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The Nazca plateau in southern Peru is a barren desert, 40 miles long and six miles wide. It is a desolate, unforgiving flatland, a dead zone cradled by the Andes Mountains. It also happens to have extraordinarily unique geology in that Nazca's -underlying soil contains high levels of gypsum, a natural adhesive. Remoistened each day by the morning dew, the gypsum literally keeps the indigenous iron and silica stones that proliferate in the desert glued to its surface. These dark pebbles retain the sun's heat, giving rise to a protective shield of warm air that virtually eliminates the effects of the wind. It also makes the plateau one of the driest places on Earth, receiving less than an inch of rain every decade.

  For the artist wishing to express himself on the grandest of scales, the Nazca plateau becomes the perfect canvas, for what is drawn upon this plateau tends to stay there. Yet it was not until a pilot flew overhead in 1947 that modem man first discovered the mysterious drawings and geometric lines carved upon this Peruvian landscape thousands of years ago.

  Then an more than 13,000 lines crossing the Nazca desert A few of these markings extend for distances exceeding five miles, stretching over rough terrain while miraculously remaining perfectly straight. Although some would like to believe the lines represent prehistoric runways for ancient astronauts, we now know them to be astronomically aligned, marking the positions of the winter solstice, the equinox, the constellation Orion, and perhaps other heavenly bodies as yet unbeknownst to us.

  More bizarre are the hundreds of icons illustrating animals. At ground level, these colossal zoomorphs appear only as random indentations made by the scraping away of tons of black volcanic pebbles to expose the yellow gypsum below. But when viewed from high in the air, the Nazca drawings come alive, representing a unified artistic vision and engineering achievement that has survived unscathed for thousands of years.

  The artwork of the Nazca plateau was completed at two very distinct time intervals. Although it seems contrary to our notion of evolution, it is the earlier drawings that are by far the superior. These include the monkey, the spider, the pyramid, and the serpent. Not only are the likenesses incredibly accurate, but the figures themselves, most larger than a football field, were each drawn using one continuous, unbroken line.

  Who were the mysterious artists who created these desert images? How were they able to accomplish such a magnificent feat on such a grand scale? More importantly- what was their motivation for carving the figures into the plateau in the first place?

  It was in the summer of 1972 that Maria, Pierre, and I first arrived in this wretched South American desert. At the time we weren't at all interested in the drawings, our intent being simply to determine the relationship between the elongated skulls of Mesoamerica and those found in Nazca. I can still recall my first week working on the plateau-swearing at the vile Peruvian sun which tortured me on a daily basis, blistering my face and arms. If you had told me then that I would eventually return to this purgatory of sand and rock to live out the rest of my days, I'd have thought you insane.

  Insane.

  I struggle to even write the cursed word. By now, many of you may question whether you are reading the accounts of a scientist or madman. I must confess, not a day goes by that I don't debate the very issue myself. If I have lost my mind, then it was Nazca that did the deed, her incessant heat causing my brain to swell, her unforgiving surface pounding the arthritis into my bones for decades. Any chance of attaining inner peace fled the day I condemned my family to that desert. I pray Michael forgives me for raising him in that hellhole, and for the other childhood unjustness I brought to bear upon his tortured soul.

  From the summer of '72 to the winter of '74, our little trio toiled in Nazca, unearthing hundreds of deformed skulls found in ceremonial burial grounds heated close to the Andes Mountains. A thorough examination of each skull revealed that the defamations had been caused by the strapping of wooden boards across the child's head at an early age.

  It was in January of '74 that we discovered a royal burial ground, situated dose to the Andes Mountains. The walls of this incredible tomb were made of enormous columns of rock, each weighing between 10 and 20 tons. Within the subterranean chamber were g male mummies, each possessing an elongated skull. Our excitement reached new levels after extensive X-rays and other tests revealed that the deceased, like the La Venta skull Maria had found, had achieved the shape of their skull purely as a result of genetics!

  Discovering a new race of men proved to be as controversial as startling. Upon hearing of our find, Peru's president ordered all of our artifacts placed in a basement vault of the Archaeological Museum in lca, away from public viewing. (To this day, the skulls can only be seen by special invitation.)

  Who was this mysterious race? What caused them to be born with skulls twice that of normal size?

  We know the first people to arrive in the Andean region were hunters and fishermen who settled along the Peruvian coastline sometime around 10,000 BC. Then, around 400 BC, another group arrived on the Nazca plateau. We know little about these mysterious people, other than they referred to their leaders as the Viracochas, demigods who were said to have migrated to South America just after the Great Flood. The Viracochas were described as pale-skinned wise men with deep, ocean blue eyes and flowing white beards and hair. These ancient rulers apparently possessed superior intelligence and larger than normal craniums, their bizarre appearance no doubt influencing their followers to practice the art of skull deformation in an attempt to emulate their royal leaders.

  The physical resemblance between the Viracochas and the great Mayan teacher, Kukulcan, is too incredible to ignore. The fact that a tall, bearded Caucasian also appears in the legends of numerous other ancient Andean cultures provides further clues of a link between Mesoamerican Indians and those of South America.

  The most dominant Indian civilization to rise out of the mountainous jungles of South America were the Inca. Like the Maya, they too worshiped a great teacher, a wise man who advanced his people through the teachings of science, agriculture, and architecture. Although we now know that most feats credited to Inca ingenuity actually originated from earlier ethnic groups, written accounts tell us it was this bearded Caucasian who inspired the creation of the great Inca roadways as well as the famous agricultural terraces built along steep mountain slopes. The bearded one is also believed to have been the artist who created the older, more sophisticated drawings of Nazca. Although he is known by different names among various Andean cultures, the Inca worshiped him simply as Viracocha, meaning foam from the sea.

  Like Kukulcan among the Maya and Quetzalcoatl to the Aztecs, Viracocha is the most revered figure in Inca history. Were the Viracochas of 400 BC his ancestors? Could he be a distant relative of Kukulcan? If so, does his presence in ancient South America have anything to do with the Mayan calendar and its forecast of doom?

  Seeking answers, we abandoned the Nazca desert and headed for the Andes Mountains, intent on exploring two ancient sites believed to have been created by the Inca deity. The first of these was the fortress of Sacsayhuaman, a monstrous structure erected just north of Cuzco. Like the royal tomb, the walls of this mind-boggling citadel are composed of giant irregularly shaped granite boulders which have miraculously been fitted so perfectly together that I could not wedge the edge of my pocketknife between the stones.

  It strains the imagination to think how the Andean Indians were able to transport stones weighing 100 tons or more over ten miles of mountainous terrain from their distant quarry, then fit them perfectly into place along the fortification. (One 28-foot-high monster weighs in excess of 700,000 pounds.) Archaeologists, still struggling to explain away this unfathomable feat, have attempted to duplicate a small fraction of Viracocha's legacy by transporting one medium-sized boulder from a distant quarry using advanced engineering principles and a small army of volunteers. To this day, every undertaking has failed miserably.

  We know the fortress of Sacsayhuaman was erected to protect its inhabitants from hostile
forces. The true purpose behind the design of Viracocha's other structure, the ancient Andean city of Tiahuanaco, still remains a mystery.

  Situated 12,500 feet above the Pacific in the Andean Mountains of Bolivia, the ruins of Tiahuanaco rest on the ancient shoreline of Lake Titicaca, the highest body of navigable water in the world. After examining the impossible engineering feats at Sacsayhuaman, I would have sworn that nothing henceforth would surprise me. Despite this, the site of Tiahuanaco was simply overwhelming. The ground plan of this ancient city consists of three limestone temples and four other structures, all set on a series of raised platforms and sunken rectangles. As in Sacsayhuaman, the majority of construction consists of impossibly large boulders fitted together perfectly.

  But there is clearly more to Tiahuanaco than meets the eye. A hidden agenda is present here-an agenda that may relate to the very salvation of our species.

  Dominating the city is the remains of the Akapana, a step pyramid whose four directionally oriented sides each measure 690 feet. The purpose of Akapana, alas, must remain a mystery as the invading Spanish used the structure as a quarry, robbing the temple of 90 percent of its facing.

  The most wondrous structure in Tiahuanaco is the Gate of the Sun, a single, massive block of stone weighing 100 tons. This mammoth work of art stands in the northwest comer of the complex like some prehistoric Arc de Triomphe. Somehow, its creator managed to transport this enormous block of stone from a quarry miles away, carve out a perfect portal of a door using Cod knows what kind of tool, then vertically align the piece into place.

  Giant pillars proliferate in the city. At the center of a sunken, rectangular open-air pit stands a seven-foot-tall red rock carving of Viracocha himself. The elongated skull is present, as well as the prominent forehead, thin straight nose, and the beard-covered jawline. The arms and hands are folded. A final feature worth mentioning: Rising along either side of the wise man's robe are two serpents, similar to those depicted throughout Mesoamerica.

  The most controversial structure of Tiahuanaco is the Kalasasaya, a sunken temple located in the center of the city, surrounded by huge walls. Twelve-foot-high stone blocks have been erected within its confines. Although Pierre concluded that the Kalasasaya had to have been a fortress, Maria believed otherwise, recognizing the alignment of the erect, monolithic blocks as being similar to those found at Stonehenge.

  As usual, Maria turned out to be correct. The Kalasasaya is not a fortress but a celestial observatory, perhaps the oldest in the world.

  So what does all this mean?

  Five years out of Cambridge, my fellow archaeologists and I had found overwhelming evidence indicating a superior race of Caucasians had influenced the development of both the Mesoamerican and South American Indians. These bearded men, possessing genetically deformed skulls, had somehow designed and overseen the construction of magnificent monuments, the purpose of which still baffled us.

  Maria was convinced that the design of the Kalasasaya observatory was too close to that of Stonehenge to be a mere coincidence. She believed that it was imperative that we continue following the trail of this Caucasian race and their ancient wisdom east to see when it would lead.

  Pierre Borgia was not happy about this. Two years at Nazca had been more than enough to satiate his appetite for archaeology, and he was being pressured by his well-to-do family to return to the States to pursue a political career. The problem was that he loved Maria, in fact, the two of them had planned to wed in the spring.

  As much as she cared for Pierre, Maria was not ready to give up her quest to resolve the Mayan prophecy, insisting that we continue to follow the bearded ones' ancient trail to Stonehenge.

  The thought of returning to England was all the enticement we needed, and so I booked us passage and we flew on to the next kg of our journey, one I knew was destined to break up our little triumvirate forever.

  -Excerpt from the journal of Professor Julius Gabriel,

  Ref. Catalogue 1972-75 pages 6-412

  Photo Journal Floppy Disk 2: File name: NAZCA, Photo 109

  Chapter 10

  OCTOBER 26, 2012

  SANIBEL ISLAND, FLORIDA

  SUNDAY, 5:20 A.M.

  Doll, wake up! Dominique opens her eyes, yawning. What's wrong?

  Iz wants you down in the lab. SOSUS located something.

  Adrenaline pumping, she kicks off the blanket and follows Edie down the back staircase to the acoustics lab.

  Iz is seated at his SOSUS terminal, headphones on, his back to her. Dominique notices the sound system is recording data.

  He swings around in his chair to face her. She sees he is dressed only in a bathrobe and slippers. Tufts of his thinning charcoal gray hair stand wildly on end around the headphones. The serious expression on his face stifles her laugh.

  I checked the system last night before I went to bed. The only unusual thing SOSUS had located was what we call a 'dead zone,' an area devoid of marine life. This in itself isn't that unusual. The Gulf experiences annual dead zones every summer when plankton blooms created by fertilizer runoff deprive the water of oxygen. But those dead zones usually occur off the coast of Texas and Louisiana, and never in water this deep. Anyway, I reprogrammed SOSUS to concentrate on this area and left the system on search mode all night. The alarm went off about fifteen minutes ago. Iz removes the headphones and hands them to her. Listen to this.

  She hears static, like the zapping sound a fluorescent tube makes before it shorts out. Sounds like white noise.

  That's what I said. Keep listening. Iz changes the setting to a higher frequency.

  The white noise disappears. Now Dominique hears an incessant, metallic thumping sound. Wow. It sounds like hydraulics.

  Iz nods. Ask your mother, I said the same thing. In fact, I thought SOSUS had picked up a submarine resting on the bottom. Then I rechecked the location. Iz hands her a computer printout. The acoustics aren't coming from the seafloor, they're coming from below the seafloor. Four thousand, six hundred and eighty feet below the seafloor, to be exact.

  Dominique's heart is thumping like a kettledrum. But how's that possible-

  You tell me! What am I listening to, Dominique? Is this a joke, because if it is-

  Iz, stop talking nonsense. Edie places a reassuring arm around Dominique's waist. Dom had no idea what you'd find. The information was given to her by, well, by a friend.

  Who's this friend? I want to meet him.

  Dominique rubs the sleep from her eyes. You can't.

  Why not? Ead, what's going on here?

  Dominique glances at Edie, who nods. He's-he's a former patient of mine.

  Iz looks from Dominique to his wife, then back to Dominique. Your friend's a mental patient? Oy vey-

  Iz, what difference does it make? Something's out there, right? We need to investigate-

  Slow down, kiddo. I can't just contact the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and tell them that I located hydraulic sounds originating a mile below the Campeche shelf. The first thing they're going to want to know is how I discovered the acoustics in the first place. What am I supposed to tell them-that some looney-tune gave my daughter the coordinates from his cell in Miami.

  Would it make a difference if Stephen Hawking gave you the coordinates?

  Yes, actually it would, it would make a huge difference. Iz rubs his forehead. The old bull in a china shop routine doesn't work anymore, Dominique, at least not when it comes to SOSUS. About three years ago, I used the system to detect vibrations originating from beneath the Gulf floor that sounded exactly like a sea quake. Iz shakes his head at the memory. You tell her, Ead.

  Edie smiles. Your father thought we were minutes away from getting hit by a major tsunami. He panicked and ordered the Coast Guard to evacuate all the beaches.

  Turns out I had the system set too high. What I thought were sea quakes was actually the phone company dredging cable sixty miles offshore. I felt like a goddam moron. I called in a lot of favors to get our stati
on hooked up to SOSUS. I can't afford another screwup like the last one.

  So you're not going to investigate?

  Now, I didn't say that. What I'll do is start a bible and continue to record and monitor the area closely, but I'm not going to contact any federal agency until I'm absolutely certain that this discovery of yours warrants it.

  Miami, Florida

  10:17 P.M.

  Mick Gabriel is sitting on the edge of his bed, rocking silently. His black eyes are vacant, his lips slightly parted. A thin string of saliva drools from his unshaven chin.

  Tony Barnes enters Mick's room. The male orderly has just returned from a three-week suspension. Trick or treat, vegetable. Time for your nightly shot. He lifts Mick's limp right arm from his lap and inspects the series of purple contusions appearing along the anterior forearm.

  Ah, fuck it. The orderly jabs the needle into the arm, injecting the Thorazine into an already butchered vein.

  Mick's eyes roll upward as his body falls forward, collapsing in a heap at the orderly's feet.

  The orderly prods Mick's head with the toe of his sneaker. He glances over his shoulder to verify they are alone, then licks Mick's ear.

  Barnes hears Marvis making his rounds. Pleasant dreams, girlfriend. He hurries out.

  The door double-clicks shut. The lights in the pod dim.

  Mick's eyes open.

  He staggers to the sink and washes his face and ear with cold water. Cursing under his breath, he presses a thumb to the bleeding, bruised vein. Then, feeling the haze closing in around him, he slumps painfully to his knees and takes up a push-up position.

  For the next two hours, Mick forces his body through an agonizing ritual of calisthenics. Push-ups, sit-ups, jumping jacks, running in place-anything to keep his metabolism racing, anything to burn off the tranquilizer before it can overwhelm his central nervous system.