by Nancy Madore
But there were flies in the ointment. Amanda couldn’t understand, for example, why Tommy wanted to keep their relationship quiet, like a dirty little secret. It wasn’t as if dating on the base was forbidden. But Tommy insisted it could adversely affect his career. As he was so fond of telling her, he was only getting warmed up as head security clearance officer. He planned to run an entire base one day, not just one lousy department. He needed everyone—especially his superior officers—to take him seriously. But although she admired the sentiment, this explanation didn’t satisfy Amanda, who felt that being associated with her could only make Tommy look better in the eyes of his superiors.
And there were other problems as well. She had discovered some disturbing things about Tommy’s past—like those items she found in his sock drawer, for example. Having run a routine search one morning while he was out getting coffee, Amanda found pictures of women in compromising positions, to say the least. None of them could hold a candle to Amanda naturally, but it was still disconcerting. Who were these sluts? Didn’t they have any pride? And why was he hanging on to their pictures now that he had her? It was like gnawing on a thick slab of blubber when you had a delectable cut of tenderloin sitting right there on the table.
And then there was Flo (in which case, better make that slab of blubber a gnarly piece of beef jerky). Amanda was starting to wonder if Tommy had some kind of complex where it boosted his ego to be with women who were uglier than him.
She heard footsteps again and turned. This time it was Tommy! She instantly perked up. She fluffed her hair and gave him her best smile, hardly noticing that he was too distracted to smile back.
As he approached Amanda stuck out her foot, as if to trip him.
“I don’t have time for this now, Shug,” he said in a low voice. “I’m slammed.”
“With what?” she whined, treating him to her sexiest pout.
“It’s top secret,” he drawled, and he did smile then, his tone full of self-importance. He was proud of his ‘top secret’ clearance, but Amanda hated it. To her it seemed like an exclusive club that she wasn’t allowed into.
“I’ve got something top secret right here,” she replied, running a well-manicured finger along the line of her blouse. She smiled inwardly. Tommy might be ambitious, but that didn’t stop him from screwing her in every remote corner of the base that he could find. She’d ridden him in several old tankers and trucks, been bent over countless artillery items in the warehouse and even blown him from behind the meager partitions of the men’s restroom stalls (while men stepped in and out to use the facilities). Tommy was easily distracted.
“I bet you do,” he replied, eyeing her appreciatively. He seemed to be considering her proposal but ultimately shook his head. “I really don’t have time,” he insisted. “The research department will be launching an experiment in a few days and I’ve got to make sure everything’s locked down.”
Amanda frowned. “Will I see you tonight then?” she asked.
“I’ve got to sleep sometime!” he complained quietly, glancing around. “You’re gonna wear me out!”
Amanda did her best to appear calm, but she felt like she was coming apart inside. Resentment rose up in her. There were hundreds of men who would die to have her!
But she wanted Tommy. Her feeling of wretchedness returned. Despite all her efforts, Tommy appeared to be slipping away. She watched as he walked down the long passageway, stepped into his office and closed the door behind him.
Oh sure, this life was fine for him! His job meant everything to him. But what did Amanda have? Piles and piles of mundane data nobody cared a fig about to enter on endless Excel sheets, day in and day out! There was no glory in being a working girl on her own, with no man to take care of her.
She thought of her mother, so content as a wife and mother. She hadn’t particularly wanted to leave San Diego when Amanda’s father was transferred to Alaska, but she supported her husband in what he insisted would be an exciting adventure. And she was happy, because her husband was happy. Even Amanda was happy, until her parents’ car skidded on an icy patch in the road and crashed, killing them both.
And, apart from the car crash—that life was what Amanda wanted now, too. To be happy with the man of her dreams. But at the moment, she felt the opposite of happy.
The wretchedness seemed to be getting worse, growing oppressive even, and Amanda suddenly realized why.
It was back! The thing—whatever it was that had been stalking her—was here, in her cubicle! She could feel it! She jumped up from her chair and backed out of her work station, looking cautiously around her. Once outside, she stood uncertainly in the passageway. She considered rushing into Tommy’s office and telling him about what was happening, but she immediately decided against it. Best case, he would think she was making it all up for attention and worse case, he would think she was crazy.
As she stood outside her work station contemplating what to do, she began to feel a little silly. Had she just imagined it? She moved to step back inside her cubicle and then hesitated. Something seemed to be stopping her. Or had she stopped herself? Amanda was becoming exasperated. This certainly wasn’t the first time she’d been filled with dread over the prospect of entering her work station, and none of those other times had anything to do with any ghost. Was her hatred for her job causing these delusions?
Maybe she was having a nervous breakdown, brought on by an accumulation of frustrations, first with her job and now with her relationship with Tommy.
Without consciously deciding what she would do next, Amanda simply found herself walking toward Human Resources, where Catherine worked. Her mind was still preoccupied with Tommy’s behavior, which took precedence over the little scare in her cubicle. In fact, she was starting to wonder if the two might be related. It was traumatizing how easily he could brush her aside. Even supposing he was really too busy to see her at work, what was his excuse for later?
I’ve got to sleep sometime, he’d said, almost as if he was complaining! And yet most nights he was finished and out by eleven!
Amanda wondered if it was possible that Tommy really was just using her for a booty call.
Chapter 5
Long Island, New York
“I knew it!” exclaimed Gordon. “I knew there was more to this!”
“If anything, this indicates the opposite of that,” objected Will. “Asmodeous was probably planning to start over.”
“Can I see the ticket?” asked Gordon.
“I refuse to do another thing until I’m fed,” said Clive.
Nadia realized that she was hungry too. It was late afternoon and they hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “I’ll throw something together while you guys bring Gordon up to speed,” she offered.
“Finally!” exclaimed Clive. “We’ve done nothing but wait on her hand and foot since the day she first wormed her way into our lives!”
“Right,” she shot back. “It was so sweet of you to let me ram my face into your chloroform cloth like that!”
“She cooks and she appreciates the little things,” mused Clive. “Now that’s what I call a good woman.”
Nadia was laughing when she walked into the kitchen, but when she opened the refrigerator a tremor of remorse went through her. It was stuffed to overflowing with all of her favorite dishes. Her father had probably wanted to make this—their last week together—a time to remember. Her eyes filled, causing the marinating meats and fresh fruits and vegetables to turn into one big blur.
She shut the refrigerator door. She couldn’t bring herself to serve the food her father so lovingly prepared to the men who helped bring about his demise—no matter their reasons for doing so. Blinking back the tears, she turned to the pantry and pulled out several cans of chicken soup.
She could hear the men talking from the kitchen. As she listened, she reviewed the facts in her head. Her father was going to Fairbanks, Alaska, with no apparent plans to return. A few days before the D.C. attack, he had rece
ived a message from someone called ‘E’ Blevins—who was also located in Alaska. Clive repeated the name of the top secret military base where ‘E’ Blevins sent the message from, and Nadia repeated it several times. Tactical Defense Mechanisms Research. What did that mean?
Knowing the military, it could mean anything. She wondered what the Raphaelian’s official military name was. Probably something equally vague.
Nadia placed four bowls of steaming hot chicken noodle soup on a flat cookie sheet, adding a package of saltine crackers for good measure.
“Are you kidding me?” Clive complained when he saw what she was serving.
“I’m sorry, Clive,” she replied sweetly and, recalling the dinner he’d served when it was his turn to prepare a meal (back when Nadia was still their prisoner), she added—“My father seems to be out of Fruity Pebbles.”
“I’m ordering a pizza,” he said airily. “And I take back what I said about you being a good woman!”
“No one delivers pizza out here,” laughed Nadia as if this were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard.
“What!” exclaimed Clive. “What’s the point of living in such a ritzy neighborhood if you can’t even get a pizza delivered?” he wanted to know.
Nadia just gave him a smug smile. “People come here for the view,” she replied, “not the pizza.”
“A beach isn’t a beach without pizza,” grumbled Clive. “Coney Island has pizza.”
“That’s hardly the same thing!” said Nadia, laughing at the absurdity of someone comparing the Hamptons to Coney Island.
“Snob,” Clive accused, loudly slurping his soup.
“I am not!”
Will set down his bowl. “Just out of curiosity, let’s see if this ‘E’ Blevins sent any more messages to Asmodeous,” he said, all business as usual.
“Ah’s sorry massa,” replied Clive. “Ah’s eat’n as fas’ as Ah can!”
“I’ll do it,” said Gordon, setting his hardly touched bowl of soup back down on the tray.
Clive got up directly. “Take it away, maestro,” he said, tipping his bowl up to get the last little bit of soup out and then handing it back to Nadia. “May I have some more?” he asked with a little burp. Shaking her head at his antics, Nadia took the bowl back into the kitchen and opened another can of soup, thinking again how glad she was that they were here with her. If they could just keep the case open a little longer! In some small way, it was almost as if they were keeping her father alive, postponing that horrible moment when Nadia would finally lose him for good.
“There is another message from ‘E’ Blevins,” she heard Gordon say. He was making a valiant effort, but he did seem distracted and anxious—just as Will said. She wondered if Gordon’s job was in jeopardy because of what she’d asked him to do with her father. And yet, she didn’t think so. Whatever was on his mind seemed more like something he was struggling with personally. For all Nadia knew, he could be grappling with private matters she had nothing to do with. But what could possibly be more important to Gordon than his job? Surely even a girlfriend would take a back seat.
Nadia placed Clive’s bowl in the microwave and turned it on, and then rushed back into the living-room to see what it was that Gordon had found.
“‘You may want to check out this link for your website,’” quoted Clive, reading the message out loud. “Hmm. Go ahead and open it, Gordon.”
Gordon clicked on the link and an error message popped up. It was a dead link. Nadia heard the ding of the microwave, indicating that Clive’s soup was ready.
“Let me have another look at that web address,” said Clive as Nadia went to fetch his soup. “Is it a legitimate site?”
Gordon typed the first part of the web address into the address bar up to the ‘dot com’ and hit enter. This time an actual website appeared. It was, in fact, a research site. Gordon began clicking on links from the site’s menu bar.
“What are you doing now?” asked Nadia, handing Clive his soup.
“I’m looking at the web addresses for each link,” said Gordon.
Nadia thought about this for a moment, and then asked—“Why?”
“To see how they change,” replied Gordon. “See, here’s the ‘home’ address. Now watch how the address changes when we go to the ‘about us’ page. See how it changes in exactly the same place with each new page, and how the page suffixes are all relatively similar? They all follow a pattern.” He hit a few more links to make his point. “Notice anything?”
“Yeah,” said Nadia. “The link from ‘E’ Blevins is twice as long as the others. And it looks different.”
“That’s right,” said Gordon.
“Okay,” Nadia continued thoughtfully. “So what does that mean?”
“It could mean that something has been inserted into the link,” said Gordon. “A message.”
“Oh my god!” said Nadia.
“We don’t know that yet,” said Will.
“Based on all the functioning links, we know that this is where the train starts to go off the tracks in ‘E’ Blevins’ message,” said Gordon, pointing with the mouse. “Starting with ‘t, g, e,’ and continuing from there. Now we just have to figure out where it ends.”
“Hit the ‘our library’ link again,” said Nadia. “Look! The ending on that address is the same as the one in ‘E’ Blevins’ message.”
“Okay, so take out the beginning and the end,” said Clive. “What have you got left?”
“Just a bunch of letters,” said Gordon. He highlighted the letters that didn’t belong in the link: TGERAHEASECCLEOFF.
“Tiger-a-hease-cloff,” said Clive, attempting to sound the letters out. “Almost could be a description of one of the djinn.”
“Send it to headquarters,” suggested Gordon. “See if they can make any sense out of it.”
“I’m on it,” said Will, typing the letters into his phone.
“If this ‘E’ Blevins was sending encrypted messages to Asmodeous, there’s probably one in that other message too,” said Clive.
Gordon began scrolling through the messages, but he passed the message three times before finally noticing it.
“It’s right there!” exclaimed Clive. He and Will exchanged glances.
Finally the image of the northing lights came up on the screen.
“But what the hell does it mean?” wondered Clive.
“I remember reading somewhere that the native Eskimos used to call the northern lights ‘sky dwellers,’” said Nadia. “I wonder if the northern lights could have some secret meaning for the djinn.”
“A kind of ‘howdy, how ya doin’?’” asked Clive. He shrugged. “The djinn are nothing if not sentimental. But I have to admit, it does kind of scream, ‘Pay attention to me!’”
“Hang on a sec,” said Gordon, moving the mouse to the tool bar. He clicked on the ‘zoom’ button repeatedly, causing the picture to grow larger and larger until it was nothing more than a blur of tiny square boxes in various colors.
Gordon scrolled to the farthest point of the upper left-hand corner and then, very slowly, began scrolling to the right. No one said a word. When he reached the other end, he scrolled down a little and began—very slowly—scrolling back to the left again. He kept doing this, scrolling back and forth, so as to examine every single square pixel in the image.
“There!” cried Clive and they all leaned in to get a closer look. Clive put his finger on the screen and moved it across a row of pixels. “See it?” Nadia had to look very close in order to see what he was referring to. Each pixel was a square of solid color. The combination of pixels was what made up the contrasting shades within the image. However, the pixels in the row that Clive was pointing to had minor variations within each individual square. The variations were very slight, almost unrecognizable, in fact—unless you were looking for them.
“Zoom in a little more,” said Will. Gordon did, and the discoloration within the pixel became more prominent. It was only a few shades lighter
than the rest of the square but they could now see that the discoloration was in the shape of a letter.
“Son of a bitch!” exclaimed Clive.
“It’s called steganography,” said Gordon. “Hiding messages where people are least likely to find them.”
“A new spin on an old trick,” said Clive.
“Dating back to the Nephilim of ancient Greece,” Gordon added meaningfully.
“There were Nephilim in ancient Greece?” asked Nadia.
“You thought Zeus was really a god?” asked Clive.
“The Mycenaean Nephilim used to shave the heads of their slaves and tattoo messages into their scalps,” explained Gordon.
“Write down that message exactly as it appears on the screen,” said Will, and Gordon slowly copied the message on a sheet of paper. It was a disjointed series of numbers, symbols and letters.
“Is that it?” asked Will.
“I’m checking,” said Gordon, who had resumed scrolling through the remainder of the image. Meanwhile, Will and Clive examined the message that Gordon had copied on the sheet of paper.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” asked Clive.
“It looks like some kind of…formula,” said Gordon. “Coming from a military site…it could be significant.”
“We should ask the folks at T.D.M.R. what it means,” suggested Clive.
“No,” said Will. “If someone from T.D.M.R. has been leaking information to Asmodeous it would only tip them off.”
“Then what do you propose we do?” asked Clive.
“I can put out a few inquiries on ‘E’ Blevins and T.D.M.R.,” said Will. “But technically, our case is closed when we leave here today. All we can do at this point is pass on whatever we find.”
“But this could be some kind of…nuclear computation!” exclaimed Nadia. She turned to Gordon, who was staring at her with a strange intensity. There was something terrifying just behind his eyes. He seemed torn, conflicted—and ready to burst. Nadia stared back at him, silently questioning him with her eyes.
“The djinn has been incapacitated,” said Will. “That puts us out of it.”