It had been a difficult decision to move to the Cenobian monastic community in the Mohave Desert. His family had not understood. His friends had teased him about it. Secular people still had very bizarre ideas about what monastic life was about. They imagined hair shirts and self-flagellation. They pictured him rising in the middle of the night to pray.
It was understandable, of course. The Catholic monastic traditions had persisted for centuries and had been slow to adapt to the changes in society. But the non-denominational Cenobian Brotherhood that ran the monastery was quite progressive compared to the monasteries of a thousand or even a few hundred years ago. All that was required of a devotee was that he had accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior and lived in accordance with the rules of the community. Beyond that, all were welcome, no matter the church they’d attended before arriving.
Peter had been at the monastery for three years. He’d focused his attention on living a pure and devout life and, for most of those three years, had felt happy.
But a few weeks ago, the dreams had started. Even during the daylight hours, he found his mind wandering toward thoughts of the female body. He didn’t know why these thoughts had begun, but he suspected that he was being tested. Had he grown complacent in his faith? Was devotion becoming too easy, too run-of-the-mill?
He decided that he would find a way to drive the sin and impurity from his mind. Perhaps those monks of the past had understood something Peter’s order didn’t. Perhaps pain—discomfort—really was the only way to be truly pure.
Peter heard the low hum of the automatic floor cleaner as it made its way down the hallway outside his bedroom door. He opened his eyes again to check the time. As he turned to look at his clock, something caught his attention. On the wall was the figure of a crucified Jesus, the exact same image he had imagined only moments before.
Peter rubbed his eyes and looked again. The image was gone. He sighed. Waking up three or four times a night was beginning to take its toll. Peter closed his eyes, said another silent prayer and tried to fall back asleep.
4
MILES BERG CLEARED his throat. “Understood, sir. Well, that’s certainly welcome news. We can have the warrant ready immediately. I’ll let you….”
He knitted his brow as he listened to the voice on the other end of the call. “I understand your position, of course,” Berg said, “but I must object to your decision. I have a responsibility not only to the Bureau but also to the people of this planet. And quite frankly there is no legal justification for this highly unorthodox….”
He bit down on his lip as Silvanus’s prime minister interrupted him again. He took a deep breath. “Sir, your office has been stonewalling me for months. Richard Sullivan is a dangerous….” He cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Twenty years of service. Three as director.” He bit down harder on his lip and stifled the impulse to curse. “You don’t have the authority to…. Yes, sir. I understand. I’ll wait forty-eight hours but no longer.”
Berg slammed his fist down on his desk as soon as the call had ended. He knew why the prime minister was making him wait before issuing the warrant for Richard Sullivan’s arrest. Kate Alexander—or rather her father—was well connected. Even dead, Benjamin Alexander held considerable political sway. Richard Sullivan was being given an opportunity to get off the planet.
Berg pulled up Sullivan’s file on his screen and studied the man’s face. He let out a long breath. Would it really matter all that much if he let this one go? Could he look the other way?
No. He was a planetary director for the Stellar Assembly Bureau of Investigation. The Friends of Alexander, as the prime minister and his colleagues were being called around the Bureau, could threaten his job to force him to postpone issuing the warrant and arresting Sullivan for the murders of the assemblymen on Earth and the freighter pilot Oscar Jones, but they couldn’t stop him from arresting Sullivan for other reasons.
Berg had already agreed to not issue warrants against Kate Alexander and Frank Allen for aiding and abetting a known fugitive. He had bent to the prime minister’s will on that, and he could accept it. But now he was being told to let Sullivan go as well.
It made Berg’s blood simmer to think about how Sullivan had been flaunting his connections because of Kate Alexander. Sullivan, Kate and Frank Allen hadn’t even bothered to go into hiding. The Bureau had known exactly where Sullivan had been ever since he’d returned to Silvanus: in the Alexander penthouse in the middle of the city.
Berg pulled up Allen’s file. Frank Allen had spent eleven years in the Bureau before suddenly resigning and going off with Sullivan to fight a civil war on Edaline. What could bring a man to throw away his life like that? His partner, Elizabeth Wagner, had been killed. Had there been something between them? Or was Sullivan’s personal magnetism so strong that he could turn not only a well-respected heiress but a Bureau agent as well?
It didn’t matter. As far as he knew, they hadn’t killed anyone in cold blood. He’d let Allen and Kate Alexander go, but Sullivan was not leaving the planet if he could do anything about it.
Berg pressed a button on his desk. “Marilyn, get Williams and Poole in here.”
A minute later, the two agents knocked on the glass window in Berg’s office door. “Have a seat,” he said after waving them in. “We’ve received the go-ahead on Sullivan.”
Williams nodded. “It’s about damned time. As of this morning, he was still at the Alexander penthouse. We’ll go pick him up.”
Berg shook his head. “I know you want to get this guy, but there’s a hitch. We’re being stalled for forty-eight hours. He’ll be off-planet by that time.”
“Christ,” said Poole. “The Friends of Alexander strike again. Why the hell can’t the politicians just let us do our jobs?”
Berg studied the faces of his agents. The two of them had been the lead investigators on this case. They had found Sullivan after he’d returned to Silvanus and had been keeping track of his movements. He understood their frustration, and he knew they wanted to bring Sullivan in as much as he did.
“Listen,” he said after a pause, “we can hold Sullivan for forty-eight hours without charging him. We just need cause to bring him in.”
Poole nodded then smiled over at Williams. “I think we understand, sir.”
Williams returned his partner’s smile then looked back at Berg. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We’ll find a reason.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Berg stood, and his agents followed suit. “Get to it. We don’t have a lot of time, and he might try to give us the slip before the forty-eight hours are up. But keep it on the level. We don’t want to have to release him because of any procedural irregularities. But if he tries to use force against you….”
Williams nodded. “Loud and clear, sir.”
5
AS THEY SAT around the table after lunch, having their coffee, Kate’s earpiece began buzzing. She tapped on it. “Hello?”
She listened intently for a moment as Sullivan and Allen watched her expression harden. “I understand,” she finally said. “Thank you.”
Sullivan took her hands in his. “What is it, Kate?”
“It seems that whatever was left of my father’s goodwill just ran out. In two days, a warrant will be issued for your arrest.”
Sullivan nodded. “We knew it was only a matter of time. What about you?”
“No. They’re not going to charge me with anything. My father was too well-respected for them to get away with that. Frank is in the clear, too.”
“Good,” said Sullivan. “Then we’ll leave for Faris as soon as we can.” He held Kate’s hands up to his lips and kissed them. “I’m just glad you’re not being charged. I never wanted you to live as a fugitive. Kate… if you don’t want to leave Silvanus, I understand.”
“We already talked about this, Rick. I’m going with you. I won’t leave you. Since they’re not going to charge me, I can always return when I need to. We can go now, and I’ll come b
ack to tie up whatever loose ends there might be. The board of directors can run the company just fine without me.”
Sullivan smiled. “And it won’t be a bad life. Faris is a good planet. Presumably your assets won’t be frozen, so we’ll still have plenty to live on.” He took his earpiece from his pocket. “I’ll call Dale Hammond and have him get a ship ready to take us.”
Allen cleared his throat. “Rick?”
“Yes?”
“Let me take care of that. You need to pack your things, make sure everything is in order.”
Sullivan clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Thank you. I know you haven’t made a decision, but I hope you’ll come with us.”
“I’m still thinking about it,” Allen said. “Now that I know I’m not being charged with anything, it does open up a lot of possibilities for me.”
Sullivan nodded. “Don’t rush it. If you want to have some time alone, we certainly understand. You can meet us on Faris later if you want to. You’ll always be welcome.”
“Thank you, Rick. I appreciate that.”
“And thank you for calling Dale for me. Make sure he can get a ship ready for tomorrow. I don’t want to cut it too close.”
Allen waited for Sullivan and Kate to leave the room and walk down the hall to Kate’s bedroom suite. He opened the front door and stepped into the hallway before tapping his earpiece. “Dial last.”
Hammond answered a moment later. “Anything wrong, Frank?”
“Hi, Dale. Listen, I’m going to need a second ship ready as soon as possible. For Faris.”
“Let me check.”
Allen waited, chewing his lip.
“Sorry, Frank. I have a ship, but all my other pilots are committed. I’d have to get permission from Kate or the board to cancel one of the jobs and reschedule someone.”
“Then you can fly it yourself.”
“I run the whole shipping operation, Frank. I can’t leave on such short notice.”
Allen paused for a moment. He couldn’t forfeit his own ship to Edaline; he couldn’t let Liz down. But he couldn’t let Rick and Kate down either. He owed them too much. “Dale, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but charges have been brought against Kate and Rick.”
“Kate, too?”
“Unfortunately. We had thought her father’s friends would have been able to do something for her, but that didn’t happen.”
“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“So you see why they need to get off the planet ASAP. I offered to give up my ship to Edaline, but Rick refused. He said my mission is too important.”
Hammond sighed. “All right, I’ll try to get my assistant up to speed. He’s a good man, he should be able to handle things as long as there are no emergencies.”
“Thanks, Dale. Keep this conversation between us, would you? Kate and Rick can’t know I told you why they need to get to Faris. Besides, I’m sure they’ll tell you once they’re on the ship and out of harm’s way.”
“Got it, Frank. I’ll let you know as soon as everything has been arranged.”
“Thanks, Dale. I’ll wait for your call.”
KATE STEPPED OUT of the bedroom where Sullivan was packing his bags. She walked down the hallway and stopped in front of a door. She took a breath, put her hand on the knob and opened it.
As soon as she stepped inside, she was flooded with memories of her father. His study was infused with his presence. The scent of his cigars still lingered in the air. She’d had the room cleaned up after he’d died but had not allowed anything to be moved. This was the first time she’d entered it herself.
Kate closed her eyes and imagined that he was sitting in the leather chair at the center of the room. She could see the cigar in the ashtray, a glass of Scotch on the table beside him. He looked up as he heard her come in.
Kate opened her eyes and studied the empty chair, his chair. There was still a depression in the cushion where he had sat for long hours reading. She walked around the room, running her hands along the spines of the antique books that he’d loved so much. She wondered how many of them had been left unread when he’d been killed by the bounty hunter Harvey. She wondered which of them he’d looked forward to reading as soon as he’d finished dealing with business-related matters.
She spotted a book on the table beside his chair. She walked over to it, sat in the chair and picked up the book. It wasn’t a particularly old book. In fact, it was part of a series that her father had specially commissioned. But the contents of the book were ancient. She ran her hand across the embossed lettering on the front: Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. One of his favorite books.
Kate opened the book and found that many of the pages had been bookmarked with slender strips of paper. She flipped to one of them and read the passage her father had marked:
And you will give yourself relief if you commit every act of your life as if it were the last, laying aside all carelessness and passionate aversion from the commands of reason, and all hypocrisy and self-love and discontent, with the portion which has been given to you.
She thought of her father’s last act. He had been opening a box containing a gift for her when he was attacked and killed by Harvey. His very last act was for her.
She wiped her eyes and closed the book. She got up from the chair, glanced around and found the spot where Meditations belonged on the shelf. The volumes he’d had made were all bound in matching leather with gold embossing on the covers and gilded page edges. They were printings of the words of the ancient Stoic philosophers: Zeno, Seneca, Epictetus, Aurelius. The first she remembered her father talking about quite a bit. Zeno’s Republic had been believed lost for twenty-four centuries until excavations in the late twenty-first century uncovered the remnants of a private library in the city of Herculaneum. As in the nearby Villa of the Papyri, which had been excavated in the middle of the eighteenth century, over a thousand carbonized scrolls had been found. But in the three centuries between the two discoveries, the method by which the charred scrolls could be carefully unwrapped and stabilized by an adhesive coating had been perfected. The only obstacle was the Italian government, who sought to preserve the site by not allowing further excavation.
A change in that policy, combined with the development of both less-invasive excavation and more reliable stabilization techniques, finally allowed the buried sections of Herculaneum to once again see the light of day. The most remarkable discovery was a scroll containing Zeno’s Republic which, until that time, had only existed in fragments quoted by other writers. Ninety percent of the text was recovered, and as one of the founding documents of the philosophy, it quickly became a crucial component of any collection of Stoic texts.
Kate’s father had told her about this discovery when she was a girl and had, to show her the value of the discovery, read selections to her. Despite her father’s enthusiasm, she had never had an interest in Stoic thought herself and hadn’t read any of those texts for years.
Now, with her father gone, she got the sensation that by reading some of these books again, she could bring him back, if only for a moment. She’d make a point to upload them to her tablet before they left for Faris.
Kate was about to place the Marcus Aurelius in its slot but instead withdrew the rest of the leather-bound set and placed it in her hand next to Meditations. She did not only want to read the words her father had loved, she wanted to read the very volumes he had treasured. She moved back toward the entrance, took one final look around the study then stepped through and closed the door behind her.
6
IT WAS MORNING. Brother Peter had slept fitfully and had woken up several more times. Still, he dutifully got up when his alarm went off, kneeled by the side of his bed and said his prayers.
He quickly showered then dressed and made his way down to the dining room. His monastic brothers were gathering around the table as he entered.
Those brothers who were on meal duty silently brought in the food and placed the dishes in the center
of the table. After they had taken their seats, the leader of the community, Father Curtis, led them in the Lord’s Prayer of thanksgiving. “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.”
“Amen,” repeated Peter with his brothers.
As he silently took his meal, Peter glanced over the faces around him. He wanted to tell someone about his vision but was afraid they would dismiss it. He himself could not be sure that he had actually seen something, that it had not been the result of his imagination. He knew the brain could play such tricks.
His eyes settled on Brother Mark. Mark was a relative newcomer to the monastery and had been there only six months, but already Peter felt close to him. They had both grown up in Milwaukee and shared a passion for chess. Peter decided that he would speak to Brother Mark over their evening game of chess and see what he thought of the vision.
Peter realized that he had been eating slowly and that the other brothers were waiting for him to finish. He hurriedly finished his scrambled eggs then set his fork down on his plate.
Father Curtis smiled. He led them in another prayer then those assigned to meal duty collected the plates and carried them to the kitchen.
Peter glanced at the clock over the door to the dining room. Today was his once-monthly—aside from Sundays—day of rest. The intent was for him to spend the working hours in silent meditation or study.
Peter left the dining room and went straight for the library. He always enjoyed the smell of the ancient books lining the shelves. There were a hundred Bibles, in different languages and translations, as well as row upon row of teachings from all of the major Christian denominations and histories of church movements and individuals who’d had a profound impact on Christianity. There was also a section containing the holy books of most of the other world religions.
Sullivan Saga 2: Sullivan's Wrath Page 2