“Master, I wasn’t careless. I took initiative. Had I succeeded—”
“You could have destroyed everything we worked for. Your insolence might have exposed our plans to the world and shown all of our flock who we are. You risked everything, thousands of years of careful planning, and for what?”
“I thought—”
“Silence!” the voice boomed. “You made a power play, Buri. Do you think me foolish?”
“N-no. Of course not, Master. I would never think such a thing.”
“And yet you went behind my back, thinking I wouldn’t see what you were doing?”
Buri weighed the question, knowing that the wrong answer to any part of this conversation would result in death.
“Is there anything you don’t see, Odin? You are the one who creates and tumbles empires. History flows according to your will and those who came before you. Would I be so foolish to actually think you didn’t know what I was up to? Of course not. I conducted my experiments, my research, my hunt for the stones—all in the knowledge that you were watching. I would never be so bold as to think you didn’t know what I was doing. And I only did it because I thought you would approve.”
“And yet you didn’t come to me to ask for permission.”
The statement stung, but Buri didn’t back down. To do so would be an admission of guilt, and a death sentence.
“I took initiative. You put me in a position where I can be useful. You chose me because of my leadership abilities. And I am well aware of what happens to those who fail you. I would never do something I thought you wouldn’t approve.”
A man with as much power as Buri commanded sounded desperate as he groveled. He was distantly aware of it, too, but he couldn’t help it. A strange sense of danger overwhelmed him, and he could feel Odin’s judging eyes on him, watching every flinch, every muscle twitch.
The silence that fell over the room felt heavy in the sterile air. The faint scent of lavender wafted through, but Buri couldn’t locate the source of the smell.
He knew he’d said all he could, or at least he thought he had. Did Odin believe him? Or had the man already condemned him and was merely toying with Buri, allowing him to hope for forgiveness and life?
“Thank you for being so candid with me,” Odin said at last. “I appreciate your honesty. And you’re correct to assume I see all. There is little anyone can do on this planet without my knowing. Our eyes are everywhere, after all.”
A tidal wave of relief washed over Buri. The color returned to his face, and he forced himself not to let out a sigh. “Yes, Master. I am always honest with you. To do otherwise would be foolish.”
“Very true. You may go, Buri. See to it that if you plan on doing anything else with Quantium in the future, or with one of the other portals, you bring it to me first.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you.”
Buri stood, and the two guards stepped toward him. He straightened his jacket and started walking out of the room with the two men in tow. As he reached the edge of the room, Odin’s voice halted him.
“Buri? Have you ever seen my collection of animals?”
“No, sir,” Buri confessed. “I’m afraid I haven’t. I have been here many times, but I’ve never even heard of them. What kind of animals?”
“See for yourself.”
One of the guards motioned with his hand to a corridor that shot out to the right from the main hallway.
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”
Odin said nothing more, and the three continued down the alternate passage until they reached a black metal door.
The guard on the left opened the door and motioned Buri inside. Buri hesitated for a moment, looking into the next room, which was only about ten feet long and led to another similar door.
“Does he have a zoo in here or something?” Buri asked nervously.
“You could say that.”
The guard’s deep voice only made the cryptic response that much more disconcerting.
“You know,” Buri said, “it’s okay if I don’t see the collection today. Perhaps another time.”
Both guards stared blankly at Buri. Their emotionless gazes unnerved him.
“Or today is fine,” he surrendered. “So, what are we looking at today?” He stepped into the room. “Some monkeys or something?”
The first guard entered the room with him and walked on the left. He stopped at the door and unlocked the two deadbolts along with the latch. Then he pulled the door open and motioned with a nod for Buri to enter.
The smell of grass and leaves filled the room, along with a warm, humid air that seemed to roll into the little space. There was a hint of animal to it, that nondescript odor that seems to hang around fur and hoof, like on a farm.
Buri stepped forward into another world. Lush trees grew up out of soil that covered the floor—if there was a floor. He felt the soft dirt under his shoes and immediately worried about ruining the expensive footwear. He turned a corner, mesmerized by the size of the indoor jungle, and discovered a whole new world. Stands of trees filled a gigantic space. The walls shot up at least sixty feet to an open, screened ceiling. Exotic birds whistled in the lush canopy, though Buri couldn’t see them. He heard monkeys somewhere in the trees, too, and thought he glimpsed a light brown tail.
“What is this?” Buri asked, turning his head back toward the guard. “Some kind of—” The door slammed shut behind him, and he heard the chilling sound of the door locks clicking.
He whirled around, a chill shooting through his body and pebbling his skin. He rushed to the door and pulled the latch. “Hey! What are you doing? What is the meaning of this?”
He banged on the door with his fist, but no response followed. “Let me out of here!” he demanded. The answer was still the same. “Hey! Open the door!”
His knocking slowed. The hand he’d been using throbbed from the beating, and he eventually stopped. No one was going to open the door. He was trapped.
“Please! Let me out!” His shouts echoed through the life-size terrarium.
The cries for help fell silent. He slammed his fist one last time against the door and then resigned himself to the fact that the guards weren’t going to respond. The only way out was through the private jungle. He hoped.
Then Buri heard it.
A low growl came from somewhere behind him. He didn’t want to turn around and resisted with all his might. When he heard something rustle in the bushes and tall grass, he could no longer fight it and spun around to meet his fate.
He exhaled, relieved that there was nothing in sight. His mind was playing tricks on him. Fear gripped him, but he took a step forward, following the path worn into the grass and undergrowth. Looking out into the huge jungle space again, he could see through it to the other side, where another door stood closed in the opposite wall. It was easily sixty yards away. If there were a dangerous predator lurking in the vegetation, it would be a long run to reach the exit. Even if he made it, the fear that it, too, would be locked simmered in his mind.
Buri swallowed and made up his mind. He couldn’t stay here. He had to try the other door. Maybe this was just one of Odin’s tests. Buri had been a loyal follower and a strong leader for many under the man’s organization. He wouldn’t put Buri in harm’s way. Buri told himself that over and over again as he took a step forward, venturing into the artificial biome.
He heard the rustling sound again and froze in place. He’d only managed to get ten feet into the jungle. His eyes darted around the space, checking every tree and shrub for signs of life. He noted one of the monkeys up in a tall tree that nearly reached the ceiling. The creature’s lightly tanned fur stood out against the dark green vegetation surrounding it, though it blended nicely with the tree trunk and branches. The monkey stared at Buri with cautious curiosity.
Buri offered a meek smile at the animal and waved his hand. “Hello there, little fellow. Were you the one making all that—”
A roar from Buri’s rig
ht cut him off, and he swiveled in time to see fierce eyes staring back at him from the folds of giant leaves hanging low over the ground. The animal’s unmistakable stripes camouflaged its orange-and-white fur, blending the huge cat with its surroundings.
Buri felt his stomach turn as the tiger took a prowling step toward him. The massive paw crushed grass underfoot as it approached its prey, causing Buri to tremble like a child at a haunted house.
His lips quivered, and his muscles locked up in terrified paralysis.
Run, his mind ordered, but he couldn’t make himself move. Some deep-rooted subconscious theory told him that running would only make things worse. Do I play dead? The thought flashed in his mind, but he thought that was probably not the correct course of action, either. Perhaps with some bears, but he’d never heard of that working on a tiger—not that he had heard much about tiger attacks on humans.
It’s just a big cat, he told himself. “Hey there, big kitty,” Buri said in his most soothing voice. “Good kitty.”
The tiger took another threatening step forward.
Cats like to play, Buri thought. He glanced to his right and noted a tree branch that had fallen to the ground. “Good kitty,” Buri whispered and slowly bent his knees. He hoped the subtle movement would appear unthreatening to the huge cat. The beast stared at him through flaming yellow eyes, almost as though the creature wanted to see what the man would do next.
Nearly thirty seconds had passed before Buri felt the wood brush against his skin. He dipped a little lower and wrapped his fingers around the stick, then gradually raised up again, this time faster than his initial movement.
“Kitty want to play?” Buri asked in a voice he might have used to speak to an infant.
He waved the stick one direction, then the other, careful not to do it too fast. He recalled hearing that cats enjoyed playing with string or chasing lasers and hoped that the tiger possessed the same playful instincts.
His theory proved correct. The tiger’s eyes danced back and forth as Buri waved the branch around. Then the cat leaped forward, its focus locked on the stick. Buri tossed it toward the door he’d come through before.
The animal bound to the left to give chase. The second it did, Buri took off toward what he believed to be the exit.
His legs pumped as hard as they could, and his feet pounded the soil. Monkeys screamed from the treetops. Birds chirped and squawked and whistled. The cacophony filled the jungle room, piercing Buri’s ears with the deafening sound as he drew closer to the exit with every desperate step.
Then he heard the growl again. It overwhelmed all other noise, and it came from somewhere behind him.
The door was only another twenty yards away. He was nearly there.
He felt his hamstrings pulling harder, his thighs burning with every push. Heavy, pawed steps thumped behind him as the beast stormed closer, narrowing the gap with every passing second.
The temptation to look back pulled at Buri’s mind like a ship drawing an anchor, but he didn’t dare glance over his shoulder. That wouldn’t make things any better, and it might even slow him down.
Fifteen yards to go.
Ten.
He was almost there.
Buri reached out his hand as he neared the exit. The strange sounds from the other animals seemed to crescendo. Then a fearsome roar drowned out all the other noise.
With a last anguished effort, Buri summoned the remains of his strength and jumped for the door. He felt himself leave the ground and, for a second, believed he might reach the latch.
A sharp, horrible pain pierced the calf of his right leg. It was instantly followed by the feeling of something powerful clamping down. He fell over at the waist and struck the ground headfirst while his right leg was held in the tiger’s maw.
Buri screamed in agony, both from the pain and the sight of his leg. He tried to kick, to wriggle free, but the beast’s grip was true, its fangs sinking deep into muscle, tendon, and cartilage.
For a split second, the tiger let go of the wounded appendage, and Buri scrambled backward, dragging the bloody leg on the ground. The predator looked down at him as it might a wounded deer, then it growled and pounced.
A camera near the ceiling in the corner captured the grisly scene as the tiger ripped apart the screaming man, seeming to toy with him, until at last Buri’s voice was muted in a final gurgling effort. Then his head fell still on the ground, eyes staring upward without sight, while the animal feasted under Odin’s vengeful gaze.
8
Plovdiv
Sean sipped a cup of coffee as he peered through the window at the streets of Plovdiv below. Rooftops sprawled out over the city in the hills, some with terracotta tiles, others with more conventional roof coverings.
He’d been up for over an hour, his fitful sleep finally giving way to the crack of light seeping through the dark-blue curtains drawn across the window. Sean experienced a touch of insomnia on occasion, typically when he was in the field or had something pressing to do.
Last night, however, fear had been the culprit.
He’d kept his thoughts from Kevin so as not to worry the archaeologist. And Sean wondered, after his roommate went to sleep, if the man had noticed Sean was hiding something. He’d been grateful when Kevin quickly fell asleep after two generous pours of scotch.
Sean glanced back down at his phone, the spare he kept for contacting only two people. It was a burner, a device that could in no way be linked to him or the two people he’d messaged late in the night.
He read the message for the third time in five minutes. Then he looked at the headlines regarding the murder/suicide involving Valentin Svoboda in Prague. Sean knew the discovery by Kevin and the murder were no coincidence. It was a hit, an outright assassination. But why?
The media trashed Svoboda’s name for being involved with a mistress, despite most politicians and captains of industry participating in the same kinds of activities. That kind of thing was not only ignored by most, but encouraged to some level.
The words of the tablet ran through Sean’s head again, the symbols at the bottom burned into his memory. He never really believed he would see the day when this happened. He’d heard things, of course, but nothing more than rumors. Still, one indelible truth persisted in Sean’s mind.
They are making a move.
The tablet was clear, at least to him. It confirmed Sean’s deepest, most ludicrous suspicion, and it sent a twinge of fear through his chest. The feeling wasn’t for himself or his own safety. He could survive, and if not, he’d long ago accepted that death was a part of his journey. It was the innocent people of the world that filled him with worry. The thoughts of children all over the world, especially, brought on more anxiety than Sean had ever felt.
He exhaled at the thought of so many people out there, simply going about their day, trying to eke out a living, or the children attending school, playing with friends. None of them ever had a clue what was really going on behind the scenes.
Sean had watched, from a distance, the arguments of people on both sides of the political fence. It was an election year in the United States, and the division of the American people had reached a new low. The chasm between factions was like the deepest trench in the ocean, uncrossable and impossible to ignore.
All the while, he’d wondered if his suspicions were true.
His friend President Gwen McCarthy was embattled in a bitter campaign against the other party’s candidate, and the election had been raging through the entire year.
She was the one who’d sent the text message to Sean, likewise from a burner phone that no one else could access. Sean no longer worked for the government, but she preferred to keep him close by just in case. He had his relationship with the previous president, John Dawkins, to thank for that.
Sean had often wondered if there really was a shadow government pulling the strings, how much John and Gwen really knew. He believed they weren’t involved, or he chose to believe, that they—like ever
yone else—were merely puppets in a grander scheme.
He knew he sounded crazy for even thinking that sort of thing, but here he was, getting confirmation from the president herself. She wasn’t naïve to the threat, which meant she was doing all she could with the limited power of her position to make a difference for the people of the nation and the world.
“You’re up early,” Kevin said in a groggy tone.
Sean didn’t look back at him in the nearby bed. Instead, he continued to gaze out the window at the city. “I usually am.”
“You also made coffee.”
“Yep. It’s pretty good, actually. I’ve been pleasantly surprised. There’s still enough for two more pots over there, along with what I made a half hour ago.”
Kevin thanked him and climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he planted his feet on the floor and trudged over to the nook where the coffeepot sat atop a counter. The room was larger than he recalled the night before, with an open living room area and flatscreen television connecting the bedroom to the entrance. A workstation in the corner provided a place for people to get a little work done, complete with multiple electrical outlets and internet connections—though with Wi-Fi that seemed a bit superfluous.
Kevin pulled on his pants, then filled one of the coffee cups with the dark brew before making his way over to an empty chair in the corner near the window. He sat down and held the cup close to his nose, letting the rich aroma slither into his nostrils with every tendril of steam.
“You okay?” Sean asked, finally turning to look at his roommate.
“Yeah,” Kevin said after a long inhale and exhale. “I mean, as good as can be. I think I’m just in shock right now, or something like it. Honestly, I’ve never experienced shock, so I don’t know what it feels like.”
“Sometimes it feels numb,” Sean said. “It feels like nothing at all. Just this hollow, emptiness inside you.”
“That’s exactly what I’m feeling right now.”
“It’s terrible what you saw yesterday, what happened to your team. I still don’t have word from Tommy about it, but I would assume the worst. The thing for you to do right now is make sure all of that wasn’t in vain, which means stopping whoever did it and bringing them to justice.”
The Milestone Protocol Page 8