Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📗

was anyone on the other side, he turned the wheel until the door sprung open. They swiftly moved through, closed the door behind them, and turned around and looked through the porthole. A man stepped out of the other room, walked toward them, and turned into the corridor they had come from.

Bishop sighed. “That was close.”

De Cremonese wiped the sweat from his forehead. “You think?”

“Let’s get out of here and see if we can find a somewhat less public place,” Bishop suggested. When De Cremonese nodded, Bishop started walking into yet another hallway. “Now, what was that about the construction hall?”

De Cremonese stopped. “Can I see your phone?”

Bishop searched his pockets, unlocked his phone and handed it to De Cremonese. “What do you need it for? I doubt we have any service in here.”

De Cremonese showed him the screen.

“As I said, no bars,” Bishop pointed out.

“I don’t need any bars. I only need some history.” He opened the GPS and touched the button that said ‘Coordinates-lat/long.’ “Just as I thought,” he said, bobbing his head furiously.

“What is it?”

“One point six seven eight,” he mumbled. “Just as I thought.”

“What?” Bishop sounded impatient.

“You remember me telling you about the rockets, about the location they were sent from?”

“You said they came from almost on top of the equator.”

“Yes. One point six seven eight latitudes to be exactly. We never found the longitude. Now, look here.” De Cremonese showed him the screen.

Bishop read, “One point six seven eight latitude, negative ninety-two point zero zero three longitude.” Bishop looked up, frowning. “But... so... this must also be—”

“Exactly,” De Cremonese said. “The location where the rockets to Mars were launched from. The construction hall that we saw on the screens must be an assembly hall for missiles.” De Cremonese handed the phone to Bishop.

“Indeed, an island of many mysteries,” Bishop confirmed as he started walking again. “But there are no rockets in the assembly hall, so where are they?”

“Probably one of three possibilities. There either aren’t any rockets left or they’re stored away. Or....” He paused for a moment. “They are already at their launch site.”

Bishop took a deep breath. After some hundred feet, the empty corridor took a right turn, then another right, before ending at another door.

“What now?” De Cremonese asked.

Bishop peered through the porthole. “It’s the assembly hall. It looks empty.”

De Cremonese stood next to him and peered through. “All right, it looks safe.”

Bishop took a step back and turned the wheel below the porthole. After a full turn, a soft clang indicated the door unlocked. De Cremonese helped him pull the door open, and together they stepped onto a stainless-steel catwalk overlooking the empty construction hall. The catwalk hung about halfway along the massive wall, with staircases leading all the way down.

“It’s even bigger in person,” De Cremonese said. “It must be over three hundred feet high.” He pointed to the metal ceiling. “What now?”

“I think we need to get down.” Bishop pointed at the floor where large glass cubicles all along the sides of the assembly hall seemed to function as offices.

“Looks empty,” De Cremonese pointed out.

“All the better for us,” Bishop agreed as he descended. Though they tried to walk as softly as possible, the sound of their soles clanging against the metal echoed throughout the hall with every step. Bishop stopped for a second to see if the noise had alarmed anyone, but the floor stayed empty.

“So far, so good,” De Cremonese whispered.

Another catwalk appeared about halfway down the stairs. Breathing heavily, they paused.

“I thought walking down stairs would be easier than going up,” Bishop said, catching his breath.

“It is. It’s mainly harsh on the knees,” De Cremonese replied.

With a loud clang, a door behind them on the catwalk opened. Both men instantly held their breath and looked around. There was no place to hide. The door opened a few inches.

“Pssst,” a voice sounded from the other side of it.

Bishop and De Cremonese looked at each other.

“Pssssssst.” It sounded longer this time, followed by an arm that, extending through the open door, waved them to come over.

“What do you want to do?” De Cremonese asked.

Bishop took another deep breath. “It’s not the reception I anticipated, but maybe we should check it out?”

“All right. You go first,” De Cremonese agreed.

Bishop smiled at him, and slowly walked to the door, closely followed by De Cremonese. A few feet away, the door swung open, but in the darkness behind it, Bishop couldn’t see anything. They cautiously stepped inside, and the door closed behind them with a bang. Then the light in the room came on.

“You?” Bishop spoke loudly.

The man put a finger to his mouth. “Shush.”

Bishop shook his head. “How? Why? What the hell are you doing here?” he asked as De Cremonese tapped him on the shoulder. “Oh yeah, sorry. Father, this is Nigel... uh, something.”

“Nigel Small-Fawcett,” the man answered in his crisp British accent.

Bishop couldn’t help notice the man didn’t sweat any longer and sounded a lot more confident. “Yes, on loan from the British consulate if I recall correctly. We met briefly in Indonesia, on Java Island. What the hell are you doing here?” Bishop gazed at the man now dressed in jeans. His turtleneck revealed a small but muscled torso. Even his voice sounded an octave lower now.

“I’ll explain later,” Fawcett stated. “But first, we need to get out of here.”

Bishop, frowning, took a step back.

“Seriously, it’s not safe here. Trust me. Give me just a few minutes, and you’ll understand everything. I promise.” He pointed to a door on the other side of the room.

Bishop looked at De Cremonese. “What do you think?”

De Cremonese shrugged.

“Go.” Bishop pointed at the door.

Fawcett opened the door on the other side and took a right into another concrete corridor. “This way,” he commanded.

“What is it?” De Cremonese asked as he noticed Bishop staring at Fawcett.

“Uh, nothing much,” Bishop whispered. “It’s just that when I met this man in Indonesia, he was just a tiny, stammering insecure man. Now he looks like