She got up to make room for him, and grabbed one of the blank pads of paper. She reached into her pocket to grab one of the several pens she always carried. None there. She looked around. Oh, yeah, in the dining room - she had emptied her pockets when she first got home. She went back for it.
Returning with her pocket restocked, and one clicked open and at the ready, she found him sitting with his head in his hands. "You okay?"
"Just trying to remember."
He went on to describe the diner, almost identical to the Jessica's they ate at. She wondered if this was prescient, coincident, or if his remembering was being colored by his being there this evening.
Both dreams, the man was hooded. Not so unusual for the "boogey-man" in a bad dream. He described the dark sweatshirt. Looking at it in his mind's eye, he told her it was dark - blue or black, with a letter on the front. "Like a college? Like MIT?" she asked.
"No, just one letter. Like maybe a Greek letter" He opened his eyes, and reached for her pen and pad. He drew an "E", and looked at it. Then he redrew it, and crossed it out. "I think there were points on the left side, and it turned down ... here we go. This is it." He turned it around so she could see.
"Oh, that's a, that's uh, oh, I've got it here..." She closed her eyes and looked up at some imaginary blackboard. "Math. It's got something to do with math. I just can't remember. Let me go check something." She set the pad and pen down. "Keep thinking, Tim, I'll be right back." Running to the other room, she went to a small bookshelf along one wall of the living room. On the bottom were several of her old textbooks. "Here it is," mumbling to herself, "Let's see now..."
She started thumbing through the book as she walked back to the room. "Here's a reference section. Ahhh, here we go. Is this it?" pointing to one, and turning the book toward him.
"Yes, yes - I think that's it."
She turned the book back. "'Summation'. Used to sum a sequence of numbers." More descriptions followed on superscripts and subscripts, but it meant nothing to her. It'd been too long since she'd used it, and even then, she hadn't paid a lot of attention. "Sorry, Tim, that's all I know."
"Yeah, that's it. I remember now. Used it back in statistics, if I remember right. I wasn't real big on math. Well, maybe it means something. Maybe not. Let me check in, and see if anything else came up."
He logged back in, and opened a new letter. "This is going to sound silly, but I'll include it anyway." He quickly typed a brief description of his dream, including the bizarre singing, the reference to mushrooms, (even including the nuke interpretation of hers.) He also mentioned the sweatshirt and the symbol, and repeated the constant singing about mushrooms and bagels. He then asked about any updates on anything else, then sent it. "They'll get a pretty good laugh at that one." Then, more seriously, "I'm only half joking. It's pretty bad when I send something back like that, and expect anyone to take it seriously. Really, they may really think I'm going crazy over here."
* * *
He needn't have been embarrassed. He couldn't know that they had received more than two dozen reports of the identical dream, and from very reputable people, their people. Who knows how many others had had the same one. Hundreds? Thousands? Perhaps more? And anytime, anytime, a leader in the Middle East and nukes are mentioned in the same sentence, people take notice.
* * *
And not just their people.
* * *
"That's it. I sent it. Leave the light on out front so the boys from the asylum can find the address. I'm sure they've got a room reserved," commented Tim, fixing one more drink.
"No, seriously. How can you joke about it? If this is all true...."
"Well, that's the thing. IF we have the right person. IF this is what is planned. IF this is the time. IF I'm not totally nuts. They haven't gotten where they are by being stupid. Look at your own reaction. If it doesn't make sense to you, and you've seen the stuff your grandfather had, who would it make sense to? Even the people who actually are looking for this, the ones who believe in it, even they won't know for sure until he steps up to take power. That could be now, or it could be a hundred years from now. Me, I think we're close. I think the signs are there, but...
"We haven't seen a power grab anything like that yet. Have you seen anyone trying to take over the world? I haven't. Sounds kind of silly when you say it like that, doesn't it? Sometimes even I wonder about it."
He sat down, and began rubbing his eyes. "Seems like I've been doing this forever. It's gotten so I can't even tell what's really crazy and what's just ridiculous. Maybe I really am going nuts."
She stood up and walked over behind him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she began massaging his neck.
"Well, if that stuff hadn't been in my grandfather's collection, I don't know if I would have bought any of it. But now, I don't know what to think."
He turned around in his chair. Her hands stayed, resting on his shoulders. He looped his around her waist. "See what I mean? How do you convince anyone else? We can't both be nuts."
His hands stayed around her waist. He liked the way it felt. She didn't pull away, but looked down at him, and with her hands still on his shoulders, pulled him in closer. He looked up at her as she looked down. She kissed him lightly on the forehead, then lingered there for a moment. He pulled her closer, and this time his lips found hers, more forceful this time. The day's pent up emotions finally caught up with the two of them, and this kiss was long and intense.
He knew it was because she had become a friendly face far from home, and because of the emotional roller coaster of the day, but he didn't care.
She, too, knew there was no good reason for this, other than it just seemed right, and she didn't care either.
She was surprised at the intensity of his response. Not that she minded. No way. They broke for air, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, both still embracing, her still standing, leaning in on him, him still sitting. The tension had been building. And it had been a while...
But his story. Could there be something to this? She wasn't about to quit her job, go down to the basement, and tuck her head between her knees, waiting for the end, but...
There had been just enough accuracy, enough factual material, in the history to keep her interest, like a Dan Brown novel. True to the facts, almost all the way through, keeping it all believable, with just a little twist to make a great story. Enough to reel you in.
It had been that way for centuries. Just enough to keep generation after generation looking. Well, she wasn't about to get sucked into something silly or superstitious. But then again, she did have the next two days off, and it was kind of interesting....
She loosened her grip and leaned back, tipping his head so she could look him in the eye. "Tell you what, mister. I'm not saying I buy all this stuff, but it is kind of weird. I have the next two days off. If you want to stay here, you're welcome, and I'll help you do whatever you do. But if you start talking about UFO's, you're out of here. This is weird enough.
Anyway, for next couple days, I'm all yours." And you are gonna be mine...
"Let's see what's going on" she continued. "Then, after those two days, I go back to work and back to my regular life, and you go wherever. I'll do this one thing for my grandfather, and kind of out of my own curiosity. Nothing more, okay?"
He smiled. "Bitten by the bug, huh?" He stood up. "That'd be great. And I'll pay you for your room and board. I have an allowance for that, and you might as well get it." She started to protest, but he stopped her. "Don't be silly. I'm gonna spend it somewhere, and you bought dinner tonight, so it's only right." He picked up his drink. "Let's get to work, then. But first, where'd you put those donuts?"
* * *
They went back to the little room with the computer and got online. He went to his office website and logged in. As soon as he finished the sign in, a flashing box indicated new mail. He clicked it. There were several new messages. "That's odd. Several new messages - something must have happened." H
e clicked on the bottom one, the oldest, marked only a few minutes before, just after his last message in.
TO: t.biazzi"vaticanresearch.org
FR: a.sartini"vaticanresearch.org
RE: H. R.
Your information consistent with file. Informed that G.R. and H.R. both enroute Tehran. Find out more about H.R. and contact me with info. Speak to no one else-contact me directly. Minimal info available, looking for more now. Be careful what is sent - interception possible.
Intercepted? By whom? Who would care? He closed the e-mail box, and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the corner of the ceiling. Reflexively, she followed his gaze, noting a web in the corner. Embarrassed, she looked back at him. He didn't see it. Or anything. He was deep in thought again.
"Well, what is it? What happened?"
Sitting back up, he swiveled around in the office chair to face her behind him sitting on the bed. Looking her in the eye, he again pursed his lips as if he were about to say something, then thought the better of it. He looked away for a moment, then looked back.
"All right. There was a little bit more. I never put too much stock in it, thought it was more of a legend. Maybe it still is, but for this to happen at the exact same time as all the rest... I never would have believed it." He looked down and away.
"What? What's a legend? Didn't tell me what? There's more?"
"Alright, alright." He paused a moment, looking at her, pursing his lips as if wondering if he should go further. Then, decision made, he continued.
"If you thought the other stuff was hard to believe, you're gonna love this..."
* * *
And he told her the story, and more, as the night went on. But, when she finally dropped off to sleep in his arms, she didn't dream of nukes. No, no nukes. And when he asked what she had dreamed of, she just blushed, and said she couldn't remember.
Chapter 27
Receiving the Message
He was sitting on the sofa in his private sitting area, just off his office, leaning forward, much like a police officer back in the U.S. had been doing, and for the same reason. The story he was being told was similar to a story he had heard as a child in the small village in northern Iran where he'd been raised. A story that had changed a little bit with every telling, much like the party game. Certain elements were there, even if the story he'd heard as a child had been clouded by the embellishments.
The spaceman coming down with the gift of a star had been reduced in this story to a found meteorite, even if that meteorite had been different than most. The princess had, well, that hadn't changed much. His mother had told about the princess becoming magically powerful after a secret cult had cut out her heart and replaced it with this stone, but in the story he was being told, she had simply absorbed the power of this special stone through a star symbol, and passed it along her bloodline.
He wasn't sure which was more difficult to believe. The stone, or star, or whatever was supposed to be locked away in the Vatican. Since this was supposedly a natural power, a pagan source of energy, not of the Judeo-Christian God construct, the early Pope had declared it to be of the devil. Not difficult to think of what his response would have been had he seen a modern day Energizer Bunny or a Lithium Battery. There weren't a lot of options there, it seemed. You were either with him, or with Satan.
He was told that this bloodline was still supposed to be intact, as was the cult of protectors. The two lines were to have been separated at the initiation, but would be joined together at the end. The stone was supposed to make both more powerful, but nothing specifically said how. He finished the tale with information that this bloodline had become more powerful and more wealthy with each generation, up to and including the current one.
The final sentence given during the report was cryptic, though clear enough to Zarin that he was left, literally, speechless. As he tried to comprehend the significance, the amazingly accurate prophecy of those words, possibilities swirled around his head.
"I will tell you now the message as it has been told before. Once each generation the message is passed on. To every previous generation, it was not the right time, but the message was given. This, also, may not be the right time, but you will be given the message. If it is not the right time, I or my successor will deliver the message to your son, and your grandson.
You will not speak of it to them before me; for it must be delivered at the right time, by the right person. This is as it has always been. This is as it must always be. This is the message:
"The star of five will rise above the one of six. The thousand points of the first star will each become a star of its own, with untold power, and the brightness of a thousand stars will rise from that land of conflict. As it settles, peace will reign throughout, and the hot desert shall bring forth cool streams."
He thought about it. Replayed it in his head. Again. And again.
This was it. Confirmation of all he had thought. It wasn't just him, it wasn't narcissism, as some around him thought. It was true, he had been chosen. Chosen to lead. The star of five would rise above the one of six. His birthmark, and those before him, all hidden from others. Often used, or stolen, as symbols often are, in witchcraft and other pursuits, the five pointed star encircled, the mark described on the woman in the story, the mother of his distant father of fathers, the mark hidden beneath his hair, behind his right ear, it would rise. Rise above the six pointed one. The star of Israel. He would rise above them! It was written! The brightness of a thousand stars rising from the land of conflict - that could mean only one thing. His nuclear launch on Israel would be successful. And when it all settled, as he had always thought, the other countries would back down. There would be peace. And with the peace, prosperity. The cool streams of water from the recovered desert would flow, and in these newly developed farm lands, prosperity and peace under his rule.
He stood. He looked at the letter in his hand, the signatures all aligned, one after the other. Generations of his predecessors. All in place, all aligned, all their history, just for this moment. For him.
"You won't be needing this back," as he placed it in the top drawer of his desk. "You have been blessed to deliver the message at the right time. There will be no others. This is the time."
The messenger was stunned.
"I beseech you, sign and return the letter. This is as it has been done, and as it should be continued. There have been others, long before you and me, that have mistakenly believed such time was upon them, and were sorely mistaken. Your father, your grandfather. These men understood. And they were correct. This is why the message is continued. This is how the message is continued."
"You heard me old man. Your message has been delivered. It is time for you to leave. The letter stays with me. There will be no others."
"Hubris! You challenge the very gods above you, He who has placed you in this position! Please, do not do this. This is the message that must be delivered until the time has passed. If it is not, if there is a mistake, there will be no recourse. The work of generations will have been for naught."
Zarin pressed a button on the side of his desk. The door immediately opened, and two security personnel appeared. "Please escort our guest out. Our meeting is complete." As the man turned, shaking his head, walking out the door Zarin caught the eye of the Sargent, having him stay behind. When the other guard and the messenger were out of earshot, he spoke softly, "That man has very sensitive knowledge, and it must not leave here. Be quiet, and let no one know, but deal with him as soon as he leaves the facility. He must speak to no one, not now, not ever."
The Sargent saluted. "It shall be so, and none shall be the wiser of the misfortune this poor fool has befallen."
* * *
And with that final act of barbarism, the chain was broken, the line completed. This would be the end. He would be the one. There would be, there could be, no others. He was The One.
Chapter 28
Frankie leaves his mark
He felt better
than he had in years. He got up, early, to shower, clean up, and head for work. This was going to be a great day at work. His last day at work as a nobody. It was working out better than he could have dreamed. His fantasies were back in high speed mode. The offer he had been given was all he had hoped for. Well, perhaps not all he had hoped for, but most. He had been offered a hundred thousand Euros. Five thousand in cash, stashed in a box behind some unread books in his apartment for the time being, and ninety-five thousand more, also cash, on delivery, with the condition that he deliver it on time, in the proper place, and that he never speak of it now or later.
He wasn't stupid. Unspoken was the other side of that. There was no returning the initial five thousand, there was no asking for an extension. Only a very, very foolish man would think to speak of it later. It was all or nothing, and nothing was not an option.
All he had to do was bring the chest to the disposal area, and get it through the gate with the rest of the garbage. On the other side, the dumpsters were in an area not readily visible to security, open to the street for the trucks to get access. Not exactly a tourist highlight, but every building had to get rid of garbage, even the Vatican. This was where the exchange would take place. A car would pull up, and he would trade trash for a new life.
Sleep had evaded him most of the night. He played it out over and over, alternating with plans on spending. True, it was not millions, but he had always, in reality, known that was never going to happen. A hundred thousand Euros, tax free. That was enough to clear up his minor debts, find a better place to live and take a little vacation - he had more than two weeks coming, but had had no money to spend. By his calculations, and he was no math wizard, but still, he figured he could split the rest. Put half into retirement - with his pension, it would be a nice bump up in a few years - and half he would gradually take a little out of each year, kind of like a raise. Actually, it would be a pretty significant raise, since it would all be tax-free.
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