by Bob Mayer
“Ah.” Pierce said it as a sigh. “They must be thrilled.”
Brunswick nodded. “They will see it as a sign.”
“Not just a sign,” Pierce said. “The sign. The third angel blowing the third trumpet. They will call it ‘Wormwood,’ not an Intruder.” Pierce had been raised in a fundamentalist family in the south. Of the three, he best understood the Brotherhood.
“There are two problems,” Brunswick said, cutting to the core of the matter. “One, of course, is the Intruder and the projected impact with Earth in less than three days.” He said it matter-of-factly. “I’ve got my people working on the data and it should be here any second. The NSC is working the same information and—” he paused as a piece of paper slid up out of a slot in his desk. “Here it is.”
Brunswick scanned the paper and his face paled, causing the other two men to glance at each other. They had never seen this reaction.
Brunswick looked up from the paper. “The object is estimated to be twenty miles in diameter. Bigger than the meteor that is believed to have wiped out the dinosaurs.” He looked back down at the paper. “Although a specific point of impact on the planet has not been determined yet, as an example, my people postulate if it hit Los Angeles, the crater would be one hundred and fifteen miles wide, which means the city and everything around it would be gone in an instant.
“The earthquake it causes will be ten-point-two on the Richter, far bigger than any ever recorded. The entire west coast would be destroyed. But there are several other effects. The fireball will spread outward from L.A. destroying everything in its path, taking out most of California, and pushing well into Nevada and Mexico.
“Five minutes after impact most of what used to be Los Angeles will have been vaporized into the atmosphere, and the heavier material will begin to fall back to Earth. San Francisco will be buried in a blanket of debris twenty feet deep. Of course, everyone there would be dead from the fireball so that won’t matter much. Denver will get a foot of material dumped on it along with high winds from the blast.
“It’s the dust and ash that remains vaporized that will be the real problem, though. It will go into the upper atmosphere and rapidly spread around the world. A global winter will ensue, lasting approximately seven years, although no one is quite sure about the math because it’s on such a massive scale it’s difficult to compute.”
“Seven years,” muttered Pierce. “Interesting number.”
“Bottom line,” Thornton said, “is that the human race will be extinct within a few years after impact.”
“Pretty much,” agreed Brunswick.
The three men in this room had started wars and revolutions for their own reasons. They had decided the fate of many countries and millions of people. The moment of silence that permeated the room was as pointed as any exclamation could be.
Thornton frowned. “Hubble and other scopes can see pretty far out. How come this thing wasn’t spotted earlier? According to the intelligence, it’s pretty damn big and close. Hell, even an amateur space enthusiast with a decent telescope should have spotted it.”
“That’s a good question that no one has the answer to,” Brunswick said. “It appeared out of nowhere. It’s early, but some experts are speculating it came through a wormhole. That would explain the sudden appearance.”
Thornton leaned back in his seat. “I don’t like this. It doesn’t make sense.”
“And the second problem?” Pierce pressed.
“The Brotherhood and their Great Commission. It’s as dangerous as the Intruder.”
“But not as unexpected,” Pierce noted. “We know they’ve been working on the Great Commission for decades.”
“Yes,” agreed Brunswick, “but we also thought they were years away from considering implementing it. They ran a field test late last year at their Mission on Moheli off the coast of Africa, and it didn’t work quite right. The Intruder is a wild card that will upset their timetable but they might be further along than we know. They have the planes that they bought from the Ukranians ready to fly. I believe they will try to complete the Great Commission in the next three days, prior to the Intruder’s arrival.”
“Of course they will,” Pierce agreed. “After all, God is on their side.”
“Solutions?” Thornton asked with a scowl at the comment.
Brunswick held up a single finger. “Regarding the Intruder, we help the government, every government, with all our resources to stop or divert it. There are several technological options. Some very smart people, including many we employ, have been looking into the potential problem of a comet strike for many years. We need to get the government to cut through its usual red tape and bureaucracy. Forget about contracts, profits, everything. We’ve got to stop the Intruder, from hitting the planet.”
Both other men nodded their agreement.
Brunswick held up a second finger. “As far as the Brotherhood, we must take direct action. We cannot allow them to try to implement their Great Commission. Do I have your acknowledgement?”
Both men nodded once more.
“That means we take out the Mission, especially the transmitter and the relay aircraft,” Brunswick said. He looked at Thornton. “That’s your responsibility.”
“Will do,” Thornton affirmed. “I had plans drawn up as soon as we learned of the Mission, so I can get things moving quickly.”
Pierce arched an eyebrow. “What other plans do you have ready to be dusted off?”
Thornton shrugged. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Brunswick stood. “Let’s get to work.”
He walked the others to the door. Thornton left, but Pierce paused in the doorway. He waited until Thornton got on the express elevator and the doors closed, before turning to Brunswick. “One would think an object this size would have been picked up earlier.”
“What are you saying?” Brunswick asked.
“According to that folder, it just appeared out of nowhere. A wormhole sounds nice but it’s always been just a theory. I don’t like it. If word of this gets out, and it will very soon, many more people will lean toward what the Brotherhood is espousing.”
Brunswick folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t necessarily see that being a bad thing. It might be better to have people expecting the Rapture than meaningless annihilation.”
“Look beyond that,” Pierce suggested. “Say we succeed in either stopping or diverting the object. And we stop the Great Commission. We might be blamed for delaying the Rapture.”
Brunswick snorted. “Wouldn’t that mean we were powerful enough to stop God?”
“No,” Pierce disagreed. “I was raised Fundamentalist, and I’ve tried to get you and Thornton to understand that it’s a very different mindset. What I foresee is that our actions will be seen as heresy and the work of the anti-Christ, and that we didn’t stop God, but rather he decided we weren’t worthy and was leaving us to wallow with the weight of our sins for thousands more years.”
“What choice do we have?” Brunswick asked.
“None other than what we’re going to do,” Pierce said. “But I wanted you to be aware of what’s likely to happen if we succeed. It will be bad, very bad. Not as bad as this thing hitting the planet or the Great Commission being implemented, but I see no good solution to what faces us.”
“Sometimes there are no good solutions,” Brunswick said.
“We shouldn’t underestimate the Brotherhood,” Pierce said.
“We’re not.”
Pierce didn’t seem convinced, but he moved on. “Speaking of the anti-Christ, what of the fellow in the Amazon?”
Brunswick shook his head. “That’s just a myth.”
“Sir Richard Francis Burton believed it.”
“Over a century ago,” Brunswick said. “Let’s not get sidetracked.”
“Burton was one of us,” Pierce noted. “The Brotherhood will send people to the Amazon.”
Brunswick shrugged. “That’s not our problem. Let t
hem waste their time. We’ve got far more important things to worry about.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” Pierce said. “The two of you always voted me down when I recommended sending someone to check the legend.”
Brunswick stared at the other man. “You really think there could be a two-thousand-year-old man living there?”
“Burton said he met him.”
Brunswick laughed “Judas? Alive?”
“Burton wasn’t a fool. And there are the two versions of his Fifth Gospel. The one Burton had and the one the Vatican has locked up.”
“Enough,” Brunswick snapped. He tapped his head next to his right eye. “Keep your focus on the issues. The Intruder. The Great Commission. That’s more than enough to deal with in the next four days.”
“I strongly disagree,” Pierce said.
Brunswick folded his arms. “You’ve already prepared something.”
“The Brotherhood prepared, thus I prepared.”
“And?”
“The Brotherhood will send a team to deal with the one they call the Great Betrayer,” Pierce said.
Brunswick nodded. “And if they prepared a team, you infiltrated it.”
“Of course. Not just the team, but also my man has been sending information on the Mission. A lot of what we know about it came from him.”
“Then that issue is no longer a question but a fact. Your spy will stop the team?”
“My spy will monitor and act upon order,” Pierce said.
“Keep me appraised,” Brunswick said.
Pierce turned to go, and then paused. “What if this inbound object is something else altogether?”
Brunswick frowned. “Such as?”
Pierce shrugged. “I don’t know, but I fear we’re getting tunnel vision. It’s always wise to consider the possibility that one is wrong with their expectations.”
“The Brotherhood doesn’t ever consider itself wrong.”
“That’s why we’re supposed to be better than them.”
Atlanta: The Jesuit
The priest wore the simple brown robes of his order. His head was completely bald, whether shaved or by natural loss, it was impossible to tell. The smooth skin covering his skull reflected the lights overhead. Curiously, he also had no eyebrows. He was tall and broad-shouldered and had that ageless look some men developed, putting his appearance anywhere between thirty and sixty. His eyes were the most distinctive aspect to his appearance: icy blue, cold and lifeless.
They were eyes that years ago, when the priest had actually worked in a church, had peered through the shadow of the confessional to the other side, pinning the supplicant in their guilt and fear to the point where the head of the parish had finally decided he could no longer be allowed to hear confessions. His skills lie elsewhere, and he had been channeled through the labyrinth of the Order until he’d reached the place where his skills were better used.
He walked up to the secretary who manned the outer sanctum of the Head of the Brotherhood’s office and held up a red envelope. She replied by pressing a button opening a steel door, allowing access to a thirty-foot-long corridor.
Halfway down the corridor, a red light began flashing and a mechanized voice ordered him to halt. A drawer slid out from the wall to the priest’s right, and the inflectionless voice ordered him to deposit all weapons in the drawer.
In response, the priest slid his hands into formerly unseen slits in the sides of his robe and withdrew several rather unusual objects—unusual for a Jesuit, that is. He deposited a nine millimeter Browning High Power automatic pistol, a brace of three razor sharp throwing knives, a steel wire garrote, and from the inside of his left sleeve he un-strapped from his wrist a strange device that had half a dozen spring-loaded darts poised for firing. He gently placed that in the drawer, which slid shut. At the same time, the steel door at the end of the corridor opened automatically. The priest continued down the corridor into the room where the Head of the Brotherhood awaited him.
The Jesuit halted in front of the Head’s desk and bowed his head slightly.
The Head stood. “The Wrath of God.”
“I am God’s Warrior,” the priest acknowledged.
The short ceremony over, one that they did every time they met, the Head sat back down. The Jesuit remained standing, disdaining as he always did, the comfort of the leather chairs in front of the desk. He never sat in cushioned chairs, nor had he slept in a bed in over twenty years.
“Father DiSalvo, the time we have waited for will soon be upon us,” the Head said.
DiSalvo closed his eyes and his lips moved in silent prayer. Concluding the prayer, he opened his eyes, showing no sign of the brief emotion that had swept through him. “What is God’s will?”
“The rest of the Wrath has been alerted. Two others are close. Three will take some time assembling. As one of the few who knows of and has read the Fifth Gospel, you will lead the team into the blackness of the jungle. You will search out the Dark One and destroy him.”
Atlanta: The Technician
Two stories below the office where the Head of the Brotherhood had met with DiSalvo, a red envelope was propped against a computer monitor. The recipient was peering intently at the screen, studying the numbers displayed on it. He wasn’t aware he was shaking his head.
“There isn’t enough time.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud, and his face flushed as the other people in the room turned toward him. He spoke English but with a strong Eastern European accent. He wore the simple black pants and shirt with white collar of an ordinary cleric. However, he and the others in the room were anything but ordinary. They were the brightest, culled from among the ranks of various religions by the Brotherhood.
The Brotherhood was not drawn from any one faith, but rather consisted of those who not only had faith in God and Jesus, but believed the Second Coming would occur within their lifetimes, and that it was their blessed mission in life to help prepare the world for this momentous event by completing the Great Commission.
The men in this room were both clerics and scientists. The job they had been tasked with was to help bring about the Great Commission. On the front wall of the room from ceiling to floor were stenciled in large letters the words that were at the core of the Brotherhood:
Matthew 28:16-20: Then the eleven disciples went away into Galilee, into a mountain where Jesus had appointed them. And when they saw him, they worshipped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and spake unto them, saying, ‘All power is given unto me in heaven and in earth. Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.’
A tall black man wearing a colorful robe walked over to the technician in response to his inadvertent remark. “Mister Kopec, you must never doubt God’s will.”
Kopec turned from his computer, head down. “I am sorry, Reverend Abaku. I did not mean to doubt God’s will, but rather our ability to do what has been commanded in the time left. The test last year did not work perfectly.” He pointed at the screen. “Yes, the launch is soon and the last component will be in place, but we planned on at least a month of system testing before it could be operational.”
Abaku grabbed a chair and pulled it next to Kopec. The other technicians in the room turned back to their computers.
Kopec continued in a hurried voice. He was not used to talking to humans, but rather communicating with a machine through a keyboard. “We’ve tested on lab animals here and it seems we’ve fixed the problem. But we need at least one test on humans before broadcasting widely. And we’re talking about bouncing the signals for the Great Commission over much longer distances and at much greater strengths. That adds an element of uncertainty to what we were certain about on a small scale.”
Abaku reached out and with a long, black finger tapped the red envelope. “They asked me to pick one o
f my staff for the Wrath. I choose you. I know you feel as if you are being dismissed from the team, but this mission you are going on is very, very important. As important as the transmission of the Great Commission. You have made great theoretical contributions, particularly early on when we struggled greatly with the science.”
Abaku patted Kopec on the shoulder. “Now, though, things are less theoretical and more practical. It is on other shoulders to do what we must in the next few days. And as you note, the last component will be in place shortly. Time to check things out certainly would have been of great benefit, but we must trust that the work you and the others did, aided by God’s hand, will work.”
“There is the issue of using the new transmitter.” Kopec wasn’t backing off so easily. “And—” he lowered his voice and glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot—“the briefcase you want me to take. I don’t see why I need that. It is not part of the Great Commission.”
Abaku leaned close to his young assistant. “It’s our ace in the hole, so to speak, for your mission. It’s why you are going. Any fool can handle a satellite radio. I want you there in case the Dark One proves more powerful than the guns others will be carrying.”
“It takes two to use the transmitter,” Kopec said. “Who would be the other?”
“Father DiSalvo is aware of what’s needed. You will assist him in all that he asks. And you will obey the will of the Brotherhood.”
Kopec bowed his head in shame. “I am sorry to have questioned your reasoning.”
“There are things that have to be kept secret until the last moment,” Abaku said. He slapped the other man on the back. “You must believe in us. We will succeed. And we must believe that you and the team you are on will succeed as well. It is all part of the great plan.”