Legacy of the Watchers Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3
Page 23
Pregnant women were petrified. Wives entered the marital chamber with dread. The citizens turned to their leader for answers but when they looked at Asmodeous they saw Lilith, who was, to them, a mutation—little better than the Emim. She was, as well, fairly new to Kiriath Arba, making her the most likely candidate to have offended the gods. And it wasn’t hard to figure out why. She’d hailed herself a goddess, mocking the real gods with her pagan behavior, not the least of which was her blatant sexual prowess over their king. And it seemed no small coincidence that she herself was unable to bear a child. Speculation shook the city.
Lilith knew they blamed her, but this knowledge didn’t motivate her to adjust her behavior or attempt in any way to bridge the gap between her and Asmodeous’ people. On the contrary, she became even more scandalous and imperious, delighting in their barely contained outrage. The more they judged her, the worse she became. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Their constant disapproval was like salt in a wound, compounded by the fact that they were the ones who had rights to the earth—not her and her people—and quite frankly, she could have destroyed them all and been glad.
On the surface, the citizens of Kiriath Arba continued to treat Lilith with hostile reverence. But behind her back they dubbed her the ‘Goddess of Death.’
Lilith never spoke of this to Asmodeous. She knew he must have heard the gossip as well, but she was confident that he would take her side. She could see that he, too, was beginning to despise the sons of men. He started to complain that he’d been too soft on them. It was, after all, only through oppression that the sons of men seemed to thrive. He decided to do something about it, something that would remind them of who was in charge. He sent for the priests, and ignored their raised eyebrows when they saw Lilith standing haughtily by his side.
“This blight that has come upon us,” Asmodeous began with his characteristic easy manner—“The gods have spoken to me about it in a dream.” Lilith noticed that Asmodeous was observing their faces while he spoke, much like a wild animal examines his prey. Let one of them challenge me, he seemed to be thinking. But of course none of them dared. He went on with the same self-righteous arrogance they were so fond of adopting when it suited their purposes. Lilith was beginning to enjoy herself.
“The gods are displeased,” Asmodeous continued. “The people of Kiriath Arba have become greedy. They have taken without giving back.”
The priests stared at Asmodeous in surprise. Not one of them risked so much as glance in Lilith’s direction. And she knew why, too; they were the very ones who started the rumor that she was the cause of the affliction. She was pretty sure they were the ones who coined the term ‘Goddess of Death.’ How would they respond to Asmodeous’ claim that it was actually the people who brought this on themselves? What could they say?
There was a long, awkward silence before any of them spoke. Asmodeous had indeed put the city’s priests in a precarious position.
“What do the gods wish us to do?” asked one of them at last.
Asmodeous, of course, had the solution ready. Lilith was dying to hear what it was.
“They want us to impose a new tax on the people of Kiriath Arba,” he said, surprising everyone in the room, even Lilith. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. She was as mesmerized as the priests. She wondered if she was the only one who noticed his quiet anger, or realized how much he wished he could kill them. Yet they all knew he needed the priests to be on his side now, lest he lose control of his city entirely. Lilith still wasn’t sure how he planned to accomplish this. But Asmodeous continued with his usual confidence, although he was barely able to hide his disdain as he practically spat out the last few words. “…for the temple,” he finished at last, effectively delivering the coup de grâce.
The priests’ eyes grew wide, but it was with much more than just surprise this time. Lilith could see interest—and greed—developing there now, too. Yes, they seemed to be thinking, the people should give something back.
“The gods have spoken!” announced one priest, bowing deferentially to his king. And the others followed suit, until each had declared his agreement.
“I will let you determine the tax and use it as you deem correct,” announced Asmodeous. “See that it is enough so that the gods are appeased!”
The priests seemed almost giddy as they scurried back to their temple.
Lilith stared at Asmodeous, a small smile playing about her lips. His eyes were still burning with anger but he, too, couldn’t hold back a small, smug smirk.
“And here all this time I was thinking I was the clever one,” she remarked.
Asmodeous shrugged. “The sons of men are easy to understand, are they not?”
“But what if the affliction doesn’t go away?”
Asmodeous remained unconcerned. “It will take time for the priests to haggle over the details of this new power I’ve given them and present the new tax to the people. And then the taxes will have to be collected. These plagues come and go regardless. This too will pass.”
Lilith let out a little sigh of contentment. She was starting to think that no matter what happened Asmodeous would be able to fix it.
There was a sudden distraction—a flutter of noisy activity—coming from outside. Horns at the city gate indicated the arrival of distinguished guests. The household sprang to life. Lilith and Asmodeous rushed out into the courtyard, where people were running to and fro, chattering excitedly as they went. They caught the general drift of their talk almost immediately. The gods had come to Kiriath Arba!
Lilith grasped hold of Asmodeous’ arm. “My father!” she cried.
“Perhaps,” he agreed. “Or mine.” Lilith stopped and turned to him in alarm. She wasn’t ready to meet the angel who fathered Asmodeous! He laughed at her terrified expression and took a firm hold of her hand. “Come along,” he said confidently.
They went out to greet the gods, looking all around them in surprise. It was as if a dark cloud had been lifted from over the city. The somber, resentful citizens, who’d taken to staying indoors for fear of the blight, were suddenly pouring into the streets, yelling and cheering. They seemed to be filled with new hope. No doubt they felt the gods had answered their prayers. They struggled to catch a glimpse of the very imposing visitors.
Even Lilith was awed by the momentousness of the occasion. Magnificent and mysterious, the angels approached in a chariot that was decorated with gold, but their personal brilliance outshone even the splendor of that equipage. Lilith watched with the rest of city as the angels drew near. She saw that one of the angels was, in fact, her father. He was accompanied by two other angels who were every bit as dazzling as he was. Their exquisite beauty filled Lilith with a sweet, savage yearning she couldn’t identify. Yet her anticipation was touched with a kind of sad foreboding. She wondered at the strange apprehension that was creeping over her. They were, in all likelihood, there to commend Lilith and Asmodeous on their destruction of the Emim. What had she to fear?
Lilith knew instinctively which of the other two angels had fathered Asmodeous. Azazyl had the same self-assured manner and obvious leadership abilities as his son. Arba—the third angel—also had left his mark on his son, Anak. Lilith wondered what similarities Asmodeous would find between her and her father when he examined Anu. But neither of them spoke. Their eyes never left the spectacle of the approaching chariot.
Chapter 27
Present Day
“What connection do you or BEACON have with disease control centers or anyone who might possibly have access to disease testing materials?” Will asked her.
Nadia took a minute to think about it. “There’s a bio-tech lab out of Maharashtra, India that I’ve generated quite a lot of money for. They’re called Shakhra Research Labs.” She felt she should try to defend them. “But they are doing amazing things for the people of India…” her voice trailed off when she saw Clive’s expression.
“Why were you raising money for them?” asked Gordon.
“I’m just wondering if there is anything you remember about that research lab in particular,” Gordon replied calmly.
Nadia lifted her hands in a gesture of futility and shook her head. “I don’t know,” she sighed hopelessly. She was suddenly exhausted. It was getting late—or at least it seemed late to her internal clock, though it wasn’t even mid-day there—and she was both tired and hungry. She would give anything for a drink. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. “I mean…India is a hotbed of research nowadays. I got involved after the 2004 earthquake. I remember being shocked to learn that, even though India was the up and coming nation for industry—with manufacturing companies literally popping up everywhere—their health situation was as bad as ever. Infectious diseases like tuberculosis and even malaria were still killing thousands of people. Public health was the inevitable next step. But that takes research and bio-containment labs like Shakhra.”
“We understand all that,” said Will. “What we want to know is what made you decide to support this particular research lab?”
Nadia wasn’t sure. Shakhra Research Labs had probably come to her, and moved by what she’d seen after the earthquake, she would have been more than willing to help. Such organizations approached her all the time. She would have checked them out—not personally, of course, but through her assistant—or maybe she ran the company by one of her many emissaries in the industry. Frankly she couldn’t keep track of every little thing. There was only so much one person could do. Some of the work had to be delegated. Yet she was annoyed that she couldn’t remember any specific details about the company.
“To be honest, I don’t recall why I decided to help them,” she admitted at last. “Something must have impressed me about them at the time.” Their incredulous expressions further exasperated her. “I deal with too many people to remember every little detail about each and every one of them!” she insisted. She appealed to Gordon. “I could get you really specific information about this company if you’d just let me use the phone…”
“No,” interjected Will, and as usual, there was no flexibility in his tone. Nadia glared at him but he was too busy pushing buttons on his phone to notice.
“Here I am, doing everything I can to help and you’re still treating me like a criminal!” she exploded. “If you really wanted to prevent th…”
Will touched her lips with his finger-tips as he put the phone to his ear. “Shush,” he said.
Although Nadia was still inwardly fuming, she was effectively silenced.
“Check out Shakhra Research Labs in Maharashtra India,” he said into the phone. “Yes, they study infectious disease and may have a bio containment lab on one or more of their sights. Yeah. Hey…let me know what you find, okay?” He lowered the phone and looked at Nadia. “Are you affiliated with any other labs?” he asked.
Nadia sighed heavily, dreading their response to the next one. “I think there might be a private research lab connected with Biojour Incorporated,” she said.
Will looked both tired and exasperated. “Not the publishing company?” he asked in a pleading tone.
“Yes, that’s them,” she said, feeling, once again, like she’d done something wrong. “They publish medical books but I think they conduct some of their own research as well. They sponsor seminars supporting research and drug awareness,” she added defensively.
“Yeah,” agreed Clive, nodding his head with understanding. “We’ve heard of their seminars…,” his emphasis on the word ‘seminars’ showed his clear disdain for the seminars in question. “Big time pharmaceutical companies pimpin’ their drugs at ten thousand dollars a plate.” He squinted his eyes at Nadia. “Girl, you’re runnin’ with some real scumbags!”
Nadia was annoyed. “How do you suggest we educate doctors on the latest in pharmaceuticals, Mr. High and Mighty?” she asked. “I suppose you think we should do away with the pharmaceuticals altogether…go back to treating the sick with leeches…”
“Man, don’t play dumb with me,” Clive replied irritably. “You know damn well that only the richest pharmaceutical companies will be educating the doctors at those seminars. Most research scientists can’t afford the cover charge. There’s shitloads of important research that’ll never reach those doctors, and you know it.”
“But that’s exactly why the research labs need sponsoring!” cried Nadia.
“Biojour Incorporated doesn’t need any sponsoring!” Clive retorted. “They already run the whole damn show. And why the hell do they have to have so many sub companies attached to ‘em? It’s like they’re hiding something.”
Nadia was a bit thrown by his apparent familiarity with the company in question. “You seem to know a lot about them,” she said. “Have you had…issues with them before?”
“Let’s just say I know what a bitch it’s going to be trying to get information out of those dickheads,” he said. “Kind of like trying to find a needle in a haystack with all those little divisions of theirs.”
They all stopped talking because Will had raised the phone to his ear again.
“Biojour Incorporated,” was all he said, but his tone was full of meaning, not the least of which was a kind of tired frustration. “Might as well get on it then, instead of bitchin’ about it,” he said. He hung up with a sigh. He and Clive exchanged glances. They both seemed suddenly weary. “I could have done without that,” he admitted.
“Has Biojour been involved with this…djinn business before?” Nadia asked.
Clive laughed outright then, and the others reluctantly joined in. “Look at her,” he said. “Maybe we should let Nancy Drew in on the case, huh boys?”
“You don’t have to be so rude about it,” Nadia snapped irritably. She didn’t like the way they were making her feel. As if she had something to feel guilty about. As if she was somehow in the wrong. She was the CEO of a well-respected charitable organization, recognized by UNDRO and CERT and supported by the most prominent political figures in America, and here were these three kidnappers, making her feel foolish and corrupt. She was aware of the (perhaps not so little) inequities in the world of charities, just as she was aware of similar inequities among the pharmaceutical companies and even the politicians. Where there were power and money there was bound to be corruption. One could only do one’s best. Who were they to judge her?
But these worn-out arguments didn’t make Nadia feel better this time. She’d always known that the industry she worked in was far from the altruistic and caring enterprise it appeared to be. The business of helping the less fortunate was a lucrative, and therefore a competitive one. There were inevitably people who would use these disasters to draw unreasonably large salaries and benefits for themselves. It was a fine line that was hard to define. The raising and managing of funds required talent that deserved to be compensated of course, but there were those who took it too far. Nadia had heard of cases where funds had been so misappropriated that not so much as a nickel had been contributed to the cause they’d been collecting for. But BEACON wasn’t like that. It always delivered top dollar to its causes. And yet, she couldn’t deny that she was paid well—although her salary as CEO of BEACON was certainly below the industry standard—and too, there was her expensive Manhattan office. All of which just went to prove that a person could accomplish a worthwhile objective and still earn a living.
So why was she letting them get to her?
Nadia had been sitting there, silently brooding, while they sat back—rather self-righteously, she thought—ignoring her.
“You would think, to listen to you, that your organization—whatever the hell it is—is perfect,” she said. “You would think, for instance, that you would never in a million years hurt any innocent person by, oh, say, kidnapping them, in some misguided effort to do something good? No. You guys would never do that!”
She could see by their expressions that her point had hit home. Will actually smiled at her. And it struck her suddenly—somewhat grudgingly, without her wanting or even condoning the thought—that she actually cared about what they thought of her. She felt they all had something in common, a kind of innate desire to accomplish something good in spite of everything else.
Is this me or Patty thinking this? She couldn’t help wondering.
“Or starve said kidnappee?” she added, deciding to strike while the iron was hot. “You wouldn’t do that either I suppose.” They all looked at Gordon.
“Come now,” he pleaded in the Indian accent. “I am not a servant for you to do with as you wish!”
Will and Clive looked at each other.
“If I make it you know what it’s going to be,” Clive warned.
Gordon turned to Nadia. “Do you like Fruity Pebbles?” he asked. She couldn’t help laughing at the way ‘fruity pebbles’ sounded with the Indian accent.
“To be honest, I don’t care what I eat, as long as I can have a drink with it,” she replied. She looked at Will. “Wine? Vodka? Was that rubbing alcohol I saw you putting on your hand yesterday?”
Will seemed to be considering it.
“Come on,” she begged. “I feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack.” She supposed she would have had one by now if she were prone to them—which she wasn’t—but she figured they didn’t know that. All she knew for sure was that whenever her assistant threatened one Nadia always gave in. And if another woman couldn’t cope with the threat of a hysterical woman, she was pretty sure three men would be even less inclined to do so.
Though these weren’t just any three men.
Will sighed, a sure sign that he was giving in. “All right, but all we’ve got is wine. I could do with a glass myself.”
Nadia sat back on the couch and rested her eyes while the men went to get the food and wine. She was a little surprised when Clive actually returned with a box of Fruity Pebbles. Will poured her a glass of wine, and she sat up to take a sip. She almost instantly felt herself relax.