Migration: Beginnings (Migration Series Book 1)

by Walter Hopgood

  “Listen: you two know more about this than anyone else. If we’re going to find the two remaining pieces, it makes sense that you two head up that team.”

  “Team?” Rhys blurts.

  Jason immediately follows up Rhys’ question with one of his own. “We’re in charge of finding these things?”

  “I can’t think of two more qualified people.” The look Landingham gives them is one of both acknowledgement of their abilities and one of trust. With a dismissive nod, the general adds, “Major Bartlett here,” he says, pointing to the woman still standing next to the beam, “will accompany you and be your liaison between the government and other official agencies. She will officially induct you into the project. And Franks here, will be your personal security escort for the duration.”

  “Franks?” Major Bartlett asks. “But sir, I’ve got my own men under my command ready for this project.”

  Shaking his head, Landingham says, “Franks has come this far; she might as well keep going. Besides,” he continues, “she’s got a background in archaeology and anthropology, isn’t that right, Franks?”

  “Yes, sir,” Franks responds, and gives Major Bartlett a curt smile.

  Bartlett accepts her new orders with a nod.

  The general turns and strides out of the room, leaving Jason and Rhys agog with the revelation that was just dropped in their lap.

  “But what if we don’t want to help out?” Jason quietly asks, earning a raised eyebrow from Major Bartlett, who holds a scowl. He turns to address her directly. “Look, we’ve got friends and family at home, responsibilities…” he begins.

  Major Bartlett cuts him off. “Your parents,” she says, looking at Rhys, “are fine, as is your sister and her family. And Mister Frost-Tambor, your mother is getting along fine at your home in Portland. Arrangements can be made for someone to assist your mother if the need arises. We will have someone monitoring each family member at all times, to make sure everything is okay, and step in if needed. You both are employed by a federal agency and are being compensated handsomely for your work. And as the general stated, you will have a protection detail at all times.”

  “It’s almost like we don’t have a choice,” Rhys says, his voice dark. He crosses his arms in defiance, trying not to think about how the project might go pear-shaped.

  Major Bartlett gives him her best smile though it looks more than forced. “Oh, you have a choice, doctor,” she says, her voice sickly-sweet. “But right now, your government needs you.” She takes a few steps forward, and Rhys can’t help but feel like a fly trapped in a spider’s web. “I hope we can impress upon you just how serious this project is, and everything that hangs in the balance.”

  Rhys squeezes Jason’s hand. “If we agree to do this, then we have one additional term.”

  Bartlett straightens, appearing quite business-like in her demeanor. It’s almost like she had been expecting it, with the confident look she gives Rhys. “Name it,” she challenges.

  “Find Jason’s dad,” Rhys quickly replies.

  “Done,” the major quickly answers as she turns and starts to walk out of the room, gesturing for Jason and Rhys to come with her. As she pulls the door to the inner room shut and dismisses the salute from Lieutenant Franks, she admits, “We were anticipating that, actually. We have an extraction team that landed this morning and is searching Rome, plus all hospitals and temporary camps where large numbers of Italian visitors have been funneled through. We hope to have news within the next few days.”

  “Thank you,” Jason says as an unspoken tension has been loosened, and an easy smile crosses his face. Rhys would pay anything to see his husband smiling that bright every day.

  They follow Major Bartlett and get into the sedan they’d arrived in, Franks locking up the building and joining them a few minutes later.

  The trip to a nearby hotel is quick, with Major Bartlett making all the arrangements and grabbing their key from the fresh and eager looking staff. She leads them up to their room, Franks following with their suitcase.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Jason says, though he’s dismissed with a shake of the head.

  Once at the room, Bartlett opens the door, and hands the key over as Jason and Rhys enter. Franks comes in and places the luggage in the closet just as the pinging of a cell phone pierces the silence.

  “Is that you?” Jason asks, glancing at his phone and dismissing the noise as not coming from his own.

  But before Rhys can answer, Frank blushes lightly, like a child caught with a toy she wasn’t supposed to have. “Sorry, that’s me. Sorry, ma’am,” she says with a nod to the major, and Rhys wonders if there is some sort of regulation that prevents the enlisted from having cell phones during active duty.

  Major Bartlett shakes her head to dismiss Franks, then turns her attention to Rhys and Jason. “These are for you,” she says, handing over two credit cards, one for each of them. “All expenses are paid by the government directly; please use it to pay for things you will need in relation to the project. And while there is no limit, please let me or Franks know if you have to put more than $10,000 dollars on it in a single twenty-four-hour period.” At Rhys and Jason’s curious looks, she adds, “There are additional forms to fill out.”

  Rhys and Jason stand there gobsmacked at what’s been tossed into their lap when the silence is broken a second time by Franks’ cellphone.

  “If there’s nothing else, I’ll bid you goodnight. Franks is staying in the room next door, so please get her if you need anything. If you decide to go out, make sure she is with you at all times.” Bartlett gives them a stern look, reminding Rhys of a scornful elementary school teacher. “This is non-negotiable,” she adds, Rhys and Jason nodding in unison at the command.

  “What about you?” Rhys asks as Bartlett walks out the door.

  “I’ll join you in the morning. Franks?” she says, and the lieutenant appears at her side, both disappearing behind the door a moment later, leaving Jason and Rhys to their thoughts.

  Chapter 10

  The phone on the bedside table buzzes, startling Gareth. He’d already exchanged a few texts, even though it was still early. He looks over and glances at the clock, noting that it’s just past 5:00 a.m., and though he should be sleeping, he’s been up for some time, just not bothering to get out of bed. Stretching, he reaches out and grabs the phone, fumbling with it for just a moment as his eyes readjust to the bright screen that pierces the darkness. Glancing down, he reads the latest text message and smiles.

  What his family has been waiting generations for is finally coming to fruition. While his sudden evacuation from Dublin to Cairo, necessitated by the actions taken out by Mister Makota’s organization throughout Europe, had put a bit of a hamper on his readiness, his lifelong planning for this day has kept him at the ready. The handy thing about the terrorist activities in Europe is that, should he and his people need to do something drastic, it can all be blamed on the idiots who took over and bombed half of the continent. After all, his family has been using external disasters and civil unrest as cover for generations, always managing to land the blame on another group. They’d gotten away with death and destruction for eons as the need arose; from a few well-timed political assassinations attributed to the Spanish Inquisition, to a well-placed bomb that took out a leading UK politician, attributed to the IRA during the height of the IRA’s reign of terror. Whatever the need, his family had managed to keep their reputations squeaky clean, all while framing others for their nefarious deeds.

  To call Gareth and his family involved with organized crime would be an understatement. His family controlled most of the power in Europe. They were the ones who really called the shots, from assassinations to military coups. As a result, they were mostly untouchable. The only battle they had ever lost was one surrounding the cnawd cludiant, an ancient device that held not only the secrets to the universe, but also of unlimited wealth and power. While they had lost the device to the thieves who had stolen it fro
m his family, his family had never stopped looking for it.

  Then, a few days ago, word came from one of his informants that at least part of the device had been unearthed, as well as the family who held the secrets. The news brought him a renewed sense of urgency with finding the device, and visions of him holding the world hostage with the power the device promised took over his imagination. With those thoughts came the stories he’d been told as a child of the time when his family had discovered the power of the cnawd cludiant, only to have it snatched away.

  Aldred, the fighter, watches from his nearby seat, paying attention to every single word, though for the casual onlooker, it would appear that he was drunk. He’d heard a tale of a magical device that had been discovered by one of the local farmers and was quickly turned over to the landowner. He sent his brother to investigate first, and when the authenticity of the device was made, he made his way into Wales to search for it. The tale had come with the promise of riches—gold and jewels—that would ensure whoever controlled the device, could control the world.

  It was simply too tempting, and Aldred knew that it must be his. He was a great fighter and deserved a position of greater power.

  The glint of a silver object catches his eye, and he almost spills his ale as he turns his head to get a better look. He leans forward, listening intently as he hears Wagner, the pub owner, whispering to a man hunched at his side. “This is the key, Andus,” comes the breathy response. “This is how we get the device to work.”

  Aldred glances up and nods to his brother, Graham, who was seated nearby. He and Graham had come to town separately; Graham first to scope out the secrets of the mythical device, Aldred joining him soon after.

  The man named Andus reaches out, letting his fingers touch the triangular-shaped object before Wagner snatches it back and glances around the room. But Aldred is quick and turns his head back, and takes a sip.

  “Is it true what they say?” Andus quietly asks. “That there is an abundance of gold and jewels? Enough to run the world?”

  Watching as Wagner drops his gaze once again to the triangular-shaped object, Aldred knows, without a doubt, that he has to have it. Andus’ admission of, “From what I’ve seen, it’s so much more than just riches,” steels his reserve.

  Giving his brother a dismissive headshake, Aldred finally stands up. He pulls the impressive sword from his side and takes three giant steps, reaching Wagner and Andus in a second, garnering their attention with the blade of his sword against their table.

  Wagner immediately pulls the charm from the table and moves to hide it in his satchel, though Aldred’s blade is quicker, cutting the rope at Wagner’s side with a flick of his wrist. “Give it to me,” he says, holding out his hand.

  When Wagner doesn’t move fast enough, Aldred is quick with his sword, bringing it to Wagner’s neck. A second later, he feels the weight of the charm in his outstretched palm. But it doesn’t seem to be just any charm; there’s a tingling sensation that nearly gives him an involuntary shiver, followed by a feeling of an invisible hand pulling him from where he stands.

  After firming his resolve, Aldred waves the sword at Wagner once again. “Take me to this magical device,” he says. By now there is a crowd around them, but nothing distracts Aldred; he flicks his sword, and Wagner is quick to his feet. Aldred gestures once with his sword and follows Wagner out into the darkened evening.

  There’s a scuffle to his right, and Aldred turns just as the man named Andus quickly approaches him from the side. Aldred dispatches him with a quick blow from the golden metal handle of his sword, and the man crumples to the ground.

  “Anyone else?” he challenges, but the others decide to hold back. When no one comes forth, except to pick up the unconscious man, Aldred again turns his attention back to Wagner. “Now, please.”

  Wagner’s face falls in defeat, and he begins walking toward a nearby building, Aldred close on his heels. The closer they get, the stronger the pulling sensation Aldred feels from the triangular-shaped object he holds. It’s almost overwhelming his senses with an unbearable intensity, but he does what is necessary to maintain his composure. Wagner leads him to a nearby stable, taking a torch in with him.

  “It’s in here,” Wagner replies, and Aldred follows him to the back of the stable, where the torch lights up the back wall. He looks as the light from the torch bounces off of a metallic object, sending beams of light dancing across the room.

  Stopping in front of the device, Wagner says, “This is it.”

  Aldred takes his eyes off of Wagner for a moment and considers the triangular-shaped object that rests against the far wall. He studies it for a moment, knowing it must be something related to the charm in his hand based on the intense pulse he feels, but cannot comprehend that it is of any value. Then something within him seems to whisper a suggestion in his mind, and he steps close, sword at the ready, as he reaches down and fingers the bottom of the device, automatically looking for something. He feels a minute slot, and that voice whispers to him what he must do next.

  Tumbling the charm in his fingers, he slides it into place and stands back. He ignores the sudden cacophony of voices that comes from the other part of the barn, as the space within the triangle suddenly flits with a light of its own. His eyes grow wide as the room is suddenly bathed in bright light; the device shows a scene more realistic than any painting Aldred has ever seen.

  “What is this…? This magic?” he asks as he fights the urge to step forward and reach through the image. When he finally takes his eyes off of the scene, he again raises the sword to Wagner.

  “You,” he says, thrusting the sword forward, “go.”

  Wagner glances back at the crowd of people who stand at the far wall and nods his head. “I said go!” Aldred challenges, so Wagner lifts his leg and slowly puts it on the firm soil on the other side of the image, Aldred’s eyes growing big as a blue light envelopes the limb. “Go on,” he says and thrusts his sword forward until Wagner is completely shrouded in the light and then through the device, standing on the other side.

  He watches Wagner for a few seconds, and when there is no adverse effect, decides to follow him. He puts one cautious leg through, a pulling, tingling sensation filling his body until he continues to step through. His senses are nearly assaulted by the vibrant, clean air, and light, from what looks like two giant balls of light blazing in what looks like midday.

  Aldred looks around, understanding exactly what Wagner had meant earlier; this was so much more than an abundance of riches. Whoever could control this fantastic device that could transport you to this magical realm, could control anything. He lets his guard down for a moment as he takes in the mysterious surroundings, and only turns his attention back to Wagner as the man dashes past him and through the device.

  “Damn him,” he says. He takes one last look around and charges back through the device with a huff.

  Just as he steps through, he hears a familiar voice yell, “No!” At the same time, he feels a sharp pain on his shoulder, and almost loses his balance as he looks down and sees his left arm hanging by a sliver of muscle and skin. He looks up and catches his brother’s eye, and is about to cry out when he feels the sharpened end of an ax connecting with the side of his neck, the skin splitting easily. He drops to the ground, with the last sensation he feels being the warm spread of blood as it gushes down his skin. There is no pain, only acceptance of death, tinged with rage as he lets go, his last breath leaving his mortal body.

  The tri-tone, indicating a new email, brings Gareth out from his thoughts. He drops the phone to his side and stretches, a smile spreading across his face as he laces his fingers together behind his head. “Today is a good day,” he says. He can’t help but pick up the phone to read the message once more. He repeats, “A very good day,” as the words show again on the screen.

  ‘Package has been authenticated. Prepare to move to my coordinates ASAP after the second package has been located. Will arrange for your retrieval aft
er touchdown on US soil, and after third package has been located.’

  Chapter 11

  Rhys is the first one to wake up the next morning, momentarily disoriented from the surroundings he’s not used to. It takes a second to remember that he is tucked away in some Sacramento hotel room. The only sense of normality he experiences is the way Jason is snuggled up against his back.

  After a quick shower, they both realize that the small suitcase they had packed for an overnight trip wouldn’t last them the extended period of time they would need to find the remaining two pieces of the ancient structure. Jason pulls out his government issued credit card as if it was the solution to their problem, and promptly walks out of the room, knocking on Franks’ door.

  Rhys stands in the doorway to their room as he listens to Jason negotiating for ‘just thirty minutes at Target or Old Navy or something,’ so they can at least stock up on more underwear and socks. Franks agrees, saying they would be able to stop on the way back from the lab that afternoon.

  The lab turns out to be a nondescript building on the outskirts of Auburn. The only thing that stands out of the ordinary is that the elevators are behind a security station, with two gruff-looking military police manning the desk. Rhys watches as the two guards give Franks a nod of acknowledgement, though they still check her security credentials.

  “Doctor Tambor,” the first officer says, and Rhys pulls the badge from his belt and watches as it’s carefully scrutinized for authenticity; first the picture, then underneath a black light, revealing hidden logos. He hands it back and asks, “Mister Frost-Tambor,” and Jason hands over his own badge for authentication.

  Once their identities have been proven, the officer steps to the side, letting Rhys and Jason join Franks at the elevator. Franks flashes her badge, then punches the call button, and they wait for the car to arrive.

  Rhys isn’t sure what he was expecting, but the lab turns out to be a vastly open room. It fills the entire top floor of the building, with several tables containing computers and other equipment, and a few scientists scattered around the room, mostly reading, and some furiously scribbling notes.