The Cosega Sequence Box Set

by Brandt Legg

  “But how could your priest have known?” Sean asked.

  “It’s eleven million years old, so stories of it may have come down through myth and legend, maybe divine guidance. Clastier was a prophet,” Rip said.

  “Divine guidance? Why would the Church fear something that came through divine guidance?” Sean asked.

  “The Vatican believes that they are the one true Church; that they alone interpret the meaning and message of the one true God. What if they’re wrong? What if Catholicism is built on a flawed foundation?” Rip said.

  “They’ve killed everyone who’s seen it,” Gale said. “It’s probably something none of us knows. Maybe something in the missing Clastier Papers.”

  Rip, surprised by her theory, and upset at her mention of the missing Clastier Papers in front of Sean, tried to change the subject. “We don’t know anything for sure, just that the Eysen is extraordinary and we must protect it.”

  Sean’s expression remained skeptical. “You say it’s eleven million years old. How could it be?”

  “I don’t care if you believe it’s that old,” Rip said. “I’m not trying to prove it to you. But regardless of its age, its technology is far beyond anything we’re even close to in our advanced world.”

  “How can an archaeologist, of all people, believe this thing is even more than ten years old?”

  “Why are you so angry? Every conversation with you is a fight,” Rip said. “You can’t keep blaming me for your brother’s death.”

  Sean’s jaw clinched, his eyes narrowed.

  “I accept responsibility for sending him on the errand that got him killed,” Rip continued. “But I had no idea he was in danger of anything more than being arrested.”

  “Yet, you claim the Church murdered him and has already killed people for the Eysen.”

  “But, I didn’t know that then.”

  “You knew about Clastier; he led you to the Eysen. You said they tried to kill him.”

  “Damn it, Sean, that was a hundred and fifty years ago. How could I know they were still pursuing this?”

  “You knew.”

  Chapter 43

  Sean took a walk to cool off. It was Gale’s suggestion and he didn’t need much convincing. As much as he tried to get along with Rip, it was impossible. Fifteen minutes away from their camp, he climbed a sloping cliff, until he reached the high point where the NSA-issued mini-sat phone found a signal. The ledge made him a little nervous; he’d never been good with heights, but it was the closest place he’d found where the phone worked. Sean gave his report.

  Busman had been exercising and was breathing fast. “Are you keeping your cool?” he asked, knowing Sean’s psychological profile and the pressure he faced.

  “I’ve got it under control.” Sean’s lie concerned Busman.

  “Listen, Sean, I’m counting on you. We’ve gone to a lot of trouble to put you in this position. If you don’t come through, then I can’t keep up our end of the bargain. Gaines has information that we need and you have to get it. We’re working on getting live monitoring set up at your camp, but that likely won’t be in place until the morning. So, in the meantime, don’t push too hard. We want Gaines to stay right where he is until we get everything we need.”

  “What if he decides to go?”

  “He’d be making a mistake. Gaines will not leave the canyon with those artifacts.”

  “Okay.”

  “Make sure you’re his best friend, understand?”

  “Yeah, I got it. I’ll be cool.”

  “Good.” Busman resumed cycling on his portable stationery bike.

  Sean walked back to the camp, looking around nervously, worried the “Indians” were watching him. The paranoia, grief, and guilt were choking. “Best friend,” Sean said to himself, just before he reached the camp. “Josh was my best friend.”

  Sean panicked when he saw Tahoma whispering to Rip over near the creek. Tahoma nodded toward Sean. The two of them stopped talking and walked over to him. Gale sat next to the Eysen, near the tent.

  “Sean, Tahoma needs to show me something a few miles’ ride from here. We’ll be back before nightfall,” Rip said.

  “Fine, I’ll hang out here with Gale,” Sean said, relieved he hadn’t been found out.

  “I want Gale to come with us,” Rip said, now standing in front of Sean.

  “Why can’t I come?” he asked, suddenly suspicious again.

  “I just think some time alone will do you good. We’ll be back soon.”

  “Why do I need time alone?” Sean said, agitated.

  “Look, man, I know you’re still trying to cope with your loss and –”

  “My loss? My loss! How about trying to deal with the fact that you killed my brother!” Sean yelled.

  Rip looked over at Gale, searching hard for patience. Wanting to tell her, “I told you so,” he took a deep breath. “Sean, once again, I’m sorry, I asked Josh to take the casing. But the Vatican killed him, not me.”

  “Lies. All you say is lies. You killed Josh!”

  “What are you talking about?” Gale asked. “Sean, please, I miss him too, but you have to stop blaming Rip.”

  “He’s going to kill you next and then me. That’s what he does!”

  “Calm down,” Rip said. “You’re talking crazy.”

  “You calm down. You’re the crazy killer.”

  “Sean, I was with you when Josh was killed!” Rip yelled. Tahoma put a hand on Rip’s shoulder.

  “You didn’t want to get your important hands dirty, but you killed him. It still counts; even if you have someone else do it!”

  “Sean, you’re upset. Not only would it have been impossible for Rip to kill Josh, but he had no reason to kill him,” Gale said.

  “They showed me a video! I saw him pay the killers. He looked at photos of my dead brother and then paid the killers cash.”

  Gale and Rip looked at each other, stunned.

  “Who?” Gale asked.

  But Rip had already figured it out. He began scanning the area, trying to see up to the rim. Someone had gotten to Sean and convinced him that Rip had killed Josh.

  “He’s a plant. They know we’re here!” Rip yelled.

  Sean ran at Rip, fists swinging wildly. One of them connected on the side of Rip’s face, knocking him down. Tahoma shoved Sean backwards. He stumbled and then took off, running. Gale clutched the Eysen. Tahoma helped Rip to his feet.

  “Damn it! After all this and we’re done in by a kid. One of our own!” Rip shook his head and shot a seething look toward Gale.

  “I can’t believe he did this. I’m sorry, Rip,” Gale said breathlessly, as she grabbed her things.

  Rip couldn’t bring himself to answer. He hadn’t wanted to trust Sean, but he’d never imagined this. In confused panic, he took the Eysen from Gale, ran to the tent, got his pack, and checked the gun. Ready to go, he called to Tahoma. “We need to get out of here.” Then looked around. “Gale, where’s Tahoma?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “He must have gone after Sean.”

  “Tahoma,” he yelled.

  Gale ran through the trees to look farther down the canyon.

  “We have to find him; he’s our ticket out of here,” Rip said, chasing her. “The feds could be here any minute.”

  “Who do you think got to Sean?”

  “Does it matter? Whoever it is wants to kill us.”

  Chapter 44

  Kruse and Harmer had spent the day driving around the rim, stopping at overlooks, and trying to look like tourists. With high-powered binoculars and GPS, they searched methodically, hoping to get lucky and catch a glimpse of something down in the canyon that would lead them to their target. Booker checked in twice but still had no new leads.

  They expected additional personnel to arrive at any time. AX, Booker’s large and secret security force, had an elite division known as Black-AX, or BLAX, that was populated by former special ops soldiers. A BLAX crew was called in only when Booker found
himself in particularly sticky situations. This was clearly one of those times.

  NSA operatives surrounded them, the FBI couldn’t be far behind, and lethal Vatican agents were God knows where. Booker had an interest in Gaines and the objects he held; and had shown a fearless disregard for the law in protecting that interest.

  Kruse had worked with BLAX in North Africa, when terrorists had unknowingly tangled with a Booker company, and he welcomed their help here. The only chance to extract Gaines would be by using extreme tactics and highly trained personnel. “The Vatican boys might be hoping for divine intervention,” he told Harmer, “I’m counting on BLAX.”

  Barbeau rode back to Taos, sticky and wet from Teresa’s Jell-O attack. Hall continued to tease him, especially when he saw how angry it made him. Once Barbeau got cleaned up, back at their motel, his spirits improved slightly.

  “I’m telling you, she wasn’t crazy,” Barbeau repeated. “I want to talk to her again.”

  “Now who’s crazy?” Hall laughed, as they got in the car to head back to the state police headquarters. “And you say, ‘talk to her again?’ I don’t recall her doing much talking with you. All I remember is her whipping your ass!”

  “Yeah, well, maybe this time you should go in first, tough guy.”

  “And risk getting pelted with marshmallows? No sir.” Hall couldn’t stop laughing. “You go alone. I’ll be here writing up the report: ‘decorated federal agent pulls gun on hundred year-old woman serving Jell-O.’ Lucky she didn’t use something really dangerous like vanilla pudding!”

  A DIRT agent was waiting in the parking lot and got out of his car as they parked. He handed Barbeau a file on the Eysen. He flipped through it briefly. “Where did you get all this?”

  “The NSA isn’t the only one who can intercept and unscramble,” the agent said proudly.

  “This came from the NSA?” Barbeau asked.

  “Primarily. We did get a few additional details from the only person, outside of Gaines, Asher, and Sean Stadler; who has seen it . . . and is still alive.”

  “Who?” Hall asked.

  “Grinley.”

  “You found Grinley?” Barbeau asked.

  “Alive?” Hall asked.

  “Yes to both.”

  “Can we talk to him?”

  “I’m afraid he’s in protective custody. The Director believes the Vatican has a kill order on him. The NSA isn’t likely to bring him flowers either.”

  “Where?”

  “We’ve got him in a safe house in Colorado, but we’re moving him again today.”

  “I need to talk to him,” Barbeau said.

  “Take it up with the Director.”

  “When am I going to talk to him next?”

  “I’m not sure. In the meantime, read the report and I’ll pass along your request.”

  “I’d like to plead my own case to the Director. Grinley is critical to the investigation.”

  “I’ll convey your concerns. Now, we have reason to believe Gaines is on his way to Flagstaff, Arizona.”

  “His father?” Hall asked.

  “Yes.”

  “He wouldn’t be that dumb,” Hall said. “He has to know that a hundred people with guns are waiting there for him.”

  “Gaines is not dumb, he’s a genius, and smart people always do dumb stuff because they believe they’re so smart,” Barbeau said.

  “Sometimes,” the DIRT agent added, “they simply run out of alternatives. A man without choices is usually the most dangerous.”

  “Gaines is not a man without choices,” Hall said. “He’s the guy holding all the cards.”

  “Let’s hope he’s at least a patriot and not one of Booker’s properties. I’d hate to see that thing sold to the highest bidder.”

  They read the report in nearby Red Willow Park. “Can you believe this thing?” Barbeau said. “Last night I finished Gaines’s manuscript, The Future of the Past, and I have to admit, he may have proven his Cosega theory.”

  “If the Eysen really is an eleven-million-year-old computer, he’s proven a lot more than the Cosega theory.”

  “So, it’s clear the Vatican sees this as a threat to their Church doctrine, but they’ve had threats before. Isn’t that what they say faith is all about? They can pray away anything that doesn’t agree with their version of the world. Why does this one warrant such a massive response?” Barbeau asked.

  “The Vatican has Attorney General Dover in place and soon they’ll have the President of the United States, assuming Monroe gets elected.”

  “That hardly seems in question.”

  “So, for the first time in the modern era, at least since Kennedy, and on a much grander scale; the Pope will actually be the de facto leader of the world, albeit behind the scenes.”

  “And the Eysen is the only thing that could stop this from happening?”

  “World domination seems as good a reason as any to kill a few dozen non-believers.”

  Chapter 45

  In Flagstaff, Arizona, Nanski and Leary arrived at the radio station where Rip’s father worked. They knew a lot about the senior Mr. Gaines. An extremely conservative Republican who, although not Catholic, attended an Episcopal church religiously. That was close enough for Nanski, although Leary still considered him a heathen. They sat in the parking lot, listening to Gaines’ father espouse upon many of their own beliefs during his talk show. Leary couldn’t fathom how such a man would allow his son to grow up and destroy the world.

  “He’s not too close with his son, but the professor may have no other options,” Nanski said.

  “A team has already bugged his house, phone, and office. If his son contacts him, we’ll know. We even have his father’s favorite coffee shop being watched.” Leary smiled.

  “We need an update from the Attorney General. What does the FBI have?” Nanski asked. “Gaines could be anywhere by now. What if he’s nowhere near Arizona?”

  “The FBI is a joke.” Leary sneered. “Gaines has been lucky, but the oldest and mightiest power on earth is about to smear this bug on its windshield.”

  Nanski envied Leary’s blind faith, but he knew that most battles were lost while the losers clung to their faith that they would be won. “And what if God’s will is for Gaines to escape?” Nanski asked. “Where do the prophecies come from?”

  “Clastier? He was an agent of Satan,” Leary blasted.

  “And Saint Malachy?”

  “They are fakes!”

  “They are not,” Nanski said, calmly.

  “I too am a prophet, hear my words,” Leary shouted, raising his arm above his head. “Gaines will fail. It is known unto me, for it will be my hand that ends his life.” Leary dropped his voice to a whisper “God has chosen me for this purpose, have no doubt. Whatever quest Gaines thinks he’s on will end very soon.”

  Nanski nodded, but was no less worried.

  On the short plane flight to Flagstaff, Barbeau and Hall continued their conversation. The Eysen report had shaken them both. For the first time, they fully understood what they were dealing with; that missing piece which had eluded and bothered them throughout the case, now had finally fallen into place. The report terrified them with its implications.

  “What do you think the NSA is planning to do with the Eysen?” Hall asked.

  “Assuming they get it before we do?” Barbeau asked.

  “Or before the Vatican.”

  “They’ll use the technology for national security. I imagine that will eventually extend into aerospace, defense, Silicon Valley, and, depending on the contents, maybe even into pharmaceutical and medical applications.”

  “And a potential boon for the U.S. economy.”

  “Sure, but there’ll be a dark side, too. There always is,” Barbeau said. “The NSA could completely monitor every single aspect of our lives, leading us farther down the Orwellian path. First it’ll be in the name of national security. Then, when too much power is concentrated in too few hands, this new technology will hel
p quash dissenting voices, and eventually ‘the elimination of all threats domestic or otherwise’ is going to have a very broad definition.”

  “Quite a rosy picture,” Hall said.

  “Yeah, it’s already happening. Guys like you and me, we see the crime and the worst of society, so it’s easy to rationalize bending the rules, but slowly the things that made this country great are being chipped away.”

  “So you think it’s inevitable, even without the Eysen?” Hall asked.

  “The fact is nobody other than Gaines really knows what he really has in those artifacts. All the stuff in this file is conjecture, pieced together on the fly.”

  “You read the section about the Vatican; it sure seems like they have seen the Eysen. And if he’s got what they say, then it’s the key,” Hall said.

  “The key to what? The road to ruin or the path to redemption?”

  “I don’t know. But what if . . . ” Hall said, leaning close to Barbeau. “What if his find could be used for good instead of evil and control? It could have all the answers. Maybe the Eysen contains the miracle of peace and mindfulness, sustainable energy, health, everything.”

  “What if that scares us so much that we destroy it?”

  “Who would do that?”

  “The Pope, the President, this one, or the next . . . maybe a unit manager within the NSA. What about the Director? He knows how dangerous it would be if the wrong people got the Eysen, and if we do our job, the opportunity will be all his. After reading this report, I’m not sure I’d blame him.”

  “And Gale Asher’s relationships with Monroe and Gaines make her a real wild card.”

  “Booker, too. His reputation for being fiercely loyal is a plus for Gaines, but the Eysen is too valuable and may trump everything.”

  “My guess is that Booker has known all along what he’s been hoping to find. Just look at Gaines’s career, funded primarily by Booker, and a single-minded obsession toward Cosega . . . the Eysen. Booker has loyalty, all right, but it ain’t to Gaines, it’s to power.”