Genesis: Quintessential Aeon, #1

By Blake Emerson

Renowned archeologist Blake Elgin discovers an unknown metal in Egypt's Western desert which will change everything we know about human existence, and shake humanity to its very core.

A strange metal, of unknown origin, is discovered in archaeological digs around the Sahara Desert and the Mediterranean. The only logical explanation? Atlantis. The Lost City. A dig is organised and the best archeologists in the world head to the outskirts of Khagra with the dream of proving the stuff of myth and legend. At the heart of the expedition is Blake Elgin, who takes a leap of faith, and takes matters into his own hands. When you hold in your hands a discovery that will change the entirety of human history, and the very basis for humanity, there is always somebody who wants to keep the secret underwraps. Lurking in the shadows is an ancient organization hellbent on ensuring Blake Elgin keeps his mouth shut, and the truth from being set free.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Blake Emerson
• Release date: Aug 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201577827

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Eight p.m.

The professor was thirty minutes late.

By then, they were already getting antsy. It was going to be a long night. But it was a night they had all looked forward to since the professor contacted them a week ago.

The roadmap to what you seek is in my hands, he had told Quintus Salvatore on that sunny Sunday when they met in the café downtown. Atlantis, the lost city, is not a myth. It is a reality, and I can show you how to find it.

Now, the sight of the man, stepping down from the nondescript van parked across the road, set Quintus’s heart racing. He turned away from the window to look at the others in the room with a broad smile on his face. Gentlemen, he’s here.

If they were excited by the news, they didn’t show it. It didn’t matter that they were already beginning to fear he would not come, or that, without the insight he had promised to share with them tonight, they would be hopelessly lost in their quest for the truth. What mattered to them most, at this moment, was that they were renowned archaeologists who had to protect their egos.

About time. John Clark rearranged his hair daintily for the umpteenth time that night and smoothed out his long necktie. Looking at him now, all decked out in a pristine white shirt and well-ironed black trousers with a razor-sharp crease, it was easy to see why he had opted for the easier job of tending to artefacts in the museum, rather than digging them up in the field. The only reason he was here was because of his long-term friendship with Quintus. The others had earned their invitations by virtue of the time they had committed to the dig in Libya.

I only hope this night doesn’t turn out to be a waste of my precious time, Sarah Parker said. Of the four archaeologists gathered in the room, she was the only one still plagued with doubts.

They had spent a year and a half racking their brains and tearing apart their library for information that would help them make sense of what they had seen in that dig on the edge of the Sahara Desert. They, renowned archeologists in their own rights, had not made any headway and a self-acclaimed professor, with no affiliation to any known university, was suddenly on the scene claiming to know it all.

It won’t be, Quintus told her. I promise you

His conversation with the professor in the café that morning had been fascinating.

What you found in Libya is only one out of many fragments of the city that have begun to surface and will continue to surface, the professor had told him in a breathy, raspy voice. There is nothing under the sun that can be hidden indefinitely. All that is required is our zeal in pursuing our knowledge of it.

He spoke with extravagant flourishes and gestures, like an actor in a theatre. His mannerisms were complemented by his colourful dress: a bright yellow blazer with lemon elbow patches and sky blue trousers. All that was left out, that would make him a clown, was the painted face.

Quintus would have dismissed him as a clown outright if he had not backed up his claims with facts and evidence. There was no denying that the professor knew what he was talking about, which is what led to a meeting of the minds, this very evening.

As the man crossed the road and passed under the streetlight, Quintus saw he had changed his attire for an all-black outfit that blended perfectly with the night. It was a stark contrast to his flamboyant outfit of the morning.

Aren’t you going down to let him in? Darleen Scot asked. She was the quietest of the quartet, the sort to speak with a definite purpose. She was a professor herself, with Stanford University, and could not wait to see the pretender who claimed to know the secrets she was not yet privy to.

Sure. Quintus left the room. His steps were lithe as he hurried along the hallway to the stairwell. The bell chimed. Humming a tune under his breath, he took the steps two at a time.

His wife lay on a sofa reading a women’s magazine. If she had heard the bell, she gave no sign of it. Thankfully, the children were nowhere in sight. They had been shipped off to her mother’s place for the weekend. That meant peace and quiet.

For a moment he considered stopping to ask his wife how the kids were, but the bell rang again impatiently.

She looked up at him with raised eyebrows, her meaning clear, and he hurried over to open the front door.

When he opened it, the professor stood with his back to the door, looking out at the street beyond the driveway.

Hello, Professor, Quintus said. It felt weird to address him that way, but that was the only thing the man had said about himself.

I am a professor, he had said, concerned with the most important things, the knowledge so ancient it transcends all. That is all you need to know about me.

When you are desperate, you don’t ask too many questions.

Professor? Quintus said again.

The man turned, a wide smile on his face. Oh, hello, Quintus Salvatore. He raised both hands. I’m afraid I’m terribly late.

It’s okay, Quintus told him. What mattered was that he was here.

I wanted to be sure that everyone in the crew is here, he said. You brought them all, right?

Quintus shook his head slowly. Uh... no.

The man’s lips tightened. I told you I wanted to see them all.

What did he need them all for? Quintus could not imagine the whole crew on the Libyan dig cramming into his upstairs study. It simply wasn’t possible. All he wanted to do was learn what the man knew, not organise a mini-lecture. I didn’t see how that was important. He looked the professor in the eye. The most important members of the crew are here. The rest are specialists, students looking to earn their degrees, and a few hired hands who didn’t give a fig what we came up with.

For a moment, there was silence as the man considered Quintus’s explanation, then he shrugged and gestured at the door. Lead the way then.

Quintus stepped back and held the door while the man walked in. Shutting the door behind him, he followed the professor into the living room and began making introductions. This is my wife, Anna Salvatore. He gestured at his wife.

Anna lowered her magazine for a moment and flashed the professor her special smile. It showed her perfectly arranged teeth and lit up her eyes. That smile could still make Quintus’s heart do back flips. He hated when she offered it to strangers.

The professor walked over to her and bowed from his waist with a hand held out. Good evening to you, Mrs Salvatore.

Good evening. She took the hand, and her smile widened.

Everyone is waiting upstairs, Quintus said and turned towards the stairs.

The professor stayed where he was, eyes locked with Quintus’s wife.

Quintus cleared his throat, and the man straightened.

The smile on Anna’s face died an unnatural death; replaced by a frown.

The professor came away and followed Quintus up the stairs. As he climbed, Quintus made a mental note to ask his wife what that was about. No doubt she would say it was nothing and accuse him of seeing shadows where there were none, as was the norm. This was the reason he grew increasingly reluctant to go on trips without her.

Upstairs, he pushed open the door to his study and stepped aside so the professor could precede him, but the man hung back and gestured for Quintus to lead the way. Puzzled, Quintus walked into the room.

His friends all looked busy. John Clark was swiping his long delicate fingers over his iPad screen, pretending to search for a file. Darleen and Andrew were huddled over a document they probably had no interest in whatsoever.

Dear friends, he said, permit me to introduce you to the professor.

When they looked up, the expressions were not what he had expected. Mouths hung open in surprise and eyes bulged with fear. The source of their consternation was behind him — undoubtedly the professor.

Quintus turned to look at the man and saw he held a gun with a long sound suppressor fitted to the muzzle.

What? Quintus asked, bewildered. He took a step back, away from the professor. Wh-what is this?

The muzzle moved up slowly to find him. There was nothing on the