Entity of Origin

By Jeff Means

An amazing discovery found in a lost and ancient artifact during a secret 1968 Smithsonian, National Geographic joint expedition has the ability to change everything the world has been told about our origin. The entity is removed and shipped to Washington, D.C.

Decades later a group of modern explorers uncover the artifact. They find a set of ancient scrolls hidden inside and discover they're not the first to visit the five-thousand year old Monolithic structure. Someone had been there before and has taken an important and mysterious antiquity.

Meanwhile, Kait Zorn is headed to the site to be the exclusive photojournalist at the biggest discovery in modern history. While she photographs and documents the find, forces in the scientific community who protect the secret of the entity, destroy the artifact with a missile strike. Kait barely escapes with her life, taking the ancient scrolls and her photos with her.

In Jerusalem, with the help of her rag-tag scientific team, the scrolls are deciphered and the implications of what was stolen from the artifact are too powerful of a secret to be kept from the world.

Kait’s older sister, Dr. Sara Zorn is a brilliant scientist. She knows if the find is made public and the secret joint Smithsonian/National Geographic expedition is exposed, it could usher in a global calamity. Years ago she committed herself to a moral atrocity and swore never to tell a soul. She’s been secretly researching the entity taken in 1968. By sequencing the DNA she developed an elixir of youth that she’s been testing on herself to achieve human superiority, only to find the serum has backfired – she is dying. Frantically, she works on adjusting the serum while orchestrating the destruction of the artifact and all who have seen it, including her own sister and father.

Kait Zorn musters her courage and is bent on finding the truth of who the entity is and expose it’s true meaning to the world – at all cost. In a frantic, globe-hopping adventure, Kait dodges danger at every turn from a mysterious villain who anticipates her every move and finds herself fighting a hideous plot by her sister to subjugate the entire human race.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff Means
• Release date: Dec 19, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465708908

Jeff Means

Jeff Means is a United States citizen but is comfortable anywhere on the planet. He’s traveled to over fifty countries on every continent except Antarctica. Adventure seeker and avid outdoorsman, you might find him fishing in Alaska for King Salmon, hunting for Russian Boar in east Texas, motorcycling through the Colorado Rockies, trekking the Sahara Desert, or snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. Jeff has always been a storyteller. His extensive travels have given him a unique view about the world and the cultures in which we live. Jeff’s curiosity about world and human origin led him to write his debut novel, Entity of Origin, a "Da Vinci Code meets the Raiders of the Lost Ark" adventure. It is the result of years of research and fact-finding and explores the fine line between modern science and ancient texts.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Groping in the dark, she slid her smartphone off the nightstand and noted the time: 2:30 a.m. She entered her password and read the encrypted SMS message from her contact in Erzurum. Landing Place—compromised.

Circumstances had changed. If it meant the deaths of her father and sister, so be it. The anticipation of mass murder made her heart skip a beat.

Making a quick pass through her apartment, she gathered the things she’d need and stepped into the brightly-lit hallway of her upscale Washington, D.C. high-rise.

A few minutes later, she was speeding along the Potomac Freeway. The early morning pre-dawn grayness surrounded her. A familiar melody wafted from her car speakers.

She cranked up the volume on her satellite radio station, sending AC/DC’s Back in Black blaring into the morning stillness. Belting out the words to the song, she peered through the front windshield. In the humid haze, the profile of the Washington Monument looked ghostly, illuminated by the high-powered spotlights beneath it.

Fixing her gaze to the top of the obelisk, she considered the six-inch Latin words inscribed over five-hundred feet above her. LAUS DEO. Praise be to God. If only they realized, she whispered.

She nearly missed her exit and swung the vehicle across the lane, maneuvering toward the off ramp. At the intersection, she took a sharp left onto Constitution Avenue, heading for the National Mall. The distance from the apartment to the office was less than three miles, but this morning it felt more like thirty.

As she slowed to turn, the car headlights brightened the engraved granite sign in front of the green-domed building. Smithsonian Institute—Museum of Natural History.

Using the remote to open the heavy steel gate, she drove into the underground garage reserved for the chosen few. In the fluorescent light of the elevator she swiped her security card in the reader and descended three floors to the research laboratory.

She slipped into the narrow, stark white passageway and entered her code on the keypad. A rectangular, hidden compartment slid open, exposing a small LCD screen. She pressed her palm to the device.

Within seconds, she heard the familiar hushed whoosh, and a single reinforced steel door opened. An eerie illumination spread out from the infrared bulbs that cooled the spectacular technology during quiet hours. She drew her security badge and clipped it to her blouse in mid-stride.

The uniformed guard glanced up from the newspaper. His mouth fell open, and he forced his heavy frame to stand. Morning ma’am. I’m surprised to see you this early. Is there an emergency?

No emergency. Her self-control nearly broke its leash, but she calmed just before suggesting the night watch take a flying leap off the top of the museum. Think we could get the lights up in this room? She stormed past him.

She spotted a skinny young man seated at the systems control console. He wore thick, round, black-framed glasses that cried computer geek. He’ll be easy to manipulate.

What’s your name?

He nearly toppled out of the chair as he spun around to face her. Sean Seymour. He read her badge. Dr. Sara Zorn. His eyes widened.

Pull up the SAT system. I need an aerial view of this location right away. She handed him a slip of paper.

Without a word, he slid it from her hand and scanned the coordinates. He swiveled in the chair and typed on the keyboard, maneuvering the KH-elevens from their positions in space. She fixed her attention on the wall-size plasma screen.

Dr. Zorn. Sean didn’t take his rapidly moving fingers off the keyboard. You’re aware the NSA will know we have accessed their classified satellites.

She leaned closer to his left ear. Sean, I have the highest NSA clearance. Do as I say. Move the images through the radar imaging system, and shut up or you’ll be joining your predecessor at the Institute’s regional research center in Mogadishu—understand?

His head gently swayed back and forth.

She blew out a loud sigh and strutted away.

She closed the washroom door, placed her briefcase on the counter, opened it and removed a loaded syringe with a long hypodermic needle from her medical kit. Pulling her blouse up to expose her left shoulder and upper arm, she felt for the rounded contour of her deltoid and dispensed the intra-muscular injection.

She winced at the burning sensation as the liquid of new cellular structures streamed into her tissue. She grasped the counter and took deep breaths. She’d been taking the doses for over eight months, and her body had become more accustomed to the twice daily, painful injections. They were, without a doubt, necessary to resupply and bind her creation to her own cells and to prevent her ribosomal peptides from breaking down the new genes.

She left the washroom, eased into an empty chair next to Sean, and massaged her shoulder.

The NSA imaging system would produce high-quality imagery of targets on earth in real time with a resolution of a half-meter. Close enough to identify letters off automobile license plates. Certainly close enough to find her father and sister.

Accessing the system was pushing her security clearance, but she needed to be sure without a shadow of doubt. She’d deal with any fallout from the NSA later.

Got it. Sean placed his hands behind his head.

The plasma screen showed an aerial view of desert terrain. Small villages scattered throughout the landscape became clearer as the focus increased. As the image panned closer, a city center drew near, and finally, an airport.

Within minutes, Sara Zorn was viewing the targeted area from over eight thousand kilometers away.

CHAPTER 2

The first thing I felt was the temperature. Wow, it’s like a furnace.

Dad approached from behind. Placing a hand on my shoulder, he popped his head out of the aircraft fuselage and scanned the tarmac. I heard him suck in a deep breath. At least it’s a dry heat.

So’s a blow torch. Shielding my eyes from the brilliant sunlight, I could see the sign across the private aviation hanger. Erzurum. A gust of hot wind slammed against me, and I grabbed the railing to keep from toppling headfirst down the stairs. Geez Dad, it’s only ten-thirty in the morning here.

He pressed past me and raced down the jet’s stairway to catch his ball cap as it tumbled across the shimmering black top. The bald spot on his head shone like a polished cue ball in the fiery sun.

I winced from the loud noise of the aircraft engines, stepped off and caught up to him. Looping my arm around his, he steered me toward a mammoth, twin jet, blue and white helicopter. The word Jandarma was emblazoned across it’s fuselage in large, white letters.

You’re sure we’re supposed to board this? I shouted above the roar of the rotor blades.

He nodded, and I placed my camera pack on the floor, noticing our luggage had already been transferred from the Gulfstream.

I grabbed the grime-spattered door handle and hoisted myself up into the contraption. The stench of old oil, mildewed socks and sweat turned my stomach. It wasn’t the limo ride I’d expected, but I slid into the worn, filthy, leather seat. My father jumped in beside me, snatched a set of headphones off a hook and handed them to me.

They had seen better days, but I was glad to drown out the roar of the jet engines as the aircraft lifted off and gained altitude over the sprawling city. Through the window, high above, I could see thousands of ramshackle dwellings below. Goats and sheep dotted the landscape, probably scraping for food and water in the barren, desert terrain.

Hello Mr. Zorn. My na-ma is Ah-met.

The pilot’s tight, accented voice over the headphones caught me by surprise. He peeked at me through dark aviator glasses and gave me a toothy smile. I could barely make out his dark-skinned face behind the bronze, full-face helmet.

Thanks Ahmet. This is my daughter, Kait.

Please to meet you. He winked at me. Dr. Rhodes wants us to fly over and see field ops first. We go to oxygen at twelve thousand—masks above. He pointed to a pair of worn, faded yellow masks dangling from the ceiling. I nearly retched. I’ll put us down at Dogubayazit after fly over.

Thanks, Ahmet.

I fiddled with the side of the headset, found a small microphone, and moved it near my mouth. Dad, can you hear me?

Yes, honey, it’s a clear-com radio. It allows us to talk back and forth.

What type of helicopter is this, and what does Jandarma mean?

It’s a U.S.-made Blackhawk, and Jandarma means Military Police. He rested his hand on my knee.

I drug out my Nikon D200 and focused on the landscape below, hoping the diversion would calm my nerves.

He squeezed my leg hard with his strong hand. Don’t worry, Porky.

I winced and twisted in my safety harness to face him. I asked you years ago to stop calling me Porky.

But it brings back memories. You’re Porky; Sara was Biscuits—my favorite food groups. He chuckled.

Porky’s a fat pig. I’m not.

Okay, okay. I hear you a’ screamin. I’m sorry. His eyebrows spiked to the top of his forehead, and he crossed his eye balls and puffed his cheeks. Wrinkles on the side of his face widened like rings on an old oak log.

Whatever. I should have kept my trap shut. I was excited and privileged to be on this trip. It would be the first time since graduation I’d be able to use my photojournalism degree. I didn’t want to upset him.

Ahmet, Dad said over the comm. How far to the site?

Twenty-minutes. Maybe less, maybe more.

The co-pilot, who we hadn’t been introduced to, turned in the left seat and accorded my father an appraising once over.

I wondered what he thought of my Dad. Mr. Tony Zorn, the wealthy American real estate tycoon, sitting in this military helicopter wearing faded and ripped blue jeans, a Dale Earnhardt ball cap and a tangerine sailfish and sharks Hawaiian shirt. Did turning sixty mean you didn’t care what you wore anymore?

He was going to stick out like a sore thumb here. I stifled my laughter and blinked back tears.

What are you snickering about?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

CHAPTER 3

Marco Rhodes bobbed his head and smiled to a tune from his iPod as he drove the desolate desert highway.

It felt good to drive again.

He felt a nudge to his shoulder. He yanked his earplugs out and adjusted his dark aviator sunglasses.

Would you please slow down? his father bellowed from the passenger’s seat.

He took his hands off the wheel, eased up on the gas and checked the rearview mirror. The tires’ roar gave way to a cushioned whooshing sound. He leaned toward his father. Slow enough for you?

Don’t get smart with me young man. I’d like to live to see this expedition completed.

Marco chuckled. Right, so doing eighty on this stretch of perfectly straight asphalt out in the middle of nowhere is going to kill you. Come on, Dad, live a little, will you? The vehicle continued to slow.

His father frowned and focused his attention back to the papers and photographs lying on his lap.

Marco’s smile widened. It wasn’t like his famous father, the distinguished archeologist Dr. Ken Rhodes, had led a sheltered life. How many times had he heard the stories about how he narrowly escaped headhunters in New Guinea, Muslim marauders in the Sinai and the time he’d been imprisoned in Iraq as a spy? He leveled the speed to a respectable sixty-five miles per hour. So, what’s Tony Zorn’s daughter like?

Ken stuffed the file back into his satchel, snapped it shut and heaved it into the back seat. I only met her once when she was a child. But Tony has shared family pictures with me. She’s very attractive.

Marco’s eyebrows spiked. Really? He swung his head from the road to his father, then back. Married?

No… she just graduated university.

Boyfriend?

He curled his lower lip in a teasing frown. How would I know? Evidently, she’s quite a wiz with a camera. That was my agreement with Tony for financing this expedition.

Dr. Ken Rhodes watched the dusty terrain turn mountainous as they gained altitude. You should think about settling down, son. I’ve told you before—this business can get under your skin and then it’s wheels off. Months away from home, dangerous situations. He shook his head. It can ruin the best relationships you could ever hope to achieve in your lifetime.

Well, Mum put up with you. She stayed and supported you in your work. Marco faced his father. And she did a fine job of raising us.

Yes, she did. She was special, a true soul mate. He closed his eyelids. I miss her. If given the chance, I’d do it all over differently.

Marco shook off the guilt in his father’s expression. I’ll think about it, okay? Hey, you need me to meet Gizem with you?

No, not really. What do you have in mind?

I want to explore the old village of Eli before it gets too hot. It’s on the way. You can drop me there and drive yourself. He grinned and made sure his father could see him. Just pick me up when you leave, okay? He winked.

Dr. Ken Rhodes directed his attention out the side window. Hope I remember.

Love you too dad. Marco thumped the accelerator and watched his father’s head swing back and his eyes widen.

CHAPTER 4

Tony swept his eyes over his daughter as she aimed her camera through the glass of the helicopter window. He had missed her while she’d been away at college. It surprised him how much of a grown woman she’d become. She was stunning, very much like her mother, glamorous enough to be a fashion model on a runway in New York or Paris.

Her green eyes never ceased to amaze him. They glittered like emeralds against her un-blemished, light olive skin. She was also one of the kindest and wisest young ladies he’d ever known. Always a smile. He loved the special closeness they shared.

Ready to witness the greatest archaeological find in history? he asked through the clear-com headset, taking off his sunglasses.

Kait laid her camera on her lap.

We’ve become the caped crusaders. He reached out, grabbed hold of her shoulder and shook it gently. Together, we’ll conquer the world.

I’d hardly describe this as conquering the world.

Ah, you may be wrong about that. Tony’s dark eyes traveled to the vista below, trying to hide a smile.

Kait nudged his shoulder. Something you’re not telling me? She raised an eyebrow.

As I explained, the expedition led by Dr. Rhodes has been in place on the mountain for over five weeks. He straightened the baseball cap pinned tight underneath the headset. What I didn’t mention was that most of the object was exposed from its encasement in the glacier due to melting from rising global temperatures. They’ve been inside and have a treasure chest of wonders waiting for us to inspect and for you to take pictures of.

He watched her face seize.

You’re saying…we can go inside.

Yes. He grinned and folded his arms across his chest. The biblical implications of this find will have enormous consequences to the current world view.

Kait squirmed in the duct-taped seat.

I’m not following. I thought, assumed, whatever they found was fossilized, encased in rock like a dinosaur bone.

No. Dr. Rhodes told me the structure’s intact, except it’s split in two.

It’s real?

Yes, it’s undeniable. It’ll be an appropriate end-times sign, because –

Please, stop all the Biblical stuff.

I know you have issues about my belief.

Ah, Mr. Zorn, not to alarm you, the pilot interrupted. Our escorts have arrived.

Tony glimpsed to the left and right. Two heavily armed helicopters had come along each side of their aircraft.

Who are they, Ahmet?

Air Force KA-fifty-two’s. We’re near Kurdistan PKK controlled area.

A shiver of dread ran through him. He stiffened in the seat. He swerved his head to Kait. See, we’re in good hands. He patted her leg for assurance and prayed he was right.

CHAPTER 5

Every nerve in my body had gone on alert. Why did we need military escorts? Beads of cold sweat paraded down my forehead.

Off to the right, in the distance, you can barely make out Lake Van. It’s the largest body of fresh water in our country.

This pilot was starting to imitate a tour guide. Dad cracked a slight smile as if he’d read my mind. A real chamber of commerce moment, I thought.

I’ll need to make a westerly approach to avoid the Iranian border. The aircraft banked slightly to the left. Might be a little rough due to crosswinds today, but it’s in our favor.

The aircraft hovered momentarily, rappelled back by a sudden gust.

We’ll need strong headwinds to power the lift for a few minutes of hovering in the high altitude. Make sure you’re both buckled up tight.

Did he just say, Iran? My head flooded with images of terrorist bombings and the nuclear arms showdown between Iran and the U.N. that dominated the nightly news. I tapped Dad’s shoulder. Where exactly are we?

Far eastern Turkey. He moved his face away from me. Near the borders of Armenia and Iran.

Armenia and Iran! I grabbed his shoulder. Why didn’t you tell me we were headed to a war zone?

He swung around to face me. Easy. We’re safe. His tone sharpened to an edge.

I’d overstepped my boundary.

We have these two gun ship escorts and Turkish soldiers at the site to protect us.

I rested back in my seat, fuming. This was insane. No one, especially an American civilian, would be caught dead in this region. The hair on my arms bristled. People died by the truckloads daily in this part of the world, and they hated nothing more than Americans. I was scared; no, actually, I was petrified.

There. He raised his arm out toward the cockpit windshield. See it?

I followed my father’s outstretched arm. A dark silhouette of a lone mountain emerged through the haze in the distance. Its snowcapped summit gleamed like ice cream atop a cone.

I know we’re near some trouble spots in the world, but trust me on this.

Despite his words, the worried lines on his face betrayed him. What else aren’t you telling me? I forced my muscles to relax.

It’s going to be a little tricky due to PKK rebels fighting the Turks for control of the mountain.

Beep, beep, beep, beep. An alarm went off in the cockpit. The helicopter dropped. The pilot’s rapid communication in his native language made no sense, until he changed to English.

They fired … from ground … missile airborne!

My head crushed into the ceiling. I let out a scream and grabbed the bare metal armrests to pull my body back from weightlessness and into the seat. The aircraft dove like a roller coaster plummeting to the bottom of a hill.

Outside the window, I saw white smoke. A bright orange flash preceded the explosion. My breathing was strangled by the wild dance of my heart. I counted the seconds remaining in my life.

CHAPTER 6

There. She jutted her arm and a finger at the red indicator dot that flashed in the lower right hand side of the aerial view. Zoom in.

Sean initiated a few quick keystrokes. The screen flashed several times, zooming closer and closer. The helicopter was clearly identifiable as military.

Adrenaline surged through Sara’s body. A grainy image of a man in back of the aircraft appeared. The telltale ball cap on his head. He moved his face toward the aircraft window. His features were unmistakable.

A flash to the left of the image caught her attention. Within seconds, the screen was awash in static white.

We lost it.

"What’s that mean, we lost it? She spun in her chair and grabbed Sean by the bicep. How can we lose it?"

I was receiving a robust image feed, and it–

Zoom out!

He dragged the focus back to a ten-mile visual. On each side of the screen, she noted the edges of barren desert, but a white fog with diagonal lines clouded the center of the live feed.

Sean began to sweat as he typed more commands on the board. This imagery is supposed to see through cloud cover.

What’s going on?

The image is being blocked.

By what? Sara didn’t care if anyone heard her three stories above. His incompetence had bitten off her last nerve.

Not sure, but it must be electronic. It’s the only way to jam the signal. He let his arms fall to his sides.

She jumped out of her chair and sent it sailing on its coasters across the room. Her blood was boiling, and she needed a moment to cool off. She flung the washroom door open with too much force. The handle stuck in the drywall like the head of a dart. She yanked it out and closed the door.

She slapped her hand against the wall, the bang echoing in the small room. Whatever blocked the image on the screen didn’t matter. She’d seen all she needed.

She cut a hard look in the mirror. Her cheeks had become noticeably dark and hollow. Lifting a lock of graying hair away from her forehead, she could see prominent scalp veins showing.

She’d become deeply concerned about what was happening to her thirty-six-year-old body. Silvery streaks had become evident in clumps on the right side of her bangs. She raked her hand through her mane and out came thin strands of hair between her fingers.

She wasn’t about to be defeated. Was it a serum sickness associated with the injections, or was her immune system suddenly rejecting the concoction?

She tugged up her sleeve and felt for a pulse. Finding a sweet spot, she stuck the needle and drew two vials of blood, then put the samples into a bio transport pouch she had in her briefcase.

She left the washroom and moved to where the computer geek sat perched in the swivel stool at the control board. Sean, take the rest of your shift off.

He regarded her with stunned amusement.

Here, deliver this pouch to Suitland for me. Tell the guard to hold it for Jack Prado at the gate. He’ll pick it up when he comes in later this morning.

Dumbfounded, Sean reached for the package.

And I mean now—get going. She stormed down the corridor.

Her first priority was to get her in-country operative on the phone. He was eight-and-half hours ahead in time zone; it’d be nearly noon there.

Second, she desperately needed time at her secure Suitland lab to find out what was going on with her chemical composition.

CHAPTER 7

An unlit cigar hung unceremoniously from Tom Nave’s lips. He swiped the soiled and gritty handkerchief across his forehead once again. The noontime temperature had already reached triple digits. He drew his sweat-soaked back away from the front passenger seat of the black SUV for a little relief.

The low hum of chants from thousands of Muslims offering up their mid-day prayers reached across the scalding, barren sand. He’d been here for two days listening to this drivel and hadn’t showered since. A film of sweat encrusted with dust covered his skin like a layer of Griptex plastic wrap. He wondered if they’d move today.

Nave focused the binoculars impassively at the warehouse. He squinted and tapped an index finger on the side of the field glasses. The complex execution of this particular job strained his waning patience.

As miserable as this was, he preferred fighting for a paycheck instead of a cause. He hired out to anyone who had money, lots of money. His new client might be a little unusual, and it surprised him a scientific organization, let alone a woman, would need his services. But her money was still as green as Moshe’s. He had never met the man but he’d given him dozens of targets to be eliminated. Nave assumed Moshe dealt drugs and his hits were