by Brandt Legg
Booker left the bunker and returned to the main house as soon as he got word Gale had been found. He stood on the covered section of the deck and watched the storm sweep across the valley. It was only drizzling where he was, but a few miles away, the sky appeared to be tearing open. His aide found him.
“Want an update?” she asked.
“The lightning is spectacular,” he said.
“Not if you’re out there in a teepee,” she said. “Did they really find her in one?”
“Gale Asher is a resourceful woman,” Booker said. “I’m sure it’s quite a story, but she is refusing to talk to Kruse or Harmer.”
“Everything is ready for her.”
“Good, and San Miguel?”
“Another hour and our best BLAX unit will be in position. Is Rip on board?”
“One way or another, BLAX is going to get him out of there. We got lucky that those hotshots at the NSA, risked moving satellites. Those chances don’t happen by accident. Rip will come to his senses.”
The aide met Gale, who was a wet, muddy mess, and led her to a bedroom where several outfits of new clothes in her size were waiting. After a shower, the aide asked if she’d be willing to meet with Booker. “I’d like nothing more,” Gale said.
“Excellent, but first, there is someone else you might wish to see,” she said, heading down the hall.
Gale’s heart skipped, thinking it might be Rip. Then concern took over when she realized it might be Senator Monroe. The aide opened the door, Gale took one look and burst into tears, then ran into Grinley’s arms.
“Hey, hey, what’s with all the tears?” Grinley asked, hugging her. It had been a few years since he’d felt affection like that. The feeling of being missed and needed, soothed his aggravation at having lost his dog, home, and fortune; such as it was. Although he was a career criminal, truth was all that ultimately mattered to Grinley.
“You’re really alive. You saved our lives. They killed your dog. You gave us money. You’re alive!”
“Take a deep breath.”
“Oh, Grinley. They’re all dead.” Gale couldn’t stop crying. “Josh, Sean, Larsen, Topper! And I don’t know where Rip is.”
“You’re safe,” he said, holding her.
“No, I’m not. And I lost all the things we were trying to protect. And . . . ”
“You’re safe right now. Breathe.”
She did. How long had it been since she’d written in her journal? Meditated? How long since she stopped? Gale sat on the bed. “The world’s gone crazy,” she finally said.
“A long time ago.” Grinley laughed.
The aide knocked on the open door. “Excuse me, Gale. Booker was hoping to see you now. There’s news of Rip.”
Chapter 43
Elpate and Dyce agreed to help Rip get farther south. Dyce had someone doing minor maintenance on the plane and it wouldn’t be ready for several hours, so they couldn’t leave until after lunch.
Rip shut himself back in his room to study the Eysen. Remembering Booker’s warning, he was ready to go with everything stuffed in his pack, which was already on his back, still partially unzipped to allow space to shove in the precious artifact.
He watched the Sequence as the sphere floated above the Odeon Chip. For a moment the realization hit him anew. The astonishing object before him was eleven million years old, and incredibly, it contained the entire history of the planet. It was impossible, he knew, yet there it was. The Eysen, and all the tragedies it had brought, had already changed the world. “I can see it in the swirling Sequence, or rather, I feel it,” he thought.
He traveled on a tour of the solar system inside the glowing orb. Again, the visuals, way beyond high definition, made him feel as if he could fall into the Eysen, and the universe contained in it. All he needed to do was break the glass, or whatever it was made of, and he would be among the stars. The thought frightened him for a moment, as he wondered if the Eysen could consume him and everything else.
An overlay of dashes and circles that he was used to seeing in the Cosega Sequence imprinted the planets like a date stamp on a photograph, except they moved with the footage, and the language was slowly making more sense to him. He had already worked out the numbers of dots, which were actually tiny circles, and how the rings emanating out from them represented tens, hundreds, thousands, and on and on out to millions and billions. But now, he’d seen several arrangements of dashes and circles enough to realize that they represented the sun and the Earth. Figuring out the Earth’s rotation around the sun represented the key to their numbering system and that linked back to the language. Everything was based on the circles of nature.
“Who were the Cosegans?” he wondered. “Come back,” he whispered to the Eysen, calling the Crying Man to return; he did not. Only the stars and the circles and dashes filled the sphere. The detail of the planets were so incredible that Rip actually laughed; thinking that if NASA knew about the Eysen, it might hire mercenaries and get into the hunt for the artifact.
The beauty of the solar system captivated him to the point where he could no longer concentrate on the circles and dashes. He wished he could record it, but wanted to be prepared in the event Booker was right. As the scenes moved through space, he remembered Josh Stadler’s raising the possibility that the Eysen might be like Roswell, New Mexico, the alleged incident where conspiracy theorists believed that a UFO had crashed-landed in 1947. Gale had later made the point that if it had actually happened, the government would have benefited from the highly developed and complex technology. Many people still believe the government, or the military, had used information gleaned from the wrecked craft and even alien bodies to advance everything from medical procedures to space travel, computers and military technology.
He’d thought a lot about that since those conversations. The NSA and Booker clearly had the incentive to want the Eysen for those reasons. The Vatican’s motives were different; they saw it as a threat to their existence. Watching the stars and planets move within the sphere, in what Rip believed to be actual footage, reminded him of something else Josh had said that first day, “I know that there are hundreds of trillions of stars out there. And to think that only a single little planet orbiting one of those stars can support intelligent life is a silly notion.”
Did the Eysen come from space? Did the Cosegans bring it or did someone give it to them? Were the Cosegans from somewhere else? Were we? All the philosophical questions made him think of Gale. Sometimes the Eysen reminded him of her eyes. There was so much to discover there. He didn’t feel betrayed by her, as much as he felt confused. With the benefit of distance, Rip thought he had been unfair to her. It had all happened so fast, but all along her passion had been real; had carried him and made him believe more. He missed her.
The Eysen’s glow intensified and brought his attention back. The little replica of himself was now standing in a beam of light above the top of the sphere. With “him” the contents of the Eysen filled the room, as if he were in a small planetarium. As Rip walked around to “explore” the new world his room had become, he quickly discovered that even a slight movement affected the view. He could zoom in and out, change the scene, or even pull stars from the sky to inspect them. “Everything is everything!” Rip said elatedly.
Then, surprisingly, the room went completely dark. He wasn’t sure what to do until a pinpoint of light appeared at the center of the black globe. Quickly, as if being rebooted, the Cosega Sequence began to cycle through the familiar visuals, but it ended differently this time. Inside the sphere were galaxies reflecting on, and filling, an otherwise empty pool of clear liquid. Relative to the glittering space above, it may well have been an ocean, or perhaps all the water in creation.
Rip stared, nearly hypnotized by the beauty, until the surface churned and a single tree emerged. At that moment, the significance of what he would later realize was the symbol of beginning life, escaped him. He simply watched in wonder.
Suddenly, the faces, he
hadn’t seen since his first days with the Eysen, returned. They were extraordinary, changed, more alive, and made from the semblance of stars. The expressive human forms conveyed emotions of love, compassion, empathy, trust and wonder; infusing him with a powerful sense of self that was somehow connected to all. Dozens appeared, fading in and out, as if they’d been waiting in line to be seen.
Like the Crying Man, some of their eyes welled with tears, but instead of sadness, they were inviting, even loving, making it impossible for him to avoid smiling. At one point, Rip spontaneously broke into laughter. A second later, it felt as if soft warm arms were hugging him. The “embrace” lasted until a cold ache, he’d never been aware of before, but nonetheless one that had been with him his whole life; was replaced by serenity so complete that he fell to his knees, and deeply sobbed. It only lasted a few moments.
These were not merely images; he could feel their feelings, and understand their minds. Now his tears turned joyful, as the expressions and twinkling eyes taught him that the real meaning of life was- to live- and the way to live was to trust and love. So many faces appeared, each expanding and reinforcing the lessons, with only glances, but ones that he would never forget.
Although the Eysen was obviously more than something filled with history and information, now he realized it was not a machine at all. What it was exactly, might never be known, but no longer was he separate and merely on the outside looking in; he was part of everything the Eysen held.
Chapter 44
Barbeau woke up in another Taos motel to the sound of rain blowing sideways against his window. He’d slept longer than he’d wanted. The storm clouds had refused to allow the sun to rise, and it put him off by an hour.
He called the hospital in Albuquerque and learned that Father Jak was still unconscious and listed as critical. Three DIRT agents joined him for breakfast at nearby Michael’s Kitchen. The coffee helped bring him back to the current year. The previous day’s foray into churches, belonging to prior centuries, had left him feeling displaced.
The agents decided to pursue the only solid lead they had remaining, San Cristobal. It actually wasn’t very solid at all. The site of a church long since destroyed, where Clastier, long since dead, may have preached. San Cristobal really was a laughable lead, but even if he didn’t turn up some critical antique evidence, it seemed the most likely next stop for Gale Asher.
One of the agents took a call. “The Director wants us to keep an eye out for Nanski, the Vatican agent,” he reported. “It seems he didn’t check in last night or this morning. The Vatican called the Attorney General, and he threw it down to the Director.”
Barbeau didn’t like Nanski. He’d been impeding the Bureau from the start. Hall had arrested him and so had Barbeau. As far as he was concerned, Nanski should still be in custody. It worried him though. He figured Nanski had been the shooter at the San José de Gracia Church, mainly because Booker would have no reason to kill Larsen, whom he’d been hiding since the catwalk collapse in the Atlanta hotel. That means Booker’s men might have caught up with Nanski, unless the NSA was killing Vatican agents now.
Jaeger shot a stern look at the confused operative. “Don’t worry, I know it’s Sunday, but that’s a workday for them, there’ll be someone answering phones . . . make the call!”
“Who at the Vatican do you want to talk to?” the operative asked.
Jaeger furrowed his brow. “Who do you think?”
“The Pope?” the operative asked in disbelief.
“No,” Jaeger said exasperated. “I want to talk to the man in charge.” He looked down at his file and gave him the name of the cardinal listed in the report as Exsequor et Protector Ecclesiae. Enforcer and Protector of the Church, Jaeger said to himself. That’s quite a title for a man who might just start World War III.
“Thank you, Cardinal, for taking my call, I wasn’t sure you would under the circumstances.”
“Yes, well, we may be competing for the same thing, but right now Professor Gaines is the greatest enemy of the Church. And, I believe the old saying, ‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend,’ and so must you, or you wouldn’t have called,” the cardinal said.
Jaeger appreciated the cardinal’s candor and the nod to the old proverb, which had been invoked by several of the great military leaders, whom Jaeger had studied.
“I’ve called you because of a report that just came to my attention. It details the possible collapse of the Catholic Church. I never imagined such a thing possible, but apparently the Vatican has long feared this disaster.” Jaeger paused, to give the cardinal a chance to fill in some gaps, or even acknowledge the assessment. The cardinal remained silent.
“This event has been prophesized by your Saint Malachy, a defrocked priest known as Clastier, and possibly others. Something the Church refers to as Ater Dies, Latin for Black Day, brought about by something we call the Eysen.”
“The reason for your call?” the cardinal said, sounding bored.
“You can play it cool, Cardinal, but my government knows through many means, not the least of which are the actions of the Vatican Secret Service agents, that the hierarchy of the Church is making preparations for the end. The ever increasing erratic and desperate actions of your agents around the globe, and specifically in New Mexico, all indicate that you are losing faith that you’ll be able to secure the Eysen.”
“Are you going somewhere with this exposition?”
“I’m stating facts, Cardinal. I should also let you know that I am aware of the exact location of the Eysen. At this very moment, more than a hundred Special Ops soldiers surround it. Additionally, we have three dozen operatives en route to Taos.”
“Your point . . . ,” the cardinal said.
“I am concerned about a world without the Catholic Church.”
“And well you should be.”
“Our analysts have worked computer models all weekend, and there is no good outcome. It seems that, after two thousand years, the Vatican has become so entrenched in the affairs of the world, that without the oldest seat of power on the planet, certain chaos ensues. The United States is not interested in that kind of destabilization.”
“What kind of destabilization are you interested in?” the cardinal asked without a hint of humor.
Jaeger, of course, thought of the Middle East, Asia, South America, but instead said, “The level of turmoil resulting from the fall of the Vatican would be unprecedented.”
“We have a will for survival. The Holy Father has faith.”
“Good for you, good for the Pope,” Jaeger said, annoyed. “I have something else in mind. A proposal I believe you’ll be quite interested to hear.”
Chapter 45
Booker handed Gale a mug of herbal tea. “It’s okay,” he said at her suspicious glance. “The tea is all natural and will only relax you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“You had a rough afternoon. I’m sorry about Larsen.”
Gale nodded, sipping the warm tea. He seemed to mean it. She didn’t want to think about Larsen again; her eyes were still red and swollen from her session with Grinley.
“Thank you for freeing Grinley,” she said. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”
“I keep my word.”
She stared into his eyes, trying to decide whether he was good or bad. After a second she knew the answer: like most of us, he was both. But Booker dealt in extremes, so he could be extremely good and extremely bad. Gale wanted to ask how he decided which to be at any given time. Did he have a code he lived by? Was there some feeling he got, an inner compass of some sort? The reporter in her had a hundred questions for this mysterious man. She stayed silent.
“How did you avoid the Vatican agent?”
“I killed him,” she said coolly.
It was Booker’s turn to assess her. “Would you care to elaborate on that?”
She thought of saying nothing and liked the idea of keeping him guessing, but the more he knew, the more he could help .
. . if that’s what he wanted to do. “His car is at the bottom of a deep ravine that leads to the Rio Grande Gorge, not far from where I abandoned the SUV. He was trying to force me off the road. We traded crashes. I won.”
“There have been no reports on the police bands.”
“The area is a little remote. I guess with the storm, no one has found it yet.”
“Are you okay, Gale?”
“Someone said you had word of Rip?”
Booker considered pressing her on his question, then decided she was not okay and it was best to leave that alone. There would be time to heal if she survived, and if she didn’t survive, her physical and mental health at the moment wouldn’t matter.
“Rip is in Mexico. I have talked to him. We have a team there, and they’re going to bring him here today.”
“How? Where?”
“Even if I could answer those questions, I wouldn’t.”
“Okay. But he’ll be here today?”
“That is the plan. In the meantime, there are some things you need to know about what is going on, but first, I need a favor.”
“You still want me to call Monroe.”
“Yes, the Senator, if he is in fact ‘the empty man who walks among the merchants, the state, and the Church’ who will be killed . . . ” Booker said, quoting one of Clastier’s five remaining Divinations. “Then you need to explain the consequences to him.”