by Ciana Stone
He was lying on a hard, cold surface. He sat and felt the rock beneath him with his hands. The gurgle of the water penetrated through the sound of his pounding heart.
He flexed his left hand, and the stiffness helped him to remember. He was in a cave and something bit his hand. But the pain was gone. His head jerked upright as his mind cleared. The visions returned in perfect clarity as did his memory of himself as Cord Alexander and the time he spent with Joe as Ancient Warrior.
Two different and separate lives, yet both one and the same. Like two halves coming together as one, the two lives met and merged in that moment. The man he’d once been and the man he’d become melded..
He rose, picked up his hatchet and slipped it into his belt. Retracing his route through the tunnel, he located his hammer, which he’d left to mark his way back to the exit.
Cord looked up. One shaft of light shown down from above. He wasn't really sure if the beam of light was real or if he saw it only in his mind. Either way, it didn't really matter. He knew its meaning.
He continued the climb and returned to the mouth of the original cave. Without even a moment's hesitation he walked to the opening of the third and final tunnel. But it was too small and narrow for him to get into. He took the hammer from his belt and chipped away at the sides of the passage.
There was a time he'd have thought of the passage of time as a punishment, something to be endured. That was no longer the case. He focused on the take at hand and let the hours slide around and through him.
When the opening was wide enough for him to wiggle through, he entered and discovered that instead of a narrow slope slanting up or down, this passage had steps carved into the rock. The steps wound out of sight, illuminated by a green-tinted glow that seemed to originate from the stone itself.
His mind was calm and without fear as he began the ascent. All day he climbed the stone steps that twisted and turned like a coiled serpent within the belly of the mountain. Ever upward, he walked the steps until at last they ended before a small wooden door hinged into the stone.
When he pushed against the door, it opened, and he found himself in a large room with a smooth flat floor of polished stone and high vaulted ceilings of the same material.
From across the room light filtered in through wide slits in the walls, the openings carved from the stone and spaced evenly apart. The light cast dark shadows along the walls, lending a haunting quality to the room.
On the floor not far away sat two clay bowls containing fresh fruit and vegetables. A cup in the shape of an ancient chalice held what looked and smelled like hot tea.
He walked over and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the food, waiting. Time passed silently and then a voice from one of the shadows broke the quiet.
"Why do you not eat?" the voice inquired.
"It's not polite to take without permission," Cord answered.
"Are you not Ancient Warrior?"
"I've been told that I am. Or was."
"Then the food is for you, a gift from the earth brought here by Golden Eagle, messenger to the Great Spirit."
"Why would the Spirit Keeper of the East bequeath such an honor to me?"
The voice paused for a moment and Cord heard what sounded like the whisper of many winds move through the room and through his mind. But he could feel no air stirring around him, no touch on his skin. Patiently he waited.
The whispering winds died away, and the voice spoke again. "There is a dark threat," it said in a hushed tone. "Its tendrils reach far across the land. Its power threatens all the brethren of the Others."
Cord felt a tightening in his chest as he listened to the voice. "This danger must be eliminated so that the Others may survive."
"And if I refuse this quest?" Cord asked, fearing the answer to come.
The voice sounded infinitely sad, "Then that which is most precious will be lost to you forever."
Cord closed his eyes for a moment then opened them and stared straight ahead, his posture rigid. "How will I know who to fight to stop the darkness?" he asked.
"You already know," the voice said.
Cord fell silent, thinking of his vision about Big Jeff and what he had seen in Jeff's mind. The most precious thing. He thought, knowing would have to be Morgan. She was more precious than anything, even his own life.
"But who brings the darkness? Who do I have to fight?" It occurred to him it didn't matter. In time his enemy would reveal himself.
"Okay," he accepted the challenge. "Where do I start?"
"Eat and your journey will begin," the voice faded away.
Cord picked up the first bowl and helped himself to its contents. The fruit was sweet and juicy. Once it was empty, he polished off the contents of the second bowl, then drank the tea from the ancient chalice.
His eyes became suddenly heavy, and he felt himself growing very sleepy. Giving in to it, he stretched out on the smooth floor and fell into a deep but pleasant sleep.
Jamaica
"Victor, I don't need any more clothes!" Morgan protested as he steered her in through the door of an elegant boutique.
"Yes, you do. I told you I have a very special evening planned for us and you must have something special to wear."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Vinsetti." A middle-aged woman greeted him in a somewhat ostentatious tone. "It is good to see you. How may I help you today?"
"This beautiful woman needs a special outfit," Victor tugged Morgan along.
"Ummm," the woman studied Morgan, walking around her as if she were sizing a cow on the auction block. "Yes, I think we may be able to take care of that for you. Please have a seat in our viewing area and I will have things brought out for your approval. Would you care for something to drink while you wait?"
"No." Victor declined as he led Morgan over to a grouping of Victorian furniture upholstered in red and gold brocade.
She sat down beside Victor on the loveseat, feeling very awkward and out of her element. "Victor, this isn't my kind of place to shop. And, I like to pick out my own clothes. Let's leave."
He reached over and squeezed her knee. "This is the most exclusive shop on the island. They carry only the best here. Just be patient."
The woman returned, "I've taken the liberty of placing several selections in the dressing room." she said politely to Victor, then turned and looked at Morgan with an expression of disdain. "If you will follow me, I will assist you."
Morgan looked from the woman to Victor then back to the woman. "Oh, that won't be necessary. Just tell me where to go. I really don't need any help."
"Nonsense!" the woman puffed, "of course you do. Only commoners dress themselves."
Victor rose and pulled Morgan to her feet before she had a chance to say anything. "Yes," he looked at her, "of course you need help, darling."
Taking her arm firmly in hand, he turned to the woman. "Please," he gestured, "after you."
The woman smiled at Victor and shot Morgan a look that spelled her dislike plainly. She led them behind a bank of mirrors to a large dressing area and pulled the door open.
Victor pushed Morgan inside then followed, blocking the woman's way as she made a move to enter. "That will be all," he said and pushed the door closed in her surprised face.
Morgan laughed as he turned around. "Did you see her face?"
Taking a dress from the rack, he held it out to her with a sly grin. "Now," he said, "let's find you a dress."
Morgan slipped out of the short sundress she was wearing and began trying on the dresses. After the sixth one, she took it off and threw it at him. "Let's get out of here. This stuff is worse than awful, and that woman has a taste for shit."
Victor held up his hands, "Just wait here," he said and left the room.
A few minutes later he returned with two dresses slung over his arm. "Try this," he said and handed her the first one.
Morgan put the dress on and turned around to look in the mirror. It fit like it had been made for her. The material was
translucent, dancing with the shimmering colors of a peacock's feather, its color changing as she moved in the light. The top was strapless and stretchy, molding to the shape of her body and hugging her smoothly to just below the waist. The skirt was composed of many layers of the material of different lengths, stitched together so that the hemline was fluted at mid-thigh.
Small gathered straps that attached on either side of her breasts drooped across the tops of her arms, reattaching in the back to form a semblance of sleeves.
"Yes," Victor nodded approvingly as she turned to him. "I cannot decide if you look more like a wild gypsy or a fairy-tale princess. Do you like it?"
"It's beautiful!"
"Good," he said, "now try the other."
"Can't we just get this one and leave?" she pleaded, tired of trying on clothes. "You said one dress, remember?"
"Humor me," he took the discarded dress from her and handed her the other one. "Please?"
She sighed and took the dress, looking at it strangely and turning it around. "How do you get into this thing, anyway?" she said and tried to pull it down over her head.
After much wiggling and squirming she worked the dress down her body and turned toward the mirror. "No way!"
The dress was made like a skin-tight black tube. Victor thought it looked very appealing and tried to say so, but she was already trying to work the dress back up her body.
"Hey!" she called from inside the black material. "Help!" She got her face uncovered at last. "My hair's hung," she grumbled.
Victor's grin widened. "Will you stop grinning and get me out of this thing!" she said, still squirming around.
He reached up, took hold of her arms and backed her up against the wall. As he held her arms up with one hand, he ran his free hand across her breasts.
"Victor!" She looked at the door in alarm, "Stop! That woman might come in and see us!"
He smiled and lowered his face to hers, licking her bottom lip. "Are you embarrassed?" He asked as he kissed her neck then moved steadily lower.
"It's not that!" she protested, "It's–" a sudden intake of breath replaced her words as his mouth closed on a nipple. "Victor, don't" she pleaded. But her body responded even as she protested.
He paid no attention to the words. Slipping his hand lower down her body, he felt the wetness between her legs, his fingers moving into the source. She trembled and bit her lip to keep from making a sound.
He pulled his hand away and unfastened his slacks. Still holding her stretched up against the wall he wrapped his free arm around her body and lifted her.
She wrapped her legs around him as he guided himself inside her, and then suppressed a moan as he moved.
Suddenly the door opened to reveal the sales clerk. Her hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes popped open wide. "Oh, my God!"
Morgan stared in horror, her legs still wrapped tightly around Victor's waist as he held her pinned against the wall. Even with his pants bunched up around his feet, he was undaunted by the woman's appearance. He laughed out loud as the woman turned a bright red and fled from the door.
A few minutes later a smiling Victor and red-faced Morgan walked to the front of the boutique. "Have this put on my account and sent to my penthouse," he said and tossed the two dresses to the woman who'd waited on them.
She woman just stood with her mouth hanging open and her head nodding as they walked out of the boutique into the warm morning sun.
Chapter Six
Rock Ridge, Texas
"Good morning, Mr. Ramirez," Emma said as Juan brushed by her without even so much as a nod and headed for his office.
"Mr. Ramirez, you have visitors." Emma was trying to head Juan off at the pass but wasn’t having much luck. She followed him down the hall, almost running to keep up with him.
Juan turned into Emma's office and walked directly to his door, passing the two gentlemen who sat on the couch. Without so much as a glance at them, he opened the door to his office, disappeared inside and closed the door behind him.
The two men looked at each other and rose, making a move to follow, but Emma was too quick for them. "Now gentlemen," she barred their way. "Please be seated. I will have to announce you."
Once the men complied, she walked to her desk and pressed the intercom button. "Mr. Ramirez, there are two FBI gentlemen here to see you."
There was a long pause. Emma could see from the phone on her desk that Juan had picked up the phone in his office. She could also see the FBI agents were getting restless.
She did the first thing that came to mind and turned to them. "Mr. Ramirez will be with you momentarily. Could I offer either of you gentlemen a cup of coffee, perhaps?"
Emma's loyalty to Juan knew no bounds. She didn't care if the President himself were standing here. If Mr. Ramirez wanted to make a phone call, then she would see that he wasn't disturbed.
A few moments later she saw the light on her phone panel go out. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Ramirez opened the door to his office and looked toward the two men who waited to see him.
"Gentlemen," he greeted them with a smile. "Come in, please."
The men walked into the office and Juan gestured to a sofa along the wall. "Please, make yourself comfortable." He took a seat in a chair across from them. "Sorry about the delay."
Juan reached over and punched the intercom button on the coffee table. "Emma, please get our guests some coffee."
"Now gentlemen," he smiled and crossed his legs. "What can I do for you?"
"Are you Juan Ramirez?" the tall blond man asked.
"Why, yes," Juan smiled.
"Mr. Ramirez," the blond man said, "I'm agent Mark Samuels, and this is my partner, agent Andy Smith."
"A pleasure. How may I be of service?"
"Mr. Ramirez," Smith started. "Do you know the whereabouts of your partner, Cord Alexander?"
"Well no, I assumed he was here. Is he not in his office?" Reaching forward, he pushed the intercom button again. "Cord? This is Juan. Are you there?"
His eyebrows raised as if it the silence on the other end of the intercom surprised him "I'm sure he's around here somewhere. Perhaps in the lab." He made a move as if to punch another of the buttons on the intercom panel.
"Mr. Ramirez," Smith stopped him in mid-motion. "Your partner isn't here. We believe he’s disappeared."
Juan's eyes flew wide open, and he blinked at the men, seeming to be completely taken aback by the news.
Samuels was a little annoyed at Juan's attempt to feign ignorance. But he had to admit that the man was superb at it. He also realized they wouldn't get anything out of him he didn't want them to know.
"Look, Mr. Ramirez, we know you and Mr. Alexander worked on the nuclear waste tracking project together. Are you aware there are three cannisters of highly toxic nuclear waste missing?"
Juan raised his eyebrows again. "No," he said, then raised his hands, palms up. "But that explains it. Cord must be in Andrews. I'm sure this is all just a big misunderstanding."
"No, Mr. Ramirez, it's not." Samuels said then fell silent, watching Juan as Smith continued the questioning.
"Mr. Ramirez, exactly what role did you play in the project?" Smith asked.
"It was my responsibility to administer the project."
Emma entered with a tray of cups and a carafe of coffee. "Thank you, Emma." Juan smiled as she set the tray on the table between him and the other men.
"Coffee, gentlemen?" he asked politely.
Samuels shook his head while Smith answered, "No, thank you. Now, Mr. Ramirez, was it not your responsibility to select the equipment and to assist in the software's design?"
"I was in on the meetings, yes," Juan replied as he fixed himself a cup of coffee.
"And have security clearance to the site and to the computers?" Smith probed.
"That is correct. But my clearance is limited."
"How limited?" Smith asked.
Juan took a sip of coffee. "I can only run the programs. I can't change them."
Smith readjusted his position on the couch. "And Cord Alexander, is his access also limited?"
"Oh, no," Juan shook his head. "Cord has complete access to every area of the system."
Smith paused a moment before continuing, "Tell me Mr. Ramirez. Is there any reason you know of that would cause you to suspect Mr. Alexander in any, shall we say, wrongdoings?"
"Of course not. Cord's the most honest man I've ever known."
"I see," Smith nodded. "Do you have any plans to leave the country in the next six months, sir?"
"Yes, I have a holiday planned in Costa Rica at the end of next month."
"Mr. Ramirez, would you have a problem with checking with us before you do any traveling?" Smith requested.
"Am I under arrest?" Juan sat up straight in his chair.
"No sir," Smith raised his hand. "It's for your own protection."
"Protection? Do you think I am in some sort of danger?"
"Just standard procedure, Mr. Ramirez," Smith assured him. "With your help I'm sure we'll get this matter cleared up as soon as possible."
The two FBI men rose and left the office, escorted by Juan who walked them to the front entrance. Juan extended his hand to Samuels, then to Smith.
"It was very nice to meet you. If there is anything I can do, please contact me."
Smith turned as if to leave. But he immediately turned back to Juan as if suddenly remembering something. "Oh, there is one more thing. If you hear from Mr. Alexander, you will let us know, won't you?"
Juan smiled, "Certainly, gentlemen. You'll be the first to know."
Smith and Samuels returned to their car. As he opened the car door Samuels noticed that Juan had already disappeared back into the building.
"So," he looked over the hood of the car at Smith. "What do you think? Is this guy on the level?"
Smith slid behind the driver's seat and waited for Samuels to get in the car before answering. "It's hard to tell, Mark. I've been reading guys like this for a lot of years, but this one–I don't know. Maybe I'm getting old and cynical but right now I wouldn't trust anybody as far as I could spit them."
