Lemuria, Burt Clinchandhill [adventure books to read .TXT] 📗

Since the map is printed and not drawn by hand, that wouldn’t be likely. So, if there’s anything off on the map....”

“It would have been added.” Bishop nodded.

“Exactly,” Lindsey agreed.

Bishop took the map from the ground and put in on his lap.

“So we’re looking for something added to the map,” Ignatowski said while he and Lindsey moved in, closer to Bishop. “This thing is full of lines, colors and text.”

“I agree.” Lindsey sighed. “If anything was added, it could take days before we find it. The best way to find it is to place another copy of the map next to it.”

For the next three minutes, they drank their coffee in silence, staring at the map on Bishop’s lap.

“We need to think in the way that someone who would leave a message would think.”

“Huh?” Ignatowski scratched his head. “Bugs,” he complained.

“Well, if you were here and you wanted to leave a message on this map and, let’s assume that you wouldn’t want anyone else to notice your message immediately. How would you do it?”

Ignatowski frowned. “Why would you think the intent was not to let anyone recognize the message?”

Lindsey looked him straight in the eye. “Because, otherwise, that person would have written the message on the paper.”

Ignatowski shook his head. “Sorry. Not quite awake, I guess.”

“Wait one second,” Bishop called out, and he turned the drawing over and looked at the blank back.

“What are you looking for?” Lindsey asked as Bishop turned the paper at various angles into the sunlight. He tilted his head against the light, closed one eye, and lay his head almost flat on the paper, looking over it. “What?” Lindsey insisted.

Bishop kept silent as if zoned out. He stretched his arm over the paper, carefully feeling the paper structure underneath his finger. Somewhere in the middle, he stopped and took a deep breath. Keeping his finger locked in place, he turned the rustling paper back over again. With his other hand, he now searched for his finger under the paper. Where he found his finger, he stopped.

“Here.” He pointed at the paper.

They looked at the place where Bishop slowly removed his finger from the map. Almost simultaneously, they moved their heads closer to the spot.

“How?” Ignatowski asked.

“Simple,” Bishop replied. “If someone added something to the map, they would probably have done it with a pen or a pencil. The force of the pen would leave an imprint on the other side. This is the only place on the back with an imprint.”

“Where is that?” Lindsey looked closer.

“It’s an island in Indonesia,” Bishop concluded. “There’s no text added to the islands, but there is something else added to it. What is it?”

“Is that an F or...?” Ignatowski remarked.

“An A, or J, perhaps?” Lindsey asked. “Or a T, maybe?”

“Could be any one of those,” Bishop concluded, looking over the rest of the map. “There’s no single letter anywhere else on the map, only full names and numbers. We must be on the right track.”

“May I?” Ignatowski asked, reaching for the map.

“Sure.” Bishop gave him the map.

“What is it, Iggy?” Lindsey asked him.

Ignatowski moved his finger over the map surrounding the island with the single letter, and mumbled, “Malaysia, Borneo, Sumatra, Java.” He tapped his finger on the map. “It must be Java.”

“How do you know?” Bishop asked.

“My mother was born in Indonesia, in Cimahi, to be precise, on Java.” He grinned.

“Great,” Lindsey spoke. “Now, we only need to know what’s so special on Java with an F, A, J, or T.”

Bishop chuckled, turning the heads of Lindsey and Ignatowski. “Haeckel, evolution, Java, and something with a letter. I think I have the answer. The letter must be the T, and that can only mean one thing: Trinil.”

Chapter 9 – The Space

Granite Bay, CA, The Present

Mulder had the Logynous headquarters on Park Road in Granite Bay, California, built close to his parents’ home and right on top of Folsom Lake, where he and his parents often camped during summer weekends, after they immigrated to the U.S. In his own words, he bought the two-hundred-acre piece of land for a steal at an estimated $150 million. In two and a half years and $5 billion later, Mulder had the five-story, more than one mile across perfectly circular structure built. Today, the 310,000-square-foot building houses eight cafés, with seating for over five thousand employees, serving up to fifteen thousand lunches a day. The theater seats fifteen hundred guests, and the two wellness centers could serve up to two thousand people a day. Cars parked underground. Mulder had made a promise to the broader community to keep the vehicles out of sight from the lake.

From the lakeside, the green concrete circular structure could hardly be seen through the tree line of over one hundred thousand blue oak trees, right behind the lake’s shore. Most of the trees were re-planted from where they’d been removed, in order to create construction land for the new headquarters. On the inside of the circle, extensive gardens full of fruit trees and vegetables, served the restaurants inside the building, making it self-sufficient in food production. Inside the gardens was a small park. In the exact center of the building, below a round black roof, a vending stall made fresh smoothies. From the air, the black top looked just like a pupil giving the Logynous headquarters the nickname ‘The Eye.’

One other thing stood out. Mulder had demanded that on exactly every quarter of the compass, a five hundred-square-foot playground was constructed, complete with X-boxes, air hockey tables, table tennis, and virtual reality setups.

Now, on any given day, over fifteen thousand employees could be found inside the building. But never at night. Unlike his predecessors, E-Tech moguls, Mulder claimed to take good care of his workers, and at night the building was in complete lockdown. No one—except a handful of staff—was allowed inside the building at night. It was mandatory to distance yourself from your work during out of office hours. Overtime was out of the question. If you