by Brandt Legg
“Last time you and I spoke about this, we agreed that if Monroe is the empty man Clastier speaks of, then it can only mean that he is the one who winds up with the Eysen.”
“Yes, why else would he be killed and his death prophesized?”
“Right, so why is he going to want to give up the Eysen? Monroe is a man seeking power, and I assure you there is nothing more powerful on this planet than possessing the Eysen.” She eyed him carefully, knowing her last statement would have an impact on a man who had done so much for untold years to get the very thing of which she spoke.
Booker, aware of her stare, delivered a legendary poker face. “I assume he is not aware of the Divination predicting his death.”
“I think not,” Gale said.
“He is about to become President, which is not a good time to die. If he wants power, that ought to be plenty.”
“Why do you care what happens to Monroe?” Gale asked.
“I don’t. I care what happens to the Eysen.”
“He won’t listen.”
“Monroe trusts you and knows you have direct knowledge of the situation,” Booker said. “He won’t want to risk his death. Why do you say that?”
“Because he must die.”
Booker stared blankly at her. Why didn’t she think there was even a chance? What did she know? She had looked into the Eysen; she could know anything. She could know everything.
“The Senator will die, no matter what I say to him, whether he believes me or not. Regardless of what action he takes, or does not,” Gale said, with considerable sadness in her voice.
“Why?”
“Because none of Clastier’s Divinations has ever been wrong.”
Chapter 46
Rip stood among the swirling stars, as his tour of the solar system expanded to the entire Milky Way galaxy and then beyond. How had they done this? Could it be possible to travel those distances? Could we achieve some limitless fuel or infinite propulsion system in the future? Did the Eysen contain those secrets? And what others? How incredible it could be to unlock this knowledge and how dangerous?
The Cosegans had evidently seen so much of the future and yet could not save their own. If you could see into the future, would you really want to . . . , Rip wondered. Is there a reason we don’t know the date of our own death? What about the end of our entire society? The species? These were the types of questions Gale liked to ask and loved to debate. Rip wanted to know the facts of the past, not the theories of the future, but is it possible they blend at some point?
The Eysen had a way of changing a person; Rip could feel it happening every time he gazed into the glowing artifact. From the moment it first lit up, it was as if a part of him had also been illuminated. The more he saw within the Eysen, the more insignificant his life seemed. And yet, being connected to something as large as the universe, gave him a sense of being all-powerful.
With the sensation of flying through space, his entire room seemed endless, filled with the drama of space. The speed of travel defied all laws of physics; if Rip wanted to be closer to some planet or star, he needed only to think it and he’d be there. His virtual wanderings were cut short by Elpate’s voice. “Two minute warning,” he said.
Rip shot back to Earth. How had the Cosegans achieved the technology to see so much? The future? The stars? And it wasn’t just cloudy images in the mysterious mind of a seer; they somehow recorded events that had not happened in minute detail. This was too big for Rip to handle alone. He could not uncover the keys to the Eysen’s incredible potential, while looking over his shoulder and running. If he didn’t risk losing the Eysen to Booker, he would likely lose it to someone far worse. After careful thought and trusting his instincts, Rip decided it was time to trust Booker again.
The first step was to carefully zip the priceless sphere into his pack and wait until Elpate and Dyce were ready to go. On the way to the plane he’d find a phone and call the number Booker had given him in the middle of the night. Then he’d ask Dyce to fly him to a remote spot on the coast where Booker would have a team pick him up.
As soon as Jaeger hung up from his call with the cardinal, known as Exsequor et Protector Ecclesiae, he quickly returned the call to his superiors in Washington. The priority of the situation escalated substantially when they told him to “open a full window on 1600.” Surprised, Jaeger immediately transferred an operative whom he didn’t think could handle the new stage of their mission. All the operatives in the secure room of the command center had the highest clearance, but Jaeger needed to be more than sure.
After the personnel issue was dealt with, Jaeger went to the control panel that stretched in front of a wall of monitors and plugged his password and the code he’d been given to implement the most unusual order of his career. “Opening a full window on 1600” meant complete monitoring of the President of the United States. The NSA did this anyway, but as far as Jaeger knew, it had never been made part of a mission before this.
The stakes had increased dramatically, and the look on the faces of the operatives in the room showed shock and strain. Computers and humans would now analyze every word uttered by the President. It would all be tested to determine what bearing they might have on the mission to secure the Eysen. The control room went silent as several screens filled with images of various rooms in the White House, including the Oval Office, and the President’s private residence. More technicians would be brought in to listen to his conversations.
Once the 1600 window was completely operational, Jaeger gave his superiors an update on Gaines, and the efforts to locate and terminate Booker. Seconds after that call ended, an operative signaled him. Jaeger went to the section of monitors and techs covering Mexico.
“Gaines, Elpate, and Dyce had breakfast outside, in the yard.”
“That seems odd,” Jaeger said. “As if he knows we’re listening.”
“Then back in his room, Gaines said, ‘Please come back,’ but he was alone.”
“Why would he say that? Who the hell is he talking to?”
“Once again,” the tech said, “the computers have it near one hundred percent that Gaines was expecting a reply or some action to be taken as a result of his question.”
“Sir,” interrupted an operative from across the room, “the President just asked his Chief of Staff to make a call. Normally he would ask his assistant to do that, not the Chief of Staff.”
“Who is he calling?”
“Booker Lipton.”
“Damn it!”
“Dyce made a call to inquire about the readiness of his plane,” another of the Mexico operatives interrupted.
Jaeger could feel the tipping point; it was upon them. Booker had made a move, or was about to, and Jaeger could lose both Gaines and the Eysen. The experiment was over.
“We are full go. Bring in Gaines,” Jaeger said loudly so that the whole room would hear. “Ready the White Sands safe house. I want to be face-to-face with him in a couple of hours.” Jaeger spun to the big screen. “Bring it up. I want to see everything live, second by second. Do it now!”
Chapter 47
Pisano arrived in Taos. There was a slight lull in the storm, but the landing was still frightening in the small Vatican-chartered plane. He’d prayed constantly on the flight, not for help finding Nanski or even the Eysen, but just to make it safely back to the ground. Once down, he had to run to the terminal and pick up keys to a waiting rental car. His umbrella was no match for the Taos winds and he was fairly soaked.
“You call this an airport?” he blasted the woman behind the counter. “There is mud on my pants!”
“Sorry, sir,” she smiled. “Taos is famous for its mud.”
Pisano didn’t doubt that; it looked like the whole town was made of it. He drove straight to the El Monte Sagrado; where he’d be staying. The Vatican had booked him in some minor-league motel that was not acceptable. He’d changed it and didn’t mind paying the extra. His God didn’t expect poverty, even if the Church ac
cepted it.
In addition to changing his room reservation, he’d made several calls while at Presbyterian Hospital waiting to see Father Jak. At first, the FBI refused to let him in the room, but that was quickly remedied by talking to Attorney General Dover. It helped to have the private numbers of powerful people.
The media was in full throttle and he had to wade through a crowd of reporters just to get into the hospital. The connection to Gaines had been made. Most reporters still believed the famed archaeologist was dead; however, in light of Larsen’s second death, some alternative news sites were questioning the validity of the video purporting to show Gaines being killed. The Catholic priest clinging to life was a good story and the media was digging to figure out how he fit into the bizarre case.
Unfortunately, Father Jak had still not regained consciousness, so Pisano said a prayer and spoke with the doctor, who was feeling more optimistic, but the next twenty-four hours would be critical. Pisano had gone to the Albuquerque hospital straight from the airport; he would have liked to stay to see if Father Jak pulled through, but instead he had to catch a flight to Taos.
His last call before boarding had been to the cardinal.
“Nanski is an old friend,” the cardinal said. “You’d better hope he turns up soon. If not, I’m holding you partially accountable.”
“That hardly seems fair. I tried to send him to Mexico.”
“You left him without any backup. It was your mistake.”
Pisano knew the tone in the cardinal’s voice was not leaving any more room for arguing. “Forgive me, Cardinal.”
“Just be sure you find the Eysen, or even Jesus will not forgive you.”
Now in his room at the posh resort in Taos, he changed into fresh clothes and checked the latest TV coverage. As he readied to go to the church in Las Trampas to retrace Nanski’s steps, he thought about the rest of what the cardinal had told him.
There was finally a glimmer of hope. The Vatican had agreed to work with the NSA and share the Eysen. When Pisano had begun to question the arrangement, the cardinal shut him up. Pisano realized with horror that even the Vatican’s sophisticated anti-eavesdropping tactics were not enough against the NSA. Still, he knew that ultimately the Vatican would never agree to share the Eysen. This was just a ploy, an effort by the cardinal, to buy time.
The plan called for an ally of both the Church and the NSA to act as intermediary. Once the Eysen was secure, it would be turned over to the intermediary and an acceptable plan would be devised in which the NSA and the Vatican could each protect what they needed and also use portions for their own purposes. It would be a powerful position, and both sides quickly agreed on the person for the job, the next President of the United States, Senator Monroe.
Chapter 48
Most of the windows in the house broke simultaneously in an explosion of glass. A barrage of smoking canisters of tear gas followed. With a wet bandana around his head, Elpate dove into Rip’s room and shoved him to the floor. He scooped a pillow off the bed and pushed it to Rip’s face.
“Follow me,” Elpate said in a muffled voice.
“Where?” Rip said, his words hurt. He was glad Booker had warned him; everything was in the pack on his back, otherwise escaping with the artifacts would have been impossible.
The familiar living room looked suddenly strange and hostile. They crawled through the fog and sharp shards of glass as fast as they could. The growl of engines and a distant radio static made the surreal environment even more foreign. They reached the windowless garage, where Dyce was already waiting in the driver’s seat.
“Hell, man, this is real bad,” he yelled, waving a pistol. “They could be waiting out there with a tank.”
Elpate hit a button on the wall and followed Rip into the back seat. Dyce timed it perfectly and squealed out of the garage while the door was still rising, with only an inch to spare. A black military vehicle blocked the end of the driveway, with shooters lined behind it. Dyce veered into the yard and floored the gas pedal.
Bullets zinged passed them. Dozens of commandos came from everywhere. Rip spotted quite a few with AX wristbands and realized the NSA and Booker’s team might have arrived at the same time.
As the old Honda careened over a row of small hedges, Rip looked back and saw the commandos engaging Booker’s mercenaries. As a Hummer appeared from the right, Dyce turned left too sharply and their car slid down an embankment. Although close to rolling, he kept it moving. Another vehicle joined the chase.
Hemmed in by trees, pursued by two vehicles, at least no one was shooting at them. “They aren’t going to risk shooting the Eysen,” Rip thought. “They want to take me alive,” he said. “That’s why they haven’t hit us yet.”
“Even if you’re right, that doesn’t mean we’ve got a free pass. All they need to do is shoot out a tire,” Dyce said. “Damn it, we’re surrounded by trees!”
There was no choice but to enter the woods. It was a frightening prospect, made worse because they were heading down a steep mountainside. Dyce’s piloting skills served them well, as he weaved through trees like a medieval knight riding a gauntlet. He sideswiped a few saplings, but the Honda took the blows like a stock car. Dyce used the momentum of each impact to compensate his steering in the soft ground.
After a few minutes, the Hummer clipped a large tree and crashed. Soon after, the other vehicle tuned sharply, trying to avoid a large rock outcropping, and rolled. The momentary lack of pursuers allowed Dyce to slow down to a safer speed.
It was almost ten minutes of bouncing and swerving before they finally found level terrain. Dyce, dripping sweat, yelled back to Elpate. “Any ideas?”
“I’m not sure where we are, but I think if you head right, you’ll find more houses.”
“Why do we want houses?” Rip asked.
“We need to ditch this car and find another.”
“Get me a smoke,” Dyce said.
Rip thought it was a crazy time to smoke a joint, but was relieved to see Elpate light a cigarette instead, then reach forward and stick it in Dyce’s mouth.
“Thanks,” Dyce said, exhaling a bluish cloud. “Damn it, Rip, they sent freakin’ Navy Seals after you.”
“Sorry,” Rip said. “I don’t want you guys to get killed trying to help me. Maybe you should let me out.”
“Screw that,” Elpate said. “It’s about friendship and loyalty.”
“Damn right,” Dyce said.
Trees blurred by and for a second, Rip thought they might just escape. These two guys knew what they were doing. Rip imagined this was far from their closest shave, particularly for Elpate.
A huge Blackhawk helicopter dropped down from above. A sniper hanging out the side fired a single round. The bullet hit its target in an instant. At the same time he heard the shot, it obliterated Dyce’s head. Rip tried to grab the steering wheel, as the Honda veered into a stand of thin trees and slammed to a stop. Terror rained down. Droves of commandos appeared from all sides.
Even before Rip could get his hand on the door handle, it burst open. He and Elpate were yanked from the car, rolled on the ground, patted down, cuffed, and blindfolded. It all happened in mere seconds. For the first time since its discovery, the Eysen was out of his possession.
Chapter 49
Booker looked at Gale. “Clastier’s Divinations have never been wrong because we never had an Eysen. Don’t you think it gives us the power to change?”
“Maybe,” Gale said, considering that idea for the first time.
“Because if it doesn’t,” Booker said. “The other four Divinations could destroy us.”
“I know,” Gale said. “Should I call Monroe now?”
Booker wanted to talk to her about the Eysen. There were so many things he needed to know, a thousand questions he was dying to be asked. What if he never got to hold it? “Yes,” he said. “This phone is secure.”
“Are you going to stay?” Gale asked.
“Do you mind?”
“I guess not.” Gale assumed he had the ability to listen in to the call anyway.
“Gale, honey, I gotta say I was not expecting your call.” Monroe said. “Normally, I don’t take my phone into church with me, but these are strange days.” He paced in front of the large stone church outside Washington, D.C., shadowed by his security detail. He was genuinely shocked to hear from her.
“They certainly are.”
“Where are you? Do you need me to send someone for you?”
“No, thank you, I’m okay at the moment.”
“Hmm. You might think so, but actually you’re alive at the moment only because of me.”
“I must admit, during the past two weeks it has felt like I had a guardian angel watching over me.”
“Well, I’m sure not going to take all the credit. God and I have an agreement.” He laughed.
“I have something to tell you.”
“I certainly hope so.”
“Are you familiar with prophecies of Saint Malachy?”
“Of course; I’m a Catholic.”
“This whole episode may have been prophesized by Saint Malachy nearly nine hundred years ago.”
Monroe scoffed. “But the authenticity of his prophecies are more than a little questionable.”
“To some.”
“Okay, in what way did he address an archaeologist stealing artifacts from federal lands?”
“Come on, we both know there’s more to it than that,” she said, disappointed that he was playing games.
“Then tell me, Gale. What is this all about? Why did you really call?”
“Do you want the true story or do you prefer the lie?”
“Hey, let’s not get testy. Gale, we’re old friends . . . lovers. We don’t need to discuss this on the phone. Let me bring you in. We’ll sort this out. Tell me where you are.”
“Fine, you don’t want to talk about Malachy, what about Clastier?”