A Covenant with Death: The Peacock Trilogy - Book 3

by Bill Wetterman

  She couldn’t explain why those words came out of her mouth. She had little idea of what Nano 7 was. Duh. She glanced to see if an angel had appeared. There was none.

  “Dangerous,” Arthur replied. “Too much chance of being labeled a loony. A call for testing could occur in a fortnight. If the results were close, I might be deposed.”

  “We could visit the predominately Christian cities and make direct appeals to the Christian leadership.” She leaned in close, reached beneath the covers to rub his thigh, and whispered, “Give the idea some thought.”

  Arthur squeezed her gently. “You’re a temptress. Now let’s get to sleep. Tomorrow we go ‘round the world.”

  Tomorrow. Yes. Her people were ready, but she wanted confirmation about her vision. After Arthur fell asleep, she dialed the team’s dorm. Bruegman answered with a gruff, “What? It’s midnight.”

  “Sorry to bother you, Klaus, but I need to speak to Cher.” Bruegman pounded on a door, and she heard Cher grab the phone.

  “I am here.” A typical response from her best friend save for Felicia Van Meer.

  “Sorry to wake you. I needed to talk.”

  “I was doing yoga. I’ll sleep later.”

  “I had another vision.” Laverna sighed. “Arthur doesn’t believe I have them. But I do. I even mentioned Nano 7, and I don’t remember why I know what it is.”

  Cher chuckled. “What else is new? Men never listen. My family never listened to women until I beat the crap out of my brothers. As to your visions, my Christian faith and former Buddhist upbringing tell me to judge the outcome. If God is behind them, you will always be right.”

  “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “Well, don’t get mushy. I’m not going to hug you.”

  Laverna relaxed. “Go back to your yoga. Thanks for the reassurance.”

  A glance at the clock said she had to get to sleep. Where she was going the next day escaped her.

  #

  Walking a thin line between belief and doubt, Pendleton formulated a plan to test both. He rolled out of bed at 2 a.m. Physicians knew their work had no time limits. He rang up Laverna’s doctor.

  “First Citizen,” the doctor mumbled. “To what do I owe this untimely call?”

  “Another hallucination. Now she thinks Jesus is coming back soon, and I’m to drop everything to prepare a welcome or something. How is the work coming along on restoring her memory and curing her cancer?”

  “My word, Arthur. You can’t rush science.” His chuckle irritated Pendleton. “My opinion, a child born today will live 100 years. Your wife will not. Genomic advances work miracles, but they can’t create areas that have been eradicated. Kolb’s to blame for that. The short-term memory will never be restored in your wife. The cancer is slowed, but inoperable. One more year will verify my opinion.”

  “You’re no bloody help.” Pendleton’s jaw tightened. “Are you telling me she’ll be dead in a year?”

  “Ah, shoot the messenger, and do it at 2:15 a.m.” A yawn accompanied the words. “In a year, Laverna will either be dead or mimic severe Alzheimer’s.”

  “What do you think of these visions she has?”

  “Four visions—four direct hits. She’s remarkable. I don’t try to speculate on where she obtains her inspiration. The divine, however, I’d put last on the list. But go with the facts. She hits the target.”

  Pendleton hung up and pounded his fists on his armchair. He’d done everything medically possible to save her life. The least he could do was act like he believed her. After the trip to the Bering Strait, he’d call for a conference of Christian pastors. He’d suggest we live as though God was coming tomorrow. He’d set God’s plan in motion. How hard could it be to pull Christian leaders from 30,000 Complexes of the Realm into a meeting? He would make his wife’s request his mission to fulfill, even if he looked silly doing it. The First Citizen works miracles daily, he thought. What’s another, if it’s the Lord’s doing?

  #

  “Zip up my outfit, Obie dear. The head of my family’s security team is required to appear smashing at all times.” Connor Ann Uba strutted into the living room of her suite in London’s Global Quarters, a quadrant reserved for gold and silver level Realm personnel.

  Her husband of two months, Obadiah Uba, Director of Agriculture for the London of the Realm Complex, zipped her up and gave her a pat on the behind. “Don’t be gone long. I’ll miss you. I miss you already, especially your charming ways.”

  “It’s the animal in you I’ll miss.” She rubbed his shoulders and snuggled up to her Nigerian husband, adoring his massive arms and bulwark of a chest. “I’m at my father’s command, and he’s heading to the Bering Straits with Mum. She’s the one I need to watch. I’ll miss you, too.”

  “I suppose you will.” He grinned. “I’ll keep busy managing the planting crews. We’ve nectarines and grapes to harvest this week. Keeps your Obie busy.”

  The sweet aura of being a newlywed still flowed through Connor. Taught by her mother that sex was made by God and anything God made was good, she embraced her husband eagerly. Unlike her mother’s former life, she gave herself to one man only as God instructed. If she had her way, she’d take her husband to Aruba and get herself pregnant. Alas, that was not to be. Her duty to the Realm superseded everything else.

  Connor kissed his full, moist lips and hurried out the door. Just outside, she stopped to bask in the beauty of the gold, emerald, and diamond-studded granite walls lining her path to the main floor transport. When she lived in Zurich, she’d watched that city transform, mixing some of the traditional old with the remarkable new. Like now, her family’s living quarters were decent, but only a few embellishments better than a service worker’s. Citizens of the Realm enjoyed all its benefits for which she thanked her father.

  Located on the 55th floor northwest corner’s outer wall, Connor’s suite and surrounding hallway glowed with reflected sunlight from the iridescent dome covering this part of the complex. One of five cities of 200,000 people, each having London in its name, The London of the Realm Complex sat where the old city of Reading used to be. The old London had disappeared into rubble a decade earlier, save for the historical buildings. The Thames had become part of the English Channel and many buildings submerged into the deep.

  Hans Van Meer and his wife Felicia met her at the Transport.

  “Be nice to your father this trip, Busty Rusty.” Van Meer quipped.

  “I hate that nickname, whether you’re my dad’s best friend or not.” Connor gave her godfather a loving tap on the shoulder and boarded the transport. “He’s rarely nice to me. He never accepted Obi, and I challenge him.”

  “You are well endowed, Honey,” Felicia quipped. “And no man is ever good enough for a megalomaniac’s daughter.”

  “Well, you have the megalomaniac part right.” Connor said, then changed the subject to keep her from going ballistic talking about her father. “I hear we have some serious issues surrounding the Global Complex of Jerusalem again.”

  “Twelve Holy Land cities, actually. Religious factions always believe test scores and management decisions unfairly target them. I’ve advised your father to transfer Muslim and Jewish citizens out of those cities and replace them with Hindus. He hasn’t responded.”

  Felicia grinned as she pushed the Down button. “Lovey and Arthur won’t take citizens from a land God gave them in the first place, and he won’t treat Muslims like second-class peons by transferring them. The man isn’t prejudiced.”

  “He won’t confront al-Sistani, you mean.” Connor’s comment received no reply.

  In seconds, the transport opened on the public floor. The twelve square-mile complex sprawled out before them. Broad avenues led to all the conveniences humanity required. Connor checked her watch, an automatic chronograph with so many features the user had to program their twelve most needed contacts into it and keep the online manual on their computer for reference to other uses. Women wore the garnet-inlaid silver and men
wore gold—one style sufficed for all.

  Conner pulled a low hanging apple off a tree near the transportation district. “Obie’s harvesting fruit while I’m gone. Gives the man something to focus on.”

  “I’ll bet you’re proud of him, Red. Our complex is almost self-sufficient.” Felicia Van Meer flashed her badge and the doors to the Supersonic Rail System opened. “Your husband’s doing a bang-up job. We only import wheat and corn. Tell him how valuable he is.”

  “He’s a winner.” Connor entered, turned left, and swung into her seat. She fastened the safety harness and pressed an overhead button. Within seconds, a cup of coffee appeared on the tray table in front of her, steaming and ready to drink. “He hates it when I go on a mission.”

  “He’s horny,” Felicia quipped.

  “Always,” Connor said. “But he worries about my safety.”

  “He shouldn’t worry.” Van Meer turned on his overhead light and spread out a map on his tray table. “You’re as deadly as your mother was in her time. And I should know. I trained you both.”

  “Never,” Connor replied. “My mother’s the best. Even disabled, she outperforms the rookies.”

  “You outperform everyone.” Van Meer traced their route with his finger. “At nine hundred kilometers an hour, we’ll arrive at our destination in ten hours tops.”

  “Onboarding personnel,” The sterile words echoed from an overhead audio system.

  Through the Supersonic’s entry-doors strutted her mother’s security team, Shin Mao Ming leading the way followed by Sharesca Baidya, nicknamed Cher, and Klaus Bruegman. The Three Musketeers, Connor dubbed them. She’d assigned them to her mother when she replaced her as Director of Security for Global Realm top-level personnel, since they had protected Peacock for a quarter of a century. She reassigned Loomis and Magnus due to age to less active positions.

  Loomis had an unhealthy crush on her mother that everyone but her father clearly saw. Yet he was loyal and hands-off. Unfortunately, he died of natural causes three years earlier. Her mother was visibly upset, but Connor never broached the subject.

  The Pendletons entered when Bruegman signaled them it was safe.

  “Hello, Mum.” Connor called out and waved a welcoming hand.

  “Hi, Darling. You look wonderful.”

  “Fasten yourself into your seat, Mum. The coffee is superb.”

  Her mother scooted into the window seat on the right side of the aisle, and her father slid in next to his wife.

  “And a hello to you too, Pumpkin,” he grumped.

  “Sorry about not greeting you. But Mum’s the one with memory problems, and you’re not a pleasant fellow most of the time.”

  “Change your career path to Global Administration, and I’ll be jovial more often.”

  “Sorry. None of your offspring want to ascend to your throne.”

  “Next stop the Bering Strait.” A single horn blast followed.

  The Supersonic’s door shut. Without a sound, the hover train departed the station at the speed limit of one hundred kilometers an hour and escalated as it flew through the Channel tunnel and on to mainland Europe. Once out of the tunnel, the Supersonic lifted two meters off the magnetized track and increased speed.

  “Should be an uneventful trip, Pumpkin,” Pendleton said.

  “I hope so.” She smirked. “Nothing involving you or Mum is uneventful.”

  #

  Laverna opened her notebook. Finding her daughter’s page, she reminded herself her daughter wasn’t fourteen anymore. Married to a Nigerian? She hadn’t remembered that. No children. Dedicated to her career as Director of Security for the Global Realm’s top-level personnel. Laverna warmed. Her daughter bested her, even when she was Peacock, both in IQ testing and field course. Her sons excelled in less physical skills. George was a gold level physicist trained for space flight, and Harry excelled in paleoecology presently studying ancient Biblical archives and ruins for the Global Archaeology Department.

  “Let’s pray for a safe trip,” Connor said, as the train raced across the former German countryside.

  When Connor led the prayer, Laverna absorbed the astounding beauty of the landscape. In the distance, the Berlin Complex rose skyward, a towering eighty-foot tall fortress housing 200,000 human beings. The gleam of the bejeweled walls glistened in the sun. Totally reconstructed from the recycled materials of old cities and solid, mountain rock, Berlin had celebrated its seventeenth year since completion. The European Ice Age transformed the complex into a snow castle with the rays of the sun glistening off its parapets.

  The surrounding covered countryside thrived with wildlife and newly planted vegetation. Spruce and fir trees hid the dens of fox, the hiding places of wild boar, and many varieties of deer. But farther away to the east, the land grew treacherous. Little in the way of food could be found for man or beast.

  Laverna lowered her head and petitioned the Lord to help her husband reach believers with the angel’s message. How hard could it be communicating with the Christian community? Difficult if Arthur didn’t believe what she’d told him was the truth.

  Amazed, yet honored, that an angel of God had communicated with her—the worst of sinners, Laverna determined to help her husband reach every Christian with the angel’s message. She’d personally met Pope Peter the II. He’d be her first call when this trip was over.

  Chapter 4

  A figure in white Arctic clothing trudged up a gradual slope to a hedge of snow-covered conifers overlooking the steppes of Central Russia. A Supersonic passed this location forty kilometers south of Norilsk every eight hours.

  Under instructions from Ammad al-Sistani, he must stop the next vehicle regardless of the cost. The same Ammad who fulfilled Islamic prophecy when he interrupted his father’s funeral in the mountains. Ammad with the Sufi Imam, Atash Akbari, at his side stepped into the midst of the mourners.

  “Move aside all who would speak.” Ammad had changed from the boy of days before. “Only the Chosen One shall preside at Grandayatollah al-Sistani’s funeral.”

  All present felt Ammad’s power. All present understood that even in defeat came the brightest light—a gift of Allah—the hope of Islam.

  The man on the plains on Russia possessed no weapon capable of penetrating the force-field surrounding the gigantic monster speeding toward him. He only had an electronic device smuggled out of the Shevchenko Complex and a hundred warriors hidden among the trees. Two small boxes that looked like transmitters had been planted twenty-three meters away on each side of the Supersonic’s path. The technology escaped his understanding. But once the force-field shut off, his people could board the transport. They had many capable weapons to help them destroy their targets.

  Once he saw the monster approach, he’d have no chance of stopping it. He had to anticipate its arrival based on the accurate timing of past runs. A Global timepiece, also smuggled out of Shevchenko Complex, kept precise time—all the time. One minute to arrival, he and his warriors bent in prayer. Allah Akbar. Then he pressed the switch.

  #

  Connor analyzed the computer readings from her satellite feed. She glanced over at her mother who slept soundly in her seat. Laverna’s face held the marks of many battles, yet her beauty clearly radiated through, a quality of innocence that caused wonderful memories of Connor’s childhood to grow within her. Her mum always told her the truth. She understood the pressure of being a girl in a male-dominated home. While her dad seemed preoccupied, her mum listened and showed her she was loved.

  Connor’s eye caught a laser-like flash on the satellite screen. She unhooked her seatbelt, signaled Cher and Bruegman to join her in the back compartment. “I don’t like this reading.”

  Cher nodded. “Something’s interfering with the magnetics at checkpoint Norilsk 8. Have Military Command magnify the area.”

  Connor called in the order and reported the flash. The satellite zoomed down to a ground-level view. In an instant, the forms of warriors appeared among the trees.
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  “Camel jockeys with peashooters. Not a credible force,” Bruegman jested.

  “Formidable if we’re stopped,” Connor snapped. “What caused the flash?”

  A jolt threw her against the side of the car, as the Supersonic wobbled erratically. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Magnetic stabilizer malfunction,” the control room responded. “I’ve no choice but to stop for repairs.”

  “Keep going as far as you can.”

  “That would be less than a minute travel time.” He cut away.

  “I want drones now at Norilsk 8.”

  “Roger that,” answered a voice from Supreme Military Command. “Ten minutes tops.”

  That might be too late. Connor screamed. “Call in the drones. Now!”

  Her cargo, more precious than her life, depended on her making the right calls. The Supersonic’s brakes had been applied, and the vehicle slowed to a crawl, stabilizing as the speed decreased.

  “Attention,” Connor called over the main cabin speakerphone. “This is not a drill. Arm yourselves. Set your weapons to kill mode and assume battle positions. Repeat. This is not a drill.”

  Her mother was up and into the aisle checking everyone’s position and weapon. Amazing woman, Connor thought, always in attack mode.

  The latest laser technology had three settings, a nerve setting, firing extreme lethal charges that destroy the spinal nerves, a blind setting, and a setting for intolerable sound waves. Connor held the latest model, which had an electrical pulse setting to incapacitate or kill the strongest opponent. “Highest nerve setting.”

  “Prepare for a rough stop,” a voice from the control room shouted.

  Connor ran from the back compartment and strapped her father into his protection shield developed for the First Citizen only. He smiled at her as she closed the doors. The man’s unshakable.