by Brandt Legg
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“Oh, I think I do. The NSA is watching you right now. They’ve got transmitters in your packs, but don’t go getting rid of them until you’re ready for them to flock in for the kill, because they’ll know the minute you do.”
“If the NSA wants the artifacts so badly, and they know where I am, how come I’m still free?”
“And alive,” Booker emphasized. “They need your knowledge; they want to make sure they know everything you do, before they kill you.”
Rip’s mind went blank for a moment. He felt as if he had to remember to breathe, or his lungs might collapse under the sheer weight of the armies amassed against him.
“Rip, I can get you out.”
“Where will we go? You said they’re watching.” Rip wasn’t sure what to believe, but he desperately wanted to trust Booker.
“They are. We have a plan. I assume you’re heading to Flagstaff. Don’t worry. This phone is scrambled and untraceable. They can pick up your end from the payphone, but it’ll be twenty-four hours until that gets done.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I sell them the damned equipment.”
“Of course you do.”
“Anyway, you can’t go with Larsen. The NSA would close in on us all in ten seconds. But Larsen will give you a GPS unit; the coordinates are programmed in, and a time is written on the back. An extraction team will be there to get you. Ten minutes before the meet, find a vehicle to put your tracking devices in. That’s the tricky part, so do it smoothly.”
“Okay, I can do that.”
“You actually have plenty of time. The Vatican and the FBI have no idea where you are. The NSA is keeping them at bay.”
“I should go; I feel better moving. I’ve gotten kind of used to it.”
“We’ll put an end to that, my friend. It’s almost over. But before you hang up, I need to tell you about your biggest problem.”
When Rip arrived back at the truck, now with a full tank, and pulled under one of the few trees in sight, he found Larsen and Gale in serious conversation. She’d been crying.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, coolly.
Gale looked at him with pleading eyes. He knew better than to let himself get trapped in the blue. “We need to go.”
Larsen looked from Gale to Rip. “Look, guys, no need for all this tension. We’re all still alive.”
“Yeah, but you’re the only one who’s known that for the past two weeks,” Rip said. “I’ve been living with the guilt of your death. And while we’re talking about being alive, there are others who haven’t been so lucky.”
“Rip, don’t make me out to be the bad guy just because I didn’t die. I begged you not to take the damned Eysen.”
“I told you so? You came back from the dead to say I told you so?”
“No, I’m just saying lay off; we’re in this now. Let’s get it done the right way. Booker is the only hope.”
“We’ve been doing just fine up until now without his help,” Gale said.
“Fine? You call people getting killed fine?” Larsen asked.
“Tell me why, after all the years we worked on Cosega, when we finally found it, you were afraid?” Rip asked.
“I wasn’t the one afraid, Rip. You were. I had faith that if we followed the procedures we’d been trained in, the same ones we’d always done, then everything would be fine. What is the good of finding Cosega, if you’re going to hide it from the world?”
“After all this, you don’t realize. This. Is. Not. A. Normal. Find!”
“You’re the one who made it not normal,” Larsen yelled back. “You attracted all of this trouble.”
Rip took a deep breath. “Maybe. But there’s a whole lot you don’t know.”
“I’m sure there is. Maybe you’ll explain it all to me while we’re sitting on one of Booker’s islands trying to make sense of it,” Larsen said, smiling. “I don’t want to argue with you, Rip. I came here to rescue you. Whatever mistakes we’ve made don’t matter now.”
“Shouldn’t we be going?” Gale asked, looking back up the highway.
“Here, take this.” Larsen handed him the GPS. Rip turned it over and read the time.
“I need time to think,” Rip said.
“You’ve got hours,” Larsen replied.
“How did you get here?” Rip asked.
“Helicopter.”
“How come we didn’t hear it,” Gale asked.
“I got here first.”
“How’d you know we were going to stop?”
“Have you seen any other gas stations?” Larsen smiled.
“Where’s the copter now?”
“They’ll be back as soon as I call them.”
Chapter 54
Gale was relieved when they pulled away from the station without Larsen. For a minute she thought Rip was going to want them to go in the helicopter.
“What’s with that?” she asked, pointing to the GPS.
“To help us navigate.”
“How’d the call with your father go?”
“I couldn’t reach him.”
“Then where are we going?” Gale asked surprised.
“I’ve got a friend in Sedona. He can help.”
“How? Why don’t we just head north, when we get to 89? We could be in Colorado tonight. Lost in the mountains. Figure out the Eysen, the Odeon, you could tell me more about what was in Clastier’s letters . . . ”
“No. We have to get out of the country.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so angry. Your best friend, who you thought was dead, is alive. And instead of hugging him, you practically took his head off.”
“I’m not in the mood to talk right now. I need to think.”
“You know what? When you’re not in the mood to talk, that’s when you need to talk the most. And you know what else I think? I think you’re a little jealous of Larsen.”
“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”
“Because he and I were dating.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Gale. Go ahead and resume your relationship with Larsen; it’s fine with me.”
“Really? Well, it’s nice to know how you feel.”
“I didn’t know there was any question.”
Gale drove faster, glad she was too angry to cry. “What did Booker have to say?”
“Booker?”
“Yeah. Larsen told me you were talking to him. Any reason you didn’t want to tell me about it?”
“No reason, I just hadn’t gotten around to it. We’ve been busy talking about how much you missed dating Larsen.”
“What’s your problem?”
“I’ve got half the world chasing me, the other half lying to me, and most of them want me dead.”
“Don’t you mean chasing us?”
“Look, Gale, I don’t see you getting charged with murder.”
“The charges were dropped.”
“Whatever, I took the artifacts. They want me. For all I know, they think you’re my hostage.”
“I thought we were in this together. Clastier is important to me. I’ve seen inside the Eysen. I’m here!”
“But you knew none of this three weeks ago. I was just a name on your list of interview topics. The Eysen, Clastier, they didn’t exist for you.”
“You’re just talking about days of the week. Time isn’t that simple. As soon as I learned what I know, I’ve always known it.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Rip asked, focusing on the heat blurring off the asphalt that seemed like a black ribbon through an otherwise desolate moonscape of diagonal cliffs, jagged rocks, and miles of meaningless barbed wire.
“Haven’t you read what Clastier said about time?” Gale asked, adjusting the visor to avoid the glare of the sun.
“Of course I have, I’ve read it a hundred times.”
“Then why don’t you know what I’m talking about?” Gale asked.
“Beca
use everyone reads Clastier differently.”
“What?”
“The earlier Clastier church builders discovered it. They had study groups so that they could better interpret and understand his words. Soon, after some arguing, they realized they weren’t reading the same things. I mean the words were the same, but they each got totally different meanings from them,” Rip said.
“You don’t think reincarnation is real, yet you believe that the nineteenth century writings of a defrocked priest can change, dependent on the reader, and you’ve witnessed an eleven-million-year-old computer show images of us from this lifetime!”
“It’s easier to believe the changing, multi-meanings of Clastier’s writings, his prophecies, and even the Eysen, because there is proof I can see.” Rip slammed his hand on the dashboard. “Reincarnation is impossible . . . at least it was until my encounters with the shopkeeper and Sani-Niyol. Now, you’ll be happy to know, although I don’t pretend to understand it, I do believe there is something to it.”
“It’s about time.”
“I damn sure hope there’s more to this than my atoning for Conway’s sins. Some strange karmic twist that I’m now trying to save Clastier’s work, that I, in another life, once fought so hard to destroy.”
“I think you know there is far more to it than that,” Gale said tensely.
Chapter 55
Pisano wore a Fioravanti suit; it was the most important meeting of his life. He recognized all but two women, as he looked nervously around the room, unsure why the President of the United States had called this emergency summit. Obviously, he knew the topic, but he didn’t see the point of bringing these people of widely diverse interests together to discuss the Eysen. The Vatican’s position was “non-negotiable,” as the Pope believed that both the Malachy Prophecies and Clastier’s Divinations gave the Vatican undeniable ownership to the Eysen.
The President entered and quickly turned the meeting over to Kristi Toft, whose title, Special Counsel to the President, could mean just about anything. Pisano noticed the delicate gold chain that disappeared under her blue cotton blouse and wondered if there was a cross on the end. By the end of the day, he would have a complete file on her, but now he could only speculate. She was attractive, in a delicate way, but firm and capable in her manner; not surprising given the position to which she’d risen. He could tell she was smarter than he was and he’d disliked her immediately, but consoled himself knowing he was the best dressed in the room.
Toft efficiently introduced the participants who included the Directors of the FBI and the CIA, Attorney General Dover, a woman from the NSA, Booker Lipton, and Pisano. Booker had reluctantly agreed to attend at the insistence of the President. Noticeably absent was Senator Monroe. Booker and Pisano were the only non-governmental attendees. Pisano didn’t feel outnumbered; his constituency represented nearly twenty percent of the world’s population. After the introductions, Toft told them she wanted each to explain their interest in the Eysen and asked Pisano to go first.
“The Holy Father has laid claim to the object you call ‘the Eysen’ for centuries. It belongs to the Vatican.”
“How do you figure?” the CIA Director asked. “It was found on American soil.”
“Our claim predates the existence of America by more than five hundred years. The fact that it was found here means no more than the location of a stolen masterpiece painting. It belongs to the owner from which it was taken.”
“Are you saying we stole the Eysen from the Vatican?” the CIA Director asked, sounding annoyed.
“If the Eysen is not returned to the Vatican, then yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Please,” Toft said, “we’re not here to argue. The President called this summit so that we could work together toward the two objectives we all agree on: first, to avoid additional players entering the field, and second, to keep the media contained.”
“If it weren’t for the FBI’s sloppy handling of the investigation, this would have been wrapped up long ago,” Pisano said.
“Mr. Pisano, the Vatican agents have obstructed the Bureau since day one. I might also question the NSA’s involvement –”
“Enough,” Dover said.
“Yes,” the CIA Director agreed. “The issue is not what has happened up until now. If you think things have been crowded before this, it is about to get much worse. We have picked up chatter that the Chinese, Russians, and Israelis are aware of the operation.”
“Your leaks are an embarrassment,” Pisano said.
“Do they know the nature of the object?” Booker asked.
“Leaks, wherever they’re coming from, may be an embarrassment, Mr. Pisano,” the woman from the NSA said; “however, the results are a problem for us all.”
“We don’t know how much they know, Booker,” the CIA Director said; he’d met Booker many times. “But it’s likely the Chinese and the Israelis are closer to understanding than the Russians. There is some evidence that the Israelis have actually been aware of the Eysen, prior to Gaines locating it.”
Booker nodded. He had to get Gaines out of the country now. Navigating the U.S. intelligence agencies was difficult enough, but he had many contacts. He had billions invested in China and was well connected there, but the Communist government’s competing interests would limit his ability to gain an edge. The other problem presented by Chinese involvement was that it was one of the few countries that could outspend Booker. Although he wasn’t without resources in Israel, their participation would make things much tougher, especially if they really did know precisely what it was that everyone wanted.
“I don’t know why we’re here wasting time,” Pisano said. “You all can resolve your internal power struggles and stop stepping on each other’s feet. But you don’t need us and it’s irrelevant. Even if an agency of the U.S. Government, or one of its citizens,” he nodded to Booker, “obtains the Eysen before our agents, the Vatican will use all means available to regain possession.”
“Good luck with that,” the Director of the CIA said.
“Gentlemen, ladies,” said the President, who had remained silent until then. “We’re aware of the tools at the Vatican’s disposal. It need not get to that. We must come to an agreement of what will become of the Eysen, whenever it is recovered. And then, we will share information to make sure that one of us gets the damned thing, before the Chinese, Israelis, Russians, or someone even worse. We are not leaving this room until there is an agreement.”
Everyone looked at Pisano, except Booker, who stared directly at the woman from the NSA.
“Mr. President,” Pisano said, reveling in the attention, “do you honestly think we can work together? You people don’t even trust each other. How on earth do you expect us to trust you?”
“I’m not sure you understand, Mr. Pisano. I wasn’t making a request,” the President said.
“With all due respect, I answer to a higher authority,” Pisano said, smirking. “And perhaps you’re unaware, but your own NSA has sent look-alikes out there to distract the FBI, and the FBI has detained NSA and Vatican agents. The FBI is withholding information from your Attorney General, and Booker Lipton has people running around in all directions. No one trusts anyone.”
“Of course, I am aware of this. That is precisely why I summoned all the parties. Do you think the Vatican can, by itself, do what it has failed to do for the past ten days?”
“As I said, if your people would get out of our way, we’d have Gaines in a few hours.”
The CIA Director scoffed.
The FBI Director had not uttered a word. He knew too much. The President was mostly using the summit to put Booker and the Vatican on notice that they were going to lose this. The President, at the bequest of the NSA, had wanted everything on the table and used the Russians, Chinese, and Israelis to scare various participants into complying. As far as the FBI Director knew, only the Israelis were close enough to pose a real threat. They, like the Vatican, had known about the E
ysen prior to the discovery.
In spite of the President’s strong-arming, the meeting adjourned with only an agreement to meet again in three days, if the Eysen had not been recovered, but no one expected that to be the case. Each party had reason to believe that they would be in possession of the powerful artifact by the end of the day.
Chapter 56
Rip hadn’t been sure how or when he would bring up what he’d learned from Booker. Normally that kind of information would take him days to process. “A scientist is trained to evaluate data and reach conclusions based on facts; emotion merely gets in the way,” he’d once told a past girlfriend. That relationship, like the few others he’d attempted, hadn’t lasted. But Gale was different. She was not a girlfriend; although he couldn’t deny he had developed feelings of some sort and found the way she caused him to see things within himself, and the world, exciting.
Larsen had foolishly told her he was talking to Booker, which probably meant Larsen didn’t know what Booker had told him. In either case, it forced him to address the ugly truth and the timing could not have been worse.
“Booker told me that the Church had people on my digs, watching, informing,” Rip said, checking his pack for the fifth time, while Gale drove.
“What are you saying?”
“Someone at that camp was a Vatican plant!”
“My God, who?”
“Exactly. You tell me.”
“How would I know?”
“Maybe you should ask Senator Monroe, better known as the next President. I’m sure he could tell us.”
“What does he have to do with this?”
“Really? That’s how you’re going to play this, Gale? After all we’ve been through, I hoped for a shred of honesty!” He glared at her. She glanced back, her eyes suddenly helpless, breaths coming short.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“How do you lie so easily? I know about you and Senator Monroe!”
“What about us?”
“You were lovers!”
“That was fifteen years ago. I don’t have to give you a history of my love life!”