The plane would be landing at the Vault in about ten hours. Logan asked Sylvia if he could use her PCD to view some of the doctor’s notes that they had confiscated from G-LAB. She handed Logan her PCD and leaned back in her seat to get some sleep, while Valerie went up front to speak with the pilots. Logan navigated to the doctor’s notes on Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam fresco. Maybe there was something in the notes that he had missed.
52
The greatest thing that you can do for another is to take away his excuses. That way, he can never say, “I did not know” or “I was never told.”
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
BANARAS, INDIA, 7:30 A.M. LOCAL TIME,
21 HOURS UNTIL LIBERTY MOMENT
“I suppose there are worse places to die,” Simon said coldly.
Kneeling next to the limp body of agent Jogindra Bassi—Jogi, as he was affectionately called—Mr. Perrot surreptitiously tucked something under his deceased friend’s right shoulder.
“From what I hear, it is a great honor to die in this place,” Simon continued in a mocking tone. “How convenient that the cremation pyres are just over there. Come, now, stand up, Robert. There is nothing you can do for him.”
“You didn’t have to kill him,” Mr. Perrot said as he stood. “He was a good lad.” Mr. Perrot saw that Simon’s thug was now pointing his gun at him.
“I will have to take your word on that,” Simon said. He took off his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “It has certainly been a long time. You and Camden had us all fooled. I have to hand it to the two of you. You certainly have made things difficult for my family over the years.”
“When is this trail of bodies going to end, Simon? It seems that you are to blame for the death of every person dear to me whom I’ve lost over the past two years. Beginning with my old friend Camden and ending with my newest colleague here.” He pointed a finger at Jogi’s corpse.
“Oh, I doubt it will end here,” Simon retorted with a mean laugh. “I can probably come up with a few more corpses for you, Robert.”
“We know about your plans,” Mr. Perrot answered in a threatening voice. “We know what you and Andrea are up to.”
Simon shrugged. “Well, then you should know that everything is moving forward according to schedule.” He paused for a moment and took a seat on a block of stone. He looked at Mr. Perrot inquisitively. “You know, when we arrived at the ghat, I didn’t recognize you at first. But there was something that looked familiar. Didn’t I say he looked familiar?” Simon asked his bodyguard.
The thug nodded. Then he walked over to Jogi’s body, picked up his gun, and took the PCD, which was still illuminating the small room. “Where’s yours?” he coldly asked Mr. Perrot.
“I’m an old man,” Mr. Perrot answered. “What would I do with one of those?”
Simon’s man walked back over to the entrance and stood there.
“I kept watching you walk around,” Simon continued. “The two of you looked like you were searching for something. When I saw your friend go and get some tools, I could not help but wonder if you were looking for the same thing I was looking for. And then it hit me. Your face flashed in my mind. ‘Robert Tilbo,’ I said to myself. Funny how the brain works, isn’t it? I have to say that it was a brilliant decision on your part to look in here. I never would have figured out that ‘ear stone’ riddle. That was very well done.”
“I know why you want the books,” Mr. Perrot countered. “I know about the hidden symbols on the blank pages.”
“Hidden symbols?” Simon said, feigning ignorance with a thin smile. “What kind of nonsense are you spouting? I am a collector, a modern-day treasure hunter. I only want to complete my collection.”
Mr. Perrot shook his head, giving a defiant look. “The books are not here.”
Simon’s smug demeanor slipped. “Then where are they?” he demanded.
Mr. Perrot stepped to the side and pointed.
Simon rose from his seat and stood in front of the words chiseled into the wall. “How many damn riddles do I need to solve?” In a fury, he took out his PCD and snapped a picture of the message. After reading it, he took a deep breath and tried calming himself. “This riddle actually seems easier than the others,” he said, rereading the words. “Those instructions seem simple enough. I don’t think I need you any longer, Robert.”
Mr. Perrot gazed at him contemptuously. “Camden and I never saw eye-to-eye with your father during our years on the Council,” Mr. Perrot said. “Now I see that our suspicions were well placed. You are as evil as he was.”
“Your derision is misplaced,” Simon retorted. “We only wanted to use the Satraya philosophy to unite the world. Look around you, Robert. Left to their own devices, people cannot live in peace.”
“There is no war in the world,” Mr. Perrot said. “Bombs and missiles have been retired.”
“Wake up, Robert. You and I both know that people have replaced the old armaments with new ones. Such as information and technology. Why, that was even happening when we were children. Countries flexing their political capital over other countries, corporations squeezing the last bit of money out of consumers, people coveting their neighbors’ possessions. None of this has changed, and it never will. No, my friend. People need structure. They need order and laws. And they need leaders like us to provide them!”
“Leaders? You mean tyrants,” Mr. Perrot fired back. “No one should have that kind of power or authority, not even the Council.”
“Speaking of the Council, it is too bad that Andrea is not here. I think she would have very much liked to see you once again. As the situation stands, I don’t think she’ll get that chance.” Simon turned to his bodyguard. “Tie him up, and leave him here. Make sure you seal that opening good and tight. And take those tools there in the corner. We wouldn’t want him to dig his way out.” Simon turned back to Mr. Perrot with a smile and eyed him from head to toe. “It was certainly nice to see you again, Robert. I suppose my trail of bodies may end here with you. But as I said, this is a good place to die.”
“The symbols will not give you what you want!” Mr. Perrot shot back.
“Good-bye, Robert.” Simon did not turn around as he left the secret room.
53
Free will can never be taken. You will always have choices.
You even have the choice to let someone else choose what is best for you.
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
PEEL CASTLE, ISLE OF MAN, 7:00 P.M. LOCAL TIME,
4 HOURS UNTIL LIBERTY MOMENT
The fireplace was ablaze in the grand study of Peel Castle. Anita sat on the rug helping the two-year-old twin boys build a castle with blocks, while the infants napped in their baby swings and ten-year-old Halima colored a picture of the village north of Banaras where she used to live. Bukya sat farther away from the fire, keeping a watchful eye on everyone.
“What are we going to do with all of them?” Anita said softly to Sebastian, who sat nearby in an old tufted armchair.
Halima stopped coloring and asked, “Are you going to send us away? I like it here.”
Before Anita could respond, Lawrence rolled a cart containing food and drinks into the study. Halima jumped up and ran over to him. She gazed wide-eyed at the trays of cookies, cupcakes, and scones.
“Choose whatever you’d like, my dear. But may I suggest a cookie for each of the boys? And you can give this particular treat to Bukya.”
Halima nodded excitedly, filling a plate with sweets, and ran back to her spot on the rug to share her bounty with Bukya and the boys. Lawrence, meanwhile, took glasses of wine over to Sebastian and Anita, who had moved over to the crescent-shaped sofa. After he’d poured one for himself, Lawrence took a seat on a bench in front of a grand piano near the fireplace. He played a few quick notes of a melody that he was composing. “Still a little something missing,” he said as he spun around on the bench and faced the sofa.
Sebastian raised his glass. Lawrence and A
nita did likewise as Sebastian made a toast. “May who we are about to become, in all the coming moments, have the courage to do what we never have done before.”
Sebastian, Anita, and Lawrence closed their eyes for a moment, and each took a sip of the now-blessed wine.
“The children can remain here as long as they wish,” Sebastian said. “Just as you were allowed to do after Lawrence rescued you.” He smiled kindly at Anita, who appeared pleased with his answer. He looked at the clock, then at the portraits of his mother and father that hung over the fireplace. His expression turned grave. “Less than four hours now,” he said.
“I am sure the Ford boy will make his way through,” Lawrence said.
Sebastian seemed unconvinced. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees, a troubled look on his face.
“He will come through,” Lawrence reassured him. “There’s a good chance he might even surpass his parents’ achievements.” He took a sip of wine from his glass. “I remember a few troubling times when your mother and father also felt helpless.”
“Are the children safe here?” Anita asked.
“They are safe,” Sebastian said. “Based on the analysis of the blood sample and the vial brought back from the village, I can assure you that all the little ones in the world are safe from this threat.” He smiled as he watched the children enjoying their treats, then turned back to his companions. “My thoughts are also with the River Set. Deya’s books are being avidly pursued.”
“By whom?” Anita asked.
“By the one who now possesses the other three sets. Should he secure the fourth, he would be closer to mighty secrets and mighty power.”
“These are the same people who have brought the world to this dark moment, I fear,” Lawrence said. “A son who has taken up his father’s misguided pursuits. A son who disposes of anyone who dares get in his way.”
“You mean the same people who turned these children into orphans?” Anita spoke softly so the children would not hear her. Clearly upset, she set down her glass of wine. “What kind of pursuits could warrant such cruelty?”
“What does a person pursue when he has great wealth and there is no more to accumulate, but he still has not found inner happiness?” Sebastian asked. “What does a person pursue to fill that empty space?”
Anita knew the answer. “Power and control.”
“That desire can indeed intoxicate a man to the point of madness,” Lawrence added.
“But why are the original books so important to him?” Anita asked. “The very same words are available in millions of copies of the Chronicles throughout the world.”
Sebastian and Lawrence remained silent for a moment. Then Lawrence said, “The originals hold secrets. Secrets that some of the most noteworthy alchemists and philosophers of old pursued all their lives.”
“So it’s true, then,” she said. “You are speaking about the secret symbols.”
“You know more about this than you have let on,” Sebastian said with a smile. “It appears I should have been more careful about letting you into the downstairs library.”
Anita smiled back at him. “I found an old Bible in the study. Someone had circled the phrase ‘For those that have the eyes to see, let them see.’ There was some scribbling in the margin: ‘Illic es magis ut typicus in Chronicles quam opportunus lumen.’ ”
“ ‘There are more symbols in the Chronicles than meet the eye,’ ” Sebastian translated. “Very good.”
“There are more symbols than the four that can be plainly seen, aren’t there?”
“Yes,” Sebastian acknowledged solemnly.
“How many?” She sat forward on the sofa, leaning closer to Sebastian.
“Eight. Eight more were created to assist people along their journey. Four, as you mentioned, are plainly visible. They were given to start people on their journey. The remaining eight, which are veiled, point the way to complete it. It takes passion and a great deal of perseverance to lift the veil that conceals the eight. But once a person sees all twelve symbols, a thirteenth symbol will be revealed to him. And if a person were to see the thirteenth clearly, without distortion, that person would become legend. The owner of the world but with empty hands.” Before Anita could continue, Sebastian added, “And do not dismiss the great Satraya symbol that appears on the cover of each book. It too has purpose and power.”
“But shouldn’t the symbols be protected from the profane?” Anita asked. “Shouldn’t they be kept hidden from those who would misuse them?”
“It would seem so. But it is delicate work determining what to hide from our brothers and sisters, when we ourselves are perpetually evolving and unfolding. Who are we to veil what was once given freely to us?” Sebastian paused a moment, looking inward. He waited for his thoughts to coalesce. “The symbols do not care about the morals of men. They do not judge the intent of those who gaze upon them. There was a time when people could be trusted. Fifty thousand years ago, in an era referred to among sages as the Age of Satya—or the Age of Truth—people lived without envy, without greed. They possessed incredible respect for the life journeys of all. It was in that age that these symbols were first drawn, created by those who realized the great mysteries of life. They gave the symbols to all men, so that the paths of their own journeys would not be forgotten. That age lasted almost fifteen thousand years.”
“But then came the fall of the angels,” Lawrence added. “Men and women began to lose their way. They became lazy and impatient, addicted to the sensuous pleasures of life. Greed and power were the new symbols that were sought after.”
“War broke out,” Sebastian continued. “The wise ones were driven from the lands and fled to the great mountains. They left people to their newfound desires.”
“ ‘Better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven,’ ” Anita said, quoting from another book she had read in Sebastian’s library.
“Milton’s Paradise Lost, yes. That epic poem provides great insight into man’s separation from God,” Sebastian said. “The spirit within was forgotten; the God within was banished to live in a distant land. Humanity fell into a deep sleep. Instead of using the symbols for personal growth, people used them to wage war against one another. For this reason, the symbols had to be hidden; they had to be put away.”
Sebastian looked out the windows of the study at the perpetual motion of the sea—swells building in the distance, moving ever closer to shore, and crashing on the rocks, sending sea spray high into the air.
“I’m familiar with the Fundamental Four symbols,” Anita said. “They concern love, peace, freedom, and joy. But what about the others? Is it true that one of them concerns learning to heal the sick? That another deals with traveling from place to place without a car or a plane? And that yet another concerns moving objects with one’s mind?”
“I’d say those are accurate descriptions of the powers inherent in a few of the veiled symbols,” Lawrence affirmed, the hint of a smile on his lips.
“And the others?” Anita asked in a hushed voice.
“All in due time,” Sebastian said. “Do you know how Alexander the Great conquered his lands? Do you think that military skill alone produced his victories? No, Alexander was shown one of the symbols.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“His teacher, who thought his student could be trusted. His teacher was named Aristotle,” Lawrence added with a wry smile.
“Yes, Aristotle showed Alexander the veiled Satraya symbol called the Mudan,” Sebastian said, and took a sip of wine. “When it has been realized, the symbol allows a person to read the thoughts of others, even over long distances. Young Alexander became intoxicated with this power and used it to outwit his enemies, which is not difficult when you know their every move.”
“But his advantage ended when he entered the realm of the Magi and the land of the Indus Valley,” Lawrence interjected.
“What happened there?” Anita asked, enthralled by this startling insigh
t into the actions of one of the greatest men in history.
“Alexander’s men mutinied. It is said that they grew tired of battle and weary of the march. But in reality,” Sebastian explained, “they were deceived by the king of Magadha, who rose to power because of another Satraya symbol, which he stole from a holy man.”
“The symbol is called the Sin-Ka-Ta,” Lawrence added. “The power to enter the dream world.”
Sebastian nodded. “That is correct. Each night, as Alexander’s army slept only miles from the border of Magadha, the king would enter their dreams and plant visions of their homelands. He would remind the soldiers of the lives they had left behind and how long they had tarried. Alexander’s men thought the recurring dreams were visions given to them by the gods. It did not take long for those visions to take root, and soon Alexander was commanding a troubled army unwilling to fight any longer.”
“Fascinating,” Anita said. “But these facts are not found in history books.”
“For a very good reason,” Sebastian said. “The protection of the symbols. The great library of Alexandria was not destroyed accidentally. Caesar knew Alexander’s secret and tried to obtain the same power for himself. He surmised that if Alexander had hidden the knowledge, he would have done so in the library. But when Caesar ordered his scholars to search the library, and they could not uncover the symbol, he destroyed the library so that no one else would possess it. Those who dwell in the great mountains and the enlightened ones who walk among us hold the symbols in their minds. They are passed from teachers to worthy initiates, like a great mandala, whose image is cast to the wind soon after it is completed. These symbols cannot be seen in any physical manifestation on this earth. Today The Chronicles of Satraya are the only books that possess these images, and there they are veiled. Other works in the past have also contained the veiled symbols, but time has seen to their destruction.”
“So you see why in these times it would be dangerous if that information were to fall into the wrong hands,” Lawrence said. “It would be like a child attempting to wield a sword that was too big for him.”
Journey Into the Flame: Book One of the Rising World Trilogy Page 33
