by K. T. Tomb
Mark pointed to the wall that had been hidden from them when the trapdoor had been down earlier. Sure enough, Chyna could see the outline of a lever. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled it. The trapdoor fell.
“Come on!” Mark climbed up and stretched his hand, “Take my hand!”
Chyna felt weak and dizzy, but she collected her strength, mustered up the courage and jumped with all of her might, latching on. However, as soon as Mark started to pull her up, she felt a hand wrap around her ankle.
The Masons had caught up.
“Damn it!” Chyna cursed. With abandon, she kicked and flailed. “Mark!”
Her Finnish companion looked panicked and strained, and she knew he would not be able to hold on much longer. The last thing she wanted was to fall prey to the Masons. With the bow clutched in her hand and the other holding on to Mark, Chyna heaved. She looked at the one-eyed Man, who was trying his damndest to pull her down, and kicked him right in the face.
Let his other eye fall out, she thought maliciously.
One Eye wasn’t expecting the attack. As soon as Chyna’s boot hit his face, he keeled over. That was when Chyna saw her opportunity. She pushed one last time and before she knew it, she was out of the hole and she and Mark collapsed onto the church floor.
Mark didn’t give her a chance to breathe, he stood up and pulled her to her feet and all but dragged her down the stairs. Chyna knew it was all the lack of oxygen from being in a cave below the ground that was making her head spin, but somehow she gained some strength mid run and caught up. Behind them, the Masons and One Eye were starting to pour out of the ground. But they were far enough behind for Chyna and Mark to outrun them, and Chyna thought that they couldn’t exactly make a scene in the city.
They were only a few feet away from the cathedral’s main door when it swung open, and for the first time in days, Chyna felt a glimmer of hope. She couldn’t, however, for the life of her understand why it had somehow come with somebody she had never hoped to see.
Tony… and the Illuminati.
***
“Tony...”
Chyna’s words weren’t much more than a whisper as she and Mark came to a halt, as did the Masons behind them. The two were surrounded and the relief that surged through Chyna at the sight of Tony had washed away her fatigue and dizziness. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness she felt at the silence in the church. And there was something distinctly different about him, something—Chyna was almost afraid to say the word—sinister.
“Chyna,” Tony sneered at her.
Yes, something was definitely wrong. This was not his usual demeanor. She looked over his shoulder to the people who stood behind him. There was no mistaking who they were. Chyna almost couldn’t believe her eyes, but no, the All-Seeing Eye on their red robes was too well known to be mistaken for anything else. They were, much to Chyna’s disbelief, members of the Illuminati.
With a growing sense of fear and suspicion, Chyna narrowed her eyes. “Tony, what’s going on?”
Chyna’s stomach dropped when she saw the look on Tony’s face; he just seemed to be looking right through her. They were not the eyes of the man she had known for fifteen years; the man in front of her was a stranger. When she saw him reach for his gun, her fears were validated. There was a hell of a lot of back story missing here. Instinctively, Chyna drew the SIG from its holster, handed Mark the bow and raised her arms to shoulder height, putting Tony in her sights.
“Shit, Chyna,” Tony hissed but he looked far from fazed or repentant or… anything at all. “I was kind of hoping for another way to do this, but... remember the story about the mole? You must have figured by now that it was me.”
All of the breath left Chyna’s body as she processed his words. Beside her, Mark was a statue. It was a complete turn of events, and a grim one at that.
“Wha... I don’t understand... You’re an FBI agent. All these years, we’ve…” Chyna murmured, allowing her words to trail off. She was speechless.
“Yes, I figured you wouldn’t. How many times have I told you over the years, Babe? For such a ridiculously smart woman, you sure can be stupid at times.” Tony, the stranger, smiled at her, but there was nothing warm and compassionate about the gesture. “I’m an Illuminatus. And this,” he mentioned to the group, “is our society... well, some of it at least.”
Chyna felt sick to her core.
“You see, the Illuminati, the earlier generation that is, swallowed up the Schlaraffia way back in 1946, just after the war. I mean, how could we not? They were just a bunch of stupid men who thought that art and poetry and that other shit was worth risking their necks to preserve and develop. Yes, yes, it may have been important at the time, but times have changed now, Chyna!”
Tony was suddenly using hand gestures to make his point, something that he had never done before and Chyna began to truly doubt whether she had ever really known him.
Facades are not hard to maintain, Chyna. All you need are the right incentives. His words came back to hit her like a ton of bricks.
“There’s no need for the protection of knowledge and shit like that now; not in the modern age of technology we live in. Information is finally king and the Illuminati almost became obsolete holding on to that as their main purpose. That’s Apple and Microsoft’s job now; we’ve left that to the Internet. It’s all about power and the procurement of the treasures of the past, and it’s here, with us. We’re the new Illuminati—revised, revamped but still true to our values!”
His superfluous words were just a jumble in Chyna’s mind, just like the situation at hand. For all she knew, Tony had her heart in his hand and was crushing it as he spoke. There was a pain rising inside of her and she almost wished for the dizziness to come back so she could forget it. But then her training and her instinct kicked in and Chyna leveled the gun at Tony’s chest and lowered her chin to her arm to get him back into her sights.
“I see you have the Ivory Bow,” he commented, looking over at Mark, then he turned back to her and shook his head slowly. “Always taking things that don’t belong to you, aren’t you? Hand it over, Mr. Gunnar and lower your gun, Chyna. It’s not like you’ll ever work up the nerve to shoot me.”
Did he just say something to her? Or was it her imagination, a trick of her mind?
“Do it!” he yelled at the both of them. “Don’t make me sic my friend back there on you.”
“What the hell?” Mark was the first of the duo to break the silence. “One Eye works for you?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?” The feigned innocence was starting to wear off. “Yes, he does. He is a Freemason, though. We’re supposed to be enemies, but who cares when you have mutual interests, right? Oh, and I sorta let them know that you were after the bow all this time, so...” Tony trailed off.
Betrayal: that was what this pain was—pure, hideous, unadulterated betrayal. Chyna’s heart felt like it had been constricted and then exploded without warning. The blood inside her surged and wept at the sight of the monster she had come so close to loving completely. It had all been a lie; everything had been a mirage, covering up the blackness and ugliness that was showing through now.
He had expected her to be crushed, yes, but she would prove him wrong. She felt as if her heart was expanding in her chest filling her up completely from the inside. She had only felt that way once before.
It had been in Israel, ten years before as she had undergone three months of intensive training with a female platoon of Mossad soldiers. Their specialty had been shooting; more specifically, sniper fire. Her platoon leader had lain on the ground right beside Chyna and whispered in her ear as she made the adjustments to her gun that the shot guide gave her.
“Make your adjustments and steady your rifle. When the target is in your crosshairs, take a deep breath and hold it. When it feels like the air has completely filled your body and all you can hear is the beating of your own heart… pull the trigger so you can breathe again.”
&
nbsp; It was the woman’s words that resonated with her now, and the memory gave her a new strength. This time, the silence was broken by Chyna Stone.
“It was you. You killed Emilijus and Ethan. You set us up and told those thugs where to find us. You are the reason an entire city is burning right now and its citizens are ignited in the throes of a possible hate war. You are a murderer!” she screamed at the man she had once thought she loved. The thought left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth now.
“I am just a man who makes the most of his means.” Tony was unfazed. “Now, hand the bow over, and maybe I won’t kill you.”
“I’ll hurt you before I let that happen!” Mark suddenly said.
Chyna settled her chin into the muscle of her forearm and took aim. The breath filled her body and she stood there waiting. She knew immediately that Mark had spoken at the wrong time. Before he could blink, a shot rang out in the church and Mark was on the ground, howling. Blood oozed from his left arm.
Chyna slowly lowered her gun, keeping her eyes on Tony. He was sprawled on the floor clutching at his right knee. Chyna went over to him and picked up his gun before any of his red robed goons could get involved. Where was the cavalry when you needed them? She was so accustomed to the FBI and the CIA, even Interpol becoming involved in her recovery missions by this point in the process, that she couldn’t help but feel under prepared. Any minute now these men could decide to take things into their own hands.
“Mark!” Chyna cried out as she turned and ran to him, finding him writhing in agony, “Mark!”
She pulled her T-shirt from out of her jeans and ripped a four inch band from the bottom of it which she used to bandage his arm tightly.
“Don’t move,” she told him tenderly, then as she placed the bow across his lap and his gun in his right hand, she added, “Hold on to this and don’t let anyone get near you.”
“You already know that I just want the bow, Chyna.”
“Shut up Tony, or I’ll shoot you again.”
Tony smiled and shrugged, as if what he had just done and what had happened to him had still not quite computed.
“It’s Anthony, actually. I’ve always hated being called Tony. Seriously, would it kill people to just say it as it is and lend it the class it deserves?”
After hearing him say that, Chyna knew he was too far gone. In fact, it seemed true that he had never even been on the same page with her at all. The Tony she had known was a chimera from another world. He had been a thought that she had loved and lived for, and now that it had been dispelled, she wanted to lose all touch with it.
When Mark whimpered from the pain in her arms, it felt like a slap on the face. She had already let too many people die because she trusted the wrong man. She had promised herself never to compromise a mission when in turn, she was the one who had been compromised all along.
At that point, Chyna realized that if she died in the church that day, she would prove this monster right. All of the people who sacrificed their lives because of her misplaced trust would be wronged. Their lives would have been in vain, like footprints in beach sand, and she couldn’t let that happen.
“You’ll never have it,” Chyna shouted as she aimed her gun at him again. She thought her hands would go numb. “Tell your men to back up. One Eye’s guys too; everyone out of the church… NOW!”
Tony bellowed at them to get lost and they literally stampeded toward the large church doors and poured out into the street. When the door was closed behind the exiting men, Tony continued to taunt Chyna.
“Good girl!” his vile voice teased as he slowly clapped his hands in mock cheer. “You always did have a knack for trying to get me into compromising positions, pretty girl. Even though I never loved you, I always found it amusing how you did you very best to keep me interested with your abilities. At the very least, over the years I did enjoy our... carnal interludes, shall we say?”
She heard his words, etching each of them in her memory, jotting them down in her mind and memorizing them by heart. They were a reminder of her failure and his betrayal, stabbing at her heart like a thousand arrows piercing through it.
“Oh, and one more thing…” Tony said, but before he could finish, another shot rang out. The bullet flew smoothly from the barrel of the SIG Sauer and hit Tony in the shoulder. This time, he screamed.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he reacted immediately.
“But I wasn’t aiming for your shoulder, Babe! I missed that black hole you call a heart!” She heard him whine at the acid in her words. “Oh, well, it was fun regardless.”
Then, there were footsteps. Chyna couldn’t tell who they belonged to, because all of her attention was still on Tony. Her brain was fuzzy and whirling: the weakness was back. It wasn’t until she heard Sirita’s soft, familiar voice whispering into her ear that Chyna finally let go of the gun and collapsed to the floor beside Mark.
The robed men outside the church had been unceremoniously herded into several police vehicles while Sirita held Chyna cradled in her arms. Emergency responders milled busily around them as they tended to Mark and Tony’s wounds and strapped them down onto gurneys, wheeling them quickly out to the waiting ambulances. She could hear Oscar’s voice shouting directives to the media as they tried their best to muscle their way inside the church for the chance to take that million dollar photograph.
The church was empty now, except for Chyna and Sirita, and amidst all the hysteria brewing inside her, Chyna knew that now there was no one who could help her. She lay on the cold stone floor of the cathedral, clutching Christina’s ivory bow in her hands and looking at the altar.
“Take your aim. God protects it,” she repeated, over and over again as she lay there and wondered how strikingly similar the statue of Jesus praying to God in his agony in Gethsemane was to the picture of her own soul.
Epilogue
Three Weeks Later
“Did she eat anything?” Sirita asked Oscar expectedly, and the latter sighed.
He knew it was not Sirita’s fault. She was just looking out for her friend, but he really wished she would stop bothering him with questions that he had no answers to. He would answer them if he knew how, but the truth was, he was as afraid and worried as she was.
Chyna Stone was gone. Not literally, of course. She had just... disappeared to God knew where. No one, not even Oscar could tell where she was and except for a random phone call here and there which told them she was still alive, there was no proof that Chyna Stone even existed. That was what troubled Oscar the most.
The flight back to Istanbul had been a haze for her. After the debacle in the Dresden cathedral, Lithuanian authorities had swarmed the place and gotten Chyna and her team out of there. Mark had been badly injured, but the doctors said he would eventually regain full use of his arm. However, they recommended as little work as possible during his recovery. Chyna on the other hand, wasn’t doing nearly as well. She was holed up in the suite at the Ottoman Imperial with strict instructions to the management that they intercept all calls and visitors; she had gone off the grid.
News about the virtual shut down at Found History had traveled fast to every corner of the world. Oscar and Sirita had wanted to evacuate the entire team to New York, but Thyri had beaten them to it. She was the one who had taken control, as soon as it was clear that Chyna didn’t seem like she would be coming around from her ordeal any time soon. In a flurry, they had all been packed off to the United States. Chyna had been left behind. That was just about all anybody knew.
Apparently, Chyna Stone had not been too out of it. It seemed she only waited six hours after Thyri’s jet had taken off with her entire team safely ensconced inside before she ordered a rental car for herself and drove out of Istanbul. Oscar had found out too late. By the time he had landed in New York and tried to initiate the personal tracker in her staple leather jacket, it had long been deactivated. That was the point when the hunting had begun.
It was certainly the first time Oscar
had found himself hating Chyna’s incredible abilities and her depth for espionage. All trails around her had either vanished or repeatedly led them to dead ends. She was more than a boss to them, she was their friend and she was hurting and they were all clueless. Soon, other friends and colleagues had joined the party, since Chyna had failed to make contact with any of them.
Then, out of the blue; a telephone call.
“Oscar?”
He had gone over what he would say to her if she ever called him so many times by then that he could have that conversation in his sleep.
“Where the hell are you, Chyna? What in the world? Do you know how worried we have been? You exile yourself in Turkey, wait for us to be removed from the city and then you just disappear without a trace? What, are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you? Where are you?”
She waited patiently until the end of his rant and then simply answered, “I’m okay. I’m safe. I can’t tell you where I am. I just need... some time off. Tell Lana and the others that I love them and they’re not to worry. You’re all angry, I know. You’re angry because you’re worried and you’re worried because this isn’t the boss that you know. Just give me the time I need, Oscar. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’m really glad Thyri got you all to New York; it’s where you need to be… as a team. If you have to understand why I’ve done this, maybe Sandra and Lana can help explaining it. Tell Sandra to make sure the office in Turkey and everyone there is taken care of. I love you all.”
The line went dead. Oscar tried to have it traced, but of course, the call had been made from a disposable phone.
Since then, she’d called once a week, and at random times of day and night and from a disposable and untraceable cell. All her phones had been switched off, so had her laptop. The car she had rented had been returned to the company safe and sound.