Legacy of the Watchers Series Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Nancy Madore

  “How did they find out about Timmons?” asked Gordon.

  “Ritter questioned me when the breach was confirmed,” said Poseidon. “I had no choice but to tell him. Ritter slipped out to get Timmons while you went to interview the girl. I had appealed to Timmons with my eyes to get out of there, quick. But…obviously, he was not quick enough.”

  “Going back to that fault that Wessler and his friends intended to trigger that day,” resumed Gordon—“Why did they want to set it off?”

  “He didn’t tell me their reasons,” replied Poseidon. “But I sensed that there is something in the vicinity of that fault that is interfering with their plans. Whatever it is, they will not stop until it’s destroyed.”

  They all considered this in silence.

  “One more thing,” said Gordon. “Did you see the woman who took the ring from Wessler?”

  “Yes,” he replied. “She was a Nephilim.”

  “Would you recognize her if you saw her again?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she talk to you about?” persisted Gordon. “Did she say anything about her plans?”

  “No,” said Poseidon. “She was arrogant and disrespectful. And she is a liar.”

  “Why do you say that she is a liar?” asked Gordon.

  “She said that she would take me to the leader of the Nephilim,” he said. There was the slightest glint of irony in his gaze as he scowled down at Gordon. “Am I wrong in assuming that you’re not him?”

  Chapter 16

  Nadia took off her mask and collapsed onto the couch. She felt strangely detached in light of the fact that they had just received their ‘smoking gun.’ T.D.M.R. was creating earthquakes. The number that Poseidon wrote down would expose T.D.M.R.’s target.

  Why wasn’t she freaking out? Was it because she had suspected this truth all along? Or were there only so many traumas a person could experience before they actually became comfortable with them? Maybe she was just too tired to feel. It had been a long day, a veritable roller coaster ride of every imaginable form of anxiety. In fact, it seemed longer than just one day—more like a week—since she left her bed and the safety of Will’s embrace.

  Will. She was lying to him on a regular basis now, but even that failed to bring about the expected knot in the pit of her stomach.

  “All that food, gone to waste!” exclaimed Clive, returning from the kitchen with two large bags of chips. “Why didn’t we eat it when we were here before?”

  No one bothered to answer this, so he tossed one of the bags to Gordon. “Sure you don’t want any?” he asked Nadia. She shook her head.

  For the next few minutes there was no sound but the steady crunch, crunch, crunching of potato chips. It was strangely comforting, and Nadia listened as if entranced.

  Gordon was the first to break the silence. “We have to find out who those other nine men are,” he said, tossing his bag aside and wiping his hands on his jeans. He pulled out his notebook. “Poseidon described them as ‘drunk with power,’” he read. “He said ‘they each hold positions of great authority.’”

  “That narrows it down,” said Clive.

  “He said they share a common goal,” continued Gordon. “One they needed Poseidon to help them achieve.”

  “Nice goal,” said Nadia. “To kill lots of people.”

  “I don’t think killing people is their goal,” said Gordon. “Poseidon said something about the target interfering with them in some way. It sounds like Wessler’s ten are trying to remove an obstacle.”

  “So what have we got?” asked Clive. “We’ve got ten men, representing power and greed, attempting to wipe out an entire area because someone there is interfering with their plans?” He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Could we be looking at some of kind of environmental warfare instigated by the United States?” he wondered.

  “The Geneva Convention expressly forbids this kind of environmental warfare,” said Gordon.

  “You know the GC doesn’t mean shit when it comes to the States,” said Clive. “We make the rules. We don’t follow them.”

  “Still,” said Gordon. “A major earthquake? Do you know the potential death toll on something like that? The United States isn’t into killing civilians.”

  Clive shrugged. “I’m just saying…Wessler was the head of Defense. We could be looking at an approved war plan of the United States government.”

  “Poseidon said there were only nine men working with Wessler,” Gordon reminded him.

  “That he knew of,” said Clive. “Something like this…you can see how they might not want to share the details with too many people.”

  “There are a lot of blanks to fill in before we start jumping to conclusions,” said Gordon.

  “We have the numeric location for the target,” said Clive. “That’s a start. Does that number mean anything to you, Gordon?”

  Gordon shook his head. “I’m hoping it’ll correspond with one of our units for measuring location and isn’t some numeric code used exclusively by T.D.M.R.”

  Clive nodded. “You work on that tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll start putting together a list of the most powerful men I can find.”

  “Don’t forget to include their pictures,” said Gordon. “Poseidon seemed pretty confident that he could identify them.”

  “We also need to find out who’s taking over at T.D.M.R. now that Wessler’s gone,” said Clive. “We might find one of the other nine there.”

  “It’s interesting,” mused Nadia.

  “What’s interesting?” asked Gordon.

  “I was just thinking about the Supreme Ones,” she said. “An elite group of supernatural beings that believe they’re better than everyone else—including those of their own species. No one knows who they are, but they hold all the power.”

  “Yeah?” prompted Clive.

  “Well, it’s kind of interesting, don’t you think?” she said. “Especially when you compare them to Wessler’s ten. Here again, we have an elite group of people, holding all the power. Nobody knows who they are.”

  “How do you know they’re holding all the power?” asked Gordon.

  “Think about it,” said Nadia. “Wessler was the head of the most powerful defense force in the world. That alone gives them a tremendous amount of power. Add a little money and political influence and Poseidon’s right. He said they have more power than any mortal has any right to possess.”

  “You know, she has a point,” said Gordon.

  “But why?” asked Clive. “Why do they need all this power?”

  “This reminds me of something Ornias said,” mused Gordon. “He said it was about us, remember? Who gets to rule the humans? It’s about power and control. It must have something to do with that pact that was made after the flood, which forces the angels to stay out of it unless we’re on the verge of self-destruction.”

  “Do you think these Supreme Ones could be connected to Wessler’s ten?” asked Nadia.

  Gordon yawned loudly and then, one after the other, Clive and Nadia followed suit. Nadia glanced at the clock. It was almost two in the morning.

  “I have to get up early tomorrow,” she groaned. She got up from the couch, stretched and yawned again.

  “Me too,” said Clive, also getting up.

  “I thought you and Will were off all week,” she said.

  “We are, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have anything to do,” he replied sharply.

  “Well, excuse me,” said Nadia. “What about you, Gordon?”

  “My schedule’s pretty open,” he admitted ruefully.

  “What are you going to do for work now?” she asked.

  “I don’t really have a plan,” he said. “I lost my clearance when they fired me, so I won’t be able to get another job in defense intelligence.”

  “Why don’t you freelance?” she suggested.

  “Freelance?” he repeated. “What do you mean, like, providing intelligence to civilians?”

  “Well…I’m n
ot sure what I mean, exactly,” she said. “I just think there must be people out there who are dealing with supernatural phenomenon, like the djinn, and could use your help. Maybe some of them notice that their loved ones have been taken over.”

  “It’s perfect!” announced Clive. “And I already have your theme song for you, Gordon.” Clive began by making horn sounds with his lips and then launched into—“Who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!”

  “I’m going to bed,” said Nadia. “You guys can crash here if you want.”

  “Thanks,” said Gordon.

  Clive surprised Nadia by giving her a hug.

  “Good job today,” he said. “You’re a trooper.”

  “No more surprises?” she asked.

  “No more surprises,” he promised.

  With that, Nadia went to bed.

  Chapter 17

  London, England

  Beth was startled awake by sharp rays of brilliant sunlight hitting her face. She looked around with the curiosity of a child, feeling a strange mixture of bewilderment and exhilaration. Details came to her in an easy progression. She was in a hotel room in London. She’d forgotten to close the curtains when she went to bed the previous night—and how glad she was for that! The morning sun seemed to have tinged everything in the room with cheer. And she had found the location of Brisbin’s gravesite!

  Beth glanced at the clock as she slid out of bed. She was a little surprised to see that she’d slept thirteen hours—and with only one drink the night before! It had been a while since she’d been able to sleep without passing out first—since Wayne died, to be precise.

  She felt surprisingly calm as she went about her morning ritual, even though she was anxious to get to the cemetery. Her hair was still damp from her shower when she went down to the lobby for toast and coffee. Shortly after that she headed out.

  She decided to walk to the cemetery again. As she strolled along the pristine avenues, she realized that she enjoyed being a stranger in a foreign place. It was nice to come and go as she pleased. She liked that no one knew where she was.

  The room that Wayne booked at the Winchester was paid up for another twelve days. She had come here on a mission, but suddenly she thought to herself; why not stay? She could do a little shopping and maybe get her hair done. She could go sightseeing and then see a show. Or she could just walk around London, soaking up the warm, autumn sun. The fact that she would spend most of her time wishing Wayne was there with her didn’t mean she couldn’t at least try to enjoy herself.

  Olive was ready for Beth when she got there. She gave her a map of the East Cemetery, marking the general area where Lieutenant Brisbin was buried with an ‘X.’ Little butterflies fluttered in Beth’s stomach at the sight of the ‘X,’ though she had no idea what she would find there—or even what she was looking for.

  She walked briskly through the cemetery at first, like a woman on a mission, but she was gradually persuaded to lighten her step as she found herself becoming enchanted with the place all over again. It had a strange effect on her, like a drug—or a spell. All of her anxieties and cares seemed to melt away. After all, the place seemed to say, what does any of that matter to us? Her manner became more relaxed, and she even stopped to admire a few of the burial sites. Many of the gravestones, particularly the older ones, were surprisingly humorous. Some of them were downright whimsical;

  "Checkmate!" was the call

  To dear old John.

  On the chessboard of life

  He was just a pawn.

  Much like the afternoon before, Beth felt at peace in the company of the silent inmates of Highgate. She was comforted by their mutual sorrow, and inspired by their gracious acceptance of their share in it. She wished Wayne was there with her. In fact, she sometimes spoke out loud, as if he actually were there with her. She meandered around the gravestones companionably, feeling a sense of wellbeing. She even had the strange thought that she wouldn’t mind spending her eternity here, and she wondered what a burial plot would cost.

  When at last she reached the place that Olive had marked on the map with an ‘X,’ Beth was not surprised to find it crowded with headstones. She had noticed the gravesites getting smaller as she got closer to Brisbin’s era. But even now, she scanned the stones half-heartedly, more interested, for the moment, in an enormous statue that stood off to one side. It was an angel nearly twice Beth’s size, though only the upper half of its body was visible from where it appeared to be rising up out of the ground. The angel had massive wings and a grim expression on its face. It was a male, with strong features and a look that was uncompromising. Beth couldn’t drag her gaze away from it. It seemed significant somehow, and she wasn’t all that surprised when she looked down at the ground directly in front of it and saw a small stone tablet with the inscription: ‘Lieutenant John Brisbin. 1904 to 1981.’ Below this was a short verse;

  A dark angel came for me,

  And stayed behind to guard the key,

  To his immortality.

  Beth read the inscription a second time—and then a third. What did it mean? She looked up at the angel. Its eyes were so intense! And they appeared to be looking directly at her. Beth moved to the left…and then to the right as a slight shiver ran down her spine. It was almost as if the eyes were following her—as if the angel was watching her. She snorted at this thought, but that didn’t ease the discomfort she felt while those eyes remained fixed on her.

  A dark angel came for me.

  Beth glanced down at the stone tablet to read the rest.

  And stayed behind to guard the key…to his immortality.

  Beth looked up into the eyes of the angel again. “Are you that dark angel?” she asked. “You certainly look like you could be.”

  Beth took a step backwards in an effort to get some perspective. What possible purpose could Wayne have had in coming here? Surely he wasn’t coming all this way just to visit an old grave site. The message on the picture had said; ‘If the worst happens, visit Brisbin at Highgate Cemetery.’

  But why? What could Brisbin possibly do to help if ‘the worst’—whatever that was—happened?

  Could ‘the worst’ be referring to the earthquake in California? That was certainly the worst thing to happen to the United States in a very long time. But that wouldn’t explain how Wayne got involved…unless T.D.M.R. was behind it somehow. Maybe the conspiracy theorists had gotten it right for once. Maybe T.D.M.R. was carrying their experiments too far. And maybe that’s why Wayne was killed…for threatening to expose them!

  Beth let out a long, thoughtful sigh. She didn’t have enough information to start drawing conclusions. All she had were her feelings that everything was somehow connected—the disaster in California, Wayne’s ‘Anonymous’ messages about the end of the world, even his plans to visit a dead man in a cemetery half way around the world. It seemed as if there had to be a connection between these things.

  Beth’s gaze returned to the angel.

  Stayed behind to guard a key.

  “Are you guarding something?” she asked. “Did Lieutenant Brisbin leave behind a secret?”

  The angel wasn’t giving anything away. Beth glanced around the cemetery and saw that she was completely alone. It was much quieter this morning than it had been the previous afternoon, but Highgate was so big that privacy seemed inevitable regardless. As well, the people buried in this section of the cemetery had died over thirty years ago, which certainly limited the number of visitors they would be receiving.

  Beth went up on tip toe to begin a careful examination of the angel, starting with its head. She glanced around periodically as her nimble fingers made their way over the angel’s head, neck and torso. It was a large sculpture, with lots of little ridges and grooves, particularly on the wings, which arched upwards from the angel’s back before spreading out in either direction. Beth went over every inch of the sculpture thoroughly, taking her time. She was certain that Wayne must have been coming here to find something. Perhaps it was a ke
y of some kind, as the inscription suggested. Something had to be here. But if it wasn’t hidden on the ‘dark angel’ then where was it? She glanced at the ground in front of Brisbin’s marker and bit her lip. Surely it wouldn’t have been buried with the body? Beth shook her head. There was no way that she was digging up the Lieutenant.

  It wasn’t until she reached the bottom of the sculpture that Beth allowed herself to feel discouraged. It appeared that the bottom half of the angel was buried underground, though Beth suspected that the sculpture only continued far enough into the ground to be cemented to the spot. Could something be buried beneath it?

  She looked around the cemetery again. Though she was still alone, she wasn’t about to start digging. She turned her attention to the little stone tablet.

  A dark angel came for me,

  And stayed behind to guard the key…

  To his immortality.

  Something had to be here! But where was it? Beth bent down to get a closer look at the tablet. It was small—no taller than about six inches or so—but when she tried to move it, it stood fast, as if it were cemented to the ground. She ran her hands over the top of it and then down the sides, paying special attention to the crease where the two met. There was a slight overhang in the back. Just beneath this Beth felt something.

  She went down on her hands and knees to get a better look. On the back of the tablet, just beneath the projecting top, was a small, rectangular indentation. It was no more than three inches at its longest point, but it was definitely an irregularity that shouldn’t have been there. Leaning in even closer, Beth saw that it was actually a tiny metal box that had been inserted into the stone tablet. Her heart began to beat a little faster as she picked at the box with her fingernail in an attempt to pry it open.

  It wouldn’t budge. Impatiently she reached inside her purse and fished around for something sharp. A key was the best she could come up with, and so she picked and prodded at the corners of the tiny box with her smallest key for several minutes before she finally drew back in frustration.