“Yes, it comes from the apartment complex.”
Marcus eyed the apartment complex carefully. He would have another team check the background of every person in the building starting today. He needed to have something to tell the Guardian next time he had to call the number. “I want to be notified the minute you have identified the origin of any of these capsules. Is that understood?”
He dismissed the tech and sat there thinking. By the end of the week they would have the tunnel completed and would be ready to set up their own magnetic snare. They had not been able to put a tracking device on any of the flash drives since the first set they had followed into Jordan, but that was about to change. He had not wanted to risk alerting the baker. Once they could again install tracking devices, hopefully he could track capsule thirteen to its destination. It was slow, but the net was tightening. A few more weeks, and they might have the identities of these traitors.
* * *
Darius knew he was running out of time. Everything had gone too perfectly. The established power structure of the world would not let the changes he had made go unchallenged. By now the Order had to have him on their radar. By hosting the museum opening on the thirteenth of October, he had begun a dangerous game.
But the only person asking questions so far was that pesky reporter from WorldNetDaily. The guy just would not give up. He had learned that Aaron Klein was looking into his past history and associations. It didn’t worry him much. His only weakness was his association with his brother Arash, and that was a dead end. No one knew the new president of Iran was his brother. Only a few more months and it wouldn’t matter anymore anyway.
His greatest asset was that he had gained the favor of the working class of the world. Right now, he was their hero. The Aquarius Fund was really making a difference in many third-world nations. At the present rate, in two years Alexandra would have provided freshwater to every major third-world population center within one hundred miles of an ocean. Alexandra was the Mother Teresa of her generation. She was selflessly giving her whole heart, body, and soul to this cause. She hadn’t even sold a single share of her stock yet. Darius made a mental note to talk to her about that when she called in for her weekly summary. If any of them deserved the money, it was Alexandra. If she didn’t sell some of her shares, he would have Dylan do it for her and place the money in a safe place. He wanted her to have something for herself when this was all over.
He knew there was no guarantee he would survive to accomplish his revenge. But what he did not live to accomplish, he knew he could accomplish with his death. Not that he expected to die, but should the Order kill him before he accomplished his goal, his death would assure their destruction.
To that end, Darius logged on to a remote, private server—something he had done every month at this time for the past two years. He pulled up the list of names. He entered several new names and reset the date.
Logging out, he repeated his actions on two totally unrelated servers in other parts of the world. When he finished, he sat back in his chair and mentally went over the final steps he needed to complete his plan. He turned over each step in his mind like a piece of a three-dimensional puzzle. He was in the endgame now, and any misstep would result in his death.
Darius really did not want to be a martyr. He wanted to live to see the destruction of the Order. To glory in its demise and be part of that which took its place. Now, if he could only discover the secret they had so desperately hidden over the centuries, his cup of revenge would be full.
Chapter 58
Tucson, Arizona
“So Zane, tell me about the young lady you rescued. I can’t believe I had to read about it in one of those supermarket tabloids,” Zane’s mother said, raising her eyebrow in a half-serious, half-curious manner.
Zane and his parents were sitting around the table after dinner, enjoying the time together and catching up on the events of the past year. Zane saw his dad smile and wink at him.
“Not much to tell, Mom. I helped her out of a difficult situation and then didn’t see her again until a couple of months ago.”
“A couple of months ago . . .” his mother replied in a questioning voice.
“Well, that was really a coincidence. As you know, I volunteer through CPBH, and they assigned me to a dig in Capernaum. Miss Neumann happened to be part of the dig team. She was in charge of the find’s sifting. I got to know her a little better, and she seems to be a nice young lady.”
His mother shot him a knowing look. “How nice a young lady?”
“Mom!” Zane replied. “She’s just a nice girl. Don’t go getting your hopes up.”
His mother was always curious about Zane’s girlfriends. Not that Zane had had many girlfriends—he had always been too busy climbing. He knew his mother just wanted to see him settled with a wife and children. He smiled his most charming smile. “Mom, you’ll have to wait for those grandchildren until I find a girl like you.”
This had always seemed to mollify his mother, but this time it didn’t work as well as usual. “Zane, I won’t let you off the hook so easily this time. Miss Neumann seems to be quite a young lady. I read about what she said regarding your rescue, and I Googled the YouTube video of that performance she played at. You know, the one where she called you her hero. She is a very talented young woman, and from what I’ve read, she’s also quite a good climber.”
Zane shook his head at his mother’s thorough research. “Mom, from what I have seen of her, she is good at whatever she does. She doesn’t do anything in half-measures.”
With a speculative look only a mother could give her son, she asked, “Is she a Jewish girl?”
“Her father is Jewish, and her mother passed away when she was a young girl.” He hoped that would let him out of answering the real question.
With a knowing look and a twinkle in her eye, she said, “I will let you off the hook for now, but don’t think your mother can be so easily diverted. I know you purposely didn’t answer my question. That in itself tells me a lot.”
With a look of exaggerated immaturity, Zane rolled his eyes and smiled, glad to change the subject for the time being.
“So, son,” Zane’s father picked up, “do you have a clearer idea of what you want to do with your life?”
“Dad, I have been giving that a lot of thought lately, believe it or not. Frankly, I know I want to do something with archeology, but I’m not sure how I fit into the grand scheme of things. I don’t just want to volunteer all my life. Right now volunteering is the only door I have open, so I will do my best there until I find another open door.”
Looking more serious, Zane continued. “I could use some advice on a financial matter, though.”
His father, with a questioning look, said, “Go on.”
“Do you remember me telling you about that company Samuel begged David and I to invest two hundred dollars in, oh, it must have been four years ago now?”
“Yes, I remember something vaguely about it. Wasn’t it some penny stock or something?”
Zane shook his head with a sheepish grin. “It was when we bought it, but not anymore.”
“It went out of business, didn’t it?” his father asked.
“Well, not exactly, Dad. That company was Aquarius Elemental Solutions.”
His father sat up straighter in his chair. “You mean that company everyone is talking about? The one that’s giving most of its gross income to help the third world?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“Do you still have any shares?”
“A few thousand,” Zane replied.
“A few thousand shares!”
“I’ve been selling one thousand shares every week for a couple of months now.”
His dad and mom, incredulous, waited for him to continue.
“At the current price, by the time I have completed selling all my shares, it’s likely that I will have just over four million dollars.”
Mr. Harrison just sat there shak
ing his head in wonder. “Four million dollars,” he said as if he didn’t believe it. “Son, you know that’s more than some people will see in a lifetime.”
“Yes, Dad, I know, and that’s part of why I wanted to ask your advice. I am concerned the money may influence the direction of my life, and . . . well, frankly, it already has. I just don’t want it to become a burden. I want it to be a blessing. I’ve already decided to take two million dollars and set it aside for helping others according to the biblical example you and Mom taught me growing up. But even after taxes on the rest, I’ll still have about 1.4 million dollars. Do you have any advice on how I should proceed with it?”
Zane’s father took a minute to process what he’d just learned. “Zane, I think you’ve gotten off to a good start with what you’ve done, and frankly, I am proud of you. To even realize the money might have negative potential shows maturity. As to what to do with the 1.4 you intend to keep, I’m not sure how to advise you right now. I would have to think about it. I would say you shouldn’t be in any hurry to spend it. Knowing you, I doubt I have to give you that advice—but for now, why don’t you just go slowly? Take your time and ask your heavenly Father to guide your steps. Your mother and I raised you to realize money will never buy you happiness, but used in the right manner with the proper motivation, it can be an incredible tool.”
His father shook his head again. “Four million dollars—really sounds incredible. How about David and Sam?”
“Yeah, David had twenty thousand shares as well—and Sam, he had a hundred thousand.”
His dad whistled. “Wow. I guess that means you won’t be coming to your old man anytime soon for a loan.”
Zane laughed. “No, it doesn’t look like I’ll have to move in with you after all.” In a more serious tone he asked, “Do you and Mom need any money or a silent partner in your nursery?”
His father smiled. “Thank you for the offer, son, but everything we have is paid for. We’ve lived modestly all our lives, and while we don’t make a lot of money, we have been blessed beyond what we deserve. We lack nothing, and in many ways we have more than we need.”
Zane nodded. “I thought you would say that, but I had to ask. If it’s okay with you, I’d still like to stay and help out through the end of July. Then I will be going back to Israel to help finish up at the Capernaum dig.”
“I bet to visit that young Miss Neumann girl too,” his mother said mischievously.
“Son, we’d love to have your company and help for the summer. We can talk more about it in the morning.” Yawning, he turned to Hope. “My darling Mrs. Harrison, I am going to bed. It’s been a long day. Good night, son. See you in the morning.”
Zane sat talking to his mother for another hour before he too decided to turn in for the night. With a motherly look of love, she gave him a warm hug. “Good night, Zane. It’s good to have you home again.”
* * *
Several weeks later, David found Sam’s e-mail in his junk mail folder. Sam had sent the e-mail using a new e-mail account, and it had been dumped into the junk mail. David sighed in mild frustration—it must have been the attachments. David added Sam’s new address to his contact list and then read his e-mail. Before opening the attachments, he sent Sam a reply.
After reading the e-mail again, he opened the attachment. Carefully reading the results of Sam’s virus, David picked up the phone. “Sir, I need to see you as soon as possible. We’ve had a big break in the Anaj investigation.”
“Come on up, David. The director is here, and we were just discussing the investigation.”
Printing out two copies of Sam’s e-mail as well as two copies of the virus results, David pushed the elevator button for the ninth floor and stepped in. On the way up he could feel the nervousness building. His hands were a little sweaty, and the butterflies in the pit of his stomach had been replaced with dragonflies. David had never met the director of the FBI. He’d heard he was a reasonable man who expected the best from his agents. David hoped he wasn’t going to get Sam into any trouble. Sam had known the risk he was taking when he sent the information to him, but still—he hoped things would turn out all right for his friend.
The elevator chimed as he reached the ninth floor. He turned left and walked down a corridor to his boss’s office. Knocking on the door, he heard, “Come in.”
His boss, Keith Jefferson, and the director sat in two of the chairs which surrounded a conference table on one side of the office. Jefferson waved him over and said, “David, this is Director Hughes. Director Hughes, David Johnson.”
The director extended his hand, and after a firm handshake, indicated a chair at the table. “Please have a seat, Mr. Johnson.”
“David, you said you have information related to the Anaj terrorist network. What do you have for us?” Jefferson asked.
David slid Sam’s e-mail and virus report across the table. After a few minutes of silence during which they read the information, Hughes looked up and asked, “How reliable is your friend, David?”
Without hesitation, David replied, “If you are asking me personally, I can tell you I would trust him with my life. Professionally, he runs a first-rate high-tech security firm. Some of his clients are major banks and corporations. He provides encryption and security-related services for them.”
The director had looked directly at David the whole time he explained. “Has the FBI run a thorough background check on him and his firm?”
“Not that I am aware of, sir.”
The director looked at David’s boss with a questioning look. Jefferson replied, “Yes, we have. He has been completely vetted. We checked him out when David was transferred to the counterterrorism unit a year ago and have updated his status ever since.”
“Any concerns or red flags?”
“No, he’s clean as far as we can tell.”
“Okay then, here is the deal.” Looking at David, Hughes continued, “As Sam stated in his e-mail to you, what he did was illegal. If we choose to go after him, we could ruin his life and his business. Obviously he knows that, and yet he still took the risk to get us the information. Frankly, that’s my kind of man. David, I want you to tell Mr. McKinney that we would like to hire him as a private contractor until this matter is resolved. He’ll need to get another updated security check and sign all the appropriate nondisclosure paperwork. If Mr. McKinney should indicate he is not willing to work for us, please make his precarious position clear to him.”
The director turned to David’s boss. “Keith, I want you to put whatever resources are necessary on this to find the exact addresses of the computers on this list. David, I want you to pack your bags: I’m sending you to Israel as a liaison to the Mossad. I want you to hand-deliver this to them and offer our assistance in any way you can. You are to report directly to Keith on any developments. It seems the Mossad has discovered a unique spy network. They believe the network is passing information through the sewer system. I would like you to learn what you can and offer any assistance. When this is resolved, I want a complete report. Any questions?”
“No sir,” they both replied in unison.
“Okay then, David, you may go. Mr. Jefferson and I have more to discuss.”
David headed back to his cubicle. After the elevator doors closed, he let out a sigh of relief. At least Sam was not going to get into any trouble over this—far from it, in fact. And thanks to Sam, he was going to Israel. He wondered if Zane was heading back to the dig this summer. He would have to give him a call to find out. It had been too long since they had gotten together.
Chapter 59
Tel Aviv, Israel
Marcus had been putting it off for several days, but he knew he could do so no longer. He had to call the number.
Marcus picked up the phone and dialed. On the second ring, the cold, dark voice answered. Marcus repeated the code phrase and proceeded to give a report on the investigation of Contact 13. They had located the apartment complex where Contact 13 lived, and in a few mo
re days they would have his identity.
“How much longer until you know the destination of the messages sent by Contact 13?”
“Possibly a week or more,” said Marcus.
“Very well, notify me the minute you know more.”
The line went dead. Marcus put away his phone and sat thinking. Whenever the Guardian had an interest in something, dead or missing people were soon to follow. Marcus just hoped he didn’t become a person of interest. There were some fates worse than death, and the Guardian knew most of them.
* * *
Sir Peter Herschel sat alone at a desk in his London library. He considered the information provided by Tacitus. The code name of Marcus Nayat, if his memory served him well. Over ten years ago he had been sponsored by a member of the Order. Once a prospective member was sponsored, a one-year probation was started, during which the new prospect was carefully watched and his background investigated. At the end of this probation period, the thirteen-member governing council voted whether to approve the new member. If the vote was unanimous, the prospective member was allowed to join.
The Order, in keeping with tradition, gave each new member a code name. Members of the Order were chosen from the top echelons of the secret societies of the world. Each member committed to the cause of mankind’s enlightenment. Their motto: “Enlightenment is the end which justifies our means.” Once a member of the Order, each new devotee progressed through thirteen additional degrees of initiation before being trusted with the secrets. New members were never told about the additional degrees. Each new degree was portrayed as the final initiation.
Peter Herschel looked up the status of Tacitus. Nayat was only a first-degree member; therefore, the extent of his knowledge was limited to collecting information related to any communications or symbols using the number thirteen. So far he had proved loyal.
The 13th Enumeration Page 26
