by Gary Starta
Briana gave me a rundown of what historians in my universe believed the Labyrinth to consist of before call waiting interrupted. Manners had literally brought encyclopedias of my world’s knowledge back with him during prior visits despite my trepidations that the data would end up betraying my guise. There wasn’t even a hint of any structure called the Labyrinth in this world. So, in a way, like other things Manners had done in the past which initially freaked me out, this action did prove useful in time.
The Greek historian Herodotus was said to be an eyewitness of the colossal structure before its disappearance in my universe. It was described as unbelievable and impressive—its walls were said to be covered with statues, its courts built with white marble and its rooms, although connected, gave way to passageways both baffling and intricate. It was for all intents and purposes, an elaborate maze. Ironically, the maze itself hid many secrets, some thought to be written on scrolls. I believed if the Labyrinth also existed in this universe, it would be comparative. An unsettling feeling gripped me as I answered my other line. The dream vision of the warring ships seemed to explain the original disappearance of the Ennead. Could these same alien ships be responsible for the Labyrinth’s long and mysterious dirt nap in this world?
* * * *
I attempted to be coy, using a tone of voice that might have belonged to a young child. It did the trick. Seals raised an eyebrow and tapped a pen against paper while my lover and immediate superior, Chuck, shielded his expression behind a folder.
All I had said was, “So are we here to talk about the Labyrinth?”
The non-verbal response encouraged me to add, “Well, everybody else is.”
I could hear my mother’s voice in my head. And if everybody jumped off a bridge… Well, we weren’t on a bridge. Unfortunately we—meaning Chuck and I—were gathered around Seals’ desk with no means to jump or escape.
Because I would be forced to endure Seals, I counted on my smartass tactics to get under Deputy Director Seals’ skin. I was overly qualified, being flippant, never one to join any crowd, especially the bureaucrat desk jockeys of the FBI; so in summation, my sarcasm dug at Seal’s already tender wound. I surmised without the aid of Chuck, the deputy director’s superiors were already snapping at his heels; demanding he answer at least one of the “present day mysteries” the Ennead’s coming had coincidentally coincided with. Yes, more sarcasm but this time silent.
Seals flipped a page on his folder as if to make me believe it warranted more of his attention than me. That screamed I got under his skin in a major way because he proceeded to talk nicely to me. In my experience, the angrier Seals was at you, the politer he spoke to you. “So Agent Diggs, being this world’s unofficial liaison to the Ennead, what can you tell me about last night’s terrorist attack?”
“Terrorist attack?” I mumbled. I cursed myself for giving Seals the benefit that I disagreed with his assessment. It was so much more satisfying to be coy, than defensive.
“Yes. Director Grant, do I have to ask you to remind Agent Diggs that the first terrorist attack involved the life of the alien known as Tutankhamen?”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “You’re referring to the boy pharaoh?” I was so back to being to being coy. I also concluded how ridiculous this all sounded to a mind free of brainwashing and in Seals’ case—free of bullshit. I stole a glance at Chuck; he nodded a solemn approval in Seals’ direction. I didn’t believe that nod for one New York minute. Of course I felt bad about Tut, but what was he really—a reconstituted pharaoh, an alien or maybe a third alternative? I did know that our dear president was a through and through human being whose murder deserved a more thorough investigation than it was given.
“May I remind you, sir; the president’s assassination may very well have been a terrorist attack perpetuated by the same beings you now believe have been...”
Chuck cut me off. “Sir, what the agent is trying to say is that we should investigate all incidents with an open mind. We might be remiss not to consider last night’s attack on the delivery van to be random; a disturbing but mundane act of armed robbery?”
“I don’t know if I or any my superiors could conclude that this was a mere robbery, especially when the targeted van ended up in flames along with its contents. What motive can either of you give me that explains this? Why was the van torched if this was ‘simple’ robbery?” Seals glared at him, threatening to resume his paper tapping.
Chuck handed me a folder which I perused as he spoke. “The eyewitness, Eagle Speed employee Robert Devins stated he was threatened via gun to exit his van and when he did the same perpetrator tossed an incendiary device inside his vehicle causing an impending explosion. Devins also stated at least two other men accompanied the perpetrator, both were on foot. Other men, who drove a car to impede his van’s progress to the airport, fled the scene.”
I interrupted. “But did the perpetrator make any verbal demands? Was there a specific rationale for his attack?”
Seals shook his head, wearing a smug grin. “No, agent; I’d hazard to guess Devins was too concerned about his life at that moment.”
“Then,” I said, “We can’t be sure of a motive. This was an awful ordeal but at least no one was killed.” I was sure the two men Brahms had subdued via taser weren’t on the scene when police finally arrived. By the look on Seals’ face—and a quick scan of a field report—I was proved correct.
Instead of basking in Seals’ discomfort, I scanned the report while attempting to conceal the abject terror coursing through my veins.
What the hell has exactly happened to Brahms and where is he now?
The report gave me no answer. I recalled news reports of the incident mentioned no abduction; in fact, it stated police had no suspects in the attack.
I believed the way I bit on my lower lip gave Seals some leeway.
“Care to share, Agent Diggs? Something seems to be troubling you.”
I couldn’t let on about Brahms or that I was aware any other witness existed.
“No, sir; just wondering about the van’s contents; what were the perps after?”
“We are in the process of compiling a list of the inventory from the courier. You will be apprised of those contents as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, sir. I might want to conduct my own interview with the courier, see if—”
Seals cut me off. He folded his hands atop his papers. “There is something else. A man identified as a suspect by our van driver is in custody—of sorts.”
I exchanged a glance at Chuck. He nodded to obtain Seals’ approval.
“Agent Diggs,” Chuck said, “a still as yet unidentified man is being held on The Ennead ship Virmana. He was detained by our visitors at the crime scene. He has refused to talk. But we, meaning the Bureau and the acting president, have come to an understanding with the Ennead during this time of crisis. They will hold the suspect for questioning—”
I had to cut Chuck off. With eyes full of accusation, I turned to Seals, “Is this man going to be harmed? What have we agreed to regarding this detainee?”
Chuck continued as Seals resumed his paper tapping. “He won’t be harmed or tortured. A new law is being pushed through the legislature as we speak. It will give the Ennead the privilege of an embassy. A floating embassy of sorts; essentially, our visitors will own land and sea judged to fall within the territorial confines of the earth-orbiting vessel Virmana.”
Too stunned to respond I swallowed the lump which had lodged in my throat. The law had given the Ennead permission to hold Brahms as a prisoner. Was this all-out conspiracy or was the government so scared of the Ennead it willingly placed itself in a compromising position? Either way, I believed the people of this planet were being endangered.
Seals spoke. “Agent, I don’t understand your hesitance to aid the Ennead; especially, given your connection to them. If anything, I would think you would welcome any means to provide them with justice. You might not believe this, but they are very vulnerab
le right now.”
The word “vulnerable” swam in my head. “This is just so irregular.”
Chuck and Seals both failed to stifle laughter. Even I realized how ridiculous that sounded coming from me. My peers in my old universe often joked that “rogue” should have been included in my job description. I could see things were no different here. Their Caitlin had operated outside of protocol as well. This floating embassy was simply a bending of protocol. I wished it was that simple; no threat of ramifications. But if the Ennead were being granted rights as visitors, might they be closer to acquiring citizenship themselves? Was that their ultimate goal; to become residents? And what power might they acquire with residency status?
Seals warned me to comply with the new law and that I should conduct this investigation with respect towards the Ennead. I concluded his warning silently threatened suspension. With that threat looming, I didn’t dare ask about visiting the ship to interview Brahms but that’s all I could think about regarding this investigation. I could be tried for treason. I conspired to steal property from the Ennead. I was as much a visitor of this world as my godlike counterparts. I carried so much deception with me its weight staggered me as I ambled for the exit out of Seals’ office.
Chuck was in tow. He laid a hand on my shoulder as we headed for an elevator.
We didn’t speak until we were inside. There were no other passengers.
I waited for Chuck to initiate conversation. I was too filled with guilt. I needed to unburden myself. I had no idea how to segue into any of a half-dozen confessions I felt I owed him.
I was somewhat relieved to find Chuck still immersed in the investigation at hand by his lead in. “We both want to find out what part the detainee played in this,” he said. But as he continued, I found his compassion towards me to be unbearable. I didn’t deserve it. But I let him continue. “We don’t know how much this detainee was involved in the attack. Maybe he just got into something over his head for some unknown personal reason,” he said. A great deduction, I might add. “And if he confesses as to who the accomplices are he may even avoid prosecution. But he needs to start talking; to the Ennead or, to us.”
I needed a plan to prevent that from happening. I just couldn’t let on about Brahms. It was a good thing I’d never introduced him to Chuck or given him his name. It was damn ironic that I met Brahms back in my universe when a glamour spell disguised him as none other than my former world’s Chuck Grant. Now it was imperative that I kept Brahm’s true nature a secret from Chuck and the Bureau. You might conclude Brahms to be a deceitful man, but as Chuck surmised he had his “personal reason” for his involvement. Interpretation of the law was necessary. Brahms and I both needed to bend or if not—break—laws for the greater good. Hell, this floating embassy legislation was nothing more than “officially” breaking a law if you asked me. But to my frustration, no one could ask me; at least not right now as I stood face to face with a man I considered spending the rest of my time in a parallel universe with.
Chuck cupped a hand around my drooping chin. “We’ll work this out.”
I smiled, horribly, with a closed mouth. “Ah, just like why the Ennead are less than excited about the appearance of the long lost Labyrinth.”
Chuck began to remove his hand.
After he did, I said. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be sarcastic around you, Chuck…”
“Yes, better to save all your sarcasm for Seals.”
I smiled, a lot less horribly. “I’ve got to make a confession.” For a moment, I didn’t know what confession to make. That I wasn’t who he thought I was, the granddaddy of all confessions; or, something lower on the scale, like how much I really knew about Brahms. I opted for something a lot more personal.
“I kissed a man. It happened yesterday. He was an old friend who came to visit me out of the blue. A former officer of the law, we always had had a platonic relationship. But when he kissed me, I let him. He didn’t know about you and me, Chuck; please don’t hold it against him. It was my momentary lapse of judgment.”
“Hold it against him. I don’t even know who he is, Caitlin.” I sensed real trouble brewing because Chuck pressed the pause button on the elevator. “Why did this man come to visit you, anyway?”
Ooh. More lies to cultivate. Not good.
I thought this would serve as a litmus test, a way to gauge Chuck’s reaction when I revealed where I really came from. I thought this might go well. I didn’t sense any deceit in my body language or tone as I made my confession. Meaning, Chuck should have believed our kiss didn’t go any further than a kiss. Chuck by all accounts was a reasonable man; at least when you compared him to Seals. Stanford Carter had been an old friend; at least his alternate was in my other world. I thought Chuck could relate to two officers of the law having, needing friendship and consoling in a moment of weakness.
Damn.
I realized my selfishness. I just needed to unburden myself. I wasn’t being altruistic in the sense that this apology was solely meant to benefit Chuck. I would benefit from his forgiveness. But that never came. He pressed the button to resume our downward spiral—literally.
“He came to me as a friend, Chuck. He has heard, like the rest of the world has—about my association with the Ennead.”
“So he just wanted to comfort you?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Are you sure there isn’t something more to this?” Again, good that I never told Chuck about Stanford’s involvement a few months back concerning Charlize; yes, it was more deceit; not actual lies, but omission of details.
“Don’t you believe me?” I stammered, shaken.
“I just think,” he said, gazing at the floor, “we might need a break right now anyway. This investigation—these investigations—can’t be easy on you. You need space. I need space, right now, as well.”
“You’re just going to run away? I thought we mattered?” I know I sounded like a bitchy school girl. Did I have the right to? I didn’t care in the heat of that moment.
We parted without further discussion. Then the elevator dinged as if punctuating our end.
* * * *
Once home, I considered making arrangements to interview the van driver. I knew it was for appearance sake. I hesitated to dial the phone, lost in thought about consequences. My most recent bout with Chuck was prominent in my mind but I had to consider Brahms’ welfare. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I needed to get Brahms off that ship but at what consequence? I didn’t believe Seals would show compassion even if Brahms gave up Sweeney and Stanford as his accomplices. He would press for an arrest. He had to because Seals was a man who needed to keep up appearances as well—for the sake of his superiors. So maybe it was better to leave Brahms on the ship—for now.
But if I left Brahms in that ship, what harm might the Ennead eventually bring him? Was torture really indeed out of the question? Would they act to shut him up when they found out he could provide scientific evidence of what I alleged to be their crimes?
I believed my plan to expose the Ennead’s weaknesses failed without question until a voice emanated from the armchair Bast had been snoozing on.
My heart raced. Should I turn and face the intruder with gun drawn?
Before I could, the voice spoke again, “I believe I have a third option.”
Chapter 17
In through the Out Door
“Come on, you wouldn’t shoot me now?” she purred in a velvety tone, more feline than human.
She was right but not for the reasons she might have assumed. Her oval feline head was sitting atop a very human female body, shapely and alluring, wrapped in a skin-tight olive green dress with yellow shoulder straps. Her appearance in itself gave me enough pause to re-holster the weapon I’d halfway drawn. The talking human-sized cat shifted in the armchair while my brain strained to explain how my tiny Bastet might have transformed into this or…
Damn.
She was paralyzing me simply with the element of sur
prise and I couldn’t figure out what was going on. I decided to make things simpler.
I mentally envisioned myself training a weapon on the intruder. “What did you do with Bast?”
“Would you feel better if I mewled for you?” she asked, letting her head rest on two outstretched and crisscrossed hands. The cat gesture eased my urge to defend myself while disgust necessitated a shockwave of displeasure to surf about my already compromised nervous system.
“I didn’t know any other way to prepare you for this. But I’ve been sharing a body with your beloved cat for quite some time now.” She explained the joining had taken place when Bast danced among my over-thriving Egyptian Star Clusters. I recalled the moment. My cat was way too overindulgent in her contact with the flowers, as if they contained some allure like catnip. I should have known something weird was taking place. Guess I was too caught up with the demon disappearance and president’s murder at the time to realize she too was a victim of an invasion.
But how did she make the connection in the first place?
As if she was reading my thoughts, the intruder answered. “Like the Ennead, a manipulation of time, space and the elements has taken place. In my case, there has been more manipulation than others…” She paused again to announce herself as Bastet, the beloved Egyptian cat goddess. We nearly laughed in unison at the irony. Was my cat destined to become linked with the great goddess she had been named for?
Yet when Bastet explained her history, her most recent history to be exact, I was dismayed that the goddess had fallen out of favor with the Ennead. “They perceived me to be rogue; someone with a different agenda. Although, that was not the case; if anything, I was a protector.”
That kind of made sense me. As a cat, especially an Egyptian cat, she would be a protector. One reason Egyptians honored their cats so much was for their service at keeping all kinds of rodents at bay. And when she described herself as rogue; well, I figure you already might have guessed we shared a commonality.