by Linda Hawley
Joy spreading through me, I rose, looped my arms through both Chow’s and Jean-Pierre’s, and our trio returned to the house with Lulu following.
Chapter 6
After coming in from the garden, we sat ourselves around the eighteenth-century French farm table that seated twelve. Its rich patina contrasted with the cream-colored walls of the large dining room, where a painting of the Virgin Mary watched over dinners. She seemed to be showing up in the most interesting places lately.
Jean-Pierre, as our senior GOG leader, took a seat at the head of the table, while our hosts sat opposite Chow, Edwin, and I. The three of us faced the large picture window that looked out to the back garden as the sun shone through it onto us. Lulu had curled up behind my chair.
Jean-Pierre spoke as soon as we were all seated. “I’m here to discuss your new mission,” he said in his customarily blunt manner.
At that introduction, everyone perked up.
“But before we get into it, I want to talk about your safety, Ann. You were brought specifically to this safe house because, not only is Brest generally friendly to our cause, but your hosts—along with Chow and Edwin—are all here to train you more extensively in self-defense.” He paused, looking at me briefly, and then faced down Chow. “The organization cannot afford to have the situation in Barcelona repeated.”
Immediately, Chow’s face turned stony.
I quickly spoke up for him. “My injuries in Barcelona were not Chow’s fault. He was knocked out because he was trying to protect me…”
“Ann,” Chow said quietly as he put his hand on my arm, intending to stop my defense of him.
Jean-Pierre looked at me and calmly continued, “We want to prevent something like it happening in the future.”
“Chow defended me. He’s not to blame for my injuries,” I said firmly, irritation rising in my tone.
Chow’s hand returned to my arm again, his stoic expression still in place. Jean-Pierre paused and then looked out the window, collecting his thoughts. After a few moments passed, he faced Chow.
“What are your impressions of your defense of Ann during the battle in the alley?” he asked him.
“It was inadequate,” Chow said plainly.
“It wasn’t!” I protested.
Chow turned to me, looking into my eyes. “My sole mission at this point in time is to protect you. In this regard, I did not meet that obligation in Barcelona…”
I interrupted him with a sigh and in frustration looked down and away from his intense, dark gaze. He took his hand and gently lifted my chin to again meet his eyes.
“As a warrior, I must accept the truth of a given battle, so that I can improve my tactical skills. I fully realize that my close-combat response in that alley was weak. Since we arrived here, Edwin, Philippe, Françoise, and I have been working together to improve my reaction in scenarios where I am protecting you. I am confident that if the situation in the alcove with Shubham were repeated today, he would not live a minute past his arrival, and he would be incapable of doing you any harm. I appreciate your loyalty and of course your friendship…” he said and then paused, “but there is no reason to defend me.”
I reached out and hugged him, emotion consuming me, pressing my eyes tight and pushing away my memories of Barcelona. Chow hugged me back.
“Why don’t we all get a drink, and then we can discuss our mission,” Jean-Pierre said, eager to allow Chow and me a minute of privacy.
When they had left the room, Chow whispered in my ear, “I’m sorry you endured so much, Ann.”
It was as if he could read my mind. Our shared memories of what we went through in Barcelona seemed to have bonded us further—I knew he understood that those memories were still haunting me.
* * *
Once all of us were again seated together in the dining room, Jean-Pierre said, “We can only assume that when he was alive, Shubham spread word of your special abilities, Ann. I don’t know whether you realize it or not, but you’re now a prime target for governments everywhere.”
I involuntarily shivered in understanding. Not only was I homeless, but I seemed to be country-less too. My only consolation was that this would not go on forever—it was finite, as Armond had told me.
Jean-Pierre continued, “All members at this table, except me, were chosen to be here because you each have something important to teach Ann. During the next two months, Ann, you will be… What do you call it in America? Primary training…”
“Do you mean Basic Training?” I interjected.
“Yes, you’ll be in our Basic Training. I can see my English still needs improving,” he said, serious and self-mocking at the same time. “Chow and Edwin will be teaching you Soo Bahk Do. Philippe will be working with you on firearms…”
“I already know how to use guns.” I blurted it out before I could censor myself.
Philippe—who I’d decided was an unusually quiet man—spoke up quickly, as he looked into my eyes. “We know you are a markswoman, Ann, but I’m going to teach you everything you don’t know about pistols,” he said, confident of his expertise.
My bad, I thought. I nodded to him, humbled.
Jean-Pierre went on. “Françoise—besides being an excellent chef—is quite skilled with sharp weapons.” He winked at her. “She will teach you the art of using them in hand-to-hand combat. Françoise also will be training you in psychological warfare and escape tactics, in the event you are ever captured. She has valuable experience and expertise in these areas,” he said, his voice having turned serious.
“I promise you, Ann, that what I will teach you will have dire consequences for anyone like Shubham who meets you in close combat,” she said fiercely, leaning toward me. With her eyes blazing, a new side of her was revealed—I saw the warrior in her.
“Thank you…all of you,” I said, looking at each of my colleagues, one by one.
“Chow is responsible for your safety, but whenever you leave the cottage, you are to have two team members with you at all times. This is for your protection.”
Chow nodded to Jean-Pierre his agreement.
“One other thing…currency. With RFID tracking devices now much smaller than a single strand of hair, it was only a matter of time before governments would start printing money with them woven inside. That day has arrived, mes amis,” Jean-Pierre said with a heavy heart, then paused. He looked at the table in front of him for a minute. “What I’m about to tell you has been held in secret by the American government and not yet discovered by the media. Starting last month, the United States began printing all paper bills over twenty dollars with RFID hair. It seems they’re trying to find our organization by the cash we use, literally following the money,” he said, pausing as he sighed loudly. “This means that each bill has a unique serial number. If you were to have one of these new bills in your possession, it would be just like carrying around a homing device. You can be certain that anyone who the government slightly suspects as GOG-friendly will be targeted. Unfortunately, the European Union seems to be in collusion with America. This month, all new banknotes are also being printed with it. We can only assume that other countries will follow suit very soon.”
It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, and it was clear we all felt it. All of us knew the implications were far-reaching, with governments tracking cash.
“What is GOG’s new procedure for handling banknotes?” Edwin asked.
“It’s simple. Don’t accept any money that’s newly printed. If you’re buying something, demand the balance in old bills or forfeit it,” Jean-Pierre replied, looking as us with intensity. “You must not allow new, traceable currency into this safe house nor onto your person.”
All of us nodded in solemn agreement.
“I still find it crazy that American and EU citizens would accept that their money is being tracked by their governments,” I said with disgust.
“The citizens do not know this yet,” Edwin said in their defense.
“But when they learn of it, will the majority of them try to do anything about it?” I asked. “I don’t think so. Most people are like mice that go about their own business, unaware that there is a cat that has stealthily waited for them for hours in one position. The cat knows sooner or later that the mouse will reveal itself, but by that time—for the mouse—it’s too late.”
Edwin stared at me for a few moments, then began speaking. “I think people feel powerless against governments who have become so overreaching into their lives. They do not see a way to change things, so they surrender to whatever the government decrees. This is why our work within this organization is so critical. We are the hope for a generation of citizens who feel none.”
“Sometimes I feel like carrying this responsibility is a great burden. I don’t know…maybe I’m feeling this way because of recent events,” I said solemnly.
“We are here to share that burden. When many share a load, the weight becomes bearable for all,” Edwin said plainly.
My eyes started to fill with gratitude for Edwin’s compassion.
“My brother…the philosopher,” Chow said deadpan.
That made me chuckle, and I wiped my eyes.
“It’s true what Edwin has said. The members of GOG are a sort of redemption for the people of the earth, especially those who feel or are powerless,” Jean-Pierre said thoughtfully. “You five at this table have the opportunity to make a contribution to our cause with an immense impact on a historical level. Let’s not be mice.”
All of us were eating his every word, watching him with rapt attention.
“As you train Ann in both defensive and offensive techniques, keep this in your minds. You are not simply training a GOG operative. We don’t fully understand what her purpose is, but I believe she has a role to play on the world stage that will be significant to every person on Earth. We don’t know the obstacles ahead of her, so please make sure that you prepare her for every possible scenario.”
There were nods around the table.
“You are tasked with keeping her safe. What I said about the currency tracking has deadly consequences if you are not all diligent. Do not allow new bills into this safe house,” Jean-Pierre said, repeating himself, this time with intensity. “Any questions?”
Silence.
Jean-Pierre looked around the room, considering each one of us individually. Speaking again, he said, “Then let’s discuss the new mission.”
All eyes were on him, but he looked only at me.
“We’ve decided to focus your efforts on Senator Johnathan Talbot. As we all know, it was Talbot who introduced human RFID to the U.S. government, to use it for tracking citizens. He also caused other government actions that took civil rights from the American people.”
I nodded in acknowledgement.
“Talbot attended Harvard Law School from 1980 to 1983. There, he met two future Supreme Court Justices, along with four members of President Obama’s cabinet. You may not know that while he was there, Talbot formed alliances with these men, who went on to positions of power and supported the Patriot Act, the National Defense Authorization Act, and other legislations. All of these contributed to worldwide human tracking.” He paused to allow the information to sink in. “Our plan is for you to intercept Talbot during his last year of law school and discredit him, preventing him from securing public office—or authoring the NDAA. We want you to patch up the past and, in doing so, change the future.”
My mind buzzed with excitement. “I can remote view him and gather intel, so we can figure out how to go about it.”
“After we determine an insertion point, we can co-dream into the past,” Chow added as he looked at me, meeting my enthusiasm with his own.
“We do feel it’s time for you to do some teaching of your own, Ann,” Jean-Pierre said abruptly.
I turned to him, curious.
“We want you to train both Chow and Edwin in remote viewing.”
My eyebrows rose at the unexpected request.
“We want you, Chow, and Edwin to be skilled not only in remote viewing, but also co-dreaming,” he said, pausing. “With Edwin’s similarity to Chow’s training, his expertise in Soo Bahk Do, his familiarity with you, and of course his past experience in many critical GOG missions, we believe he is a good fit to train with you and Chow in both remote viewing and co-dreaming. Edwin’s already been practicing co-dreaming with Chow for some time.”
I nodded, agreeing that he would be an asset to us.
“Think of yourselves as the Three Musketeers,” he said with a wink to me.
I chuckled at that, while Chow and Edwin both smiled.
“Now that we have that settled, let’s continue. With all three of you working this mission, it’s our hope that you can take down Talbot. By doing so, we have faith that the repression of civil liberties will not take hold, as history has shown,” Jean-Pierre said ardently.
“If we’re successful, it’s possible that I will be the only one to remember the original history,” I said.
“You are the Guardian of Time…perhaps that also means that you are the sentinel of the time-portal and the keeper of the first history,” Jean-Pierre said, matter of fact.
“Perhaps,” I said, not having considered it before then.
“We’ll leave the details up to the three of you. Do any of you have questions about the operation?”
None of us spoke up.
“Okay then. Can you update me on the situation in India?” he said to Chow, moving on to the next topic.
“Yes,” Chow began. “When we were at Mount Abu, we planted a virus into the rationing program, which randomly increases the amount of food the poor receive throughout India. When we were leaving India, Ann and I realized that we needed a back door into the system to monitor the rationing. When we arrived in Barcelona, we installed a solution at the server to make that possible.”
“You can now monitor rations from a secure laptop here?” Jean-Pierre asked.
“Yes,” Chow answered.
Jean-Pierre smiled in gratification.
Chow continued, “Increased food has been distributed to the poor since then. However…”
Jean-Pierre’s smile fell.
“Shubham must have told them that we planted a virus, because they have been looking for it ever since we left India. Luckily, they have not found it. But there is a new problem. At the rationing distribution centers, the workers have been spot-checking the rations. When they identify an individual receiving more than their allotted share, they revoke that individual’s entire ration, and he gets no food until his next rationing day. I’ve been waiting for Ann to heal so that we can devise a solution.”
“I want you both to start planning a fix while I’m here, and then update me before I leave,” Jean-Pierre instructed us. “The extent of Shubham’s betrayal is like a ripple in a pond,” he said with disgust.
“You’re right about that,” I agreed.
“In the near term, all of you will be busy with these tasks…and of course Ann’s training. According to The Prophecies, you only have a few more months before they are fulfilled.”
A quiver went through me, drawing the attention of our group. “I hadn’t realized it was so close,” I said quietly, in explanation.
“Let’s use our time well. Don’t forget, hats low over your face whenever you leave the safe house,” Jean-Pierre said, his tone authoritative. The warning wasn't wasted on any of us, as we all gazed at one another soberly. “I need not remind you that face recognition technology is fully operational throughout France. I’m certain that more than one government is scanning to find you, Ann. We do not want them to succeed. This is not the time to be careless.”
All of us nodded our agreement.
“Does anyone have any other issues to discuss?” he asked.
Silence settled over the table.
“For those of you working guard duty, be aware that I have a GOG runner coming in the next couple of days to update me on s
ome things.” Everyone nodded but me; I guessed that everyone was on guard duty except me. “Enough of this talk,” Jean-Pierre said boisterously, lightening the mood. “Françoise, what splendid meal do you have in store for us?” he asked jovially.
Françoise’s vibrant eyes sparkled, while my mouth watered in automatic response.
As she prepared the meal, Jean-Pierre asked me to walk in the garden with him. I looped my arm through his as we left through the back door.
“Your English is better since the last time I saw you,” I said to him as we strolled.
“My beautiful wife bought me an English language application for my Android phone. Aimée said I embarrassed her with the quality of my English when you and Chow came to Chateau de La Rongere. She said that I must improve my English, now that I had American relations.”
I laughed out loud, squeezing his arm. “You’ve made wonderful progress in a short time, Jean-Pierre.”
“I’ve got those earbuds in listening to English so frequently that my ears hurt. But I do my best to keep my wife happy,” he said with a shrug.
As we strolled among the roses, he handed me a package, six inches square.
“What’s this?” I asked as I stopped, facing him.
“Open it.”
I unwrapped the small package covered in brown paper. Inside was a small jewelry box. Opening the cover, I saw it sparkle atop the black velvet cushion inside.
“Oh my goodness,” I blurted out.
“Yes,” he said.
“But…” I began. Reaching up, I felt around my neck to confirm that my own phantom Herkimer crystal was still there. I pulled the new Herkimer from the jewelry box to examine it, while the wrapping fell to the ground.
“It was your father’s,” Jean-Pierre said quietly, picking up the wrapping. “Your Aunt Saundra sent it to Elinor.”
“But…”
He answered the question I hadn’t voiced. “No, he was not buried with it as you suspected. Let me tell you what your aunt explained in her letter to Elinor,” he said. “Just before your father’s casket was permanently sealed, Saundra had a feeling that she should remove the Herkimer and give it to you. She said that the feeling was insistent and powerful—that she could not resist it. After removing the crystal from his neck, she put it in her pocket. Your aunt had intended to give it to you many times, but every time, the same insistent feeling told her that the time had not yet come to hand it over. After the destruction of your home in Bellingham, she sent it to Elinor.”