With flames soaring high and the Navajo wondering how it happened, Santo lowered the cloaked D-wing straight down into the flaming woodpile. Although Maria understood that heat could not enter the cab, it was still frightening to look out the cockpit window and see roaring flames engulfing them.
With the Navajo staring at their holy flames soaring high, Santo disconnected the cloak program. The stunned Navajo now saw a strange apparition appear in the flame. Because they spoke English, Santo turned on his loudspeaker and announced through the flame,
“I have come seeking your Elder of Elders, the great and wise Greg Red Cloud.”
While the crowd was busy with cameras and many cell phones making frantic calls, a man walked out of the crowd toward them. He was very aged, well beyond the usual years on Earth. A red bandana kept his tangled long gray hair out of his face and eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. In a voice surprisingly powerful for one so aged, Greg Red Cloud said to the spirit in the flames,
“I am the Spiritual Elder of my people, Greg Red Cloud.”
Then, in a strong tone of authority he demanded,
“Who has summoned me?”
Maria was astounded at the calmness of his approach and the authority in his demand to know who had summoned him. From his viewpoint, here was a spirit of their legend appearing to him in a flaming fire and he treated it as casually if it was a neighbor knocking at his door. She wondered how many times in his life he had spoken to the spirits to be so casual about it. Santo replied,
“We are friends of the Great Grays who are friends of the Shiny Ones of another age.”
Although his people were stunned to silence, the Elder calmly asked,
“How may I serve the Great Spirit today?”
Santo raised the D-wing high out of the flames and touched down safely between the fire and the stunned witnesses. Cameras and videos were still busy recording the holy event. Maria, suddenly remembering something and quickly blurted out,
“Are you going to open the canopy? Are we going out?”
When he nodded, she said,
“Wait. I have to do something first.”
Although confused, Santo saw her quickly put on a long red wig. She saw his confusion and said,
“Zak gave it to me. He said that most of their spirits had red hair.”
When the canopy opened, they stepped out of the flying chariot to face the reverent crowd. Looking at the Elder, Santo voiced his rehearsed lines.
“I am brother of the Sun Ray and this is Sister of the Moon. We thank you for your service to the Great Grays.”
As if it were no great imposition, Greg Red Cloud casually waved the compliment away. Santo continued,
“So that another Great Earth War may be prevented we have come for what you have so vigilantly guarded all these generations for the Great Grays.”
For the first time the Elder looked confused. There was a small spark of suspicion in his question.
“Then why have you come to this holy mesa?”
Knowing something was wrong, Santo was struck mute. Maria was quick to defuse the suspicion, saying,
“It is for your glory that we have come to you. The Great Grays demanded that we come to no other than you.”
Although suspicion had wilted somewhat, the Elder was still confused. He said,
“But what we have kept for you is far to the west.”
Maria’s quick thinking surfaced again.
“That is why we have come for you, to show us where it is.”
Slowly turning to his stunned people, Greg Red Cloud said,
“The time has come.”
Turning back to Sun Ray and Sister of the Moon, he said, “I will show you the way.”
Because it was important for Red Cloud to sit up front and point the way, Maria had to cram into the back storage area. With great reverence plus a twinge of apprehension, the Elder struggled into the passenger seat. The remaining Navajo saw their elder fly away in what they now knew to be a flying saucer but what their ancestors had seen as a great winged chariot.
Chapter 35
Besieged with nightmares of horror and screams of terror, Jessika Reynaldi suffered another terrible night tossing and turning. She was not a soldier and therefore not accustomed to seeing people die. This was not what she had in mind when coming to the House of the Nazarene. It was supposed to be a career builder, an opportunity to perfect her computer skills. After the destruction of the House and seeing the horror of friends die, she now only slept one or two hours at a time. She spent the rest of her time in the computer room consoled with algorithms and complex programs.
With a cup of cold coffee on the desk, she upgraded the ‘missing and confirmed dead list’. She was not aware that Waldorf had approached and was looking over her shoulder. She was startled by his abrupt question.
“Still no confirmation of him yet?”
She snapped around but instantly calmed when seeing the friendly face. Not wanting to admit that she was looking for a specific name, as she swiped a strand of hair out of her face, there was hesitation in her reply.
“No sir.”
Because he was having trouble standing, he pulled up a chair and sat beside her. There was compassion in what he said.
“There is no need for embarrassment. It is not a secret that you and Kirk Waller had a thing for each other. Just because his name is not on the ‘survived list’ does not mean it should be on the other.”
She meekly responded,
“Yes sir. I understand that with the old communication satellites turned off, many survivors are not able to call in survival codes.”
Waldorf was also heavy with pain being away from his lover’s bedside. He did not want to be here. He wanted to be holding Helga’s hand in her time of need. Because of his pain, he understood Jessika’s heartache. However, he was not comfortable talking about personal affection and therefore changed the subject. He asked,
“What are the statistics so far?”
The keyboard danced and figures appeared. She pointed and said,
“At current tally, 312 confirmed dead. There are 35 survivors here with us now. Because of the communication blackout, it is impossible to tell how many are out there trying to contact us. The worst statistic is that nineteen children are unaccounted for.”
Because he could not find consolatory words, he opted for the physical comfort of patting her hand while saying,
“The killing of children is always the hardest for a soldier to reconcile. The only good news we can gather from the statistics is that approximately 50 names are still missing and that means they might be survivors. With any luck, Kirk Waller will be one of them.”
She tried a brave smile but it did not work.
To escape the hardest part of his job, protecting his image of steel, he pointed to the computer and said,
“I want you to keep an eye on our bank accounts and corporate assets. Let me know if any have been compromised or otherwise infiltrated.”
Also needing to get away from a suffering heart, Jessika seemed all too pleased for the new directive.
“Yes sir. However, so far none has been touched, including the gold reserve in Geneva. It does not look like whoever did this to us is after the assets.”
Waldorf thought it was strange. He could think of only one power having the capability of destroying the House of the Nazarene and not needing or wanting their practically unlimited resources. However, there was something not right in that suspicion. It would have been much easier for the great Grays and less violent to destroy all the Nazarene satellites, effectively closing all financial accounts. They are known for their value of life, not their violence. A nagging question still prevailed, why had the Great Grays turned violent? They had the technology to destroy the House without taking a single life, so why did they resort to mass murder? Also, why are they destroying a religion that they helped create?
As he struggled to stand up, Jessika said,
“The
re is however one strange irregularity in the accounts concerning a bank in Lisbon, Portugal.”
He was very glad to stay off his sore leg and again sit. He looked at the screen but could not understand the graphs. She explained,
“I had programmed our accounts to report inexplicable missing millions but not petty nickel and dime withdrawals. That was why, until this morning I had missed this irregularity.”
While Waldorf was pretending to understand the graphics, Jessika pointed to the screen and continued.
“It’s this one right here. On the evening after the destruction, somebody made three withdrawals only minutes apart from a sidewalk ATM at the Banco Lisbon on Berna Avenue. That in itself is strange. Again, yesterday, at the same three times of the day there were three other withdrawals. The last one is always at six PM their time. Moreover, it is the amount taken that adds to the mystery. Each time, in a specific order, the withdrawal was always 19 Euro, then 15 and then immediately after, another 19 Euro. It was the same this afternoon.”
Perplexed, Waldorf stared at the screen trying to make sense of it. If somebody had access to a House account, why only pull out insignificant amounts instead of millions? He asked,
“Who is doing that? Can you identify the card user?”
“No sir, not without utilising the shutdown satellite computers.”
For fear of a trap, that their unknown enemy was tracing the signal, he understood that they could not re-activate that satellite. He took a moment to ponder the reason for those specific numbers. He understood whoever was doing this must know that survivors of the destruction would notice the odd withdrawal amounts and times. He asked,
“Could it be a code?”
She considered the possibility and eventually drew a conclusion.
“Maybe, but there are only three numbers.”
Waldorf contributed,
“That and the three exact times of withdrawal.”
After more puzzling possibilities he suggested,
“Because English is the official language of the House, what would those three numbers represent in the English alphabet?”
She was quick to reply,
“Only the letters ‘O’ and ‘S’. That’s not much of a code.”
Suddenly Waldorf smiled and said,
“Yes it is. In the right order of withdrawal, it is an international signal for help, ‘SOS’. One of our own is in Lisbon calling for help. When is the next withdrawal due?”
His excitement transferred to her, and quick fingers again flew across the keyboard. Sitting back, she said,
“In two hours.”
He blurted out,
“Do we have anybody close who can be there at that time?”
Her reply was not encouraging.
“A few days ago I could have retrieved that information but now with limited satellites, I’m afraid there is no way of telling. All the D-wings are busy transporting the injured to and from various safe hospitals or bringing the uninjured here.”
Disappointed, he frowned and went into thought. He wanted somebody there at the time of the next withdrawal. Jessika could see by his sudden change of expression that something had come to him. He slowly turned to look across the floor at the only D-wing left behind. Jessika knew what he was thinking and said,
“You are still badly injured sir.”
As he got up and limped across the floor, he said,
“I flew to Zürich and back here in this condition. I think I can make it to Lisbon.”
An hour and a half later and cloaked, Waldorf hovered above Lisbon looking for a safe place to land. He spotted an art museum one block from the bank address that Jessika had reluctantly given him. Undetected, he set down in a small wooded area to one side of the art gallery. With a cane for assistance, something he hated, he crossed Berna Street to the bank a block away. After checking his watch, he smiled. It was ten minutes before six o’clock.
At exactly six PM Waldorf observed a young man step out of the passing crowd and approach the ATM. His back was to him so he could not tell who it was. His years of military training demanded caution when approaching so he approached slowly and from the side. Only a few feet from the mysterious man, Waldorf recognized him and joyfully said to him,
“Pilot First Class Kirk Waller, I must say that I am very pleased to see you.”
Startled, Kirk snapped around to see a smiling Waldorf standing beside him. He was so happy to see a fellow member of the House of the Nazarene that he did not know whether to hug or salute him. When Kirk saw the cane, he immediately understood why he had not been able to contact the island with the standard codes. He asked,
“What happened sir? Is it serious?”
When Waldorf suddenly turned sullen, he knew the answer before hearing it.
“Yes,” he said. “It is very serious.”
As Waldorf explained the devastation and fatality rate, Kirk’s knees buckled. It was difficult for him to comprehend the destruction of a powerbase that had survived for almost six thousand years. Although Waldorf was a warrior, he nevertheless understood the pain of love. He knew it would not take long for Kirk to ask a question draped in hope and a prayer for the right response. He asked,
“What of Jessika, was she one of the survivors?”
Nodding, Waldorf replied,
“Yes Kirk. She is the one who deciphered your code.”
A relieved Kirk said,
“Good, I can’t wait to get back to her.”
Waldorf forced a smile and said,
“Hang on to your pants young man, it will happen soon enough.”
The ATM buzzed an alert for the user to either pull the card or enter the personal ID code. As he was about to pull the card, with a halting hand, Waldorf said,
“No. I want you to withdraw ten thousand, one hundred and ten Euros. It will be a code to Jessika that all has gone well.”
After the withdrawal, he handed the money to Waldorf who put it in his pocket. He then said,
“Follow me and let’s get out of here.”
As Waldorf started to limp away, Kirk inexplicably remained steadfast. Turning back, Waldorf’s expression was that of confusion. Pointing in the opposite direction Kirk said,
“I am with other survivors Sir.”
Glad to hear it, he followed Kirk down Berna Street in the opposite direction of his concealed D-wing.
It was a small hotel but comfortable and as Kirk explained, cheap. Entering the lobby and with Waldorf in tow, Kirk explained,
“I wanted to keep us all together so I rented two large suites, one for females, one for males.”
Upon entering one of the suites, Waldorf was stunned to see nineteen children milling about watching TV, playing computer games or talking in small groups. Kirk explained,
“We were on a field trip to the art museum when we found ourselves cut off and unable to communicate with the House.”
After a brief moment of elation that all the missing children were safe, Waldorf immediately understood they should not be told of the circumstances. He turned to Kirk and whispered,
“We don’t know how many of these children still have parents. They must not know of the tragedy yet.”
Suddenly Kirk understood the consequences of the statement and objected,
“But sir, that means we cannot take them back to the new location.”
When Waldorf nodded, suddenly Kirk sadly understood that he was not going to see Jessika for a while yet.
Wearing a stalwart military mask, Waldorf told the children that the inability to contact their parents was a glitch in the communication array. The younger ones easily accepted the explanation but a couple of the teenagers grew suspicious. They knew Waldorf was Head of Security and when seeing his injury, became suspicious. Regardless, all were happy to be going home, or so they thought.
They were told that because of the glitch they had to stay here for a little while yet. Because it was mostly all fun and games, most accepted it as goo
d news. A few were disappointed. Robert, Belle’s best friend stepped forward and asked,
“But for how long? I promised Belle I would come back and play with her.”
Knowing that Robert’s parents were on the dead list, when looking into his sad eyes, Waldorf’s military facade faltered. He was forced to continue the lie. Producing a contorted smile that the teenagers saw right through, Waldorf said to a disappointed Robert,
“Only until the communications glitch is repaired. It should not take too long. I shall tell her you will be back soon.”
As the two men walked through the lobby, Waldorf gave Kirk the money taken from the ATM and said,
“Use it all on the children. Take whatever you need from the ATM. I will tell Jessika not to block the withdrawal.”
After accepting the money, Kirk said,
“Our jet is at Aeroporto de Lisboa, in one of the private hangars. I will withdraw enough to pay for the storage and fuel when you give the word to return.”
Knowing the Nazarene jet could not come to the cave of the Three Sisters Waldorf explained,
“Give me a day or two to contact a friend. I will explain the situation to him. He has a private airport and facilities for the children. Because you cannot contact our sleeper satellites do not attempt any other way of contacting us. I know where you are and I will contact you when it is safe.”
THe Sentinal Satellite Page 21