“You have never told me how you came to be hunting for the Holy Grail.”
He sat down, brought her onto his lap. “No, do not kiss me, I don’t want to lose my thread.” He closed his hands loosely around her waist. “I will tell you. At first it wasn’t about the Holy Grail, I scarcely knew anything about it. I grew up in Lyon, as you know, and there wasn’t much to do. We had a store that rented movies on those dreadful VHS tapes. I had read about Jacques Cousteau and his underwater discoveries, and was looking for something similar to watch. The owner of the store had a private collection of bootleg movies he received from friends in the United States. There was one that told the story of a treasure hunter in Florida named Mel Fisher who discovered the sunken Spanish galleon Nuestra Señora de Atocha, and recovered four hundred and fifty million dollars in treasure—gold, silver, emeralds, rubies—forty tons of gold.”
Her eyes never left his face. He loved her curiosity, her focus on him as if she wanted to pull the words out of his mouth. Did she care for him? He hoped so. He continued, “As you can imagine, to a ten-year-old boy interested in treasure hunting and diving, this was an incredible discovery. I decided on the spot I was going to become a treasure hunter. I began reading books on lost treasure. So many lost ships, so many stories to follow, and I’ve found my share, to be sure. But in the past three years, as you know, I’ve sought the biggest treasure of them all.”
She whispered, “The Heaven Stone—the Holy Grail.”
“Yes. I suppose you could say I must find it or I will lose my desire for all of this.” He waved his hand around. “Yes, I must find it and soon, very soon now.” He touched his hand to his heart. “I feel it here. Soon I will have it.”
She cocked her head to one side. “I don’t understand. Why is the Grail so important to you? It’s as if your life will no longer be worth living if you don’t find it.”
He wasn’t certain what to say, and he didn’t have to speak, for he heard his dive captain yelling in the hall.
“Captain! Captain! We need you!”
Jean-Pierre lifted her off his lap. “Now what is this all about?” He yelled, “Come.”
Cesar Lourdes stood in the doorway, a mask in one hand, water streaming from his stringy ponytail, a huge grin on his face. “Boss, I’d thought we’d found something, before, well, it wasn’t the Grail, but now—this might be the Grail, you must come.”
Jean-Pierre’s adrenaline spiked, his heart kettledrummed in his chest. He and Devi followed Cesar to the aft portion of the bridge where the dive was being coordinated. As they walked, Cesar said, “I was on the reef site, kicking around in the silt, seeing what I could find, and I knocked into something pretty big, bigger than the rest of the chests we’ve recovered or marked for recovery. And very different. I ran the portable X-ray over it and, sir—there’s something inside, and it doesn’t seem to be fastened to anything. It’s very strange.”
Keep calm, keep calm. “How big are we talking?”
“Hard to tell. The container, it seems to be a sort of sphere, only a bit elongated, maybe ten feet or so high.”
Devi said, “Since the Grail isn’t supposed to be so large, Jean-Pierre, then maybe it’s the strange thing inside this sphere?”
It is, it is, it has to be. He said, “Possibly.”
Cesar said, “I believe the container is made of iron. It’s immensely heavy.”
Devi said, “Why would the Grail be inside something made of iron? To protect it?” She paused, blinked up at Jean-Pierre. “Or protect us?”
Jean-Pierre gave her a long look. “Only one way to find out.” He knew then, knew to his soul. It was the Holy Grail. He said, “Let’s get my stone. Devi, what’s wrong? Don’t you wish to stay?”
“I’m sorry, Jean-Pierre. My stomach—I do not feel well. You will show me everything later.”
“Of course, of course,” he said over his shoulder, not really paying her any more attention, his focus on the winch bringing up the container.
* * *
Devi walked away, doing her best to look relaxed, to look at ease. But she did feel sick to her stomach, sick for what she was doing to this excellent man, this man with such a mighty life force that made him burn so brightly. She had no choice. No choice. When she’d first come to him, she’d expected this wealthy Frenchman to treat her like the bauble she was when presented to him, a plaything, to give him great sex and amuse him, and she was prepared to play her part well. Again, no choice. But she hadn’t expected to like him, to admire him, to find his passion for finding the Holy Grail, something she’d always believed no more than a romantic legend, fascinating, mesmerizing. What would he think when he learned she’d betrayed him?
On the sun deck, Devi eased down on a chaise, turned away from two young crewmen after she’d waved at them, and reached into her bag. She drew out a mobile satellite phone with a special program installed. Every message sent and received—email or text—would self-destruct within two hours. As long as she kept it hidden, she was safe.
She tapped in a few words. He believes he’s found it. It’s inside a huge iron sphere. Will update soon.
Moments later, a reply appeared. Very good. Keep me apprised. What are your current coordinates?
Devi opened her compass app and sent the exact latitude and longitude coordinates of The Griffon in the next text. Then she typed in, Is my sister well? You promised to let me speak to her.
But there was no answer.
The bitch. Nevaeh had promised, stared her right in the eye and promised not to hurt Elina. Devi stared at the silent phone. She knew if something happened to her little sister, she’d kill Nevaeh Patel with her bare hands.
She hid the phone away, put on her sunglasses, and pretended to sunbathe, all the while forcing herself to try to stay calm.
CHAPTER SIX
T-MINUS 109 HOURS
Galactus Space Industries Headquarters
Lyon, France
The cream bricks were bathed in sunlight when the SUV pulled into the parking lot at Galactus. Nevaeh climbed from the back seat, stepped into the soft, thick air. Rain was coming, but for now, the skies were a luminous blue. She set her sunglasses in place as she turned to Kiera, her Kiera, ruthless, hard as nails, fiercely loyal, and loaded down with weapons, but still, to Nevaeh, Kiera was her champion and her confidante, the only other human being she trusted with her very life. Nearly four years now they’d been together.
Kiera was frowning up at the sky. “Will I have time to check the telescope before the rains begin?”
“No, probably not. Don’t worry about it.”
Kiera checked her watch. “You have meetings starting in five minutes. The final report for the board on why the satellite failed to deploy.”
They shared a smile as the main doors slid open.
Nevaeh said, “Then we will give them a definitive reason, not the usual nondeploying fairing. I’ve decided it’s to be metal fatigue from the manufacturer causing the fairing to damage the satellite. And a bonus, contractually, if there is a failure, they have to give us back all the money we outlaid for the contract. Not our fault. Tsk, tsk. Shouldn’t be so careless.”
She laughed, an elegant, carefree sound. And she felt carefree, happier than she had in years. All her hopes, her dreams, every-thing was about to come to pass, and she was going to be reunited with the Numen and all would be revealed, everyone on this planet would know she was their future, she and the Numen. She was their salvation. Of course she was in a good mood. Years she’d spent getting to this moment. Years of work to bring about a new age—no more stupid wars, even if she had to castrate every covetous, money-grubbing man on the planet. Or woman.
She knew there would be resistance, at first. People didn’t want to be saved, didn’t, apparently, want there to be no more wars, no more corruption. She had tried to share the possibilities after she’d first encountered the Numen on the space station, and her thanks had been to be drummed out of NASA for her trouble. She�
�d learned her lesson. The world wasn’t ready for what she would bring them, nor were they ready for the simple truth—life existed outside of Earth. Nevaeh knew the Numen were gods, older than the Olympians, older than the Titans. And they’d chosen her, no one else, just her. And it had taken her seven years, but now she was ready to—well, not bring peace, exactly. Say, stability, order, function, through her intelligence, her ability to lead. She would bring the Numen to Earth, and they would give her what she had to have—power and immortality. Might people die to fulfill her quest? Of course. But the sacrifices must be made.
The nuclear bomb would fix everything. And the EMP fallout. It would bring them to their knees, make them grateful to her for picking them out of the ashes.
As for the static and noise that gummed up the atmosphere, cell phones and radio waves and wireless communications all combining to make the layer of atmosphere around Earth supercharged with disturbances, it would all stop. Soon, the world where people worshiped their devices, were completely dependent on technology, it would all end. There would be blessed silence in the heavens and on Earth. And she’d give humankind the promise of a greater good.
Yes, once all was quiescent, the Numen would come, and she and they would rule—together.
Inside, the headquarters of Galactus looked empty. The floors were a huge expanse of white marble. The walls were pure white, the only splashes of color from small groupings of modern art canvases on the walls that were changed seasonally. But it was the focal point that was incredible—a full planetary system hung from a jet-black ceiling, fifty feet across. It was in perpetual motion, aligned to mimic the movement of the stars and planets in their ellipticals. To Nevaeh, it represented more than a fanciful rendering of the solar system. It was a reminder of the limitless possibilities of space.
A young Jean-Pierre had been to the Guggenheim in New York and fallen in love with the unique interior architecture, and so modeled Galactus after the museum. It was striking. The floor ramps circled upward, ever upward, ten floors, like the spirals of a shell. The offices and workspaces were on the outer walls and the immense center was filled with the universe. Anyone who came in always stopped and stared.
Nevaeh loved walking into Galactus and looking up at the universe. Outside of her sensory deprivation chamber, it was the only place that felt like home.
A woman left an unobtrusive reception desk and came across the expanse to greet her, as if she were a general. Other employees appeared. They might as well salute as she walked by. She was, she supposed, actually their general, and they’d soon understand how important she was. Not only their CEO, but more, so much more.
Smiling, at peace, she took the discreet elevator to the tenth floor and walked into the board meeting, head high, prepared to lie. Everything was in motion.
* * *
An hour later, Kiera escorted Nevaeh back to her office. “Did the board accept your explanation?”
“Yes, of course. The board is taken care of, though I believe they were upset Jean-Pierre wasn’t on the call. I convinced them the satellite was damaged by the fairing, not our fault, and we’re ready to move forward on the upcoming launches. Obviously, we’ll have to write off the satellite, and the company will hardly want to trust us with another, but who cares? Little do they know, there will be no more launches. Once the nuke is in place, we won’t need to send junk into space any longer. Can you imagine, space cleared of human waste?”
Kiera didn’t know if she really considered communication satellites human waste. Nor did she believe space was cluttered, too cluttered for these space aliens Nevaeh called the Numen. After all, wasn’t space infinite? Enough room for everybody? But she knew enough to accept what was going to happen, perhaps rejoice because she would be at Nevaeh’s right hand when the apocalypse came, if such a thing could happen. Kiera was willing to suspend disbelief when Nevaeh had first told her of these peace-loving aliens, but the strange thing was, over time, the aliens had changed as Nevaeh had changed. Goals had changed. No more peace-loving kumbaya. Fact was, the change felt right to Kiera. After all, many of the peace-loving people in Ireland were dead. And now Kiera was ready to believe, maybe thrilled to believe. What would she become? She would be important, would have a major role in the new regime. She held this knowledge tightly to her heart. And stopped questioning. After all, Nevaeh was certain and she was the smartest person Kiera had ever known. And her will was amazing, and her experience with these space aliens? Her goals with the Numen? Well, who was she to question? She loved Nevaeh and had come to accept all she said was truth, with a capital T. She leaned in close. “And so much will happen, and only you and I know what is coming. It will be glorious, Nevaeh. Simply glorious.”
Yes, it would be. Nevaeh said, “Now, hurry up. I need to move the last pawn into place.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kiera opened the office door and stepped inside first. She was always careful of Nevaeh. What she saw was reassuring—an immense mess, like a bomb had gone off inside, which, of course, Kiera knew was how Nevaeh liked it. Her boss was a horizontal filer, had stacks of paper and books all over her desk, the floor, the cabinets, the bookshelves. No one in the company dared move a thing. Nevaeh knew where everything was, didn’t need to search for a moment, could lay her hand on the file or folder or article needed in seconds flat. Kiera was more organized, liked to see the top of her desk, though granted, she rarely used it. The contents of her office mostly consisted of the weaponry.
Nevaeh said, “Close the door. I have work to do.”
Kiera prowled, said over her shoulder, “When will we hear from that idiot girl?”
Nevaeh looked at the clock. “Soon. Surely Jean-Pierre has the Grail by now. Devi will be in touch, and we must be ready to leave the minute she does. What are your preparations?”
“We’re staged, ready to head to the ship when we get her call. I have a plane waiting to take us to Kuala Lumpur, and I’ve arranged for transport to The Griffon.”
“And the transport is fully equipped?”
“Yes. Everything we need is aboard, awaiting our arrival.”
“Excellent. I need to do one thing before we leave.”
She sat at her desk and opened her laptop. Kiera came to stand behind her.
“The satellite must be put into the proper position, and since no one but us knows it’s still up there, we need to do it carefully so we don’t draw unwanted attention. We don’t need the fools at the U.S. Strategic Command noticing the satellite has joined a new orbit. And if they do, this needs to look like another piece of randomly moving space junk.”
She began typing in a complex series of letters and numbers, lines of code Kiera knew would turn the satellite on and give it instructions to reposition. She thought Nevaeh was amazing to be able to move their own man-made stars.
Five minutes later, Nevaeh clicked a button and shut her laptop.
“I’ve programmed the satellite. It is beginning its move into position, slowly, so it won’t attract attention. By my calculations, it will be perfectly aligned by the apex of the lunar eclipse on the twenty-eighth. And on that date we must have the Grail in hand.” She rose. “I believe Jean-Pierre has found the Grail and it’s all coming together, Kiera. I will be in place to detonate the bomb and cause the EMP at one a.m., the moment the eclipse enters totality.”
Nevaeh felt nerves and hope together. “When we have the Grail, we will be immortal, Kiera, both of us. For I would never leave you behind. And you will meet the Numen.”
“But Nevaeh, it all depends—what if Broussard doesn’t find the Grail? What if it’s not on that sunken ship?”
“The Grail is there, waiting. I know it here.” She laid her palm over her heart. “The Numen told me Jean-Pierre would find it, so of course it will be in his hands—and ours—before long.” She clasped Kiera’s arms. “Think, Kiera, the Holy Grail. As I’ve told you many times, the Numen will come and together, we will reward you.”
Kiera smiled p
erfunctorily. First things first. “Nevaeh, we should go. We can be in Sri Lanka by nightfall and ready to intercept The Griffon. And the Grail.” Kiera tucked a strand of hair behind Nevaeh’s ear. “This is what you’ve worked toward.”
Nevaeh’s secretary knocked on her door, making the women jerk apart. They were always so careful in public, no slips allowed. Nevaeh knew there were rumors, but she didn’t care. Still, no sense flaunting her relationship with Kiera at work. She called out, “Come in, Alys.”
Alys was young, twenty-five, with a penchant for black leather jackets and a French boyfriend who was handsome as sin and picked her up from work every day on his motorcycle. Nevaeh watched them from the window sometimes, Alys kissing him deeply on the mouth and clinging to his back as he roared away, her ponytail streaming from under her helmet. They seemed happy, and Alys was never a slacker. She was smart, detailed, always diligent, never missing work or coming up with excuses for days off.
“Dr. Patel? Is now a good time? I have the launch schedule. You said you wanted to be at the spaceport in time to oversee the engine test.”
Nevaeh said smoothly, “Alys, I’ve received a call from the Quints manufacturing facility in China. They have discovered the issue with the metal used to make the fairing, as we suspected. I must meet with them and approve a new assembly. I will be at the spaceport Wednesday.”
“I will tell them not to expect you until then, Dr. Patel.”
“Excellent, Alys.” She smiled at her secretary, took the papers, and grabbed her bag. “I need to get moving, so much to do.”
“The plane is ready for you.”
“Oh, did I not mention I won’t need the plane? Quints sent theirs. It’s the least they can do if I have to go to them in person. I’ll have them fly me to the spaceport once we’re finished with our meetings.”
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