‘However, you have exposed your hand to a very powerful interest group before the game has even started. I suspect your problems have just begun.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
Shaughnessy and La Rue joined the politicians who were filing out of the room. Silverwood joined Sam at his table.
‘That was some performance you put in there, Mr Jardine.’
‘I’m just trying to do the right thing, Mr Silverwood.’
‘Quite so. I wish more people had your moral certainty and vision.’
Silverwood leaned back in his chair as if he were lost in his own thoughts. He nodded his head as if he had been pondering an important issue. ‘I would like to introduce you to the members of my club. We meet once a year and next week our conference happens to be in Washington DC. Our members come from all walks of life and from different nationalities, but we have one thing in common: we are men and women of extraordinary capability and influence who wish to make a difference to the world.’
‘Something like the Rotary Club?’
Silverwood laughed. ‘It’s a good analogy but we refer to ourselves as The Brandenburg Group. This year we are meeting to discuss a post-climate change world, and I think the members will be fascinated to hear your views.’
CHAPTER 30
The Woodlands
Daylight was fading fast as Sam parked his rented Jaguar XF in the long driveway of Sienna’s Woodlands residence. The sprawling single-storey house was located on a secluded bend on Skyflower Drive and resembled a show home from Architectural Digest. A golden glow from the outdoor lights showed off the fawn-coloured bricks and gave the house a warm, inviting appeal.
Sam rang the doorbell at the main entrance and waited for Sienna to answer. He was an hour late after a three-way teleconference call with Rex Daingerfield and the Egyptian minister of petroleum. Since news about Daingerfield’s exclusive exploration licence for the Nefertari oilfield had been leaked to the press, and Sam’s amendment had passed through Congress, Dangerfield Oil shares had almost doubled overnight. The Egyptian minister had agreed that Daingerfield’s first ten-million-dollar carbon offset payment should be directed to the Sirius Motor Company.
Sam hoped Sienna would not be agitated by his tardy arrival. The door opened and Sienna stepped forward. Her face shone with pleasure and she embraced him for a long moment before she stepped back to look him up and down. ‘You look well, Sam,’ she said, clasping his hand.
‘And so do you, Sienna. Your recuperation has worked wonders.’
Sam was not lying. When he had delivered Sienna to Rex Daingerfield six months before, she was a broken woman. The trauma of her near-death experience and the loss of the temple servant Sneferu had shaken her to the core. She had become withdrawn, dejected and anorexic as she fought a mental battle with her own complex religious beliefs. But as she stood gripping his hand, Sam could tell she had regained much of her old confidence. Dressed in a mid-length black leather skirt and delicate floral silk blouse, she had filled out so her curves were evident once more. But the symbols of her temple identity were missing as if she were making a conscious effort to sever her ties with the past.
‘It’s been too long, Sam,’ she admonished. ‘Why didn’t you come to visit me sooner?’
‘I’m sorry, Sienna. I know I should have come before now. I guess I’ve been waiting for the old Sienna to re-emerge. The one with fire in her eyes and determination in her heart to resolve the future of the planet. I need her guidance.’
‘She’s gone, Sam.’ Sienna’s fingers went to the place at her throat where her pendant used to hang. ‘The Oracle of Sekhmet was an aberration in a modern world where self-interest reigns. It’s best we do not talk about her. My psychologist is worried I will relapse into a dark space if I am reminded of her again.’
Sam noticed a shadow of sadness cross her noble features. His heart felt heavy and he stepped forward to pull her towards him. He breathed in the scent of her frankincense that had made his senses swim in her London flat and in the temple. Sienna held Sam close for a minute, but then pulled away from his embrace.
‘You’ve made your choice, Sam. It doesn’t take an oracle to work out you have fallen for your pretty Egyptian Sirius manager, Cantara Sharif. It’s also clear you have no room in your heart for an archaic religion.’
‘Your perfume tells me the Oracle still claims a part of your soul,’ he said.
‘It’s a hard habit to break,’ she admitted.
‘Then why did you ask me to come here, Sienna?’
‘To thank you for risking your life for me in Egypt and to show you I am assimilating back into normal society. My father believes I am ready to re-join the firm. There is a role for me in the finance department.’
‘I’m sure your father is proud of how you are conforming to his expectations. But I think the world needs the Oracle’s spiritual guidance more than ever.’
Sienna smiled and took Sam’s hand once more. ‘Come and see my new house. Daddy bought it for me when I checked out of the psychiatric hospital.’
Sienna escorted him through the vast open-plan living area, just as she had guided him through the dangerous corridors of the temple many months before. Her bare feet padded on the gleaming wooden floorboards. Sam gazed at the artwork that lined the wall on his left. He looked for Egyptian symbolism within the modern paintings that might betray a hidden desire to return to her past. But they were minimalist and sterile. Sienna showed him the beautiful dining area, separated from the living room by two white interior pillars.
‘I would show you the kitchen, but I don’t want to disturb the caterers,’ Sienna said. ‘Let me take you to the guest wing instead. You are staying, aren’t you?’
‘I wasn’t planning to stay,’ Sam said. ‘I wasn’t sure if—’
‘If I was stable enough to receive overnight guests?’
‘Not at all... It might set tongues wagging.’
‘And you were lecturing me about being too conformist! Let me at least show you the garden.’ Sienna led Sam outside. The sun had already set but the subtle lighting revealed an oasis of garden beds and tall trees that stretched into the distance. In the middle of the garden was an ornamental swimming pool, which reminded Sam of the rock pool inside the Temple of Sekhmet.
‘I helped the landscape artist design the garden,’ Sienna said.
‘I can tell.’
‘It was the one thing that kept me going while I was in therapy. And over here is my favourite area.’ Sienna led Sam to a secluded corner of the garden that was obscured by bushes. A low table was laden with exotic fruits, pastries and smoked fish. Around the wooden table was a scattering of leather cushions. A tiny pond containing a dozen tropical fish was nestled close by. Discreetly positioned heaters gave the area a cosy and intimate feel.
Sam was reminded of the temple alcove where he had enjoyed his first meal with Sienna after she had nursed him back to health. Sienna squeezed his hand as if she too felt the connection.
‘Shall we?’ she said, and gestured to the pile of comfortable cushions either side of the table.
Their knees brushed as they made themselves comfortable at one end of the low table.
‘Your house is beautiful,’ Sam remarked.
‘But you see it as a gilded cage to stop me flying back to Egypt and resuming my old life?’
‘Something like that.’
Sam helped himself to a pastry. Its flavours triggered more memories of the temple and their brief time together in the desert.
‘I have been diagnosed with dissociative personality syndrome, which is complicated by a factitious disorder.’
‘What does that mean?’ Sam asked, taking a sip from a tall glass containing a cloudy liquid. He nodded in appreciation as the combination of fruits hit the spot on his palate. ‘I’m starting to get a real taste for your sherbets.’
‘My psychiatrists believe I developed a double personality when I was abducted into the temple. This se
cond personality became my dominant character for so long, I had internalised it and was reluctant to revert to my former pre-temple identity. The psychiatrists are training my former identity to take a more prominent role in my life.’
‘Psychiatrists? How many have you got?’
‘Three. Maybe four. The psychiatrists don’t always agree with each other, but Daddy is determined to get his little girl back, so money is no object.’
‘And what do you want, Sienna?’
‘You have seen both of my... personalities. The one you know as the Oracle overwhelms me with a sense of responsibility for the wellbeing of the earth. The experts believe that burden is killing me.’
‘I’m no psychiatrist, but I would say you are playing two different roles with the same personality. The loving daughter, and the guardian of an ancient source of knowledge. You do both jobs rather well.’
Sienna rested her hand on Sam’s knee. ‘Thank you, Sam. Unfortunately, the experts don’t see it that way. They want me to be isolated from all reminders of my Egyptian past. Two of my psychiatrists were adamant I should not see you today, but Daddy thought it would cheer me up.’
‘I would say anyone who came as close to death at the hands of the rebels as you did would have a right to feel troubled. It will take time for you recover, but you’re more rational than any of the politicians I’ve met in Washington lately.’
Sienna smiled at Sam’s comments and moved closer so their arms brushed. Sam noticed some of the old sparkle had returned to her beautiful green eyes.
‘Sienna, I need to know more about the errant priest. Are you able to talk about him?’
Sienna nodded.
‘Why does... the goddess Sekhmet... want him destroyed?’
‘You know who he is, don’t you?’
‘I thought I did when I was recovering in the temple, but now I’m confused.’
‘The errant priest has an obsession with one of his predecessors who served in the temple four hundred years ago. The old priest’s name was Michel de Sage and he became one of the most gifted men of the age of Enlightenment. De Sage was driven from the temple as a young man.’
‘What had he done?’
‘He committed the cardinal sin of falling in love with the young Oracle of the time. They became lovers, which was considered a capital crime by the temple elders and the Oracle was put to death. Some say by Sekhmet herself. Her body was placed in a stone sarcophagus in a tomb close to the inner sanctum. The priests proclaimed that anyone who entered her tomb would never get out alive.’
‘The tomb with the narrow opening and the heavy iron bars that drop from the ceiling?’
‘How do you know that?’ Sienna asked, looking surprised.
‘A wild hunch.’
‘The priests did not know that while they were lovers, the Oracle had taught Michel de Sage some of the secrets of the temple – including the gift of prophesy.’
‘So once Michel de Sage left the temple, he could have done immense harm with that knowledge.’
‘Yes, but he was a man of high moral principles. De Sage returned to France and used his knowledge to become a physician to the nobility and wealthy merchants. His skills as a surgeon made him renowned among the most powerful people in Europe.’
‘So why is your errant priest so fascinated by Michel de Sage?’
‘Michel de Sage became erratic in his old age. He dabbled in mysticism and used his gifts of prophesy to impress the great and the good of Europe. He Latinised his name to Sapientus and soon the nobility and wealthy merchants were clamouring to ask him to prophesise their family’s future. His prophesies were so accurate, he became a sensation and one of the wealthiest men of his time.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘Sapientus predicted several influential and wealthy European merchant families would be trapped in an economic crisis brought about by their own greed and corruption. The merchants were so outraged by his predictions, they threatened to imprison him for heresy. To protect himself, he wrote a manuscript in which he claimed to list the detailed financial secrets of every nobleman and merchant who had threatened him with imprisonment, and handed a copy to Pope Urban VIII for safekeeping. Sapientus also included many of the secrets of the Temple of Sekhmet and prophesised every financial, military and natural disaster for the next four hundred years.’
‘And your errant priest is trying to get his hands on the Sapientus manuscript?’
‘Its location is no secret. The manuscript is loaned to the library of Congress in Washington. But most of the world believes it was an elaborate hoax to fool his persecutors and keep them at bay. Sapientus wrote the manuscript in a coded language that has never been translated to this day.’
‘Then why is your priest so interested in the manuscript?’
‘He believes Sapientus wrote the manuscript in proto-cuneiform, the language I showed you in the temple library. He believes if he can translate the manuscript, he will gain Sapientus’s gift of prophesy and the secrets of the temple that were denied him as a result of his expulsion. Even more importantly, he will gain access to the financial secrets of the wealthy merchants and noblemen, many of whose descendants still control much of the world’s wealth today.’
‘But surely no-one believes Sapientus’s prophesies today?’
‘Five years after Sapientus predicted the downfall of several wealthy European merchant houses, every single one of them went bankrupt during the great tulip bubble of 1637.’
‘Have you seen the manuscript?’
‘No. It’s owned and controlled by an elite and secretive group called The Brandenburg Group.’
‘My God! I’ve been invited to their next meeting. Curtis Silverwood said the purpose of the group was to use the intelligence and resources of the world’s great and good to resolve the most urgent global issues.’
‘Be careful, Sam.’
‘Why?’
‘The scientists, businessmen and politicians in The Brandenburg Group may have started with the best of intentions. But during the last twenty years their philosophy has been corrupted by the radical right. Their agenda now is different and Silverwood may have worked out your connection with the Temple of Sekhmet and its links to Sapientus. He might think you can translate the manuscript.’
‘But I can’t.’
‘You won’t know until you read it.’
‘Is your father in the group?
‘The Brandenburg Group sees my father as an interloper. His fracking business has upset the old order of petroleum and coal. They want to see him ruined. Please be careful when you attend their meeting, Sam.’
‘Silverwood wants the group to address climate change. Isn’t that what you wish for too?’
‘Sam, you still don’t get it, do you? The earth is already past its tipping point. The Brandenburg Group knows this and is meeting to decide how to deal with the catastrophic aftermath. That point came late last year with the melting of the tundra in Siberia and Canada. Even as we speak, millions of tonnes of methane gas are leaching into the earth’s atmosphere every day. There is no technology on earth that can refreeze the tundra. Once the level of methane in the atmosphere reaches its critical mass, the ice caps will melt within a year and then...’
‘And then?’
Sienna sighed and squeezed Sam’s hand. ‘It will all be over.’
* * *
Upernavik Icefjord, Greenland, March
Rashid attached the wires to the high explosives that surrounded the plutonium and slid the cylindrical core back inside the metal casing of the Vengeance XV nuclear warhead. A thin metal plate separated the two quantities of plutonium. On their own, the two sections of the warhead did not contain enough plutonium to create a nuclear reaction. But Rashid had been working to find a practical way of combining these two masses. The warhead was designed to be fired from a large, truck-sized weapon. The force of the gun-firing mechanism would be sufficient to fuse the two separate sections of the warhead together.
If he could find a reliable method of remotely detonating the high explosives surrounding the plutonium, it would set off a chain reaction resulting in the familiar mushroom cloud explosion and enough energy to shatter the mountainous iceberg that held back the vast body of meltwater.
He screwed the cap back into place and sighed with relief. Despite the sub-zero temperatures in the storage shed, sweat streamed from his forehead. He had developed a tremor in his left hand and was feeling nauseous. He knew he was dying, but it was a price he was prepared to pay to enter the gates of paradise. There had not been time to organise a radiation-proof suit and in any case, it would have drawn unwelcome attention from his American workmates. They were already hostile to the Egyptians and were looking for an excuse to expel them from the rig.
‘Have you found a way of detonating the device yet?’ asked Jamal. He had been looking through the glass window of the storage shed and had joined Rashid once the cap had been screwed back onto the warhead. He bent down to help Rashid lift the heavy device back into its packing case. ‘Time is running out. Crawford is pulling us out of this hellhole at the end of the month. The warhead must be in place when we leave.’
‘I have found a way. Praise be to God.’
Jamal looked at his colleague in surprise. For the last week, Rashid had become despondent. ‘How have you managed this breakthrough, my friend?’
‘There is one method that is guaranteed to detonate the warhead. I must be there in person to connect the circuit. I will stay behind when you leave.’
‘I cannot ask you to do this, my brother.’
‘I am dying anyway. This way I can achieve immortality. It is God’s will that those who persecuted my family in Palestine will suffer the most. America and the West stood by while my parents and sisters were driven from their homes by the Zionist bulldozers. They built a wall in the West Bank to imprison them and arrested our leaders who petitioned against such cruel treatment. We now seek justice from a higher authority and God has given us the means to dispense their punishment.’
The Last Oracle: A Climate Fiction Thriller (Sam Jardine Crime Thrillers Book 3) Page 23