The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (reading in the dark txt) 📗

Tommy didn’t know the man, but he’d seen the name many times before in international news headlines. It was always strange to Tommy when people who seemed to have everything ended up doing something so extreme.

Here was a man who had built up a billion-dollar company. He could buy anything he’d ever wanted, go anywhere. Life’s menu was his for the ordering. And now he was dead.

Tommy ran his fingers through his thick brown hair and considered the issue while he waited to give his speech. He’d long believed that money couldn’t buy happiness, though it could certainly afford a person certain freedoms in life. Perhaps, in some cases, it was too much freedom.

What could have driven such a powerful person to commit murder and then take their own life? It was one of those questions that might not get an answer.

Tommy heard his friend’s name called and knew that his would soon follow.

“I present to you, the founder of the museum, a man who has done so much for the preservation of history in Europe, and indeed the world, my good friend and colleague Dr. Magnus Sorenson.”

The crowd erupted in applause, just as Tommy knew it would. His friend Magnus had been one of the leading voices in making certain that history was preserved and honored. While many philanthropists donated their time and money to protect historical monuments, ruins, tombs, buildings, and other important features, Magnus Sorenson worked to prevent the destruction of those things by employing teams all around the world to uncover the past before someone else did.

He’d spent hundreds of millions of dollars to buy property where important ancient sites may have existed, sometimes with no proof other than stories from ancient texts or from satellite imagery that suggested the possibility of something under the ground. Lidar technology had been around since the 1970s, but with time the technology vastly improved. Several ancient sites had been discovered with Lidar that may otherwise still be hidden.

Magnus was a powerful voice in not just the archaeology and anthropology circles, but on the global platform he’d built.

Some suggested he might run for political office, but Tommy didn’t believe that. The man seemed immune to the temptation of power through political ladder-climbing. There were some within his circles that tried to coerce him into running for the highest office in Sweden, but Magnus blew it off as a ridiculous endeavor.

“Prime ministers and presidents can only do so much,” he’d said. “The real power lies within the private sector, where ordinary people can make a real difference every day with their time and money. World leaders are held back by bureaucracy. I, however, answer only to my ethics, my moral compass, and the science of studying the past.”

Tommy had loved reading that, and he knew it wasn’t bluster. He’d known Magnus for twenty years and had been something of a prodigy for the Swede. Tommy first did an internship under the man, learning all he could about the world of archaeology in real settings—as opposed to the classroom, where a sterile environment could only lend itself to a limited understanding of how things worked.

Six months under the guidance of Dr. Sorenson had proved invaluable, and it was Magnus who’d suggested Tommy start the International Archaeological Agency as a way to secure and transport valuable ancient artifacts. He’d even offered to fund the venture fully, but with the assumed passing of Tommy’s parents, he’d inherited enough to begin on his own. He declined Dr. Sorenson’s money, a fact that Magnus still appreciated to this day. It was easy to see he was proud of Tommy for his independent nature. Men like him were often asked for money, usually in the seven-figure range. On any given day, no less than four colleges called to request funding for a new wing for this or a new building for that. Tommy asked for nothing except knowledge, and Magnus had given that in spades.

“And so, it is with great pleasure and pride that I present to you today’s speaker,” Magnus said.

Tommy turned his phone on do-not-disturb mode and slid it into his pocket. He pressed down the black slacks and stood, straightening his jacket in the process. His white button-up shirt left the top two buttons undone, as he knew that wearing a tie for this occasion might seem a bit stiff to the younger crowd.

“My good friend Tommy Schultz of the International Archaeological Agency.”

Applause once more filled the enormous room. Tommy bound up the steps, gently gripping the rail for balance until he reached the top. He took a deep breath, put on a smile, and stepped out through the opening in the curtains.

Magnus stood behind a white, modern-design podium. The Swede grinned broadly at his former understudy and stepped back. Magnus looked like the billionaire he was, with blond hair cut in the latest fashion and a neatly trimmed reddish beard that framed his tanned face. He was strong, with broad shoulders and a chest that seemed it might rip through his black button-up shirt at any moment.

Dr. Sorenson motioned to the podium and stepped back farther, allowing Tommy to take the stage and command of the room.

“Thank you, Dr. Sorenson,” Tommy said as the applause died down. Magnus stepped back out of view, disappearing through the curtain.

“Archaeology is a funny thing,” Tommy said. “You can spend months and years out in the field digging through the dirt with brushes and spades, barely making a dent in anything. More days are spent in archaeology not finding something than actually making a discovery…by a ridiculous factor. Those of you in the audience who’ve worked with Dr. Sorenson know that firsthand.”

A wave of laughter rolled through the crowd.

An image from King Tutankhamun’s tomb appeared on a wide screen behind Tommy. The picture displayed the vast treasure horde that was discovered there.

“But, every now and then, we find something remarkable,” Tommy said. The image changed to one depicting the Dead Sea Scrolls spread out on