Ancients

child.

'Please assist Mr. Keeler to his feet and give him some water.'

The small man heaved the thinner Keeler to his feet with not much grace. He placed him in a chair beside the desk and then poured him some water. Keeler in the meantime allowed his breathing to slow as his one-act play came to its end.

Dahlia was not watching him; she was already examining the thick journal with the name Jackson Keeler embossed in gold on the front.

'The location of the plate map is in here?'

Keeler nodded as he watched the woman, relieved that he had not been observed when removing the bottom portion of the last page. He accepted the water and drank.

'The names of your remaining brothers and sisters are listed?' she asked as she started thumbing through the pages.

The old man saw what she was doing and stood, allowing the glass of water to fall from his grasp. He stumbled forward angrily, still feigning weakness, until the smaller man stepped between him and the blond woman. He knew he had to stop her from getting to the last, incomplete and torn page.

'I am finished answering your questions. You have what you want, so please leave here.'

His face showed no relief as Dahlia looked up in surprise and closed the book.

'Indeed, you have been most helpful, and I am so sorry for causing you distress.'

Jackson Keeler, as afraid and ashamed as he felt, could not help but show a thin smile. He knew that he couldn't just let her walk out of there without letting her know that the book would now do her no good as far as the location of the plate map went.

'Van Valkenburg is the name you need to look up in my journal in order to find the location of the plate map.'

'Very helpful once more. Thank you. Now, wasn't that easy?'

'Surprisingly easier than I thought it would be, miss,' he said, the smirk growing on his age-lined face as he stood shakily before her.

For the first time, Dahlia felt uncomfortable as she watched the confidence return to the old man, who should now have been begging for his life.

'In all of your research of my brothers and sisters and the Ancient line we belong to, miss, did you not ever learn what ship my brother was assigned to? You now have the name of the man he passed the plate map to for security. Van Valkenburg was his commanding officer. The ship he captained was the USS Arizona.' Keeler finally had to chuckle because, as sure as he was that he was a dead man, he knew that he had stunned the woman staring at him.

Dahlia clenched her teeth as she tried not to show the old man any emotion, but, by the arrogant look on his face, she knew that she had failed. She leaned over, placed her unfinished drink on the desk, and, with the journal clutched in her other hand, stood. She pulled her glove back on and looked around at her man. The unvoiced order was clear.

Jackson Keeler, while still smiling, nodded at her.

'It has been a pleasure, miss. I assume you have resources to go digging around a national monument that has the potential to fall down around your ears at any time? A monument that is guarded twenty-four hours a day? Also one that is revered and is set in the middle of one of the most guarded harbors in the world?'

Dahlia turned and her smile had again spread brilliantly.

'The few brothers and sisters of the original bloodline that are left in the Juliai Coalition are far more resourceful than your cowardly faction ever has been. I will recover the plate map for them and your line will slip quietly into extinction. Even without the plate map, that fact alone may have been worth it to my employers.'

'Someone will stop them; they always do.'

'I'm afraid some stories just don't have the cavalry saving the day in the end. Mr. Keeler, you have been most helpful and informative. Now I would like to do something I so rarely do.' She held out her gloved hand once more and her man placed his silenced weapon into it. 'The arrogance on your face as you told me about the location of the plate map, well, it irritated me.'

She raised the automatic and fired ten bullets into the thin body of the old man. He fell to the floor, where his blood spread into the thick carpet.

The look on Dahlia's face was blank. She lowered the weapon and held it out to her man, who took it from her grasp. He had never seen Dahlia do as much as speak in anger, so the display of violence she had shown was a side she had always hidden well.

'No, no heroic cavalry, Mr. Keeler.' She started to turn but stopped short. 'Our photographer is waiting outside. I would like him to stay here and check to see who shows up here. Tell him to stay at least twenty-four hours. He has the same orders as before.'

With those orders, she turned and left the office. With her she carried the journal that would lead her not only to the location of the plate map and in turn the Atlantean Key, but the names of the last remaining Ancients.

5

RICHMOND, VIRGINIA

The sixty-six-year-old man sat and watched CNN without really seeing the images of North Korean troops on the move. The man knew that it was file footage, so he had no need to see the small disclaimer at the bottom of the screen. If there was one thing the man knew, it was the troop strength of the North Korean army; and he could clearly see that the uniforms worn by the PRK troops were old in style by at least fifteen years, thus he knew it had to have been file footage.

The glass of milk before him on the coffee table remained untouched since the housekeeper had brought it into him. The pills that kept his pain at a minimum sat unnoticed on a small silver serving tray next to the glass. Finally, the man blinked and brought his attention back to the screen when the announcer out of Atlanta switched from the deteriorating situation in Korea to happenings a little closer to home.

As for local law enforcement authorities in the Boston area, there was no clue left as to why thirty-one employees and clients of the prestigious law firm were found murdered execution-style in the most horrendous crime in Boston history. Authorities are baffled as to who and why--

Carmichael Rothman sat bolt upright, causing the pain in his upper back to flair excruciatingly when the camera panned to the front of an old brownstone office building. The gold script on the front of the building was there for the world to read. Ignoring the reporter currently framed in the cameras lens, he just stared at the names behind her. EVANS, LAWSON AND KEELER was only partially hidden behind the female newsperson, but Rothman saw the gold-plated letters clearly.

Still not hearing the words of the reporter, he absently reached out, took the three small morphine tablets from the silver tray, and shakily placed them in his mouth. He reached for the glass of warm milk, but instead of grasping it his fingers refused to open, and he succeeded only in knocking it over.

'Sir, are you all right?' The housekeeper had entered his study unnoticed and was at his side instantly. 'Let me get a rag and I'll clean this up for you.'

With the bitter-tasting pills dissolving in his mouth, Rothman violently shook his head. He slapped at the air as the elderly woman started to pick up the fallen glass. Finally, he managed to slap the housekeeper's hands away. She looked up at him, but his eyes were still staring at the television screen.

'Martha, get--Martha on the phone, immediately.'

The housekeeper remained kneeling next to the coffee table. 'Ms. Laughlin is on the telephone right this moment--that is why I came in: I didn't know if you wanted to be disturbed.'

Rothman did not say anything. He just leaned back in the red leather easy chair and closed his eyes. The pills were slowly taking their desired effect and the cancer that was killing him momentarily eased his pain and released its hold.

'The phone, please,' he murmured.

The woman stood, removed the wireless phone from its cradle, and placed it in his hand. With eyes closed,