The Belial Stone (The Belial Series)

by Brady, R. D.

  Havre, Montana

  Tom lined up with his tent mates and they quietly filed through the cage door. Grabbing a stale roll and cup of water, they ate on their way to the enclosure. Once there, they dropped their cups in a bucket, picked up shovels, and made their way to their dig spot.

  Tom noticed that during the night a number of large objects, about six feet by four, had been unearthed. Each was still covered in a thick layer of dirt. He and Seeley were given smaller shovels and a brush. They were told to carefully remove the dirt from the side of one of the objects. Other two-man teams were set up with the other objects.

  Two hours later, Tom’s back and neck were screaming at him. But he knew better than to complain. One of the guys who’d been here a while warned him, that if he got hurt, not to let them see it. There was no med tent. If he couldn’t work, his usefulness would be at an end, as well as his life. So he continued working, ignoring the pain, unveiling the side of the monolith in front of him.

  Almost put in a trance by the mind-numbing task, he was surprised when he saw rock peaking through. He’d reached the edge. And there seemed to be something carved into it.

  Intrigued, in spite of his pain, Tom worked faster and shortly uncovered a full carving about twelve inches long. It was some sort of figure – a man-eagle hybrid.

  Tom sat back, dumbfounded. It looked like some sort of Egyptian hieroglyph. He’d seen them once in a book he’d borrowed from the prison library.

  Confused, Tom looked around the enclosure at all the other dig sites. He could make out a bunch of other rock towers sticking out of them as well. There were dozens of the things.

  Although Tom hadn’t traveled much in his life, he knew that this sure as hell wasn’t Egypt. He supposed they could be in Canada. But he didn’t think so. For some reason, he thought they were still in the States. All the guards were American, all the cars.

  Tom took a quick glance at a monolith directly behind him. It depicted humans farming and some flying in some sort of hot air balloon.

  These things had been buried here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. A chill ran through him. But what were they doing here and who had buried them? And why the hell were a bunch of ex-cons digging them out?

  CHAPTER 25

  Baltimore, Maryland

  Her hands in front of her, Laney backed away. “No. You can’t be here. You’re dead. I saw you. You’re dead.”

  The light from the bright morning sun acted as a spotlight, highlighting Paul as he moved across the floor towards her. A trail of blood followed him, his chest wounds oozing.

  He let out a laugh that sent shivers of fear racing through her system. “Dead? I told you. You can't kill me.”

  She sprinted from the room and up the stairs. Rounding the banister, she ran to the only door on the floor, Drew’s door. She threw herself at it. It swung open and she managed to catch herself before she hit the floor.

  Stumbling, she vaulted forward and got caught in a pair of legs. With a scream, she leapt away from the dangling form.

  “Drew,” she cried.

  His eyes stared down at her, pinning her in place. His arms reached out for her. She turned and ran. But now the door was shut. Fumbling with the handle, the desperate urge to escape clawed at her.

  Two cold, grey arms pulled her into an embrace from behind.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. “No, no.”

  She looked at the being that held her. Its grey skin had already begun to sag and its eyes had turned a milky white. A horrific caricature of the man she knew.

  It leaned down. From its dry, cracked lips, rasped two single words. “Avenge me.”

  Laney jolted awake, her breath coming in gasps, her heart trying to pound its way out her chest. She clutched the blankets to her chest and looked wildly around the room. Her terror increased. Where the hell was she?

  She swallowed and breathed out as her memories returned. Right. They were in Baltimore.

  They’d flown in last night. She’d passed out almost as soon as she’d buckled herself in on the Chandler private jet. She vaguely recalled waking as the plane landed and stumbling to a waiting SUV. She’d fallen asleep again in the car and couldn’t remember waking after that.

  The blanket was still clutched in a death grip to her chest. She forced herself to relax her hands, and smooth out the blankets. Images of Drew and Paul, Rocky and Mike, clashed in her head, dredging up a mixture of sadness and fear.

  “You will not cry,” she ordered herself, feeling the familiar tightening of her chest.

  She inspected the room, looking for something, anything, to take her attention from her thoughts. White plantation furniture highlighted the pale yellow of the walls and pristine white of the moldings. Splashes of color came in the shape of bright blue accents. The morning light shone through a set of French doors opposite the bed that led to a little patio, overlooking a garden in full bloom. And a giant bouquet of hydrangeas, freesia, and tulips in a crystal vase brought some of that garden inside.

  She smiled. Nothing bad should be allowed in a room like this.

  She inhaled, the peaceful surroundings chasing away the last aftertastes of fear. But an ache in her ribs reminded her of the last twenty-four hours. She stretched her arms above her head. Wincing, she held back a cry of pain. It felt like she’d been hit by a truck.

  “Or attacked by a superhuman,” she mumbled. She needed a shower and then she could face the world.

  Stifling a groan, she threw off the blankets. But please, God, let today be less exciting.

  Thirty minutes later, she felt better. It was amazing what a really hot shower and fresh clothes could do for a person. She’d found new clothes, all in her size, waiting for her in the attached bath. She chose jeans, soft brown leather boots, and a pale lilac sweater.

  She fingered the cashmere with a smile. Someone had good taste. She wasn’t sure who had placed them in her room, but she was thankful. Her old clothes were only fit for the garbage pail at this point.

  After drying her hair, she sprayed on some perfume she’d found in the bathroom. Lavender. Feeling more like herself, she headed for the stairs.

  The soothing neutral tones and white trim of the bedroom continued throughout the small cottage. She rounded the stairs into a living room with overstuffed white furniture that invited her to sit down and relax. With difficulty, she ignored the invitation, following the smell of coffee to the kitchen.

  Her uncle sat at a round wooden table in the little nook, just off the open kitchen. He’d changed as well, wearing a charcoal grey sweater and dark jeans. He didn’t look up as she approached, his attention completely focused on the papers in front of him. Eggs lay untouched to his side.

  “Uncle Patrick?”

  With a start, he looked up, his face pale and tired. “Hey, honey. Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

  She gestured at the papers in front of him. “I can tell. Is that Drew’s paper?”

  “Yes. It fell out of your sweatshirt on the plane last night and I picked it up.”

  Grabbing a mug from the kitchen counter, she filled it with coffee. Warmth flowed through her with the first sip and she closed her eyes, embracing it. Oh, yes, she needed that.

  She sat down across from him. “Did you sleep at all?”

  He gave her a wan smile. “Not much, I’m afraid. After yesterday’s excitement and this,” he gestured at the papers, “my head was swimming.”

  “Well, I didn’t have that problem. I don’t remember much after we got to the plane.”

  “I’m not surprised. After all you went through, you practically shut down. You needed the rest.”

  She nodded. Yesterday’s events seemed unreal, like a movie. “I still can’t believe everything that happened. It just doesn't seem possible.”

  “Violence can have that effect.”

  She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all of this.”

  He covered her hand with his. “You
’re in it, I’m in it. You know that.”

  She felt a catch in her throat. He had always been there for her. Every school play, soccer game, martial arts tournament. He’d been there for every single one. And she knew he’d be there whenever she needed him. Tragedy might have made them a family, but it had made them a damn strong one.

  “Thank you.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I called Rocky earlier this morning. She’s fine, some stitches, some blood. Mike got out of surgery all right as well. It was touch and go, but he pulled through.”

  “Good.”

  “She said they were rushing Paul’s autopsy. She told the M.E. about Paul’s skills. Dr. Nichols had some theories, but she didn’t want to say anything until she’d run some tests. Hopefully they’ll be back sometime today.”

  He handed her a cell phone. “Jake gave that to me last night for you. I gave Rocky the number. She’ll call you when she has something.”

  Nodding, she pocketed the cell phone and then looked past her uncle into the garden. “I still can’t wrap my head around what I saw. How could those guys get shot, stabbed, hit by a car, and keep going? What are they?” She glanced back at him. “My money’s on a secret military cyborg program.”

  Patrick let out a chuckle. “I think you’ve been watching too many movies.”

  “Really? Have you got any better ideas?”

  Patrick was silent.

  Laney looked at him closely. “You do, don’t you?”

  He put up his hands. “I don’t know if it’s an idea or just a crazy thought. I think I’ll wait for some more information.”

  “Uncle Patrick…”

  He held up Drew’s paper. “I can, however, offer my opinion on Drew’s paper.”

  “You’re just trying to distract me,” she grumbled.

  “Yes, I am,” he agreed with a smile. “It’s actually impressive work. He talks about Gobekli Tepe, which, of course, is fascinating in its own right. But it’s his claims about what the sister site may hold that are the most intriguing and terrifying.”

  “A sister site? Are you kidding? Where?” She pictured the ancient Turkish site: all those tall obelisks arranged in circles dating from before the dawn of civilization. Gobekli Tepe was an incredible find. But a second? That was beyond incredible.

  “He doesn't say, but he makes a good argument for its existence.”

  “That’s amazing. Drew is going to have a blast…“A pit formed in her stomach. “I mean, he would have had a blast excavating it.”

  “That was my first thought, too. It’s what Drew dreamed of when he became an archaeologist. It’s what all archaeologists dream of. But I’m afraid this sister site may have more than a strong archaeological impact. If Drew was right, it could uncover a weapon I fear mankind may not be ready for.

  “A weapon? I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  Patrick’s face was somber, his eyes deadly serious. “Drew writes of Atlantis. He argues that we’ve seen glimpses of it, but acknowledges that very little evidence has been found. He even speaks of their final devastation that all but wiped them from the face of the earth.”

  Laney nodded, thinking of Plato’s description of Atlantis, as well as the accounts of Pliny, Plutarch, and Strabo. “Right, they were said to have been destroyed in one day by the rising of the sea. Most people argue that refers to perhaps some form of tsunami or great flood.”

  “Drew mentions that as well. But rather than being a natural phenomena, he argues that the destruction was brought about by a weapon.”

  “Where did he get that?”

  “From Edgar Cayce’s readings. According to Cayce, a stone was used as the energy source for Atlantis. It was later changed into a weapon and resulted in the destruction of Atlantis.”

  Laney looked at her uncle. “You're not believing this, though, are you? There's no proof.”

  Patrick smiled. “Actually, that’s the part that surprised me. He offers proof.”

  “You're kidding.”

  “Have you ever heard of megafauna?”

  Laney shook her head.

  “Megafauna, or mega-mammals, are extinct now. Technically, a megafauna is any animal over a hundred pounds that is not domesticated. Generally, though, it is used to refer to large-scale mammals. According to the fossil record, unusual megafauna existed around the time of the last ice age. They included animals such as the short-faced bear and the giant sloth, which was about the size of a Volkswagen bus. Even more interesting is that they actually all seemed to disappear from the fossil record at about the same time: 50,000 years ago.”

  “But I thought Atlantis was destroyed in 10,000 BC.”

  “That was the final destruction. Drew was talking about the second destruction.”

  “The second?

  Patrick’s eyes twinkled, and Laney knew he was enjoying this part. Archaeological mysteries always intrigued him.

  “Yes. Remember, Atlantis was actually an archipelago, not a single unitary land mass. According to Cayce, Atlantis underwent three destructions, each one shrinking the size of the civilization until the last one destroyed it. For the second destruction, Cayce mentioned that a weapon was used to address, as he puts it, ‘the problem of the large animals.’ But there was a miscalculation. The weapon ended up setting off a cataclysmic event. Drew argues that a similar, intentional event happened for the last destruction.”

  Laney was stunned. She recalled reading once about the mass extinction of animals. Large groups of animals had been washed into caves, creating huge fossil beds. No one could explain why all the animals had died at the same time. “But what does any of this have to do with a sister site?”

  “According to Drew, the weapon will be found at the sister site.”

  Laney was staggered by the implications. “Are we actually talking about an ancient weapon of mass destruction?

  Patrick nodded. “Yes.

  “But, but…that’s impossible.

  “You mean, as impossible as men who can be shot, stabbed, and then heal almost immediately?”

  He had a point. And the fact was, Drew was never one to go for the extreme explanation. If he heard hoof beats, it was always a horse, never a zebra. So if Drew had thought this was possible, he must have seen some incredibly convincing proof.

  She took a deep breath and shoved aside her disbelief. “Okay. So, I get this paper from Drew, Drew dies, and someone comes after me. I’m going to take a leap here and say these guys are after this weapon. Or, at least, trying to keep anyone else from finding it.”

  Patrick shrugged. “I’m not sure. It all makes a warped sort of sense. If, of course, Drew was right.

  Laney looked past her uncle, trying to imagine the unimaginable. If Drew was right, there was an ancient weapon of mass destruction out there. And they couldn’t let Paul’s companion get it. Whatever reason he had for wanting it, she didn’t think it was for the benefit of mankind.

  Finding out what happened to Drew now had more critical ramifications. They needed to know more about his research. They needed to find this weapon. And they needed to do it fast. Because if they didn’t…

  A chill ran through her as Paul's final words came back to her. “Humanity’s time is up.”

  CHAPTER 26

  An hour later, Laney and Patrick walked out of the guesthouse into the bright morning sun. Last night, she’d been in no state to take in their surroundings. Today, as she stepped out onto the front porch, she realized their guest cottage was nestled in a row of similar cottages on what looked like a residential street. “This is beautiful.”

  Patrick smiled. “You missed all this last night. The Chandler estate dates back to the 1800s.” He gestured down the street. “These used to be sharecropper homes. They were renovated when Henry Chandler took over. Now, they’re a mix of guest houses and offices. They call it Sharecroppers Lane.”

  She was enchanted. All the small cottages had porches with overflowing flower boxes. Many of them had stone face. It looke
d like something out of a fairy tale.

  A golf cart rolled down the street towards them. Solar panels covered its roof, explaining its silent approach. It came to a stop in front of them, with Jake at the wheel. “How’d you sleep?”

  Laney climbed in behind him, allowing Patrick the other front seat. “Like a log.”

  “I’m not surprised. You were dead to the world when I carried you to your room last night.”

  Laney felt her face grow hot. “You carried me?”

  Jake grinned. “We’re a full-service enterprise, here at Chandler.”

  “Great,” she mumbled.

  A few minutes later, her embarrassment was a distant memory as she looked on with amazement at the grounds. Nestled into the rolling hills of the Maryland countryside, the headquarters sat on five hundred acres.

  “Henry appreciates privacy and history,” Jake explained. “He wanted his headquarters to reflect that. So, instead of situating his headquarters in the middle of a city, he renovated the family estate into his work center.”

  Henry Chandler’s “appreciation” for privacy was a well-known fact. He’d never been photographed by the press. Only seen from a distance. His client list, believed to be a who’s who of world leaders, was a closely guarded secret. And his projects were equally hush-hush. Word got out occasionally, though, and helped build a reputation for cutting-edge thinking and innovation.

  Jake pointed to the eight-foot iron fence that surrounded the property. “While Henry might appreciate the past, there’s nothing outdated about his security measures. That fence not only has video cameras, but pressure sensors that record even the slightest amount of applied force. If a sensor is triggered, a security unit is immediately dispatched.

  Laney was struck by the familiarity of the design. “Just like the fence separating the West Bank and Israel.”

  “Actually, this fence was the prototype for that fence, although we’ve kept that information under wraps.

  “You’re kidding,” Laney said. She’d been to the Israeli fence. It was quite an undertaking. It had also been quite effective at reducing the number of suicide bombers traveling from the disputed lands into Israel. She’d never, however, read anything about the Chandler Group’s involvement.