Journey Into the Flame: Book One of the Rising World Trilogy

by T. R. Williams

  Mr. Kayin easily slid the paper beneath it just as Mr. Perrot had predicted. He looked at Mr. Perrot, dumbfounded. “How could you know this?”

  The other members of the Council also looked shocked.

  “Because, my friends,” Mr. Perrot said as he stood, a solemn expression on his face, “I am Robert Tilbo. I was the young man Camden saved from the Forgotten Ones all those years ago and one of the original members of the Council of Satraya. And sitting next to me here is Camden and Cassandra’s son, Logan Ford. This is the news we wished to bring you. This is the news that should bring you hope.”

  The silence in the room was almost deafening. Everyone stared at Logan. There were no murmurs, no side conversations. This was the information Logan had coaxed out of Mr. Perrot after returning from his candle vision. Logan had seen the faces of the Magician and the Scholar and also the face of the man handing them their rings at the wedding. They were faces Logan easily recognized. The Magician was Logan’s father, the Scholar was his mother, and the ring bearer was Mr. Perrot himself.

  “Why, that’s me over there in that picture on the wall,” Mr. Perrot said, pointing to a framed photograph and releasing some of the tension in the room. Everyone looked at the picture. “Much younger and a bit better-looking back then, I’m afraid.” A smile came to his face.

  “My fellow Council members,” Mr. Kayin said as he retook his seat at the table. “I believe that this man is who he says he is. Let us give him our undivided attention.”

  22

  If all the world is a stage, are you satisfied with the supporting role that you are playing? Or is it time, perhaps, to take the leading role?

  —THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

  WASHINGTON, D.C., 2:12 P.M. LOCAL TIME,

  4 DAYS UNTIL FREEDOM DAY

  “Esteemed Council members,” Mr. Perrot began, “the events of the last few days have certainly shaken our lives and the lives of people all around the world who continue to understand the value of The Chronicles of Satraya and their place in history. I know that some of you must be wondering why Logan auctioned off his father’s set of the Chronicles and why I did not bring him forward sooner. The answers to these questions and many more lie in the past and concern a secret power struggle that occurred within the first Council of Satraya. Before I continue, I must have your assurances that the information I am about to impart will not go beyond this esteemed group. There may come a day when the world can know the complete true history of the Council, but for now, it must remain between us.” Mr. Perrot paused for a moment as, one by one, each member of the Council acknowledged his or her promise with the traditional tapping of the right hand on the chest three times.

  Satisfied, he continued. “The splintering of the original Council of Satraya was said to have occurred because members had grown weary of their work, and stress had taken its toll on them. At a Council meeting in late November 2037, the members decided it was time to return to their homes, and the Council’s responsibilities were handed over to a capable young woman named Cynthia Brown. Her leadership and vision guided the Council for the next thirty years, and we most certainly honor her for that achievement. But I say to you now that the recorded history is in error. There was a more sinister reason behind the Council’s splintering. At the center of that pivotal event were Camden Ford and Fendral Hitchlords.”

  Mr. Perrot took a sip of water and went on to explain what had really taken place all those years ago, including the recent details he had gleaned from the notes Camden had left behind. “Even though the Council did not operate under the authority of any government, Fendral and Andrea Montavon wanted the Council to wield a powerful political sword. Essentially, they wanted to turn it into an organization that enforced supranational laws. It would have allowed them to act with impunity as they amassed power over humanity. They masked their true motives with the reasoning that the sovereignty of the Chronicles should be guarded at all costs, that no one nation should ever claim authority over the books’ philosophies. While Camden agreed that the Chronicles belonged to all people, he was not prepared to endow the Council with so much power over people’s lives. He feared that Fendral and Andrea would twist the Council’s ideals into a means of repression and control that would benefit a select few. Camden did not want the Chronicles to become the cornerstone of some new oppressive religion or one-world government. We only have to look at history to see the danger that Simon and Andrea posed.”

  Mr. Perrot recounted Fendral’s threats and the mysterious agreement Camden had made with Fendral that had resulted in the Council being left in the hands of Cynthia Brown.

  “But what happened to Camden and his family?” Mr. Kayin asked. “You all seemed to disappear into thin air.”

  “After Deya and Madu left the country with their families, Camden and I did not trust that Fendral and Andrea would honor their part of the agreement. With the help of Camden’s father, who was a founder of the World Federation of Reconstruction, we were able to secure new identities. While the world puzzled over Camden’s disappearance, we traveled to New Chicago and began new lives. Camden and Cassandra became Henry and Alexandra Cutler. I became Alain Perrot. And that is how we all lived for over thirty years.”

  “Did Cynthia know any of this?” a member asked.

  “No, and we never spoke to her again once we left Washington. Camden did write to her as Henry Cutler from time to time over the years, though. Thanking her for her work on the Council and offering his support, occasionally a little advice.” Mr. Perrot paused and bowed his head for a moment to look at Logan before addressing the Council once again. “Two years ago, Camden and Cassandra Ford were killed during a purported burglary. Six months later, Deya Sarin died in a tragic accident. And Madu Shata has not been heard from in a very long time.”

  “Are you saying that Fendral’s heir is somehow responsible?” a member asked. “That Andrea is also involved?”

  “Fendral’s son is Simon Hitchlords,” Mr. Perrot answered. “And yes, I do fear that he is attempting to pick up where his father left off.”

  “We know who Simon Hitchlords is. While he has not been seen in public in many years, he is considered one of the world’s leading philanthropists,” another member said. “He has donated a huge amount of money to medical research, and he sounds more interested in saving lives than in ending them.”

  Adisa Kayin spoke. “Mr. Perrot, in light of all that has happened, do you think that Simon and Andrea are responsible for the murders of our fellow Council members and friends? We know it was Andrea who was bidding against Cynthia at the auction the other night.”

  “We are not making that statement,” Valerie jumped in, answering for her father. “We have no proof that Simon or Andrea is involved. But we are not going to take any chances. I have assigned a security detail to this office and to each of you until this case is solved.”

  “My daughter, Valerie, assures me that the WCF is doing everything in its power to investigate the murders,” Mr. Perrot added.

  While Valerie brought the Council up to date on the investigation, Logan leaned back in his chair and thought about his parents. He was still coming to terms with being the son of Camden and Cassandra Ford. His candle vision the night before had unearthed a secret that had been concealed from him all his life. The marriage of the Magician and the Scholar, the marriage of Camden and Cassandra, was the marriage of his parents. Even now, Logan’s heart raced as he absorbed that fact.

  “It would seem that I am now released from the solemn oath I made to your parents when we fled Washington those many years ago,” Mr. Perrot had said after Logan’s revelation the night before. “I hope you understand why I didn’t tell you. I swore to your parents. The world thought we’d perished, and for the safety of both our families, we needed to keep it that way.”

  “You should have told us,” Valerie had said. “With all your suspicions and theories, you should have told us the whole story.”

  Mr. Perrot had had a tou
gh time refuting his daughter. He’d only been able to drop his head in contrition as Valerie gave him a glowering look.

  “No,” Logan had said in a soft but confident voice, looking at Mr. Perrot. “You held true to your word. You did what you thought was right. My parents never doubted your commitment to our family or your friendship. And I’m not about to start.” Mr. Perrot had raised his head, touched by Logan’s magnanimity. “While I still need time to take in the fact of my parents’ identities, I’d still like to hear the whole story. The story of Camden, Cassandra, and their dear friend Robert. Right from the start . . .”

  Now Logan felt a tap on his shoulder. It ended his reveries and brought his attention back to the Council meeting. “Perhaps you would like to say something to the Council,” Mr. Perrot whispered to him.

  Logan gathered his thoughts, then stood and addressed the group. “In the last few days, my world has also been turned upside down,” he said, as Mr. Perrot sat down. “I knew nothing of my parents’ true identities before last night. But I did know that my father and mother loved everything about the Chronicles and lived their lives according to its philosophies. Until these past twelve hours, I didn’t understand where their passion and dedication came from. I didn’t understand the love they had for the books and why they cheered all the great strides the Council made over the years. Had I known who they really were, I never would have auctioned off the books. They would be in your possession today; I would have given them to you freely.” He took a deep breath, still feeling overwhelmed. “While I may not be able to get the books back, I hope that my coming forward as the son of Camden and Cassandra Ford will inspire all of us to turn this sad moment into one that will galvanize all who value the Chronicles’ philosophies and advance Satraya into the future.”

  At first, there was silence. Then Adisa Kayin started clapping his hands. Other Council members joined in, and soon the entire room was applauding Logan. Valerie and Mr. Perrot were also clearly moved. Mr. Perrot placed his hand on Logan’s shoulder.

  “It is no accident that you have come forward at this time,” Mr. Kayin said to Logan. “While we still grieve the loss of our fellow Council members, you have given us hope that the mission your parents started long ago will continue. We have work to do.”

  Valerie had leaked the impromptu meeting of the Council of Satraya to the news media, and reporters and cameramen were gathered at the entrance of the building to hear what it was about. It was agreed that Mr. Kayin would address the reporters with Logan at his side and would declare him a standing member of the Council of Satraya. This announcement was the bait that they hoped would draw out Simon and Andrea.

  “I do have one more question,” said a member of the Council, looking at Mr. Perrot. “You stated that you, along with Camden and Cassandra, fled to New Chicago with new identities. If Simon truly was behind the murders of Camden and Cassandra, then I have to ask, how did he find them?”

  Mr. Perrot, Logan, and Valerie could not answer that question. They had contemplated and discussed it the night before. But the only answer they could come up with was that someone else must have been involved, and that person must have betrayed them.

  Unable to answer, Mr. Perrot suggested that they go down to meet the reporters.

  23

  Your science is just starting to touch on the great physical mysteries of the universe. In the years ahead, you will find little difference between scientific discoveries and what the old sages have been telling you.

  —THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

  WASHINGTON, D.C., 10:30 A.M. LOCAL TIME,

  3 DAYS UNTIL FREEDOM DAY

  “Good morning, Martha. There should be a TA Four badge ready for Logan Cutler,” Valerie said, as she and Logan stood at the security desk in the lobby of the World Crime Federation building.

  After the Great Disruption, various police agencies had been combined to coordinate security around the world, and the FBI merged with Interpol and a few smaller agencies to form the WCF. All of the primary FBI buildings, along with the legal attaché offices, had been renovated to house this new force.

  “Great, TA, a temporary agent. Sounds pretty official. Do I get a gun?” Logan quipped.

  “No,” Valerie answered quickly. “But if I’m on the ground dead, feel free to take mine.”

  Logan turned serious.

  “Clip it on, and make sure it’s always visible.” Martha handed Logan the badge. “It will allow you to use the restrooms and the cafeteria. Your PCD has been linked to it, so we can track you wherever you go.”

  “Let’s go,” Valerie said, “and stay with me.”

  It had been decided that Mr. Perrot would fly back to New Chicago to look through Logan’s father’s old papers for anything more that would shed some light on Fendral’s secret and what Simon and Andrea might be up to. They also hoped he would find Camden’s journal.

  As Logan followed Valerie through a maze of hallways, he tried to shrug off her sarcastic manner. He wanted to develop the same kind of rapport with her that he had with her father, but if their childhood was any indication, it was not going to be easy.

  They took an elevator to the third floor, where the forensic laboratory was located. There Valerie opened the door of a supply closet, rifled through a stack of plastic-wrapped packages, took two, and closed the door.

  “A few rules before we go into the lab,” she said. “First, don’t touch anything. Second, you have to put on one of these jumpsuits so you don’t contaminate anything.” She handed Logan one of the packages.

  “Any other rules?” Logan asked, as he ripped open the package and slid the suit on over his clothes, struggling to get his shoes through the pants legs.

  “Yeah. Don’t touch anything.”

  “You already said that.”

  Valerie slipped on her jumpsuit, and they entered the lab through a set of steel doors, which opened automatically as they approached. Logan gazed around in amazement at the almost two-thousand-square-meter lab, which was built on a raised floor. He saw about twenty technicians similarly dressed in white suits and working busily. Even though the room had no windows, it was well lit, and the spotless white walls enhanced the room’s brightness. Voice- and motion-controlled computer displays filled the forty or so investigative stations in the lab.

  Charlie had already arrived and walked over to them.

  “Anything new this morning?” Valerie asked him. “Have we tracked down that Sato girl, Cynthia’s assistant, yet?”

  Charlie shook his head. “She’s disappeared. Off the grid. Wasn’t at her apartment, and her PCD location beacon is not registering. Communication satellites and all the local transportation hubs have been alerted. If she tries to leave the country, we’ll get her.”

  Charlie led Valerie and Logan through another set of doors and into one of the analytics labs.

  “The guys still don’t know how any of the Council members died.” He turned to Logan. “You’re not squeamish around dead bodies, are you?”

  Logan saw the corpses of the three Council members and Claire Williams lying inside large glass incubator-like machines. Different-colored wires were connected to the machines, and a white mist filled the cases from time to time, obscuring the corpses.

  “Biostasis chambers,” Charlie explained.

  “We call them bio-coffins,” Valerie added. “Basically, a dead body doesn’t decay when it’s in there.”

  Logan watched a lab technician with short blond hair and large black-framed eyeglasses draw blood samples from the bodies. He recognized her as one of the investigators who had been gathering evidence in the basement and the secret tunnel of the Council building. Charlie led Valerie and Logan over to another forensic agent sitting in front of a large display. “All right, Goshi, tell the chief what you have.”

  “Not much,” Goshi said. He brought up images of the four corpses on the screens. “There are no signs of trauma. No gunshot wounds or knife wounds, nothing external. We pumped their stomac
hs and didn’t find any poisons. Based on the evidence at the crime scene, we believe they all ate takeout from the same place, a diner.”

  “A place across the street from the Council building called Pepper Jack’s,” Charlie clarified. “We sent an agent over to speak to the owner.”

  “We are also checking to see if there was some kind of airborne toxin, but we’ve got nothing yet,” Goshi continued. “The traces from their lungs look fine. It’s as if their bodies just stopped working for no apparent reason.”

  “Well, something killed them,” Valerie said, clearly exasperated. “Anything more on the burn mark on the desk or the hole we found in the basement ceiling and the meeting-room floor?”

  “No signs of any combustible agents and no residue traces,” Goshi answered. “I have no idea what caused the burn mark, but I’d guess some kind of laser device made the hole in the ceiling and the floor.”

  Logan’s curiosity had gotten the better of him. While Valerie and Charlie talked to Goshi, he walked around the lab, examining the white machines that beeped and hummed and purred. He had no idea what any of them did, but he was fascinated by the ones that had screens displaying colorful graphs, pulsating dots, and complex numerical equations. He stopped and watched the blond lab technician he’d seen at the Council building manipulate the projection of a DNA strand.

  “This is incredible imagery,” Logan said. “The detail is certainly impressive. And the colors are so vibrant.”

  “I can’t say that I’ve ever heard anyone describe DNA like that,” the technician said. “But I suppose that’s how an artist would see it.”

  “You saw me on the news yesterday, didn’t you?” Logan said.

  “Yeah, I think everyone did. It must be pretty cool being the son of Camden Ford,” she said with a smile. “My name is Sylvia, by the way.”