by Mary Eicher
“You are staying out of it, right?”
“Yeah. Jake sent another reporter.” Lucy’s voice contained a hint of disappointment. “I’ve been watching the feeds come in.”
“Do you think this new group is related to the Servants?”
“Not their style.” Lucy thought out loud. “Uberdorf isn’t a social justice guy. He prefers to attack in secret, not send a mob. This might be a new crackpot group.”
Artemis had a different sense of what was happening. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Can you trace the source?”
“No, it’s sourced all over. I can’t find the origin, but then I’m a technophobe, and a dumb one at that.”
“You have other talents,” Artemis said in a sexy voice. “Which brings me to something more important than the imminent destruction of San Diego. When can I expect you tonight?”
Unhappy that Lucy couldn’t provide an answer, Artemis sat down to follow the news of the public demonstration, finding it astonishing. She had never considered the Harbinger a threat, deadly or otherwise. The Harbinger hadn’t killed her brother. It seemed to have wanted to warn him. She saw it as an anomaly: a phenomenon that could be rationally explained, albeit she had no explanation yet. The reaction to the Harbinger posed the only real threat. Based on the images she was watching the threat was growing.
*
Uberdorf chose a local café he liked to see if treating himself would help improve his mood. The Brandon fiasco continued to eat at him, and he didn’t know if the cult was in the clear. The investigation would probably take several more weeks. His mentor had told him not to be concerned, which was good since the mentor seemed oddly pleased that Brandon’s mission had failed. Uberdorf wondered how the mentor had put the accident on him and worried to the point of paranoia the mentor would tie the whole thing to his plan to eliminate Osteen.
He tossed his cigarette butt into the gutter and glanced around. It was too quiet somehow. Normally, there were tourists strolling the streets and shopping at the plethora of stores. Uberdorf noticed the sidewalk was nearly empty. That was odd for a warm summer day. He found a table with an eager waiter and ordered.
“We only take cash,” the waiter told him.
“Why?”
“The owner thinks people are going to drop dead before the credit card company honors the charge. We’ve heard about people running up their charges when they hear the Harbinger. Go figure.” He cocked his head to one side and spoke in a whisper. “This Harbinger business has everybody spooked. Have you been watching what’s been happening? There hasn’t been anything like this for years. If you ask me, the government should do something about it. Business has dropped off, and people are nuts. You know one guy told me I should wear a mask to make sure I don’t get any Harbinger germs on his food.”
Uberdorf smiled and snugged his cap lower on his head. “Really! It’s getting that bad, is it?”
The waiter motioned to the window. “And you see that guy in the brown dress? He’s here every day with his Harbinger placard and donation box. It makes people crazy. Between him and that televangelist who’s always talking about the Harbinger smiting people, nobody can think of anything else.”
Uberdorf was relieved he had the anonymity of his cap and sunglasses. He enjoyed his meal as he pondered the waiter’s remarks. It was clear his cult was making progress despite a few mistakes here and there. His mood considerably brightened, he decided to leave a generous tip. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. He could smell the profit.
*
Artemis woke with a start, sensing the world had shifted, and a pressure wave was bearing down on her. She sat up and stared at the side of the bed where Lucy would be more often than not. This time she was not. Lucy had stayed late at work, and there was no way for them to get together with her current busy schedule. The world was spinning out of control, and Lucy wanted to report on it. The clock read 2:48 a.m., nearing the witching hour. Artemis combed her hair back with her fingers and listened to the heavy sound of silence.
She rose from the wakeful bed and went to find something cool to drink. The voices would come soon. They would pull at her and tell her things she didn’t want to hear. And with them would come the expectation and an inexorable need to respond. A sense of dread crept over her at the thought the voices would demand from her that which she did not want to give. They would strip away the happiness she had found and set her on a different course.
At precisely three o’clock she knelt on the floor by the windows in her bedroom and extended her arms as if praying in the shaft of moonlight. Change. The voices came as whispers at first and then a thousand sounds tumbling in the dark. Prepare. Change. The words cascaded through her mind; echoes felt in the depth of her soul. She bent her arms and turned the palms of her hands up, letting the whispers possess her.
Lucy called just after 9:00 a.m. She sounded tired and yawned twice before saying much beyond hello.
“I missed you last night.” Artemis hardly conveyed the measure of her somber mood. The voices had ripped the veil between the realms, and she had not fully returned. She needed Lucy more than she ever had. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m not sure, Temmie. My schedule is iffy for a few days. Something is happening in Italy. It involves the Harbinger, and miracle of miracles, Jake wants me to cover it. I think he’s feeling guilty about the way he’s treated me.”
“He should!” Artemis managed.
“It’s amazing, Temmie. It feels like a curtain is being lifted.”
Change. Artemis had been told it was coming, a fact she demurred from sharing with Lucy. The Harbinger was much bigger than a California oddity. She knew it was raising its head, gathering power, preparing to spread its dark wings.
“The Vatican announced that the pope will be releasing an encyclical in a few days, and the buzz is that he’s going to address the Harbinger. They haven’t indicated whether it will be ex cathedra or not. We have to wait to see what he publishes. I think they want to line up the bishops behind one official position.” Lucy issued a little chuckle. “I’m trying to negotiate a trip to Rome to cover it. I’m considered an authority on the Harbinger, you know. Want to go with me?”
Artemis smiled. “Is the pope Catholic?”
Chapter Ten
“Is Temmie going on the trip with you?” Angie asked as she helped her mother pack.
“Yes, she is, sweetie. We will be back in a few days. You have to take care of Grandma for me, okay?”
Angie jumped off the bed and put her arms around Lucy’s hips. “I don’t want you to go.”
Lucy picked her up and hugged her. They had never spent more than a day apart before, and the idea of the coming separation tugged at both their hearts. She promised to bring Angie a present and cuddled her for a while. Artemis arrived and had the Lyft driver wait while she went in to get Lucy. She found her and Angie hugging and on the verge of tears.
“Oh, my!” she said in a childlike voice. “May I cry too?”
Angie smiled and then buried her face in Lucy’s shoulder.
“What’s all this falderal?” Lucy’s mother joined them to take Angie so the two women could be on their way.
Angie ran over and gave Temmie a hug and kiss goodbye and then went back to her mother. “I love you, mommy,” she said, taking her grandmother’s hand.
“I love you, too, sweetie. I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
The ride to LAX was quiet. Artemis busied herself checking the tickets, allowing Lucy to compose herself. They had plenty of time before their flight, having factored in the extra hour it would take to get their Harbinger-free badges. She had the passports and the vouchers for the hotel. They wouldn’t need a car. You had to be insane or Italian to drive in Rome, and it was a magnificent city to walk around. Lucy had two interviews set up and was waiting on word of a possible third. Artemis squeezed Lucy’s hand and got a weak smile in return.
They made their way through the congesti
on of the airport and waited for their flight in a richly appointed lounge. Lucy was amazed at the perks that came with flying first class. Neither Jake nor the Times had sprung for it. It was all a gift from Artemis whom she was mildly surprised to learn had been to Italy twice before. Artemis preferred Tuscany to Rome but knew there wasn’t time to make any side trips. It was basically a quick in-and-out even if they did manage a few hours of sightseeing. Neither of them expected the differences that awaited them.
*
Governor Samuel Hemsley of California waited for the room to quiet down. He was not a patient man, but he had no desire to use his special sway with the current group. Events had driven him to take actions that would need the support of everyone in the room. He sat at the head of the long mahogany table picking bits of lint from the lapel of his expensive suit and let his attendees assemble at their own pace. His wife sat to his left, cool and elegant as usual. He gave her a shrug, and she smiled, approving of his patience. She was his lucky charm. Her presence insured that the others would remain calm out of respect, and he would need them to be calm and agreeable.
The governor of Arizona had accepted the invitation to attend the meeting for reasons concerning the involvement of his own state. His presence gave the meeting additional gravitas. And he was up for reelection like Hemsley. The recent escalation in violence and the worry that the Harbinger could spread into neighboring states meant what had been a California curiosity threatened to become an even greater problem.
The department heads postured as they filled in the seats around the table. They were flying solo, having been instructed not to bring their aides. But they knew one another well for the most part, and the atmosphere was collegial. They shook hands and exchanged quips as they selected strategic positions from among the plush chairs.
Hemsley waited for them to read the current draft of his opening proposal, and then he turned on the overhead and projected the pages one by one for discussion. The overall premise of the proposal was for Sacramento to manage the effects of the Harbinger phenomenon on the state’s population. There were three provisions to be considered. The legal language would be added later, but the main idea was obvious enough. They were gathered to review the overall concepts not wordsmith the document. Hemsley wanted complete unanimity on the proposal and the unlimited power it would allow him.
Provision one: the surgeon general of the state of California shall establish a new department for the purpose of developing and enforcing regulations to manage Harbinger-related issues.
“I know you’re new, Bret—it’s only been a month since Ramos’ death—but I think Health is the best place to locate this responsibility.”
Hemsley smiled at the naïve man who had replaced California’s ill-fated Surgeon General Ramos just weeks ago. “You can count on the help of everybody else in the room.”
Heads nodded, but Bret Bryant looked pale as he contemplated the new responsibility. He was a physician not a bureaucrat. He had no idea which of his team could handle this particular football or if it could be handled at all. Opinions had changed on a dime the moment his predecessor had fallen victim to the Harbinger.
“So, you’re thinking this is some sort of epidemic?” Bret asked.
Sarah Hemsley gave him a kindly smile. “No one knows what it is, Bret. But the effect it’s having on the people is clearly a health issue. We need to focus on mental health, at least at first, and calm the situation down. Who could be better than a physician to accomplish that?”
Who indeed? thought the conservative appointee. He could come up with a hundred suggestions if he had to. But he merely nodded and rued the day he’d accepted the governor’s offer. He watched Sarah Hemsley finger her thin pearl necklace. He’d been told not to challenge her if she touched the pearls. Her gesture of finality was well known among the staff.
There was a brief discussion about how seriously to take the Harbinger. Hemsley had expected there would be. He let his department heads grouse and then continued the course he had carved in political stone.
“If nothing else, these provisions will send the message that the government is going to help,” Hemsley stated when the side discussion began to peter out.
“And you will all look like you’re doing something,” Governor Dan Carlton of Arizona added. “That’s not a bad look in an election year.”
A few of the participants chuckled nervously. Hemsley moved the discussion to the next provision. Provision two was a maze of regulations that empowered businesses to refuse service at their prerogative and greatly expanded government control. The projected image of the provision looked like a page out of a socialist manifesto. In truth they were an overreach Hemsley had concocted using the chaos of the Harbinger to seize the political power he coveted.
A chill settled over the room. It was obvious the participants felt the proposals were going way beyond what the public should accept even if people would tolerate the power grab during the current crisis. Hemsley waited for comments, but there were none; just a feeling of malaise as they read the slide. Then he moved to the final proposal.
Provision three: a detention center will be established. Anyone infected by the Harbinger is required to report immediately to the authorities. Such persons will then be adjudged for removal from the general populace or permitted to remain sequestered in their home.
“I can’t see anyone actually doing that, can you?” The lieutenant governor lit a cigar, a sure sign he was annoyed. “Jesus, Sam. This is ridiculous.”
Hemsley stood. “I have people rioting in the streets, Norm. I have churches being blown up and worse. Absenteeism is rampant in the manufacturing sector. It’s a goddamn mess. We will be as diplomatic as possible, but we need to treat this crisis as an infection. Unless you have a better idea—something you’ve kept hidden for the past four months.”
Norm blew a column of smoke into the air, pantomiming his opinion. Hemsley slid an ashtray down to him and made it clear the cigar was as unwanted as the man’s objections.
“The word infected is a problem in its own right, Sam. There’s no evidence the Harbinger is an infection. Hell, there’s no evidence there is such an animal. There’s just a lot of hysteria and a bunch of religious fanatics losing their minds.” Norm squashed the cigar in the ashtray.
“That’s why we’ve given this matter to the department of health,” Sarah said calmly.
The guest from Arizona walked over to procure a fresh cup of coffee. He leaned back against the serving table and folded his arms.
“Where?” he asked simply. “Where are you going to move them to, all these Harbinger victims? You got a detention center in place already?”
All eyes turned to Hemsley who stared straight at his guest and answered.
“I was planning on sending them to you, Dan. Arizona’s got centers in place for housing illegal immigrants, the flow of which has greatly decreased since word of the Harbinger of Death started spreading. I was going to charm you into repurposing the centers. Perhaps even building more if it becomes necessary.”
Norm unfolded his arms and set his hands on his hips. “You haven’t got that much charm, Sam. You never did.” He stood tall and imposing for a moment and then relaxed back against the table. “But you do have money. A hell of a lot of money. More than we’ve got in Arizona.”
*
It was obvious from the moment Artemis and Lucy emerged from Aeroporto Internazionale di Roma—Fiumicino that Italy was not in the throes of Harbinger hysteria. Rome was boisterous and alive. The roar of traffic with an almost constant drum of engines and horns assailed them. People, thousands of people, went about their activities to the sound of cell phones, Carabinieri whistles, and the airport’s mechanical curbside announcements. Lucy felt as if she’d stepped back to a time before the clarion call of the Harbinger had brought a hush to her world.
Artemis procured a cab to take them to their hotel. The weather was mild, so she planned for them to take a short rest and then ge
t out in the sunlight to reset their internal clocks. The cab took an extended route through the city. Watching Lucy drinking it all in made Artemis smile, especially when they passed the Forum and the Colosseum. Lucy had that “My God, it’s real!” look on her face first-time visitors often have.
After their nap, they dined at a sidewalk restaurant with long outdoor tables meant to be shared by strangers. The tables were covered with red-and-white-striped awnings that swayed in the cool breeze. The aroma of basil and garlic filled the air, and they both realized how hungry they were as they perused the paper menus. Artemis ordered the pasta special and was amused when Lucy selected a pizza.
Lucy smiled sheepishly. “I understand the word pizza!”
“It’s different than you think,” Artemis warned her.
The waiter brought a plate containing a round of slightly bubbled pizza crust saturated in olive oil and loaded with strips of ham and mushrooms. Lucy studied it for a few moments and then tore away a small piece and tested her meal.
“It’s delicious!” she pronounced, going back for more. “But it looks nothing like Domino’s.”
“Just another reason to love Italy,” Artemis pointed out.
A man with thick, wavy brown hair and pale-gray eyes sat down across from them at the long outdoor table. He was handsome, his face dominated by a trimmed mustache, and he oozed a casual charm. He wore a dark-blue cotton shirt, his sleeves turned up at the wrists. He gave them a friendly smile and ordered a glass of wine and a meal and then set down his magazine and admired the two women across from him.
“My name is Giovanni.” He introduced himself with a subtle accent. “May I ask, is this your first visit to the Eternal City?”
Artemis shook her head while Lucy responded “Yes!”
The man flashed another handsome smile. “For one of you then? Prego. Permit me to welcome you to my city. It is a delight to have such beautiful guests.” He was enchanted by the remarkable dark-haired woman whom he assumed must be of Italian heritage. He felt a sense of loss when he learned her name.