Prometheus Wakens - 14. Chapter 14: Debriefing on Thermai

Chapter 14: Thermai
Debriefing (a week later)

The dryad-of-the-day, an Alder, welcomed me to breakfast, and warned me that visitors were expected. I gave him a kiss, and received a promise in return. We had finished breakfast and Alder had reset the table before Athena, Mars, and Apollo arrived. Alder served coffee and then sat against one of the Oaks—close enough to hear. I expected that there would be nothing he should not hear.

“I underestimated the cartel’s ability to recover,” Athena said. “They have already opened another drug laboratory. This one is better guarded, and would be more difficult to attack.”

“Our attack on the first laboratory shut down the port, but only briefly. Less than two days later, a ship loaded with copper ore and bound for China departed the dock nearest the warehouse,” Mars said.

“The Chinese are sending in return a ship loaded with ephedrines, the key precursor for methamphetamine,” Apollo added.

I had forgotten the Chinese connection, but what Athena said opened memories of the cooperation between the Knights Templar cartel and China.

“What the Chinese do is legal,” Athena said. “Although they know the purpose to which the material will be put. And, even though the USA knows of this trade, they are so dependent upon China—not only because China holds so much of the USA’s debt, but also because the Chinese provide so much of the trash that one of the leading USA retailers sells—that the USA authorities say and do nothing.”

“Has the ship already left China?” I asked.

“It is one of many. This one left nearly three weeks ago. It will arrive in Mexico in three days.”

“Not if we stop it,” I said. I looked to Apollo.

“Apollo, should I invite Poseidon here, or should I visit him in his realm?”

“Either would be suitable,” Apollo said. “He is not uncomfortable on land, and you would have no trouble breathing water.”

Apollo’s eyes shifted to the upper right. “On the other hand,” he said. “At present, he’s in Virginia.”

“Virginia?”

“Virginia, a horse farm. He’s god of horses you know, as well as of the sea.”

“Let’s go,” I said.

Athena demurred. “It would not do for me to be seen in this aspect or in your company,” she said. We arranged to meet in a few days, and she vanished.

I offered an invitation to Mars, who also declined, but said he would meet us here, later.

Alder had hopped up as soon as Apollo had said Virginia. “You can’t go dressed like that!” Alder said. “And may I go, too, please?”

It took only a few moments for Apollo to dress Alder and me in riding habits that would not have been out of place in my time or my reality. “Riding fashions didn’t change, much,” Apollo said when he caught my thoughts.

“Are these real, or are they illusions?” I asked. The clothes had just appeared on us, and I was a bit concerned about the illusion failing.

“They’re real,” Apollo said. “Haven’t you met Arachnae? I guess not.”

Something else for my to do list, I thought.

Apollo whistled, and three horses appeared.

“It would not do for you to arrive on foot,” he said. “Virginia is still somewhat rural.” He giggled.

The saddles were unlike either the English saddle or the western saddle I remembered, but at least there were stirrups.

Apollo caught that thought. “There’s no saddle horn. That’s from your past, but their future. And they’ve had stirrups since, oh, the time of the Holy Roman Empire. Please don’t worry, I wouldn’t allow an anachronism to spoil this meeting.”

There was more laughter behind his thoughts than the initial giggle. I could not find the cause without pushing, but realized that I had come to trust Apollo, and could wait to see the source of his laughter.

“That’s Thomas Jefferson!” I whispered, and realized why Apollo had been laughing.

“Um, hmm,” Apollo said. “Rather, his doppelganger or reincarnation from your world . . . or whatever. I really don’t know.”

Mr. Jefferson and Poseidon—who was already here—welcomed us, and seemed to appreciate Apollo’s comments about the horses. “He’s the sun; he knows about travel,” Ginkgo had said. I guess he knows about horses, too.

After a pleasant afternoon at Monticello, including an opportunity to sample wine from grapes grown on Mr. Jefferson’s property, and a promise to share some cuttings with one another, we brought Poseidon back to early afternoon on Thermai. Mars was waiting for us.

“I am happy that you have come to me,” Poseidon said after wine and biscuits had been served.

There was no further need for small talk—we had exhausted that at Monticello—so I broached my plan without any hesitation. “I intend to conduct an operation on the high seas that will result in the sinking of a ship loaded with hazardous cargo,” I said. “I need your agreement, and your help in containing the damage.”

Poseidon didn’t seem surprised. “A ship carrying drugs?” he asked.

“Actually, one carrying precursors: ephedrines,” I said.

“Ah, the Chinese ship in your reality.”

“You know of it?”

Poseidon laughed. “It’s my ocean,” he said. “Actually, they’re both my oceans. Yes, I know about it. How do you plan to do this?”

I explained that I did not want the ship’s crew to find out about people with inexplicable—to them—powers, or to be harmed. “Neither do I want to flood the ocean with poison,” I said.

Mars was ready with a plan; I was certain he would be.

“We will translocate, with Zodiacs, to a point very near the ship. They will assume we have a mother ship, perhaps a submarine since they will see nothing on their radar, close by. We will translocate aboard the Chinese ship, but will drop rope ladders on grappling hooks from the railings for crewmembers to see. They will assume that is how we boarded. We will round up the crew, attempting not to harm them, but will defend ourselves as necessary.

“The crew will be put in lifeboats. We will scuttle the ship after ensuring that a distress call is sent, and roar off in the Zodiacs as if going back to our mother ship.”

Poseidon nodded. “A good plan. I will take control of the ship when it sinks. I will contain the poisons, including the bunker oil. That is something with which I am familiar.”

“Will the Chinese blame the USA?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to start a war in my old reality. At least, not one between China and the USA. At least, not yet.

“The Heroes Brigade will wear uniforms of many nations, and will take the aspects of people from many nations—oriental and occidental, African and sub-continent Indian, Caucasian and Central American. They will speak many languages. They will make sure to be seen and heard by crewmembers, many of whom will have cell phones with cameras. We can count on photos, even videos, being taken. The Chinese will not know who to blame,” Mars said.

Poseidon and Mars discussed a few details, and agreed that the attack would take place the next night. It would be the next day for the Heroes Brigade, as the ship would be almost exactly on the opposite side of the world from them.

After Poseidon had left, Apollo sought me out.

“There’s something else,” he said. “The ship’s safe. It’s in the captain’s quarters. It may be difficult to reach, and adds a level of complexity—and risk. However, I think we need to access and empty it.”

“Reason?” I spoke the key word.

“Lucas? I hope you’ve learned by now that this universe—that none of the universes or realities—is completely stochastic. There are factors, uncertainties—”

“God does not play dice, Einstein said,” I said. “Except that the universe does.”

Apollo smiled. “I’m glad you understand.

“The universes, the realities, are not fixed,” he added, “but mutable. I do not believe, nor do I think you believe, that there is a first cause that is guiding us. On the other hand, I do think that there are rules. For example, I think that the physical constants are the same—”

He saw the look on my face, and realized I had no idea what he meant.

“Things like the speed of light, the charge of the electron,” he said. “They’re the same in all realities—at least, the ones we know. So there is law and order. On the other hand, people and we have free will. We can’t change the laws, although the gods can use power to do things that would be considered otherwise unlawful.

“Still, there is and there must be room for free will.”

He looked at me as if he wanted some sort of confirmation that I agreed—or, at least, that I understood.”

“With apologies to Sam Harris, there must be free will,” I said. “I understand that. And I understand the notion of physical laws, too. But how does this relate to the ship’s safe?”

“We must have a reason for this attack, one that will stand up under Chinese scrutiny. We will require the captain to open the safe before we allow him to leave. Whether or not there is anything of value, the Chinese will believe we believed there was.”

It was Hermes who identified the second prong of our attack plan. The next day, shortly after the Heroes Brigade had left on their mission, he arrived. I had wanted to spend the day on the patio biting my nails, but the dryad-of-the day—a black-haired Witch Hazel—convinced me I was needed in the vineyards. Witch Hazel and a mundane were lecturing me about the vines, and we were discussing which ones might fare well in Virginia, when Hermes popped in.

The mundane was an elderly man with white hair, who was unimpressed by divine interruptions. He glanced at Hermes and then continued the lecture.

Hermes was both a gentleman and a scholar, for he listened to the lecture without interrupting. I thanked the old man for his thoughts, asked a couple of questions, and scheduled another meeting the following week. Then, I asked Hermes if he would join me for lunch.

Hermes was happy to accept, so we popped to the patio where dryads had anticipated our needs and set the table for three.

“Hermes, your presence in the realities is perhaps broader than anyone else’s. What have you discovered?” I asked after plates of fruit, cheese, breads, and meat, as well as a carafe of wine and pitcher of fruit juice had been delivered.

“Lucas? What I have discovered is an idea. It might mean a great deal, although there are complications,” he said. “Athena and I talked. Mostly, she asked questions, and I tried to answer.

“Our target should not be just the drug processing plants, but the drug lords’ bank accounts. And I have the keys to them.”

“How?” I asked.

“I know the credit cards with which they pay for the shipments through my package services,” he said. “The credit cards are tied to bank accounts, and the bank accounts are tied to individuals. I have records going back several years. They do change credit card numbers; however, the cards are always issued by the same banks and are tied to the same accounts. It is not something that is obvious to the card holder.”

“We have them,” I said.

“Damn close, I would think,” Hermes said.

Before we could do more, dryads began arriving on the patio. Ginkgo ran up to me, offered a kiss, and spoke. “Lucas! The raid on the ship was a success. The Heroes will return in only a few minutes!”

He grew quiet. He looked at his toes and wiggled them as if he’d just discovered that they were part of him. Then, still looking downward, he asked. “May we offer them a celebration?”

“Ginkgo?” I said. I tried to make my voice sound stern. “You claim to be a dryad, and sometimes I think you are. But sometimes, I think you are a goose—a very silly goose!

“Of course you may offer a celebration, and you must invite those who have helped us, especially Mars and Athena.”

“And Apollo?” Ginkgo asked. “He helped too, didn’t he?”

“Ginkgo, you know I was teasing you, don’t you?” I asked. “Of course, Apollo. And George, Demeter . . . others. Please make the adults’ invitation one to join Hermes and me, while you boys plan to party with the Heroes.”

It was still early afternoon when the Heroes arrived, flush and excited from their victory. Mars was there to greet them, and spoke briefly with Jason before allowing him to join the party. Athena arrived shortly afterwards, as did Apollo. They congratulated the Heroes, and then joined Mars and me in a quiet corner where Witch Hazel served a continuation of the lunch Hermes and I had begun. Death, Demeter, and others joined us as the afternoon wore on.

“Witch Hazel? Would you like to join the party? I will call you if we need anything,” I said. He grinned, bobbed his head and whispered a thank you before running toward the other boys.

Athena chuckled. “You are wise to allow them freedom and fun,” she said. “They may not always have that luxury.”

Mars and I exchanged looks. That was almost exactly what he had said to me when we first met. The words of the gods create reality, I thought, and was suddenly afraid.

Athena understood. “I do not create reality; I only report what is,” she said. I’m not sure that comforted me.

“Do you know if the boys found anything in the ship’s safe?” I asked.

“Other than manifests, which they will give you, there was a code book for commercial messages. The Chinese will, of course, switch the code as fast as they can, but with the number of ships at sea, that may take a couple of weeks. They’ll also curtail traffic during that time, but we may pick up something.”

“Can it be used to decrypt older messages?” I asked.

“If we had them, yes, but we don’t,” Athena said.

“Is there any way to get them from, say, the National Security Agency? And to record and store future messages, in case we capture a new code book?” I asked.

The expression on Hermes’ face was sour, as if he’d bitten into a Granny Smith apple. “The NSA . . . I would like to get into their nickers. They’ve been in mine often enough.” He was referring to his social media sites, of course.

I had a little time to think on that, for Hermes turned to Athena and Mars, who were already planning ways to raid the drug lords’ bank accounts.

After listening for a while, I interjected myself into the conversation. “It would be best if I adopted a more mature Aspect, and made the withdrawals,” I said.

“You’re not going to have all the fun!” Apollo and Hermes said, nearly simultaneously.

“I think there will be enough fun for everyone,” I said.

The details were tedious, but necessary. We needed to have accounts into which to deposit the money we were going to steal from the carteles. We needed to protect from retribution by the carteles the bank employees who would handle the transactions. We needed to have legitimate accounts—widely separated from the other offshore accounts—to disburse the money, for I knew we could not keep it out of circulation. We needed—

Suffice it to say that it was several weeks before we were ready to make the first attempt. Those weeks were not idle for the Heroes Brigade, which conducted two more raids on drug factories in Columbia and Ecuador, and sank another Chinese ship laden with precursors as well as one Mexican ship carrying copper ore.

The last one was Poseidon’s idea, and done at his request. “I owe Vulcan a favor,” he said. “A shipload of copper ore will repay it, and put him in my debt.”

Vulcan, I thought. He has been very much in the background. Still, he is one of the three most powerful of the ancient gods. No, strike that! All I learned about the Greek gods has been put to the test. Athena and Demeter are, apparently more powerful than Zeus. It’s becoming very confusing!

“How might we bring Vulcan to our side?” I interjected into the conversation.

“That may not be possible,” Mars said. “He’s still pissed with the people of your reality who put him on display as a traffic warning in Birmingham.”

“Huh?” I was so lost by that statement I couldn’t make a complete sentence. Apollo understood.

“1904, World’s Fair in your reality. The iron and steel industry in Birmingham built a statue of Vulcan, naked except for a leather apron in front, and shipped it off to . . . what was that town? St. Louis.

“After the fair, the statue was supposed to go into a park in downtown Birmingham, except that the society matrons who lived around the park didn’t want his buns of steel in their front yard. Remember, I said he was naked except for the apron!

“The statue was put on a hill, south of town. His spear was replaced with a glowing light that was switched to red any time there was a fatal traffic accident. It was years before the statue was restored, and a museum built.

“Vulcan’s never forgiven Birmingham for that offense.”

Mars and Jason were as meticulous about staking out the first bank as they had been about staking out the first drug factory. The big difference was that they wore business suits and carried Cordova leather briefcases. Both visited the bank twice, once to inquire about opening an account, and once to open the account. Both opened their accounts with suitcases of American dollars, obtained by selling artificially aged but otherwise authentic Greek antiquities to crooked dealers in the USA and Britain.

I was pleased with that solution, although I had offered to sell some of the gold I’d inherited from Hebe. Mars had suggested that the antiquities scam was not only more fun, but also more just.

“The fraud will be discovered eventually, and the dishonest dealers will be put out of business, perhaps arrested,” Mars had predicted. He was right, and I gained a better understanding of what these gods meant by justice.

I walked into the first of our target banks, on the island of Barbados, wearing a white linen suit straight out of John LeCarre’s “The Tailor of Panama.” I handed a card bearing a name to the receptionist, who immediately walked me to a private room and offered bottled water, coffee, or a daiquiri.

I accepted the water and sat for less than a minute before a man in a dark suit came into the room. He had in his hand a piece of paper bearing a name and a number. After examining it, I gave him a piece of hotel stationary bearing the name, routing number, and account number of a bank in the New Hebrides, and waited.

“I will use the terminal, here,” he said. “If I may?”

I was impressed by the security and authentication demanded both by the bank and by the carteles. He input the routing number and account, and then turned to me. “If I may, sir, the account and amount.”

I wrote both on a card which I handed him. I watched as he input the account number, which was on his bank, verified the balance, and then inserted the amount. When I nodded, he pressed the enter key, and one hundred fifty million dollars was transferred from an account of the Knights Templar to the account of . . . well, perhaps that had better remain secret.

It’s done, I thought.

Understood, Hermes said. I heard him clearly, even though he was halfway across the world . . . in the office of the manager of a bank in the New Hebrides. That it was only 6:00 AM was not enough to keep the manager from opening for such a wealthy client. The money rested in that bank for less than three minutes before it was transferred to another, and then another, until it was split among three charities we’d set up in the USA, Australia, and the United Kingdom.

By that time, I was back home, sans suit and tie, and waiting for the rest of the team.

“What will you do with the money?” Mars asked.

I did not have to think. “When the children we rescue are healed, they will need homes. Many were sold by their parents into slavery. Their parents will not want them back. The society in which they were born will not want them back. There may be a place for them in their world, but it will take time to find that place.

“Some of them have been exposed to dangerous things, things that have affected their brains. They may never completely be able to take care of themselves. They may live to adulthood being dependent upon others to care for them.

“That will require a great deal of money to ensure.

“Further, when we disrupt the cocaine trade we also disrupt the lives of peasants who harvest the leaves. We need to enable them to return to farming.

“Once we have interrupted the Chinese connection—and I’m not the least concerned about their economy—and the Mexican suppliers of crystal meth and cocaine, and the Columbian suppliers of cocaine, I intend to take on the opium and heroin trade. That will mean more people who need to turn to farming of something other than opium poppies.

“This will take years, and will require millions of dollars. I know of no better source than the bank accounts of those who have profited from this filth.

“Further,” I concluded, “we cannot simply take the money out of circulation.”

“Why not?” Mars asked.

“That reality’s economy is dependent on the circulation of money. Each time the money supply has dried up, the economy has nearly collapsed. There was something they called the dot-com bubble, in which artificial wealth vanished, money stopped moving, and the economy stagnated. There was the housing bubble, when money stopped moving, and the economy went into a deep recession. If we create a drug money bubble, the economy of the entire world might collapse: the carteles are a bigger business than any other, and their tentacles reach the entire world.

“No, we need to keep their money in circulation.”

Athena identified the remaining, and perhaps most critical problem. “You need allies in your reality. You need people you can trust, and who can operate openly in that reality. You need people who can spend huge sums of money to build orphanages, to—and I have no ideas on this—to convert farmers of cocoa and poppies into farmers of wheat and corn.”

“And we need to keep pressure on the carteles,” I said. “I want no ship from China bearing ephedrines to dock in the American continent. I want there to be continuous pressure on the manufacturing plants and transportation routes of the carteles.

“What have I overlooked?” I concluded.

The gods looked from one to the other. Their gazes seemed to settle on Athena, who chuckled, and then answered.

“You have overlooked nothing that a leader should have overlooked. You have established our mission, and the constraints upon us. You have given us something to live for, and a reason to remain in this plane of existence. We all salute you, and thank you.”

Chapter End Notes:

Sam Harris, cited above, is the author of several interesting books, including “Letter to a Christian Nation” and “Free Will.” I highly recommend both of these.