by Gary Starta
Hours later, Ed continued to observe Deondra closely. He felt uncomfortable about letting her drive home alone. She alleviated some of his fears with a few deep kisses and a pair of roaming hands.
“I’ll be all right, sugar.”
Ed found Deondra’s language strange, but eventually acquiesced. He would have to make sure the lab was properly secured and locked before leaving. He realized he would never get this accomplished with Rivers’s body wrapped about him.
Still benefiting from a powerful surge of trust hormones, Rivers headed for the nearest mall. She asked the strawberry blond counter girl for her largest bottle of Vices. She wanted to immerse herself in her feelings. She wanted to be the sexy woman Ed pined for.
The counter girl strongly suggested her overzealous customer to return in three days. “Our perfume sale begins Thursday. Everything’s half price then.”
Trusting her implicitly, Rivers bowed her head in gratitude and left the store.
The strawberry-blonde’s head swam. She recalled the Master’s description of an agent who looked like Halle Berry. Her discovery made her feel important, similar to the way she felt when she commanded the black-robed man to engage in sex with her at the abandoned church. Finally, she would have the chance to not only experience power in the real world, but prove her worth to the Master as well.
***
Diggs suggested they dine at a rib shack. Fisher couldn’t believe he had found a woman who enjoyed Buffalo wings as much as he did.
They never made it there.
The fondling began in the hallway and continued straight through to Caitlin’s bedroom.
Diggs had become a slave to her emotions. She could not allow another day to pass without physical connection. Besides, a small part of her reasoned a sexual union might allow her to read Fisher’s emotions. Her hunch paid off.
Like the deep trust Deondra felt for Hoyt, Diggs now experienced the equivalent salacious connection with Fisher. Only it came naturally, with no injection, spray or harmful side effects; best of all, it was totally free from government regulation.
Diggs allowed herself to drink in pure, unbridled bliss . The sensations of trust took her pleasure to unparalleled heights. And as she enjoyed it, she realized Fisher too had succumbed to the most intense emotional and physical connection he had ever found. They made uninterrupted love until dawn.
Chapter 18
“The golden dawn is nearly upon us.”
The voice spoke with urgency and confidence. It belonged to Aleister Crowley, the black magician who left his corporeal body behind in 1947 to take up residence in a new vessel.
The intrusion did not startle the recipient, because for nearly four decades, Crowley communed with the disciple he referred to as the Master via dreams. His ethereal ghost-like occupation of the Master’s body would soon reach culmination though, allowing both specter and its host body to transform and transcend into higher beings. For that reason, Crowley felt compelled to reinforce ground rules regarding the ascension he so coveted. More importantly, he needed to educate this corporeal vessel, this flesh and blood being whose actions would bring him one day closer to the golden gateway and carry his essence over its threshold into a finite state of omnipotence.
“I’ve come to depend upon you, my friend, and truth be told, you have served me well.” Crowley’s words were ringed with truth. He had admired the Master’s ingenuity for utilizing the Apprentice’s muscle power, manipulating men with drugs and most of all, for identifying Caitlin Diggs as the key to ascension via mere happenstance. Yes, for all intents and purposes the Master knew how to behave as a wizard even though his powers were often suspect. The Master still resided in a human body at this time and as long as he did, there would always be a margin for error.
“We need to come to a complete understanding on a couple of matters which are of the utmost importance to me.” The Master tossed in his bed, still asleep and completely tethered to Crowley’s psychic transactions. Intimations and subtle suggestions of the past would now come forth into the light, the kind of golden, pure white light which would be necessary to open a portal to an unparalleled kingdom of divine consciousness.
“As you looked upon the golden portal in your visions, you may have been too awestruck to identify the gateway’s true designs. No doubt, you know I have been telepathically linked to your visions for all your life. We have shared intentions. You may not know how strong an influence I have exerted over you all these years.”
The Master struggled to free himself of the purple robe that now constricted his movement. His feet thrashed at the covers imprisoning him. He wasn’t quite sure he liked where this one-way conversation was headed. Was Crowley keeping things from him?
“All this time you gazed with wonder upon the portal, not quite knowing what it was. I no longer deem it necessary for you to walk among the uneducated. It does not befit a Master.” Crowley laughed, deep and resonating.
“The gateway of light we have both marveled at, if only in vision, is indeed sacred geometry. It is a golden spiral, a stairway to higher consciousness. More succinctly, it is love and the fulfillment of our will. It is aptly named the Golden Mean Spiral. It has taken man centuries to realize that the mathematical spiral and the experiential spiral of the Golden Mean are one and the same. It weaves ethereal and material dimensions together. Because it operates in this fashion, it may become opened with simple feelings.
“The woman you put into the flotation tank possesses these profound feelings, an emotion pure enough to guide us through the spiral’s doorway. She holds the light within, and day by day, her subconscious readies her for this task. She is the most perfect reincarnation of the Goddess Isis I may ever know. You see, when I walked among humanity, I studied Egyptian beliefs in the afterlife. I belonged to a society known as the Golden Dawn. I believed all along that a woman existed who could shine the pure light needed to open the portal. As a human, I erroneously concluded the Goddess Isis was the portal to the star system in Orion. The Ancient Egyptians and I myself believed we possessed the ability to become a star in the universe. But I now realize the portal is not simply a star system, but the gateway to a kingdom of gods.
“We can become fourth dimensional and ascend into a higher consciousness! It’s where all the Ancient gods now reside.” Crowley again bellowed.
“These ancients like to keep their kingdom exclusive, as you can imagine. Up until now they were the only ones who knew how to unlock the geometrical message hidden in the spiral. I believe some used the magic of crystals to do this. Therefore, I believe it was no accident that the corporeal being you know as Caitlin Diggs came into contact with a strange and mysterious crystal one Earth cycle ago. She has held this power of light within, probably since she was born.
“The rose quartz she interacted with was a remnant of a magical Atlantean crystal skull, ones used by the gods of Atlantis to vanish into thin air. It now transforms her. And for the record, the Atlantean’s disappearance was no illusion or deceit; it was simply mathematical probability. The same probability exists because of your chance connection with Caitlin Diggs—or Isis reincarnate.”
The Master struggled to speak. The word synchronicity danced in his head.
“Use your telepathy. Form the words in your mind only,” Crowley implored.
When the Master finally communicated his concern, he found himself no longer in the confines of his bed. He now sat upon a slab of stone, positioned in the center of a huge temple. Before him stood Crowley, but Crowley was not a man, he was a metallic representation of a falcon which stood upon two legs. The light from a ceiling window cast sharply off the falcon, nearly blinding the Master.
Crowley continued to speak telepathically to him, assuaging his fears. “I will not harm you. I take this form so I may physically be able to represent myself to you.”
The Master nodded, attempting to control his heartbeat and innate human fear while an eight-foot bird towered over him.
&n
bsp; “You should not concern yourself with Diggs’s unwillingness. She need only be kept alive until the end time. Then, she will have little choice but to open the Golden Mean Spiral for us. I know you tried to tempt her. Your thoughts were never hidden from me. Truth be told, I was the one who dropped her hints. To make her see her destiny, to make her understand she was the next coming of Isis. This is why you must keep her safe for the time being. You must monitor the one you call Apprentice. His primitive mindset might thwart our efforts to open the gate.”
“I have, and will keep him on a short leash, Master Crowley. I already sensed this was the right course of action. That is why I returned the agent unharmed. On the other hand, I am also concerned this woman, or Isis as you refer to her, might interfere with our plans to bring about the end time. For that reason, I have supplied her with a robe. It will act as medium and bring about false visions. She must not become privy to our real reason for infecting the populace with psychotropic drugs.”
“I know all of this, my dear host, but it’s good to hear you speak with such conviction. You know, conviction is the one human element which has kept me motivated for the last century, to allow me to dream of making the ascension our one true reality. I feel I’ve now come full circle. I once communicated with the great Egyptian God Horus when I was human. He appeared before me as a falcon as I come before you now. Horus quantified my beliefs back then including the existence of the ascension and the great solar energy of the universe that now resides in the human form of Caitlin Diggs.”
***
Now it was Caitlin Diggs’s turn to dream...
The fluttering of metallic wings was deafening. Wind blew ferociously against a signpost, gold letters emblazoned upon black. It read: Welcome to Fort Belvoir.
It would have been more appropriate if the sign said Welcome to the jungle.
Gunfire in the background reminded her of an ancient communication system known as Morse code. Rat a tat tap. Rat a tat tap. Its intermittent pattern did little to alleviate her fears. More murders were taking place. The silence in between emphasized the killings like exclamation points. It was eerie silence. Then the gunfire interrupted again, accompanied by a sickening whirring sound. The one a metallic bird might make.
She couldn’t see exactly what was happening. She could only see the signpost ahead. Her legs would not move toward the gatepost when she attempted travel. And now the silence, which had most terrified her, dissipated with the punctuation of blood curdling screams. The whirring flutter, bloody screams and booming gunshots all made her dizzy. No more silence would be allotted for the suffering. No more time would be granted to right this wrong. Diggs stood helpless, sunlight blinding her. As she looked toward the sky, her mind clouded. She began to think of escape and how only one course of action seemed viable.
Then the scene changed as if someone had pushed a button on a television remote.
She wasn’t there yet. But she could see them.
Dudek and Rivers arguing. He wanted the trust potion she and Hoyt had concocted. He wanted it right now. The clock on the wall told her it was eight forty-five.
They were in the pathology lab; oddly, Hoyt hadn’t joined them.
Then her stomach soured. She could see him. Hoyt was underneath a table, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Dudek waved his left arm angrily. It allowed Diggs to see the gun he was carrying in his right hand. Rivers stood opposite to the assistant director, less than a meter away, baiting him with a vial. Only a small table provided a buffer zone.
“Is this what you want? You murdering bastard!”
“I ordered you to give it to me. The consequence is bigger than you, me and Hoyt combined.
Rivers’s face contorted. “How can you belittle Hoyt’s death like this? What’s more, you’re willing to become a criminal to expose Director Hainsworth. Can’t you see this? You’re supposed to keep emotion and personal vendettas out of investigations.”
Rivers’s scream of frustration startled Dudek so much he recoiled. Seizing the opportunity, Rivers shoved the table into his stomach. He lurched forward, losing control of the gun. Skittering atop the table, she picked up the weapon on its second bounce. Now she held Dudek’s attention.
“Make one more move toward me, and I’ll smash this against the wall. I won’t become part of your lunacy, Dudek. No one else will. You have made sure of it.” She turned her eyes upon Hoyt’s crumpled body for emphasis.
“You’re wrong, Deondra. Agent Diggs will do whatever it takes. She’ll help me.”
The gun fired. Several rounds ate into Dudek’s chest and stomach.
Smoke billowed before her face. Rivers offered a final epitaph.
“No, she won’t.”
***
“Oh my God, it’s eight o’clock!”
Diggs bounced out of bed, startling her companion.
Fisher mumbled. “I thought you would take the day off.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to go. Right now.” She tore off the fuschia robe. Mixed emotions gnawed away at her. Despite her panic, she fought the urge to giggle. Two hours earlier she had fastened the robe about her after engaging in an all night sex marathon.
“Okay, okay. I’ll see myself out.” Fisher stifled a yawn. “We must have dozed off.”
Diggs mumbled incoherently, piecing an outfit together.
One top, two skirts and a pant set later, Diggs was dressed. She threw a wool coat about her. “Tara will make you breakfast, Ross.”
Uncomfortable silence followed. Diggs searched for an appropriate way to say goodbye. She settled for an inappropriate one instead. Their French kiss lasted nearly half a minute. The agent then bolted out the bedroom door.
Fisher heard a door slam and then a white cat jumped upon his chest.
She drove maniacally. Route 66 was a real bitch at this time of day, but it was her most familiar route to FBI headquarters.
She jackknifed and swerved her green Pontiac to the great dissatisfaction of more than a few commuters. She could have flashed a badge. Instead, Diggs drove on choosing not to expend the energy required to discourage the array of one finger greetings.
When Pennsylvania Avenue came into view, she invested a few precious seconds to phone DC police.
A dispatcher came on the line after two rings.
“You’re to send all available units to Fort Belvoir. There is gunfire.”
“Ma’am. Who is this?”
“I’m federal agent Caitlin Diggs. Do you need my badge number?”
A husky female voice bellowed over speakerphone.
“I don’t need your badge number. I do need you to make sense. The gunfire you’re hearing is probably battlefield simulations.”
“No, it’s something else. I’m sure of it. Can I speak to your captain?”
A sigh segued into another ring.
A gruff male voice answered.
“Captain Kenneth Marcotte, here. How may I assist you?”
Diggs identified herself. She wasted little time coming to the point.
“Shots fired at Fort Belvoir. Please dispatch all available units. I’ll be on route to join you. You’ve got to trust me on this one, captain—I suspect a conspiracy to commit murder.”
“What more can you give me other than a suspicion?”
“I—we—don’t have the luxury of time right now. Call it a feeling.”
Captain Marcotte agreed to deploy two units with the understanding that if a military backlash should occur, it would land squarely upon Diggs’s shoulders.
She rang Dudek’s cellphone as the elevator doors opened to the front lobby.
No answer.
“Excuse me, agent.” The man in the black suit didn’t look like the type to accept excuses. He extended a hand. “Badge and ID, please.”
“Look, I’m responding to an emergency. The assistant director’s life may be in danger. You know who I am. Let’s dispense with security checks.”
The man in the black suit wore a look
of disagreement.
“Very well then. Here, take the badge and ID. I’ve got to get upstairs.”
She prayed liberally all the way up. The elevator couldn’t move fast enough. All Bureau eyes remain fixated on the woman who bounded by security. Her hair was unkempt. She reeked of perfume. More disturbing, she wore no visible badge of identification about her body. Anxious stares turned into muffled cries of surprise when the elevator stopped. The disheveled woman stepped out and began ranting at an ear-shattering decibel.
“Everybody clear the area. I repeat, for your own safety, please clear the area!”
She walked the talk, daring anyone to oppose her, flaunting her firearm as she sauntered down the hallway. She glanced at her watch. Nearly nine o’clock.
People scattered this way and that. A briefcase spilled upon the floor and emptied its contents. Undaunted, she again engaged in prayer, hands wrapped around her weapon, making her way to Dudek’s reception area. The din of confused cries faded in the background. The loud thump of her heart became an ominous drumbeat.
Please let him be in his office. Please let him be all right. Please let this be nothing more than a nightmare...
Chapter 19
Colonel Albrecht Sweizer mumbled as a husky deliveryman wheeled six cases of bottled water into his Fort Belvoir office.
“Please leave it anywhere, my good man. My doctor has put me on a water regimen so I’ll probably have these puppies polished off by week’s end.”
The deliveryman feigned a smile. Sweizer handed him a tip, hoping the man in the snug- fitting green and blue courier suit might invest in a proper fitting uniform. Civilian or not, the man’s appearance was unbecoming.
Sweizer glanced at the clock. 0600 hours. Battlefield simulations would commence in less than three hours. His stomach grumbled in protest. Cardboard-like rice cakes and green tea awaited him. It was either that or down a few bottles of purified water.
“Doctor’s orders.” He told the deliveryman. “That damn lard ass McCauley is probably polishing off a heaping plate of steak and eggs right now. Damn hypocrite.”