by Linda Hawley
I laughed. “Chow…what’s up with you? You aren’t yourself,” I said, turning directly towards him.
He looked into my eyes for the longest time, without saying a thing.
“Worry. You’re worried,” I deduced from staring at him. “What are you worried about?” I asked compassionately.
“I am not worried.”
“Then what is it?”
He was quiet for about fifteen seconds. “I have an uneasy feeling.”
“How long have you had it?” I asked quietly, sitting very still.
“Since you drew on the paper in India.”
“Hmm,” I said, considering.
“It seems like something is below the surface…a warning, perhaps.”
“Maybe when we have our Nectar Hour tomorrow, it will become clearer during meditation,” I offered.
“Perhaps. Let me just ponder it some more. There is no need for you to worry, Ann; I would give my life to protect you.”
I reached over and hugged him. “I know you would; that’s why I feel so safe these days,” I said quietly as we hugged one another.
As we pulled away, he looked into my eyes, with his hands on both my arms. “There is no need to worry.”
“Okay.”
The apartment’s doorbell rang. I hopped up from the sofa like a jack-in-the-box.
“Mmm, I’m salivating already,” I said excitedly.
Chapter 38
BARCELONA, SPAIN
The Year 2015
For Nectar Hour, we called the front desk and got permission to meditate on the pool deck on the hotel’s roof, facing the Eastern rising sun. Watching the sunrise burn the mist off the sea in hints of pale yellow and then the vibrancy of a lemon, I again felt Armond’s presence very near. Since my arrival on Mount Abu, my perception of my husband had shifted. I didn’t feel like he was watching over me; this was closer—more intimate—participatory.
After our meditation, we returned to the apartment, cleaned up, and I left for my spa appointment while Chow figured out how to create a backdoor into the Indian government’s databases. I returned to the apartment refreshed and found Chow satisfied that he had found a way in. Later that morning, it was time for our bicycle tour, which was meeting nearby.
Walking over to the marina, we passed the beach where it looked like a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition photo shoot was underway. Chow was fully distracted.
We walked a bit further where we met our guide, Gabriel Cardona, along with other tourists waiting at the harbor’s gate on this perfect sunny day. Listening and gazing upon our guide was a pure delight, with his tall lean frame, jet-black wavy hair, and charming bright smile. Chow asked me if I was infatuated. I smiled at him; I was.
After we were fitted for ten-speed bikes, which pleased Chow, Gabriel explained the traffic rules and the route we would ride. We were quickly off, and within ten minutes, I found a comfortable riding pace in the middle of the group with Chow by my side.
We rode into the heart of the medieval city—the Gothic quarter—with its narrow, winding streets. When we entered the heart of the district, the magnificent multi-storied La Seu Cathedral came into view. Our guide stopped in front of the church and explained its history.
“This area is called the Barri Gotic because this used to be a Roman village. Before you is the Catedral de la Santa Creu i Santa Eulalia,” Gabriel explained, raising his hand to introduce us to the cathedral. “Construction began in the year 1298, under the direction of King Jaume II. Because of the Black Death, and civil wars, the building process was slow, and the main building wasn’t completed until 1460. The gothic exterior was not finished until 1889, and the central spire wasn’t completed until 1913. What you see before you took more than six hundred years to build,” Gabriel expounded to oohs and aahs, as he looked over his audience. “The French architect Charles Galters designed both the façade and the spire.”
He gave us time to look at the exterior before he continued.
“If you have a chance while you are in Barcelona, visit the cloister which is just behind you,” he suggested, pointing to the courtyard behind us.
We all turned to look.
“In the fourth century, a fourteen-year-old girl, Santa Eulalia, was tortured to death by the Romans for her religion. In this cloister, there are always thirteen geese in residence; each goose represents a year in the martyr’s life.”
Everyone on the tour reacted to Gabriel’s poignant explanation.
We rode a full lap around the Gothic church, viewing the several spires from all sides, then we continued on our tour of the city. I couldn’t get the image of the child-martyr out of my mind.
After leaving the church, we made our way through the streets, heading to the Sagrada Família, designed by the Art Nouveau master, Antoni Gaudí. It would be easy to get lost among the labyrinth of streets without a guide.
As we followed Gabriel down a narrow alley, Chow and I stopped in front of a little alcove about ten feet wide and ten feet deep. We stood atop our bikes in this dank, dark alley, and in the wall of the alcove at eye level was a recessed glass case about two feet by two feet, containing an illuminated Virgin Mary with hands extended in blessing. It was a dramatic dichotomy that touched me deeply.
Chow looked over at me when he saw it. “There is some deeper meaning, I think.”
“Yes. I don’t understand what it means, but it is something. I feel it.”
“So do I,” Chow said as he looked into my eyes.
Something passed between us, but I didn’t understand what.
Chapter 39
BARCELONA, SPAIN
The Year 2015
After our extraordinary three-hour bike tour, we cleaned up and then went downstairs to eat Tapas.
“You clean up nice,” I said to Chow as he stepped out of his room, dressed in green khaki pants, a yellow button-down shirt, and a tie with an Art Nouveau graphic design in bold colors.
Chow smiled.
I approached him, looking at his tie. “Where did you get this?” I asked him.
“At the gift shop downstairs. The bike tour inspired me,” he said happily.
“I like the tie. It’s beautiful.”
As I looked at Chow, I realized that he looked like a crayon box had spilled its colors.
“Can I ask one thing?”
“Let me guess, you really hate my tie?”
I chuckled. “No, I love your tie. But can we keep dinner casual and ditch the tie?”
“I knew you would say that.”
“How?” I challenged him.
“I just knew,” he said smugly.
“Okay, smarty-pants. So you were right. I do love the tie—just not with that shirt.”
“I wore it just so you could tell me not to,” he said with a wink.
“You are one sick guy.”
He nodded his head, smiling, so I gave him a hug. As we dislodged, his watch got stuck in my hair.
“Ouch,” I said, perturbed.
“Oh…Ann…are you okay?” he said, as he detangled my hair from his dive watch.
“I’m okay,” I answered while rubbing my head.
“You also look very pretty tonight,” he told me, trying to make me feel better.
“Even without all my hair?”
He chuckled. “You always look pretty,” he said, sincerity showing through his eyes.
“Why thank you, kind sir,” I said, bowing to him, still holding my head.
He smiled in response to my playfulness. “Want to go eat?” he asked, knowing I would bolt for the door immediately.
The Arola restaurant was right on the beach; I teased Chow about his disappointment that the models’ photo shoot had dispersed. We ordered the cold and hot plates to share in the blue-accented modern room. Both Chow and I loved the carpaccio of tuna with tomato and goat cheese. He made fun of the look on my face as I enjoyed it, saying I would likely dream of it tonight. Our splendid meal was followed by a leisurely stroll along
the beach, my arm looped through his.
“It’s been a good day,” I said, smiling at him.
“A wonderful day,” he agreed, returning my smile. “What do you think of that statue of Mary in the alley?”
“Seeing it, I felt reverent; it was a spiritual moment for me.”
“I agree. It felt otherworldly. Do you think it has anything to do with The Prophecies?”
I had to consider Chow’s question. We walked in silence for some time.
“I can see us trying to connect everything to The Prophecies—and our role in them. But sometimes spiritual things are just that—simple peaceful moments when you know that God exists.” I then looked over at him, and he nodded.
“Shall we go back and take care of our objective before our meeting later?”
“Yes. But I can’t promise I’ll wake up from our co-dreaming. I’m full, and I’m tired.”
We lay side by side in the bed and prepared for our session. Our goal was to create a back door to access the Indian databases remotely. Soon after falling asleep, we found ourselves there in the dream together.
Chow had an Indian government ID clipped to his shirt’s lapel. It was the dead of night, and I was driving us to the facility in a black SUV. Since my appearance would be more of a red flag in the government facility than Chow, we decided that he would go in alone.
“Be careful,” I told him just before he exited the car.
“I will. Don’t worry.”
“I won’t. I know you can defend yourself.”
The car door closed quietly behind him. I set the timer on my watch. Earlier, I had remote viewed the site at this exact time to understand the personnel and layout. With all this known ahead of time, we expected that it would take Chow twenty to thirty minutes to plant the code at the server, granting us access from outside.
While he was inside, I tried to open-eye meditate to remain calm. I didn’t like waiting; patience was a virtue I didn’t have. At thirty-five minutes, my nervousness was in earnest. I started to consider the options just as the car door opened, startling me.
“You scared me,” I nearly yelled at Chow.
“Drive, Ann. Now,” he said quietly but firmly.
The car was idling, and I took off, asking, “What’s going on?”
“I saw someone I recognized in there.”
“Who?” I said, as I drove like an Indy driver.
“Shubham.”
“Oh my goodness,” I reeled. “A spy?”
“Yes. I knew something was wrong about him in India.”
“Is he chasing us?” I asked, briefly looking over at him with alarm.
“I do not think so. I saw him but I do not think he saw me,” he said as he looked back, out the window. “I had just finished installing the software and was covering my entry into the system, when my gut reacted, and adrenaline began to pump through me. I immediately finished my work, replacing everything as it was, and peeked out through a window in a door, seeing down a hall. Shubham was coming toward the door to the room I was in. I quietly exited the way I had come in—out the opposing door. He never saw me, but I saw him…”
“And you’re sure it was Shubham?”
“I am certain—both with my eyes and my gut. I immediately left the building. Ann, I think he knew I was coming.”
“Oh no. How?”
“I don’t know. You did remote view the site. Could Shubham also be a remote viewer?”
I answered with another question. “But how would he know the exact time I was viewing the target?”
There was silence as Chow pondered my question. I was driving carefully, but fast.
“The apartment. Peekers. Ann, we need to leave this dream now!” he exclaimed urgently.
I imagined myself returning to our apartment, becoming heavy inside my body, lying on the bed.
We woke about the same time. I felt grossly unsettled—it chilled me.
Chow turned close to me and whispered in my ear, “We’re leaving here in thirty seconds. It’s not safe. Leave everything except your ID.”
I jumped off the bed as if it were made of hot coals. After grabbing my messenger bag containing my ID, we were out the door and in the elevator, riding it down alone. My body was blazing with adrenaline, and I wondered what we would find outside the hotel.
We excited the hotel and caught a taxi just outside.
“Jardines de la Ciudadela,” Chow quickly told the driver, as I looked out the back window to see if we had been tagged.
“Sí senyor,” the driver confirmed.
I whispered to Chow, “One tail possible. He turned in behind us as soon as we got in.”
He looked back, watching with me. Two turns later, we still had the tail.
“Let’s go through the Gothic quarter and see if we can lose them,” Chow said quietly in my ear.
I nodded in agreement.
“A través d’ Barri Gotic,” Chow called out to the driver.
“Sí senyor,” the driver said with an edge.
Soon we had turned, heading into the medieval city.
Chow leaned into me closely. “I did not just learn of Shubham in there.”
I pulled back a bit and looked into his eyes, searching for meaning.
He pulled me close again. “Not only was the Indian government logging iris scans, fingerprints, and facial records for all residents, but they have a DNA database too. When they were scanning a billion people, they secretively collected DNA samples from every person by swabbing eyes before their retinal scans, then saving the swabs in DNA collection containers.”
“Oh no,” I whispered, considering the implications.
“They now have the largest DNA database in the world.”
Chow’s words sent chills through me.
“Why? What would they need it for? And why do it in secret?” I said with alarm.
“I think they did it because they could. I think there is more going on in India than we realize. Maybe that is the uncomfortable feeling that I have not shaken since you wrote the word genocide on the paper in India.”
I just stared at him, horror-stricken.
Chapter 40
BARCELONA, SPAIN
The Year 2015
We were in the middle of the Gothic quarter, near where we bicycled that morning. The sun had just set and we sat close in the back of the taxi, with Chow’s arm around me. My other shoulder was touching the door.
Suddenly the front of the car exploded in our faces. Chow immediately pulled me to him, while he simultaneously pushed my head down below the seatback.
The taxi was spinning, and we were pushed toward my door. My ears were ringing. When we slowed, I looked up, and the driver that had been there was now just mangled fragments.
“Get out!” Chow urgently yelled, his face contorted and bloody as he reached over me to get the door open.
In slow motion, I saw Chow’s mouth move like a silent movie actor.
The door was stuck. As the flames lapped at us and the smoke intensified, he brought his knee up, ramming his leg at the door to loosen it, and the door flew open.
Watching him, he silently screamed, “Go! Go! Go!” as he motioned with his hands.
I got the message.
Chow grabbed my hand, and before I knew it, we were running down a narrow alley in the dark. We could see nothing ahead. As I ran, my hearing started to return, and my senses were aroused. Adrenaline was fueling me now.
Looking behind us I didn’t see anyone following. Chow did the same, because before I knew it, he was shoving a plastic bag into my hands. “Take this,” he yelled as we ran. “When we stop, call for extraction.”
I pulled the safe phone out of the bag while running, hoping I wouldn’t step in a pothole. After throwing the bag to the ground, I inserted the battery. Thank goodness I had done it a hundred times before, and I did it again, by touch.
“An alcove,” Chow said urgently, pointing. “Call from there,” he said as he looked back. We
now had three suits in pursuit.
We drew up into the alcove. As I looked inside, I saw the illuminated Virgin Mary with her hands extended to us. Reverence coursed through my body with each rapid breath, and I knew that in this place something would shift for the sake of The Prophecies.
I faced Mary as I dialed. “B40 for extraction, code red,” I said at the beep. “No time for callback. We’re in the Barri Gotic, in an alley where the Virgin Mary is in a wall case in an alcove,” I sputtered into the phone. A sound jarred me, and as I turned, I saw Chow begin to fight the first agent. “Two with injuries. Hurry!” I yelled, then threw the phone to the ground.
Chow heard me and shouted, “Stay back, Ann,” as he dispatched the first suit with a Soo Bahk Do wheel kick to the face, putting him down.
As the first suit face-planted, Chow glanced back at me, just as the second suit appeared. My body filled with a cold shiver, as I watched Chow take a kick to the face and then chest by the second agent, knocking him flat out. He landed on the ground, face up. I could see the blood streaming from his mouth; he lay only a few feet away.
Then I saw that his assailant was Shubham. The traitor rushed at me and shoved me in the chest with such force that the back of my head was slammed against the glass case holding Mother Mary. I heard the glass crack, and after a second of stunned shock, my rage began to burn.
I surprised Shubham with a punch to his groin. He doubled over, dropping his SIG Sauer semi-automatic pistol. Immediately, I recovered it, just in time to squeeze off a head shot at the third agent, who had suddenly appeared only five feet away.
Turning my attention back to Shubham, I saw that he had revived enough to send his fist into my kidneys. I doubled over. He then kneed me in the face with great force, and my nose exploded. The impact stunned me, and I flew back, hitting the pavement in the little alcove. With my eyes filled with blood, I couldn’t see. My other senses erupted, and I suddenly realized that I had a death grip on the SIG. Lying back with my arms in front of me, I pointed blindly towards the sound of Shubham and fired. I kept firing in that direction until the pistol was empty. Then I heard his body hit the ground.
Unable to see, I listened for movement from anyone.