Cloe could see Michael processing his choices.
“Follow me,” he said forcefully.
Neither Cloe nor the child made to move.
Michael spun on his heels and grabbed Cloe’s arm with one claw-like hand, laying his other hand at the nape of Robby’s neck. Cloe fought back, trying to tear her arm away from his grasp, but it was like being pinned by an iron vice.
Robby held up his small hands and said, “Dr. Cloe, don’t worry. We have nothing to fear.” He began to walk slowly toward the door.
Icar laughed softly and headed out of the room.
Cloe at last wrenched her arm from Michael’s grip, straightened her clothes, and moved toward the door.
As he unlocked the door, Cloe whispered to him, “Michael … not the child.”
He simply smiled. “Why not?”
“Michael, is there no shred of decency left in you?” asked Cloe as he opened the door and ushered them into the all-white elevator lobby. He pressed the call button for the elevator.
She could hear the mechanical voice of the building as it began its metallic speech, and in a couple of seconds she heard the rush of the high-speed car. It would be there shortly.
Michael had not answered her question. He seemed lost in thought. What little brow he had left convulsed, and he bent slightly as if he had been punched.
The elevator arrived, and the doors opened. Michael pushed them into the car, and the doors closed. The elevator awaited instructions.
As the seconds ticked by, Cloe noticed the button for the observation deck was at the top of the panel while the button for the lobby was at the very bottom. They could be at the observation deck in a matter of moments.
It was plain that Michael was engaged in some terrible internal struggle. He turned to the panel of buttons.
“Don’t worry, Dr. Cloe. He will do the right thing somehow,” said Robby.
Michael turned to her with fire in his eyes and screeched a bloodcurdling scream. Cloe and Robby clapped their hands to their ears. Then Michael spun back to the board and pushed his thumb directly onto the top button.
The car rocketed toward the upper deck.
Fear seized Cloe, a cold, greasy feeling roiling up from the pit of her stomach. Not the child. Cloe prepared to fight as she had never fought before. She prayed for God to give her the strength to save the boy.
The elevator stopped at the observation-deck level, and the doors began to open. Cloe looked out but could see nothing but blackness beyond the wall surrounding the deck. Time began to slow down as Michael turned toward her. She balled her hands into fists and growled at him.
“Where are we?” asked Robby, breaching Cloe’s concentration.
She half-turned to him on the other side of the elevator, but before she could speak, the doors began to close. She rotated back to Michael and the panel of buttons and saw he had mashed the lobby button.
“We’re going down!” she cried.
“You’re going home,” Michael said, “if I can get you there. The man up there will be after us and will kill me and you in a most unpleasant way when he realizes what I have done.”
“Why, Michael? Why?” asked Cloe.
“I can’t kill this child,” he said. “He’s only a little younger than my youngest was when he died.”
“But you have killed so many.”
“Yes, including my own children, although that was not intended. It was a terrible accident,” he said, slumping with the weight of his awful guilt. “I was terribly burned that night on Masada, and I thought all humanity had been seared from me. I joined Icar to take my revenge.”
“So what has changed?” Cloe asked.
“I don’t know. I only know I cannot harm this child,” he said as the elevator began to slow for the lobby stop.
CHAPTER
75
Michael walked quickly from the elevator through the lobby of the unholy building. Cloe and Robby had to trot to keep up with him. He burst through the double glass doors and headed for the black Suburban parked in front. Icar might even now be after them.
“Get in quickly,” he said hoarsely.
Cloe sat Robby in the passenger seat next to her and strapped them both in.
“Do we have a chance?” Cloe asked.
“Yes,” said Michael, backing away and heading the Suburban out to the highway. “He’s not God. He’s not even a god. While there’s much mystery about him, I believe him to be an angel, a fallen angel but in human form. Right now he’s just a man—although in some ways he’s very special. He’s in human form so he can reach the masses. This dilutes his demonic powers as best I can understand it. But he’s still not your average Joe, and he grows stronger day by day.”
“Where are we going?” asked Cloe.
“The airport, and as fast as we can get there. The more distance we put between ourselves and Icar, the less he can sense us and know what we are doing.”
“Why isn’t he after us now?” she asked, looking back but seeing nothing.
“He may be, but I think he’s gone to the place where he goes to withdraw and somehow recharge himself,” said Michael. “He does this most nights, although sometimes he lingers to see if I’m doing what he told me to do. The man has no trust.”
“I see,” said Cloe. “That’s why you took the elevator up first instead of straight down to the lobby.”
“Yes, that and, in part, because I had not fully decided what to do with you,” Michael responded. “The boy touched something in me, something deeper and more profound than just my face. He reminded me of a lot of things.”
Cloe considered this and looked down at the young boy sitting beside her. His eyes were drooping, and he was beginning to nod off.
He turned slightly to get more comfortable and said, just before closing his eyes, “The bad man is gone for a while.”
They raced over deserted highways and roads and entered the general aviation area of the airport. No guards were in sight as Michael parked the vehicle.
“Everyone’s scared to death and in their homes or have gone into the desert,” said Michael.
He picked up Robby, and they headed toward the hangar. There Cloe saw what looked like a beautiful new Lear jet. No airplane had ever looked better to her.
“Now, all we need is a pilot and some fuel,” she said.
“The jet is kept fueled in case the boss needs it. It’s all ready to go.”
“We need Sky, your old pilot,” Cloe said with a nervous smile.
“I can’t claim to have taught Sky, but I did learn from him,” he said as he opened the hatch to the jet’s interior and then ran around and unchocked the wheels.
Returning, he helped them onto the plane and to get strapped in.
“Unless you are a licensed jet pilot or have a better offer, I’m going up there and get us out of here. While I was recuperating from the bomb blast in Brazil years ago, I did the work and got my license. Sky helped me a lot.”
Cloe watched as he trotted up the aisle to the pilot deck. Soon the engines fired and the jet began to roll out of the hangar. She could hear his communications with the tower, which was apparently telling him he was not cleared to take off since no flight plan had been filed.
He looked back and yelled, “Hang on! This might be rough!”
He taxied rapidly over the tarmac and turned onto the main runway. Official vehicles with lights flashing rushed toward them, some of which were heading in front of them to block the runway.
Michael firewalled the throttles and simultaneously released the brakes. The little plane shot forward as if launched from a slingshot. It tore down the runway, both engines screaming, drifting slightly from side to side as he fought for control.
From her aisle seat, Cloe saw the flashing red lights through the cockpit and out the windshield. Emergen
cy vehicles had been set up as a sort of mobile barricade across the runway. There was no way this airplane was going through the wall of trucks ahead.
Faster and faster the little plane rushed at the line of vehicles that now looked impossibly close.
“We’re not going to make it!” cried Cloe. She grabbed the sleeping boy and held him close.
She felt the plane rotate, but she knew it was too early. Still the jet fluttered airborne just enough to clear the barricade. This early leap killed the airspeed, and the plane slammed back to earth on the outbound side of the line of trucks. As the plane drifted over the official line, she could see the men below with their mouths open in surprise.
When the Lear hit the runway on the other side of the trucks, the impact was so hard she did not know how the jet stayed upright. She bit her tongue, and blood flowed from her mouth. Robby slept on. Somehow Michael steadied the hurdling plane and pushed the throttles over harder. The jet shook with stress but continued down the runway, again gathering speed. How much runway is left? she wondered. Ahead, she could see dark silhouettes that might be buildings. How far?
This time the jet shot off the end of the runway like the phoenix reborn. The plane immediately rolled violently to port, and Cloe wondered if it had been damaged. Her stomach leaped into her throat, and she gagged briefly with the beginnings of motion sickness. Then they were over open water that she knew could only be the Persian Gulf. They were safe but still not higher than a few hundred feet.
Cloe unbuckled her seat belt and moved into the companionway leading into the cockpit.
“Michael, where are we going and what’s our plan?” she said loudly over the engine noise.
“We have to stay low and fly north toward the Mediterranean,” he replied. “If we can stay at this level, we may avoid the fighters from several countries that will be looking for us. Egypt, Syria, and Saudi Arabia come to mind.”
“But where will we go? My friends are all in Iceland,” Cloe said. “I must join them and finish my work. I have important new insights that will help us.”
“We don’t have the range for that,” Michael replied, looking up and back at her. “I would have to stop for fuel, and we would certainly be picked up, arrested, or worse.”
“Where can we go?” she asked.
“There’s only one place that might be safe—at least for a while,” he replied.
“Where?”
“The sanctuary … we go to the sanctuary.”
CHAPTER
76
“I’m not sure what to call you,” said J.E. to the monsignor as they sat at a table in the old church and tried to figure out ways of finding and rescuing Cloe and the boy.
“Albert, or Monsignor if you prefer, J.E.,” responded the monsignor. “I’m not changed because of the pope’s confidence and designation. If anything, I’m humbled by it.”
“But, Albert, you have been tapped by the pope to lead the Catholic Church against the evil that is now here,” argued J.E., his eyes open wide. “What more important or greater role is there than that?”
“I don’t know, J.E., and I don’t know what I will do next,” said the monsignor, putting his coffee cup aside and turning directly to his friend. “I’m just as shocked as anyone by these events.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to figure it out. It seems all of Christianity is on your shoulders.”
“We will need to gather Zack and his cohorts,” said the monsignor. “Cloe was right: they are part of this. The father curator has kept them safe, but it is now our time.”
Just then J.E.’s satellite phone on his belt buzzed. He picked it up but did not recognize the number. He pushed the button to answer and put his ear to the receiver.
“J.E.,” said a voice. “Can you hear me?”
“Mom!” cried the young soldier, his voice full of emotion. “Are you all right? Where are you?”
“I’m fine, J.E. Is Albert there with you?”
“Mom, he’s here, but there are things you should know,” responded J.E., filling his mother in on the developments at the church in Reykjavik.
“J.E., this is astonishing, and I can’t think of anyone more worthy or capable of leading us against this terrible evil we face than the monsignor,” she said.
“Where are you?” he asked.
Cloe hesitated and then said, “Robby and I are in the mountains near the Turkish-Armenian border. We’ve been here before. Michael is with us.”
“Mom, what are you talking about? We went over this so many times. Michael is long dead. I saw him blown up at Masada,” said the young soldier.
“All true, J.E., but you did not actually see Michael’s body. Somehow he was not killed, although he was horribly burned. He’s nearly unrecognizable,” she replied. “He survived and rebuilt the lodge in the mountains. We are there now.”
“But how did you find him?” asked J.E., walking around the ancient wooden table.
“We didn’t. He found us,” she replied. “He led the group that attacked our plane at Reykjavik. It was he who took the boy.”
“But I don’t understand,” said J.E. “He’s our enemy. He proved that at Masada and at Reykjavik.”
“J.E., put the phone on speaker so Albert can hear as well,” said Cloe. “I’m not sure how to explain what has happened, but I need both of you.”
There was a gush of noise as the external speaker was engaged, and then the monsignor said, “Cloe, it’s so good you and Robby are well. I’ve been following the conversation. Are you in physical danger?”
“I don’t think so, Albert—at least not immediately,” she said. “Our danger is from Icar. He is the evil that is behind all that is going on. He believes he’s on the cusp of completely disabling the Church. He is aware the pope lives, but he knows everything is in confusion and the leadership is not there.”
“What about Michael? He’s not our friend,” asserted the priest. “Are you in jeopardy from him right now?”
“I don’t think so,” said Cloe. “The boy has had some effect on him. He’s different. He was with Icar, but when Icar gave orders to have us killed, he could not do it. I can’t explain it. It’s extraordinary. He knows Icar will search for us, so he has brought us to the mountains where he feels safe. He believes Icar doesn’t know of the place and it’s far enough away from him that he cannot easily detect us. But his spies will find us eventually. I’m worried that it is only a matter of time.”
“I wonder if Michael has really changed. Can he be trusted?” asked J.E., now back in his chair leaning over the phone on the table.
“I’m not sure,” said Cloe. “But Michael is afraid of Icar and believes he will search for him because he cannot let the betrayal go unpunished. I think we are okay at least for the time being.”
“Cloe, we have some further news,” said the monsignor.
“What is it, Albert?”
“The monks in what’s left of the Opts Center have been able to give us a complete translation of the cuneiform sections of the journal,” he replied. “They used the clues from the German scientist and their own research to create a template for the translation, a kind of Rosetta Stone. We think we know what it says.”
The line was quiet for a moment as the monsignor summoned the words to tell Cloe the answer to what she had been seeking for the last several years.
“What does it say?” she asked, simply.
“Understand, this is just preliminary, but we think it’s close to being right,” he cautioned.
“Yes?”
“I’m sending it to your phone, but what they have come up with is this:
Evil must be sealed at the Mount;
Good will serve the Seven.
Rely upon the innocent;
For these will suffer to come unto Me.
But who is innocent?
Such a one will arise, and
The evil one will be cast into the Abyss.”
The men heard Cloe exhale deeply through the receiver. “This is the most obscure section of the most important document ever unearthed in the history of man. The prophecy of Christ, himself, on the defeat of evil. This is the core of the journal.”
“Yes,” confirmed the priest.
“Albert,” she said as the static crackled over the phone and she studied the text. “What do you think it means?”
“Cloe, all I can tell you is what the monks told me when they called to give me the translation,” responded the monsignor.
“What did they say?”
“They said they could tell us what it says, but somebody else will have to tell us what it means.”
“I think I have an idea or two,” said Cloe thoughtfully. “How soon can you be here?”
“Wait!” said J.E. “They also sent us a translation of the writing on the back of the ‘seven’ cards.”
“Yes,” said the priest. “According to the monks, it says, ‘The time is close.’”
“That seems pretty plain to me. When can you leave, and when will you be here?” she asked.
“Sky is waiting at the airport for us now,” replied the monsignor. “Even so, if you are where I think you are, it will be several hours.”
“Albert, I will need you, J.E., and the curator along with as many of the Swiss Guard as you can muster,” said Cloe. “This will be a fight much worse than Masada. I need you to tell Captain Jacob we will need him and his people as well. Bring Zack and his friends. I will have the boy.”
“But, Cloe, where are we going?” asked the monsignor.
“We are going to the mount,” she replied. “To Israel.”
“Israel … of course,” he replied after a moment.
“And, Albert …” whispered Cloe.
“Yes?”
“Hurry.”
CHAPTER
77
Cloe hung up the phone and wondered how long it would be before the monsignor arrived to take her, Michael, and the boy to what she thought might be the final … what? Battle? Confrontation? No, she thought, this will be a war, a thousand-year war.
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