is made of steel, the hilt its gold, the handle is a carved wood which should have petrified by now but looks to be freshly inlaid, and the pommel is also of gold."
A small chuckled escaped his lips, his next statements sounded familiar to him and he was beginning to feel helpless.
"The blade also seems impervious to damage. We doubt that the hilt and pommel are solid gold, most likely platted, but we don't seem to be able to crack or cut it to see what lies beneath. The blade is believed to be made of a steel that would cost thousands to duplicate today. Steel is a compound material, it's created by fusing several types of metal together, a process that definitely wasn't available over fifty-thousand years ago. About forty-thousand years before the Bronze Age."
"The blade is also incredibly sharp, as you can see by the nicks in the table created just by glancing the blade off the table as it was set down." Richard walked up to the image and pointed out the damaged areas of the examining table. He then turned back to the men.
"We've been able to cut through steel, concrete, titanium, Kevlar, wood, and any other surface we've tried as easily as waving it through the air."
Slightly ashamed of his next confession, Richard's eyes drop to the table.
"We also know that it makes easy work of bone as one of our technicians had the bad luck to slip while carrying the dagger to another table. He dropped the dagger onto his forearm. The blade passed straight through his arm and then landed hilt-deep into the floor with almost no sound. We were able to re-attach his fore arm to the technician's body. Uh, a Mr. Chang I believe. This was only possible since the knife cut through his arm more precisely then a laser scalpel could."
"Interesting," stated the still unknown gentlemen.
Richard's eyes shot up to meet his. The gentleman calmly watched him, apparently very interested in any further info on the dagger.
"Yes, Mr. Chang hopefully will have full mobility of his arm after a few months of healing."
Ernest leaned forward in his chair again. "How does this connect with the EMP Dallas found?"
"Ah!" Richard exclaimed, glancing back at the image on the wall and then turning quickly back to the men at the table.
"According to our readings," he began, "the dagger itself is the source of the EMP. We're not certain how as there is not a detectable power source, but all of our electro-static equipment can detect a strong EMP emanating from the dagger."
"And the glyphs?"
"Yes, we've tried having them deciphered, but none of the linguists or cryptologists currently on staff have had any luck. I've appointed a few field agents to locate a Dr. Sorensen of Columbia University who has considerable experience with ancient texts and has been able to help us before on occasion. "
Richard lowered his gaze to his manila folder and the single transparency remaining.
"The last bit of info may be harder to swallow as I can't show you any images as proof. You'd have to come down to the lab if you wanted to see for yourself."
Richard looked back up to meet the men's confused expressions.
"What these images here don't show is that, with the naked eye, the body seems to have symbols written on his flesh. Also, these symbols seem to glow. There is one located on his forehead, another over his heart, and third on his right palm, and a fourth on the back of his right hand. Now, any who view the body see the symbols and describe them the same, however when ever we attempt to take a picture of them, nothing can be seen on the resulting image. Any equipment we use to try and read the light level or the radiation emitting from the symbols detects nothing. No instruments can prove or even detect the existence of these symbols. Best we can do is this drawing here."
Richard replaced the dagger image with his last transparency. The picture looked like a pen drawing out of a biology text book depicting the front view of a human male in a standing position with his arms at his sides. Next to that drawing, was two other drawings of a similar type showing the front and back of the right hand.
On the full-body drawings fore-head was drawn an angular symbol similar to those found on the previous image of the blade. The symbol looked like a letter 'X' with its upper angles closed making a pointed and flat-topped figure-eight. Through the center of the figure-eight was what looked like the capital letter "I" turned on it side and place so that it's bisected at its middle. On the drawings torso, just left of the center, was a large drawing of a circle.
In the center of the drawing of the right palm was an angular symbol which vaguely resembled the letter "G" but also includes several intersecting lines in various angles. The drawing of the back of the same hand showed a similar angular symbol.
"Shown here," Richard directed, waving his arm at the images, "are the symbols drawn as they are seen and where on the body they are found. As I stated, they seem to glow a multi-colored light to all that view them. Again, none of the linguists or cryptologists on staff have any idea what they might mean. Hopefully Dr. Sorensen can assist us with that once he arrives."
Richard glanced back at the image on the wall behind him then looked back down the table at the shadowed men.
"And that is all we have at the moment. We're still working on the body and trying to find a way to get a sample we can run a more comprehensive test on. The blade is about the same and as soon as Dr. Sorensen arrives, which I was informed should be within and hour or two, we'll have him start on the glyphs on the blade and body. For the time being, the remains are being kept in our lab below, suspended in a solution to prevent decomposition."
Looking away from the man before he caught any glances of disappointment, Richard collected his transparencies and returned them to his folder which his picked up. Richard looked up in time to see Ernest Hartwell and Sam Brighton exit the room through the door to his right and quietly close the door behind them. Confused, Richard looked over at the far end of the table. He found the unknown gentlemen standing a few feet from him. Richard realized that the gentleman wasn't as tall as he first believed. He looked to be at least a foot shorter than Richard but his presence had an authority to it that Richard couldn't explain.
He stood with his hands locked behind him and a small smile on his face. If Richard didn't know any better, he could have sworn that the man was trying to be personable.
"Interesting, isn't it?" The gentlemen stated while nodding towards the folder in Richard's hand.
"Uh, yes, quite," Richard stammered.
"Has anyone seen this report outside your team?"
"No, not yet. Dr. Sorensen will be the first, once he arrives. Besides you three, of course." The questions were making Richard nervous. These types of questions were never good.
"Call your field agents; tell them to forget about the good Doctor."
"Who are you? I'm not prepared to take instructions from an agent I'm not familiar with." Richard responded a little defensively, but the pompousness of the man's order put him on edge.
The gentleman smirked; it was a devilish thing, if Richard ever saw one.
"My name is Jerry and I assure you, your director will collaborate with any suggestion I might have."
That didn't help much. Richard shifted on his feet.
"We need Dr. Sorensen to help us translate the glyphs. He's the best shot we have at the moment," he protested.
"I've got a better lead," Jerry stated. "I can guarantee that he will be able to lets us know everything we need to know. What I need from you is to retrieve the dagger so you can meet him."
"You mean off the facilities?" Richard didn't like this the further the conversation went. "It would take several days to get the approval for that."
"Don't worry about the approval," Jerry responding, all too confident. "You shouldn't have too much trouble. Do you have a cell phone?"
"Of course."
"Give me the number, I'll have my lead call you when he's ready. It shouldn't be long, just a few hours."
Hesitating for a moment, Richard finally gave Jerry the number to his mobile phone.
"Good, we'll talk again after you find out more about the dagger."
Jerry placed his hands in the pockets of his black slacks and made for the door. Stopping short of the exit, he turned back toward Richard who was still frozen at the end of the table by the projector.
"Also," Jerry spoke, "don't tell the rest of your team about this meeting or any you might have with my lead. Let's keep the discussion out of it until we have more info."
This all sounded very bad. He either didn't want Richard talking about it because of sensitive nature of the project or he didn't want to have to mop up too much if he had to make the whole thing disappear. Richard still had no idea who this Jerry was or even if his claim that he had the support of the FBI director was true.
"I don't like this," Jerry admitted. "This is all too much 'X-Files' for me."
Jerry chuckled, a hollow, life-less sound. "The fact is, Richard, that you're not going to get anywhere on this project without my help. You can refuse me, but if you do, that corpse you have down stairs will reveal nothing but mysteries to you." Another chuckle, it shook his shoulders. "I can assure you that Dr. Sorensen will be of no help to you."
Richard said nothing as he stared back at the self-confident smirk on Jerry's face. He felt cornered, as Jerry no doubt intended.
"I see," Richard responded. "Well, then, I'll be waiting for the call from your lead."
A broad smile stretched across Jerry's lips. "Good. Glad to hear it."
He then left, leaving a chill in the air behind him.
A call to the director's office confirmed Richard's fears, Jerry was telling the truth.
"Follow Mr. Jerry's instructions implicitly. He has the full authority of the Director of the FBI behind him." Those had been the words directly from the director's assistant. Richard had sullenly hung up the phone.
Why was he so against working under Jerry? Richard had worked under the instructions of government contracted help before. The man just set his teeth on edge. Richard concluded that he was just being overly paranoid. After all, this was an unprecedented discovery and Richard had grown slightly afraid that Jerry might try and steal the recognition that Richard felt he and his team deserved.
Still, the fact that Jerry didn't even seem to have a last name irked Richard. Even the director's office had referred to him as "Mr. Jerry."
Making his way out of his office and down winding turns through the hallways of the lab, Richard soon arrived at the elevator into the subterranean levels of the facilities. Submitting to both the palm and the retinal scan, the elevator soon announced its arrival with the opening of the doors. Deeply engrossed in the files of a report from one of his team members, Richard stepped to the back of the elevator without glancing inside. Reaching to the side of the door and selecting the button for the level his team was working on, Richard heard the shuffling of feet next to him and looked up to notice another occupant in the elevator.
"Oh, Jerold." Richard recognized one of the lab technicians from his team.
Jerold had joined the bureau just a few months ago and just out of college. Barely twenty-one, Jerold was young and eager to please. Though Richard knew he wasn't prejudice, he was always distinctly aware that Jerold was black. Richard had no professional problems with Jerold, the boy was a good worker and certainly knew his stuff, but Richard just couldn't make the same friendly connection that he did with the rest of his team. Richard just figured it was one of those silent cultural barriers that he'd never get through.
"Mr. Bateman," Jerold acknowledged.
The elevator doors slid closed and with a shudder, they began the decent into the ground.
"Anything new from our frozen friend downstairs?" Richard asked, mostly trying to make conversation. He had returned to scanning over the report in his hands.
"No, not really," Jerold answered. "Actually, I was just coming up to see you. A few of us are going to take a break and go get some drinks. Nancy thought we should see if you wanted to join us since you've been working harder than the rest of us and could probably use a break. You know, unwind a bit."
Richard smiled lightly. Actually, the thought of leaving a getting a few hours of sleep was definitely on his mind, he hadn't slept since the remains arrived yesterday.
"I'd love to, but there is too much info to sort through right now. I'll probably catch an hour or two on the couch in the break room downstairs."
Jerold shrugged. "Your choice."
The ride ended quietly and both Richard and Jerold exited into different areas of the lab. Richard slowly took the long way through the hallways to the storage room where the remains were being kept. Though he knew that he had full authority to remove the dagger to any location necessary, he still felt like he was stealing and hoped that no one would be with the remains when he arrived.
Eventually coming to the double doors of the storage room, Richard was again subjected to a palm and a retinal scan. After the security system cleared him for entry, the door clicked with the lock release and Richard push through the doors into the room.
The large room was dark and cool. Along the wall to the Richard's left was an array of equipment, each with its own singular sounds and blinking lights. He wasn't sure what function each piece performed, but he was the project leader not a lab technician. Turning to his right upon entering the room, Richard was confronted with a large tank of bubbling liquid which sat in the center of its side of the room. The tank sat on a hydraulic lift for the easy transport of its great weight since its height reached almost to the ceiling. Suspended in the center of the tank were the naked remains of their mystery man.
The body of the man was tall; he had measured to be almost six and a half-foot. He also looked to be in good physical condition. His muscle tone was defined in his chest, abs, arms and legs. If he didn't know any better, Richard would have sworn that the man had a personal trainer. His face was angular and looked to be made of stone. Even in the relaxed expression of his dead face, the man's brow looked clenched and angry. The man's shoulder length, jet black hair swirled behind his head in the bubbles of the tank, giving an uncomforting animation to the rest of his dead form. Over all, the body was not unhandsome, even Nancy had mention after they had first defrosted him that, had he been alive, she would consider dating him. The comment had brought a laugh from the rest of the present team, but no one disagreed.
Beyond all of that, though, the most unnerving part of the visage was the shinning symbols found engraved in his flesh. They glowed brightly from his forehead, chest, and right hand. Their light was soft and swirling, like a rainbow of colors trapped in the lines cut through his skin. What was even more eerie was that, even submerged in the liquid of the tank, the glow did not refract. The light streamed from his skin and directly into Richards eyes as if the man were standing out of the tank and directly in front of him. This had been another unexplained find.
"One of many," Richard though as he stared at the mystery before him.
Finally shaking his head and pulling his eyes from the remains, Richard looked about for the item he had come for, the dagger.
He didn't see it.
It should have been placed on the table next to the tank but Richard had found nothing there. Looking around the room, Richard began an almost frantic search for the blade. Panic began to well up in him, the last thing he needed was for part of the most significant find in a century to be lost.
Richard made a quick search through the equipment and around behind the tank, still nothing. He was about to reach for the security phone on the wall and report the dagger missing, when the lock on the entrance clicked open and the doors swung inward.
It was Nancy, white coat, blonde hair, glasses and all. In front of her, held carefully in her hands was the dagger. Richard released a gasp of air in relief.
"I thought it had vanished. I was about to call security." He stated in exasperation.
Nancy smirked. "Sorry, Tom and I took it." Tom was another tech on the team. "Considering how dangerous it is, we decided to try and to place a covering of some type over the blade." Her voice dropped a bit. "Especially after what happened to Tam?"
The Mr. Chang Richard had mentioned to Jerry and his audience. Richard shuddered at the thought of the blade passing through his own forearm like a hot knife through butter. He had been one of the first to enter the lab after Tam had the accident. Only Samuel had gotten their before him and he had been kneeling down before the shocked and motionless Tam. Sam had been picking up Tams bloody left forearm off the floor.
"Yeah." Richard answered, pushing the memory from his mind.
"We tried to coat the blade in a rubber sheath, but once the rubber dried, we tried picking the dagger up and walking across the room with it. Even the small amount of friction between the rubber coating and the blade was enough for the metal to slice right through. Tom then thought of attaching something to the hilt that covered the blade but didn't touch it. He then made this."
Nancy presented the dagger out to Richard. A thin plastic sheath had been fashioned over the blade. The open end of the sheath clasped onto the gold hilt with metal clamps and the rest of the plastic completely covered the blade but did not touch it, giving a good inch of breadth away from the blades edge.
"Good thinking." Richard stated. "You guys did a good job."
He reached out and retrieved the dagger by the handle from Nancy's hands. Gently pushing on the plastic, Richard found it to be tight and secure.
"What did you need it for?"
"What?" Richard glanced up from the dagger towards Nancy.
"The dagger, what did you need it for?" she repeated.
"Oh." Richard frowned again at the thought of Jerry and his 'lead'.
"Apparently the director has assigned some outside help to our effort to assist us in discovering our friend's origin." Richard's voice was dripping with loathing.
He took a breath to calm himself.
"Anyhow, they've asked that I take the dagger off site to someone who might be able to translate the glyphs."
"Glyphs?" Nancy asked, confused that the term.
"Oh, sorry. The symbols. "
"What about Dr. Sorensen. You mentioned that you had sent for him." Nancy seemed to be making small talk. Richard had noticed this from her in the last few months.
"Mr. Jerry, our outside contractor, instructed me to tell him to go home." Richard was staring down at the blade in his hands, again. The icy cold of the wooden handle made the scaled texture feel alive in his hand.
"Ah." Nancy spoke, seemingly trying to fill the void of silence. Only the muffled bubbling of the tank beside them could be heard.
After a few long moments of Richard staring at the dagger, Nancy again spoke up.
"Well, I still have a few more layers of ice to run a composition check on, so I better get going. We were going to step out for some drinks in a few, care to join us?"
Richard had all but forgotten she was in the room. He broke his gaze from the dagger and looked up at her.
"Uh, no." he responded. "I've got to take this to Jerry's lead."
"Oh, alright." She seemed disappointed.
With that, she walked from the room and out into the hallway, the security doors clicking locked behind her.
The phone call had come almost an hour later. Richard had left the underground compound quickly since there was no cellular signal downstairs. He returned to his office in the upper levels and began sorting through the stacks of reports on his cluttered desk. He had laid the dagger on his desk next to him, but he became continually distracted by the blade and had eventually placed it in one of the drawers. Sooner than Richard's busy mind had expected, his cell phone chirped on his desk. Richard quickly answered.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Bateman?" The voice was female, thick, and Slavic. It also seemed more of a statement than a question.
"Yes." Richard responded.
"I've arrived in town and would like to meet you soon. Are you available?" The voice was young and Richard found it faintly alluring.
"Yes, of course. Where are you staying? I'd be happy to meet you there as soon as possible." Richard realized after speaking that his words were slightly forward and that she might take offense.
She didn't, however, and told him the name of the hotel she was staying at as well as the number of the room she occupied. Richard recognized the name. It wasn't the closest, but it should only take him a few minutes to make it there.
"Be sure to bring the knife with you, Mr. Bateman. I am very interested in helping you." She then hung up the phone and clicked off the line.
Richard stopped the call on his cell and placed the phone in the pocket of his slacks. Once again, Richard felt unnerved about this meeting. He felt like he was being manipulated. Richard then realized that he had never gotten the woman's name. He did have her room number, however, so finding her shouldn't be too difficult.
He then stood and retrieved the dagger from the desk drawer. The handle was still icy cold to the touch and seemed to squirm in his palm. He placed the dagger in a brown bag, one of the many left over from his lunches, and then grabbed his keys from the desk. Richard then left his office, forgetting to shut off the light, and made his way down the hallways to the buildings garage exit.
"First off," he stated, "I want to apologize for the use of transparencies, however the time needed to create slides was not available."
The men didn't reply. Richard knew they didn't actually care but he had to be sure about his voice before he began.
"Anyhow, this is what we have."
Richard turned to the wall behind him and to the image displayed by the projector. It was the image of a large block of ice, as tall and as wide as some of the full sized crates which sat next to it. The surface of the ice was quite rough and opaque, the block having recently been cut from a much larger ice berg. Besides its size, the block didn't seem overly significant, except that if one looked closely enough, the image of a man's face could almost be made out deep under the surface.
"Early yesterday morning, about nine A.M. eastern standard time, the US naval sub USS Dallas was making a standard patrol under the polar icecap when they began to pick up a faint EMP. Tracking it, they soon came to the edge of a polar ice shelf; the reading seemed to be coming from within the shelf." Richard turned back to face the men. "After close to an hour of repeated attempts to use sonar and EMF readings to try and detect some type of a power source within the shelf, a triple-E.T. was called out to investigate."
"A triple-E.T.?" one of the men interjected.
"Yes," Richard explained, "an Extreme Environment Excavation Team."
"They arrived about one-thirty that afternoon," Richard continued, "in a military ice-breaker, a ship fitted to transport men and equipment over ice. After about five hours, they were able to make their way down into the shelf far enough to extract this."
Richard gestured to the transparency image on the well behind him.
"It's a nine-by-nine-by-nine block of ice which appears to have a human male incased in it."
He stepped over to the image on the wall and began pointing out various locations in the ice.
"You can make out the man's head and face and right shoulder here from this view."
"Now," Richard returned to the table, "normally this type of event wouldn't have been much of an interest to the FBI, however, considering the location it was found, our director decided he wanted to get the bureau involved. It's not necessarily where in the ice it was found as it is how deep in the ice it was found. Counting how many ice layers deep it was in the polar cap, the water that incased this man froze to ice at least thirty-thousand years ago."
Richard paused for effect.
"Thirty-thousand?" one of the men ask incredulously. Richard had recognized this man when he had first entered the room. It was, Ernest Hartwell, head of internal affairs for the FBI and a good friend of their director.
"Yes," Richard answered, "at least."
Another pause for effect, Richard wondered if he was being overly dramatic.
"As you can imagine, this is quite a find. Before this, the oldest intact remains ever found were just under fifteen thousand years old, and they were definitely not as well preserved as our find here."
Richard reached over and removed the transparency from the projector and replaced it with another from his manila folder. The image displayed was of a man, wet and fully dressed in a pair of loose pants and a burgundy red tunic. He looked to be lying on a steel examining table.
"The block of ice was transported to our facility here under Langley where the ice was slowly thawed and we were eventually able to extract the remains. As you can see, the body is perfectly intact and the clothes are still very whole though require delicate handling. Now, using carbon dating, we've been able to date his clothes. First, let me assure you that the results were double checked and the triple checked by several different technicians. All came out with the same results."
Richard paused, hesitant to state his findings. He was afraid that if he was wrong about a find of this magnitude, his job would not be the only thing he'd loose.
"What were the results?" One of this audience asked.
He believed this gentleman was Sam Brighton, advisor to the president. Richard didn't feel anymore at ease.
"Well," he finally began, "according to the techs, there were only trace amounts of C14 left in the material, making it almost impossible to date. Eh, C14 is the carbon used in carbon dating. Its half-life is somewhere around fifty-thousand years, so the material is definitely older than that. By the amount of degradation, some techs believed it was at least sixty-thousand."
"Wait a minute," interjected the only man in the room Richard didn't recognize. He was a tall man, kind of thin and gaunt looking. His eyes, however, didn't waver and had a confidence that made Richard uneasy.
"You're saying that the clothes this man was wearing," continued the unknown attendee, "dated to be over fifty-thousand years old?"
Richard returned the gentlemen's gaze. "Yes, sir."
"But he was frozen only thirty-thousand years ago?"
"Yes, sir."
"So this man wore the same clothes for over twenty-thousand years?"
Richard was stumped, he hadn't thought of that. Flashes of him being found dead in his bathtub, raced through his mind.
"Uh, well, it appears that way," he stumbled.
The gentlemen scowled, obviously not satisfied with the answer. Richard coughed and glanced down at his folder of transparencies, trying to regain his confidence.
"Uh, what's possibly more interesting, however," Richard continued, "is the quality of the clothing itself. As, I said, it requires delicate handling as the fibers are quite old and fragile, but from a few pieces we extracted and examined, the stitching on the clothing is close to the quality you find today with machine stitching. Very fine, strong fibers weaved together in a very precise and close knit. The style is obviously different as the fibers used came from a material like hemp but further analysis showed that the plant definitely was not hemp."
"What about the body?" the presidents advisor spoke up, "Was he dated to the same time as the clothing?"
Richard was hoping to get to those types of answers closer to the end.
"Well, we ran the body through an MRI and a few x-rays. From the dental images, we believe the man was no more twenty-five when he was frozen, most likely a few years younger. MRIs show that he was in good health when he was frozen and that all his internal organs are still intact."
"X-rays and MRIs?" again it was the unknown gentlemen. "No carbon dating was done on the corpse?"
Richard coughed as he reached up and pushed his thin glasses up the bridge of his nose, a nervous reaction. Though it was in no way his fault that a carbon dating was not done, Richard felt that the fact that a more thorough examination of the body was not possible was his failure as a project leader.
"Well, we attempted a carbon dating, but had a hard time extracting a sample from the remains." Richard's eyes dropped to the table. "In fact, we've had an extremely difficult time penetrating the remains in any fashion." He raised his eyes back up to meet their gaze. "It seems that the body is impervious to harm. We've tried puncturing him, burning him, laser scalpels, carbon scalpels…we even tried deep freezing parts of his hair in hopes of breaking strands off. Nothing seems to work. His body is also rigid and quite stiff. It takes the effort of two to position his limbs and we can't seem to open his mouth."
"Can't open his mouth?" The gentlemen's gaze seems to be getting harder by the minute.
"Yes, sir. We've even had one of the guards attempt it. A stout young man named Daryl, big guy. He and a few of our technicians tried prying his jaw open to no luck. We even attempted to wedge the, uh, wedge end of a hammer in between his teeth but couldn't get it in past the lips."
The gentleman again scowled and sat back in his chair.
"Most of the physicians believe it is some form of rigimortis and his jaw must have fussed to his skull. Without the access to perform an autopsy, however, there is no way to be sure. As far as our difficulty to harm the remains, no one has given a plausible possibility, yet."
Richard felt that the briefing was heading down hill fast.
"All the information we've got on him as come only from the x-rays and the MRIs. Everything we have shows that the remains are not a day over twenty-five or so. Many of the physicians have stated that it is uncanny how preserved the remains are. Even incased in ice, cellular decomposition should have progress quite a bit in the time he has been entombed."
Remembering something, Richards's voice picked up, happy to report any type of findings available.
"We did, however, discover the remains of cells under his finger-nails. These cells were easily removed and didn't give us the same trouble as the rest of his remains did, most likely because they are not cells from his body. When tested, the cells dated off the chart which is again past the fifty-thousand year mark. This additional evidence of a time period greater than that found in the ice suggests that the method of dating the age of ice in the polar cap by counting its layers may get quite a bit less accurate the deeper you go."
"What type of cells were these?" Presidential advisor Brighton, again.
"Uh, human, sir. Human skin cells, they believe, but it's difficult to tell with the extreme decomposition."
"Have you found any trace of the EMP that the Dallas detected?" This time it was Ernest Hartwell, leaning forward in his seat.
"Ah, yes." Richard answered. He then slipped the current transparency off the projector and replaced it with another.
It was the picture of a long dagger, shot of its length from over head. The dagger seemed to be sitting on a similar metal table from the previous image. The dagger's blade was long and curved. On the outside curve was the sharpened end, running the length from the hilt to the blades tip. The inside curve had a series of small, wickedly curved, jagged points. These points diminished in size the closer they were to the hilt. The hilt was formed of several overlapping horns of gold whose curves faced the blade while their ends pointed toward the pommel. The handle looked to be made of wood and was carved in a scale like pattern down its length. Finally, the pommel was a crown-looking cap on the end of the handle, also made in gold. Across the flat portion of the blade was engraved an interconnecting series of small, angular symbols.
Next to the dagger had been set a foot-long wooden ruler. The ruler had no doubt been added to give the viewers a sense of the daggers size. The dagger looked be about an inch longer than the ruler's twelve inches. Lastly, several sharp cuts and scraps could be seen in the table around the dagger, contrasting greatly with the blade's flawless surface.
Richard appraised the picture for a moment then turned back to the men at the end of the table.
"This item was found with the remains. Its composition is as shown. The blade is made of steel, the hilt its gold, the handle is a carved wood which should have petrified by now but looks to be freshly inlaid, and the pommel is also of gold."
A small chuckled escaped his lips, his next statements sounded familiar to him and he was beginning to feel helpless.
"The blade also seems impervious to damage. We doubt that the hilt and pommel are solid gold, most likely platted, but we don't seem to be able to crack or cut it to see what lies beneath. The blade is believed to be made of a steel that would cost thousands to duplicate today. Steel is a compound material, it's created by fusing several types of metal together, a process that definitely wasn't available over fifty-thousand years ago. About forty-thousand years before the Bronze Age."
"The blade is also incredibly sharp, as you can see by the nicks in the table created just by glancing the blade off the table as it was set down." Richard walked up to the image and pointed out the damaged areas of the examining table. He then turned back to the men.
"We've been able to cut through steel, concrete, titanium, Kevlar, wood, and any other surface we've tried as easily as waving it through the air."
Slightly ashamed of his next confession, Richard's eyes drop to the table.
"We also know that it makes easy work of bone as one of our technicians had the bad luck to slip while carrying the dagger to another table. He dropped the dagger onto his forearm. The blade passed straight through his arm and then landed hilt-deep into the floor with almost no sound. We were able to re-attach his fore arm to the technician's body. Uh, a Mr. Chang I believe. This was only possible since the knife cut through his arm more precisely then a laser scalpel could."
"Interesting," stated the still unknown gentlemen.
Richard's eyes shot up to meet his. The gentleman calmly watched him, apparently very interested in any further info on the dagger.
"Yes, Mr. Chang hopefully will have full mobility of his arm after a few months of healing."
Ernest leaned forward in his chair again. "How does this connect with the EMP Dallas found?"
"Ah!" Richard exclaimed, glancing back at the image on the wall and then turning quickly back to the men at the table.
"According to our readings," he began, "the dagger itself is the source of the EMP. We're not certain how as there is not a detectable power source, but all of our electro-static equipment can detect a strong EMP emanating from the dagger."
"And the glyphs?"
"Yes, we've tried having them deciphered, but none of the linguists or cryptologists currently on staff have had any luck. I've appointed a few field agents to locate a Dr. Sorensen of Columbia University who has considerable experience with ancient texts and has been able to help us before on occasion. "
Richard lowered his gaze to his manila folder and the single transparency remaining.
"The last bit of info may be harder to swallow as I can't show you any images as proof. You'd have to come down to the lab if you wanted to see for yourself."
Richard looked back up to meet the men's confused expressions.
"What these images here don't show is that, with the naked eye, the body seems to have symbols written on his flesh. Also, these symbols seem to glow. There is one located on his forehead, another over his heart, and third on his right palm, and a fourth on the back of his right hand. Now, any who view the body see the symbols and describe them the same, however when ever we attempt to take a picture of them, nothing can be seen on the resulting image. Any equipment we use to try and read the light level or the radiation emitting from the symbols detects nothing. No instruments can prove or even detect the existence of these symbols. Best we can do is this drawing here."
Richard replaced the dagger image with his last transparency. The picture looked like a pen drawing out of a biology text book depicting the front view of a human male in a standing position with his arms at his sides. Next to that drawing, was two other drawings of a similar type showing the front and back of the right hand.
On the full-body drawings fore-head was drawn an angular symbol similar to those found on the previous image of the blade. The symbol looked like a letter 'X' with its upper angles closed making a pointed and flat-topped figure-eight. Through the center of the figure-eight was what looked like the capital letter "I" turned on it side and place so that it's bisected at its middle. On the drawings torso, just left of the center, was a large drawing of a circle.
In the center of the drawing of the right palm was an angular symbol which vaguely resembled the letter "G" but also includes several intersecting lines in various angles. The drawing of the back of the same hand showed a similar angular symbol.
"Shown here," Richard directed, waving his arm at the images, "are the symbols drawn as they are seen and where on the body they are found. As I stated, they seem to glow a multi-colored light to all that view them. Again, none of the linguists or cryptologists on staff have any idea what they might mean. Hopefully Dr. Sorensen can assist us with that once he arrives."
Richard glanced back at the image on the wall behind him then looked back down the table at the shadowed men.
"And that is all we have at the moment. We're still working on the body and trying to find a way to get a sample we can run a more comprehensive test on. The blade is about the same and as soon as Dr. Sorensen arrives, which I was informed should be within and hour or two, we'll have him start on the glyphs on the blade and body. For the time being, the remains are being kept in our lab below, suspended in a solution to prevent decomposition."
Looking away from the man before he caught any glances of disappointment, Richard collected his transparencies and returned them to his folder which his picked up. Richard looked up in time to see Ernest Hartwell and Sam Brighton exit the room through the door to his right and quietly close the door behind them. Confused, Richard looked over at the far end of the table. He found the unknown gentlemen standing a few feet from him. Richard realized that the gentleman wasn't as tall as he first believed. He looked to be at least a foot shorter than Richard but his presence had an authority to it that Richard couldn't explain.
He stood with his hands locked behind him and a small smile on his face. If Richard didn't know any better, he could have sworn that the man was trying to be personable.
"Interesting, isn't it?" The gentlemen stated while nodding towards the folder in Richard's hand.
"Uh, yes, quite," Richard stammered.
"Has anyone seen this report outside your team?"
"No, not yet. Dr. Sorensen will be the first, once he arrives. Besides you three, of course." The questions were making Richard nervous. These types of questions were never good.
"Call your field agents; tell them to forget about the good Doctor."
"Who are you? I'm not prepared to take instructions from an agent I'm not familiar with." Richard responded a little defensively, but the pompousness of the man's order put him on edge.
The gentleman smirked; it was a devilish thing, if Richard ever saw one.
"My name is Jerry and I assure you, your director will collaborate with any suggestion I might have."
That didn't help much. Richard shifted on his feet.
"We need Dr. Sorensen to help us translate the glyphs. He's the best shot we have at the moment," he protested.
"I've got a better lead," Jerry stated. "I can guarantee that he will be able to lets us know everything we need to know. What I need from you is to retrieve the dagger so you can meet him."
"You mean off the facilities?" Richard didn't like this the further the conversation went. "It would take several days to get the approval for that."
"Don't worry about the approval," Jerry responding, all too confident. "You shouldn't have too much trouble. Do you have a cell phone?"
"Of course."
"Give me the number, I'll have my lead call you when he's ready. It shouldn't be long, just a few hours."
Hesitating for a moment, Richard finally gave Jerry the number to his mobile phone.
"Good, we'll talk again after you find out more about the dagger."
Jerry placed his hands in the pockets of his black slacks and made for the door. Stopping short of the exit, he turned back toward Richard who was still frozen at the end of the table by the projector.
"Also," Jerry spoke, "don't tell the rest of your team about this meeting or any you might have with my lead. Let's keep the discussion out of it until we have more info."
This all sounded very bad. He either didn't want Richard talking about it because of sensitive nature of the project or he didn't want to have to mop up too much if he had to make the whole thing disappear. Richard still had no idea who this Jerry was or even if his claim that he had the support of the FBI director was true.
"I don't like this," Jerry admitted. "This is all too much 'X-Files' for me."
Jerry chuckled, a hollow, life-less sound. "The fact is, Richard, that you're not going to get anywhere on this project without my help. You can refuse me, but if you do, that corpse you have down stairs will reveal nothing but mysteries to you." Another chuckle, it shook his shoulders. "I can assure you that Dr. Sorensen will be of no help to you."
Richard said nothing as he stared back at the self-confident smirk on Jerry's face. He felt cornered, as Jerry no doubt intended.
"I see," Richard responded. "Well, then, I'll be waiting for the call from your lead."
A broad smile stretched across Jerry's lips. "Good. Glad to hear it."
He then left, leaving a chill in the air behind him.
A call to the director's office confirmed Richard's fears, Jerry was telling the truth.
"Follow Mr. Jerry's instructions implicitly. He has the full authority of the Director of the FBI behind him." Those had been the words directly from the director's assistant. Richard had sullenly hung up the phone.
Why was he so against working under Jerry? Richard had worked under the instructions of government contracted help before. The man just set his teeth on edge. Richard concluded that he was just being overly paranoid. After all, this was an unprecedented discovery and Richard had grown slightly afraid that Jerry might try and steal the recognition that Richard felt he and his team deserved.
Still, the fact that Jerry didn't even seem to have a last name irked Richard. Even the director's office had referred to him as "Mr. Jerry."
Making his way out of his office and down winding turns through the hallways of the lab, Richard soon arrived at the elevator into the subterranean levels of the facilities. Submitting to both the palm and the retinal scan, the elevator soon announced its arrival with the opening of the doors. Deeply engrossed in the files of a report from one of his team members, Richard stepped to the back of the elevator without glancing inside. Reaching to the side of the door and selecting the button for the level his team was working on, Richard heard the shuffling of feet next to him and looked up to notice another occupant in the elevator.
"Oh, Jerold." Richard recognized one of the lab technicians from his team.
Jerold had joined the bureau just a few months ago and just out of college. Barely twenty-one, Jerold was young and eager to please. Though Richard knew he wasn't prejudice, he was always distinctly aware that Jerold was black. Richard had no professional problems with Jerold, the boy was a good worker and certainly knew his stuff, but Richard just couldn't make the same friendly connection that he did with the rest of his team. Richard just figured it was one of those silent cultural barriers that he'd never get through.
"Mr. Bateman," Jerold acknowledged.
The elevator doors slid closed and with a shudder, they began the decent into the ground.
"Anything new from our frozen friend downstairs?" Richard asked, mostly trying to make conversation. He had returned to scanning over the report in his hands.
"No, not really," Jerold answered. "Actually, I was just coming up to see you. A few of us are going to take a break and go get some drinks. Nancy thought we should see if you wanted to join us since you've been working harder than the rest of us and could probably use a break. You know, unwind a bit."
Richard smiled lightly. Actually, the thought of leaving a getting a few hours of sleep was definitely on his mind, he hadn't slept since the remains arrived yesterday.
"I'd love to, but there is too much info to sort through right now. I'll probably catch an hour or two on the couch in the break room downstairs."
Jerold shrugged. "Your choice."
The ride ended quietly and both Richard and Jerold exited into different areas of the lab. Richard slowly took the long way through the hallways to the storage room where the remains were being kept. Though he knew that he had full authority to remove the dagger to any location necessary, he still felt like he was stealing and hoped that no one would be with the remains when he arrived.
Eventually coming to the double doors of the storage room, Richard was again subjected to a palm and a retinal scan. After the security system cleared him for entry, the door clicked with the lock release and Richard push through the doors into the room.
The large room was dark and cool. Along the wall to the Richard's left was an array of equipment, each with its own singular sounds and blinking lights. He wasn't sure what function each piece performed, but he was the project leader not a lab technician. Turning to his right upon entering the room, Richard was confronted with a large tank of bubbling liquid which sat in the center of its side of the room. The tank sat on a hydraulic lift for the easy transport of its great weight since its height reached almost to the ceiling. Suspended in the center of the tank were the naked remains of their mystery man.
The body of the man was tall; he had measured to be almost six and a half-foot. He also looked to be in good physical condition. His muscle tone was defined in his chest, abs, arms and legs. If he didn't know any better, Richard would have sworn that the man had a personal trainer. His face was angular and looked to be made of stone. Even in the relaxed expression of his dead face, the man's brow looked clenched and angry. The man's shoulder length, jet black hair swirled behind his head in the bubbles of the tank, giving an uncomforting animation to the rest of his dead form. Over all, the body was not unhandsome, even Nancy had mention after they had first defrosted him that, had he been alive, she would consider dating him. The comment had brought a laugh from the rest of the present team, but no one disagreed.
Beyond all of that, though, the most unnerving part of the visage was the shinning symbols found engraved in his flesh. They glowed brightly from his forehead, chest, and right hand. Their light was soft and swirling, like a rainbow of colors trapped in the lines cut through his skin. What was even more eerie was that, even submerged in the liquid of the tank, the glow did not refract. The light streamed from his skin and directly into Richards eyes as if the man were standing out of the tank and directly in front of him. This had been another unexplained find.
"One of many," Richard though as he stared at the mystery before him.
Finally shaking his head and pulling his eyes from the remains, Richard looked about for the item he had come for, the dagger.
He didn't see it.
It should have been placed on the table next to the tank but Richard had found nothing there. Looking around the room, Richard began an almost frantic search for the blade. Panic began to well up in him, the last thing he needed was for part of the most significant find in a century to be lost.
Richard made a quick search through the equipment and around behind the tank, still nothing. He was about to reach for the security phone on the wall and report the dagger missing, when the lock on the entrance clicked open and the doors swung inward.
It was Nancy, white coat, blonde hair, glasses and all. In front of her, held carefully in her hands was the dagger. Richard released a gasp of air in relief.
"I thought it had vanished. I was about to call security." He stated in exasperation.
Nancy smirked. "Sorry, Tom and I took it." Tom was another tech on the team. "Considering how dangerous it is, we decided to try and to place a covering of some type over the blade." Her voice dropped a bit. "Especially after what happened to Tam?"
The Mr. Chang Richard had mentioned to Jerry and his audience. Richard shuddered at the thought of the blade passing through his own forearm like a hot knife through butter. He had been one of the first to enter the lab after Tam had the accident. Only Samuel had gotten their before him and he had been kneeling down before the shocked and motionless Tam. Sam had been picking up Tams bloody left forearm off the floor.
"Yeah." Richard answered, pushing the memory from his mind.
"We tried to coat the blade in a rubber sheath, but once the rubber dried, we tried picking the dagger up and walking across the room with it. Even the small amount of friction between the rubber coating and the blade was enough for the metal to slice right through. Tom then thought of attaching something to the hilt that covered the blade but didn't touch it. He then made this."
Nancy presented the dagger out to Richard. A thin plastic sheath had been fashioned over the blade. The open end of the sheath clasped onto the gold hilt with metal clamps and the rest of the plastic completely covered the blade but did not touch it, giving a good inch of breadth away from the blades edge.
"Good thinking." Richard stated. "You guys did a good job."
He reached out and retrieved the dagger by the handle from Nancy's hands. Gently pushing on the plastic, Richard found it to be tight and secure.
"What did you need it for?"
"What?" Richard glanced up from the dagger towards Nancy.
"The dagger, what did you need it for?" she repeated.
"Oh." Richard frowned again at the thought of Jerry and his 'lead'.
"Apparently the director has assigned some outside help to our effort to assist us in discovering our friend's origin." Richard's voice was dripping with loathing.
He took a breath to calm himself.
"Anyhow, they've asked that I take the dagger off site to someone who might be able to translate the glyphs."
"Glyphs?" Nancy asked, confused that the term.
"Oh, sorry. The symbols. "
"What about Dr. Sorensen. You mentioned that you had sent for him." Nancy seemed to be making small talk. Richard had noticed this from her in the last few months.
"Mr. Jerry, our outside contractor, instructed me to tell him to go home." Richard was staring down at the blade in his hands, again. The icy cold of the wooden handle made the scaled texture feel alive in his hand.
"Ah." Nancy spoke, seemingly trying to fill the void of silence. Only the muffled bubbling of the tank beside them could be heard.
After a few long moments of Richard staring at the dagger, Nancy again spoke up.
"Well, I still have a few more layers of ice to run a composition check on, so I better get going. We were going to step out for some drinks in a few, care to join us?"
Richard had all but forgotten she was in the room. He broke his gaze from the dagger and looked up at her.
"Uh, no." he responded. "I've got to take this to Jerry's lead."
"Oh, alright." She seemed disappointed.
With that, she walked from the room and out into the hallway, the security doors clicking locked behind her.
The phone call had come almost an hour later. Richard had left the underground compound quickly since there was no cellular signal downstairs. He returned to his office in the upper levels and began sorting through the stacks of reports on his cluttered desk. He had laid the dagger on his desk next to him, but he became continually distracted by the blade and had eventually placed it in one of the drawers. Sooner than Richard's busy mind had expected, his cell phone chirped on his desk. Richard quickly answered.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Bateman?" The voice was female, thick, and Slavic. It also seemed more of a statement than a question.
"Yes." Richard responded.
"I've arrived in town and would like to meet you soon. Are you available?" The voice was young and Richard found it faintly alluring.
"Yes, of course. Where are you staying? I'd be happy to meet you there as soon as possible." Richard realized after speaking that his words were slightly forward and that she might take offense.
She didn't, however, and told him the name of the hotel she was staying at as well as the number of the room she occupied. Richard recognized the name. It wasn't the closest, but it should only take him a few minutes to make it there.
"Be sure to bring the knife with you, Mr. Bateman. I am very interested in helping you." She then hung up the phone and clicked off the line.
Richard stopped the call on his cell and placed the phone in the pocket of his slacks. Once again, Richard felt unnerved about this meeting. He felt like he was being manipulated. Richard then realized that he had never gotten the woman's name. He did have her room number, however, so finding her shouldn't be too difficult.
He then stood and retrieved the dagger from the desk drawer. The handle was still icy cold to the touch and seemed to squirm in his palm. He placed the dagger in a brown bag, one of the many left over from his lunches, and then grabbed his keys from the desk. Richard then left his office, forgetting to shut off the light, and made his way down the hallways to the buildings garage exit.