A Matter of Degrees

by Alex Marcoux

  “Rachel, this is what I’ve been working toward.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Steve.”

  “Look, the cruise is two weeks after my initiation. It’ll be a great way for us to digest what I learn in Washington.”

  “Washington? Washington, DC?” Rachel panicked when she realized that was where her father was going when his car plunged into the Chesapeake Bay.

  “Rachel, that’s where the Supreme Council is.”

  “Don’t go,” she said abruptly.

  Steve was taken aback with the way Rachel was acting. “I have to go, Rachel. I already responded to the invitation. The initiation is next month.”

  Chapter Four

  He walked the temple courtyard alone. It was dark; the sun from Ra had long set and without the moonlit rays from Thoth he would have been in complete darkness, like most Egyptians. To live in complete darkness would mean having no insight of Oneness with God, or no connection to the Light. He understood that Thoth’s light had been cast to help the chosen ones recall the original Light, the consciousness, the intuitive knowing. He had been a chosen one but today found no comfort in it.

  His heart was heavy, even burdened, as he continued his trek toward the sanctuary. Tall pillars bordered the passageway, supporting the high ceiling. As he moved further into the hypostyle the ceiling shielded the moonlight, leaving him in total darkness. But he knew his way and soon saw the glow from a torch that dressed the entry of the sanctuary.

  Once in the temple, torches lit the sacred area. He approached the walls, studying the colorful murals that reflected the gods and goddesses, serpents, and pharaohs. When he came upon the drawings portraying humankind’s creation he stopped.

  He understood the symbolism of creation. In the mural, the circle represented God’s consciousness and how God conceived first man in his image. To show the diversity of those who worship Ra, the scarab—representing the lowest form of life—along with the first human and the goddesses Isis and Nephthys worship the solar disk.

  He was sad as he glanced at the painting. He had pledged his silence when entering the Egyptian mystery schools and had mastered initiation after initiation. He learned to free the soul from his flesh and blood and found the mystery to eternal life. As a high priest, he had full knowledge of the mysteries along with mankind’s creation, and this is what haunted him.

  It is not right that the truth be kept from everyone, he thought. It is wrong to suppress the spirituality of humankind. All have a right to know who we are. His head ached. With his hands, he massaged his temples, then the base of his shaven skull.

  There was a stir from behind. He turned just in time to see the curved metallic blade plunge into his lower abdomen. Stunned from the horrendous pain, he stumbled. His eyes wandered to his white linen apron, which quickly soiled as blood streamed from his body. As he fell to his knees, the blade was pulled from within him, escalating his pain. He swiftly covered the wound with his hands, trying to prevent his life force from leaving, but the blood continued to seep through his fingers. He saw his rival leave. His cowardly assailant never looked back.

  The weakness deepened, and although his eyes remained open, darkness overcame him. Lifeless, his body fell on the stone floor.

  * * *

  “Oh, God!” Jessie gasped. Abruptly she sat up, completely disoriented. Her heart pounded wildly and instinctively she felt her stomach for blood, only to feel sweat. Beads of perspiration had also formed on her temples and beneath her long hair.

  From the moonlight filtering through a window, Jessie gathered that she was in her own bed. “It was just a dream,” she mumbled.

  There was a stir in the bed, beside her. “Jess? Are you okay?” Taylor whispered. When Jessie didn’t respond, Taylor sat up and wrapped her arms around her. “What’s wrong, Jess?” Her voice was slightly husky.

  Jessie sat wide-eyed and silent as her heart recovered from the nightmare.

  “Are you sick?” Taylor felt Jessie’s forehead. “You’re all clammy.”

  “It was just a bad dream,” she whispered. “Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.” Jessie threw off the comforter and started to get out of bed.

  “Where’re you going?”

  “I won’t be able to sleep now. I’m going to do a little work.”

  “Jessie, it’s one-thirty!”

  “I’m sorry I woke you.” Her eyes met Taylor’s familiar eyes. “You go back to sleep.” Jessie leaned over and kissed her gently. “I’m fine.”

  Jessie slipped on her robe, and descended the circular stairwell of her contemporary home. She was almost at the bottom when—

  Thump! Thump! The noise from behind her startled her. She turned to find Maxwell following her. She lifted the black cat. “You scared me,” she confided. The cat purred at the attention. “You can’t sleep either?”

  In the kitchen, Jessie brewed coffee. She poured herself a cup, sipped, then retreated to the sunroom, where she nestled in a loveseat with an old journal. She leafed through handwritten pages until she found a blank side, and then started to write. She wasn’t there but a moment when she felt eyes upon her. Movement from the sunroom entrance caused her to jump, just before she saw Taylor standing in the doorway.

  “Taylor, you scared me!”

  She approached and sat beside Jessie. “Are you okay?”

  Jessie smiled. “Sorry, I just had a bad dream.”

  Taylor eyed Jessie’s dream journal. “And you’re trying to interpret it?”

  “Just record it. I’m not sure I want to know what it means.”

  “What was your dream?” Taylor asked patiently.

  Jessie tried to collect her thoughts. “It was just strange, but it felt so real. I was a man and I think I was in ancient Egypt. I was upset about something. I think I was a priest and somebody stabbed me in the abdomen and I died. It just seemed so real.”

  Taylor understood why her partner was on edge. “Do you have any idea what it could mean?”

  “Blood usually means loss of energy.”

  “Is anything draining you right now?”

  Jessie shook her head and her long brown hair fell in her face. She pulled it from her brown eyes. “No. I don’t think so.”

  “What about your work?”

  Jessie Mercer was a novelist and screenwriter. Only months earlier, she had abandoned the sequel to Deceptions, one of her best-selling novels that had been made into a motion picture. She had been writing its sequel when the movie was released, and she started noticing similarities between the plot of Deceptions and her own life. It was then that she learned that she was precognitive, able to psychically sense future events. Taylor and Jessie found themselves drawn into a web of treachery, deception, and murder. Fearful that the Deceptions sequel was also a glimpse into her own future, Jessie abandoned the project and had since been brainstorming new stories.

  “I’ve been researching and outlining a couple different stories. After our Salem experience, I’m a little gun-shy about what to write.”

  “What are you working on?”

  “I have two ideas for novels, the first is about aliens that live among us.”

  “Aliens?” Taylor’s big blue eyes beamed in disbelief. “I didn’t realize you wanted to break into sci-fi.”

  “I’m not sure that I do, but it’s just something I’m considering.”

  “Is that what you’re researching?”

  “No. I haven’t started that project, yet. I’m working on another story about the Trilateral Commission, Council on Foreign Relations, and the Bilderbergers.”

  “What are they?”

  “They’re modern-day secret societies. One of the ultimate conspiracy theories is that these groups actually rule the world. I thought it’d make an interesting story.”

  “My God, Jess! If that’s not energy draining, what is?”

  Jessie smiled. “You’re probably right. The research is exhausting. Do you think that’s what
my dream refers to?”

  “I don’t know. What’s your story about?”

  “It’s about a TV reporter who gets tangled up in a web of conspiracy with these secret groups and, of course, has to save the world from the bad guys.”

  Taylor smiled and she shook her head. “Where do you come up with these ideas? Have you talked with Steve about it? We just spent Easter weekend with him, did you tell him what you were working on?”

  A smile came to Jessie’s lips, creating a solo dimple on her left cheek. She shook her head. “I don’t want Steve to think his sister has gone off the deep end. Besides, he seemed to have a lot on his mind this trip.”

  “So which story are you working on first?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe both. With you leaving next week, you won’t be around to distract me, so I should be able to crank out two books this year.”

  Taylor Andrews was a successful singer and actress. She was under new management, and since she had taken too much time off the previous year, her new manager suggested a world tour. She was scheduled to be out of the country the rest of the year.

  Taylor rested her head against Jessie’s shoulder, and Jessie held her. She stroked Taylor’s long dark hair away from her attractive face, so that their eyes could meet. She kissed her forehead softly. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll be fine.”

  “I would prefer to stay here with you.”

  Jessie reached for the afghan that hung from the back of the loveseat and spread it over Taylor. She took Taylor in her arms, and the two snuggled together until Ra’s sunrays fell upon the San Gabriel Mountains.

  Chapter Five

  That Friday Rachel and Steve stood awkwardly across from each other, avoiding eye contact, while waiting for a conference room. Steve’s hands were plunged deep within his pants’ pockets, and Rachel shuffled through the papers she carried. A strain had developed between them because of Steve’s invitation to the thirty-third degree, and Rachel had refused to meet him on subsequent weekends.

  Later during the meeting, Steve took a major blow to his ego when Neil Samson announced that Rachel would replace Henry Schafer the following season. After the meeting, Steve cornered Neil, preventing him from leaving the room. “I was surprised by Rachel’s promotion.” Steve’s eyes penetrated Neil’s, demanding an answer.

  “Steve, the latest focus group suggests that the existing anchors are too testosterone heavy. We wouldn’t solve the problem if we put you there. Don’t worry, I hear the boys upstairs have something bigger and better lined up for you.”

  On the way home from work that day, Rachel’s cell phone rang. She hesitated to answer when she recognized Steve’s number on the display. “Hi,” was all she could say.

  “Congratulations.”

  She smiled. “Are you okay? I think I was just as surprised as you.”

  “I’m fine. Honest.” Steve sounded sincere.

  There was an uncomfortable pause. “Are you on your way to DC?”

  “I’m driving down tomorrow. Can I call you when I get back?”

  Memories of Rachel’s past flooded back to her. She recalled losing her father during his trip to DC. She had developed a newfound friendship with Steve and didn’t want to sound superstitious. “Can I dissuade you from going?”

  “I would have to give you an ‘A’ for effort. The initiation and ceremonies run from Sunday through Wednesday morning. Can I call you when I head back?”

  “Of course. Be careful, okay?”

  “I promise. Talk with you next week.”

  In that moment, Rachel realized just how much she felt for Steve. Indeed, she loved him. “Good-bye, Steve.”

  * * *

  That Saturday evening, after Steve had settled into his hotel room, he called his sister.

  “Hello,” Jessie answered.

  “Hi, Jessie.

  “Steve? How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Did I catch you and Taylor at a bad time?”

  “No! Taylor left Wednesday for her world tour. I was just working on a new project, and your call is a welcome distraction.”

  “What are you working on, now?”

  “Actually…two projects. But neither one seems to be working. They just don’t feel right.”

  “What are they about?”

  “One of them I call Among Us, and it’s my first shot at science fiction. It’s about aliens walking among us. The second is The Ultimate Conspiracy, and that’s a suspense thriller about a group of individuals that control the world through secret societies. And of course, a protagonist is trying to save the world. Only…” Jessie hesitated. “I just finished the outline, and my protagonist fails.”

  “She doesn’t save the world? Well, that’s a horrible ending. Change it!” The Ultimate Conspiracy? He marveled at the coincidence between Jessie’s story and the drama he had become wrapped up in.

  “I’ll work on the ending, but what can I help you with Steve?”

  “I’m going to be in LA in July for a conference. I just wanted to get my reservations in early.”

  “You know you’re welcome anytime, Steve.”

  * * *

  On Sunday morning, Steve arrived at the House of the Temple. He had heard from the brethren how impressive the structure was, but words did not do it justice. The building stood high above Sixteenth Street, downtown DC. Two sphinxlike creatures bordered an expansive stairway leading to the entrance.

  Before Steve scaled the stairway, he moved to one of the sphinxes. The granite lion had a man’s head. His neck was entwined with a cobra and decorated with an ancient Egyptian symbol, the ankh. Steve journeyed up the granite stairs. The absence of windows made the building cold and uninviting.

  High above the entrance was a series of huge pillars. As Steve walked closer he realized that an image was concealed behind the columns. Moving his line of vision he saw the illustration of Ra, the Egyptian sun god, bordered by six snakes.

  Steve continued toward the lofty bronze doors. Carved in the stone in front of the doorway were two Egyptian swords with winding blades. In between the blades, brass letters set in the stone revealed “The Temple of the Supreme Council of the Thirty-Third and Last Degree of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite.” Above the bronze doors, etched in stone was “Freemasonry Builds Its Temples in the Hearts of Men and Among Nations.”

  As Steve finished reading, he felt sick to his stomach. He knew that his life would never be the same. He drew near the door and felt the hair stand on the back of his neck as he tapped the lion’s head door-knocker three times.

  * * *

  It was close to two that Wednesday afternoon when Rachel’s cell phone rang. She inserted the earphone into her ear and pressed the answer button as she made her way toward her office. “Rachel Addison.”

  “We need to see each other as soon as possible.”

  Rachel ducked into her office and closed the door. She barely recognized his voice, “Steve? Is that you?”

  “Rachel…it’s big. It’s bigger than you can imagine. It’s the ultimate conspiracy…My God, it’s going to change everything…Don’t trust anyone, do you understand?”

  “Are you okay, Steve?”

  “I’m going home. I need to get some things, and then I’m heading to the cabin. It’ll be late by the time I get there. Probably close to midnight…Meet me there. A spare key is under the planter on the deck. Please meet me there,” he whispered.

  “I will. I promise.”

  Chapter Six

  Jessie was stuck. She had worked all week on her new project but the story just wasn’t coming together. Piles of paper and books cluttered her desk along with two empty coffee mugs and a crumpled bag of tortilla chips. She had never experienced writer’s block this bad. Stepping away from her desk, she paced her office, brainstorming ideas for a new ending of her conspiracy novel.

  The forty-two-year-old glanced at the framed book-covers hanging on the walls for inspiration. Her eyes settled on Beyond Paradise and Decept
ions. Both had made the New York Times Bestseller List and were made into motion pictures. Deceptions was the easiest novel she had written. She suspected that The Ultimate Conspiracy would be the most challenging. Jessie lifted a mug from her desk and was about to fetch another cup of coffee when the phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Is Jessie Mercer there?” a man asked.

  “Who’s calling, please?”

  “This is Detective Hopkins from the Scarsdale Police Department.”

  Jessie felt a lump in her throat. “This is Jessie Mercer. How can I help you?”

  “I have some bad news, I’m afraid. It’s about your brother, Steve. There’s no easy way to say this…I’m sorry. Your brother is dead.”

  Jessie couldn’t speak. She closed her eyes and darkness came upon her.

  “Miss Mercer, are you okay?”

  “How?” she whispered. “What happened?”

  “The preliminary evidence suggests suicide. He shot himself.”

  “Suicide? Is this some type of sick joke? My brother wouldn’t have killed himself. Are you sure it’s him?”

  “He has been positively identified. He left a note…to you. Does he have any family members here in New York?”

  “Our parents have passed on. I have some relatives, upstate. Where is he?”

  “He’s at the medical examiners’ now. They’ll need to hear from you. Will you be coming back East to make arrangements?”

  Jessie fought to hold back the tears. She bit her lip hoping the pain would take her mind off her grief. Once satisfied that she was in control, “Yes, of course. I have some things I need to tend to here. I’ll try to get out tomorrow morning.”

  “Call me when you settle in, I’ll give you an update on the investigation then.”

  Jessie took the detective’s phone number then rested the handset on the cradle. Stunned by the news, she stared at the phone. How could this have happened? Her eyes wandered to a button on the answering machine, and she pressed “play.” A digital voice spoke, “You have one old message.”