by Jillian Dodd
“The only clue as to why it is where it is has to do with it being placed near the thirty-third parallel, which is a meridian that orbits the Earth at exactly thirty-three degrees from where the sun dissects Earth—the equator. On the thirty-third parallel, it is believed, the bloodline of the world exists.”
“The bloodline?” she scoffs.
“Yes. This bloodline is thought to bring enlightenment and magic that aren’t known to many on this earth, but the energy is believed to manifest powers and abilities in those who seek it. The ancient Phoenicians were the first to discover this strong life current. Other advanced cultures—such as the ancient Egyptians, the ancient Orient, and the Pueblo Indians—have all built their centers on the thirty-third parallel. And there are numerous other important places throughout history situated on this line. That also brings us back to the Masons, who have thirty-three degrees to enlightenment, much like the pyramid on the back of the United States dollar bill.”
“Where does The Society fit in?” Amanda asks astutely, tying it back to my mission.
“They are an elitist group, I guess.” Who also placed the first TerraSphere on the thirty-third parallel, if Battleground Ares is to be believed.
“So there’s something going on within The Society, but since Daniel and your brother say they’ve seen no indication of anything nefarious going on in the group, maybe it’s like a faction. A group within it who—”
“The upper echelon,” I blurt out as I continue circling the Guidestones.
“What’s that?”
“I didn’t really put it together until just now, but it makes sense. The rings. The group. Medici.”
“Medici?” Amanda says. “Now, you’ve lost me.”
“Lorenzo the Magnificent, who became the first King of Montrovia, was a Medici. He was given the land by his father. He lived during the Renaissance and was obsessed with the idea of working toward a Utopian society. But he was also practical. He knew war was an issue, and he created a secret society—The Society. The start of the group that your son is in today.
“When we were in Florence, there was this secret room. A circular table. Only ten chairs. It was said to be where he gathered the upper echelon who would basically run the world. He wanted Montrovia to start a new world order. One world where peace, art, and living with nature thrived.”
“That sounds a lot like what’s on these stones,” Amanda says. “Did this new world have a name?”
I stop in my tracks. “Arcadia.”
“Which you said was the name on the currency found with Ophelia and Alessandro on it.”
“Exactly,” I reply.
I have to say, I’m really impressed with the First Lady’s ability to so clearly remember all the facts that I spewed out to her during my breakdown a few days ago. So far, she’s kept her promise of not telling anyone.
“Arcadia starts in Montrovia,” she mutters, sitting down on the ground and staring up at the imposing structure.
“Yes, but how?” I ask, sitting down next to her.
“The Renaissance was a time of free thinking. The guides speak of leaving room for nature. Nature could be considered Mother Earth or Gaia. Some believe—”
“Wait,” I say, holding up my hand. Something is on the edge of my brain. “When we were at Peter Prescott’s home in London, he showed me his father’s vault.”
“Vault? As in bank vault?”
“As in gold—among other things. He told me that The Society recommends each member has a vault in their homes. When I asked why, he said, ‘Smart men have always been prepared for the end of the world as we know it.’”
“That’s what your mom told her handler the night before she was killed, right? What else did he say?”
“That his father—and, apparently, The Society—believes in doomsday planning. He mentioned that, for a time in the United States, it was illegal for citizens to own gold. During the Great Depression, people had to hand over their gold to the government. He believed it could happen again because some of the most powerful countries in the world right now are also the ones with the most debt. He also said that, since Ares Von Allister was in The Society, we probably also have gold. But there was more—like barrels of water, caches of food, medical supplies, and vault drawers full of seeds. That ties into the photo my mother left of the doomsday vault that was built on a Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Ocean. It was financed by the rich and powerful and endorsed by the United Nations as a frozen Garden of Eden. Peter also said, if we don’t make some changes in our population, that we’re going to cause our own extinction event.”
“In the 1970s, Henry Kissinger declared, ‘If you control the oil, you control the country; if you control the food, you control the population.’ I mean, think about it. If you control the water, you control the world. Really, you control life itself.”
“And someone is tired of waiting. They want it now.”
“So you think that there’s a small but powerful group who has a plan to fulfill the prophecy of the Guidestones and reduce the world’s population by over ninety percent?”
“Yes. My mom was killed six years ago. But I think they’ve been working on it for longer than that,” I say, quickly telling her about the video clip in the game.
“Every time I hear someone talk about your father, particularly in the government, they mention he was a pacifist. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It might if he wanted to create his new world by using seeds—or food—to kill everyone instead of guns.”
MISSION:DAY SIX
We arrived back in Omaha last night around the time that both the president and his parents did. We had a spirited dinner together, and they made me feel like part of the family, which is a moment I will always cherish. That feeling of belonging.
Daniel and I had an instant spark when we met, and my feelings for him have deepened this week. Peeking under his cocky exterior and seeing him so vulnerable and hurt has touched me. Bonded us. We’ve been there for each other.
“Chin up,” I tell him this morning. “You’ll do awesome today. And watching you swim the butterfly is ultra sexy.”
“Oh, you think?” he says with a little grin.
“All those muscles. Girls will be screaming.”
“Will you be screaming, Huntley?” he asks, moving closer to me.
“Of course. I’ve also worn your lucky shirt every day. My time as a fashion icon is officially over.”
He pulls me into a tight hug. “I don’t know what I would have done without you this week. And I have a confession. I had a dream about her last night. Woke up, wanting to text her. Couldn’t allow myself to do it, so I snuck out and played Battleground—as you.”
“That’s okay, Daniel. I don’t mind.”
“Don’t you want to know what happened? What I did and saw?”
“Did you not record it?” I tease.
“No, I was too depressed. Okay, so after the dream, I went through my phone, looking at photos we had taken together. That made it even worse.”
“You should have woken me up. I could have distracted you.”
“Distracted me in bed?” When I let out a sad sigh, he says, “I think we should date. Actually, I think we should do more than date.”
“I’m not ready for that, Daniel.”
“I’m not talking about a real relationship. I’m talking about getting engaged.”
“What? Why would we do that?”
He points out of the skybox window. “Because there are lots of cameras here.”
I bite my lip, understanding. “You want to make Lizzie crazy jealous.”
“Lorenzo, too. They need to know what it feels like when the person you love gets engaged to someone else. Maybe one of them will call the whole thing off.”
“Or it could piss them off and solidify their decision.”
“Either way,” Daniel says.
“And the video game made you want to propose?”
“Yes. I found a
whole bunch of gold—we’re talking national treasure proportions—and then was promptly shot. Sorry, I mean, you were shot. Dead. When I started a new game, all the loot you had collected, including the ring, was gone.”
“And you want to apologize by proposing?” I tease.
“No, it was more like a life lesson. There I was with a mountain of gold. I had everything. Then, boom, someone shot me. Lizzie was my mountain of gold. I need to teach her the same lesson.”
My hand moves to the charm at my neck, sliding it across the chain. “Maybe you should just call her.”
“All I’m saying is, if I propose, you’d better start crying and say yes. At least for the cameras.”
“You want it to be a very public proposal.”
“Absolutely.”
“Let me think about it. On another subject, have you noticed anything different today? Felt different?”
“I’m not following.”
“You might not be, but I think someone is following me. Has been for a few days. Like someone is just behind me, but every time I turn around, they are gone.”
He points out at the stadium filled with people. “There are a lot of people here. Not to mention, all the extra Secret Service.” He lowers his voice. “When my dad’s in town, they have snipers on the roof, spy plane and fighter jet flyovers, and lots of extra plain-clothes protection. You’re probably just feeling that.”
“Yeah, probably,” I say as he heads down to the locker room to get ready for his upcoming heat.
But as I look out into the crowd, I know that I have to trust my gut. I see lots of people. I can point out every Secret Service agent, even those in plain clothes. It’s the person who I can’t spot that has me worried. Because I know he’s there. And he’s watching me.
Daniel wins his hundred meter butterfly heat race and makes it to the semifinals. I’m going back to the box when I get a phone call.
“Well, how does it feel to be part of a story on the front page of every newspaper around the world without getting any credit?” Intrepid asks me.
“I think you know I prefer it that way.”
“I heard about Lizzie and Lorenzo. I’m sorry. But I am calling with some good news. We’re tearing Dupree’s company apart. Not only did you stop the nuclear threat, but you also helped shut down one of the biggest prescription drug rings in all of Europe.”
“Does that mean I’m gonna get invited to Buckingham Palace, so I can steal a robe of my own?”
“That’s the reason for my call. Because of what you did, I’m being knighted. I think it’s only fitting that you be my guest for the evening.”
“You’re not asking Dr. Kate?”
“That would signal a level of seriousness that I’m not able to commit to.”
“I’d love to go then. When is it?”
“Next Thursday.”
“That’s perfect. I’ll be in town for the Von Allister board meeting and the British Grand Prix. Sir William Gallagher does have a nice ring to it.”
“And how is the mission going?”
“I quit, so—”
“You’re giving up?”
“I’m not giving up. I’m just done with working for Black X. I don’t trust them, so I’m going on a personal mission instead.”
“What is it?”
“Remembering my mother,” I say simply.
“And what about Montrovia?”
“I’ll let Lorenzo and Lizzie handle that.” Yes, it’s hard to hide my snarky tone.
“I can understand your reasoning. So, how are you really? And I’m not talking about Montrovia. You need to tell me what happened with Dupree.”
“Maybe, someday, I’ll tell you, but I’m honestly hoping I will forget before then.”
Intrepid lowers his voice. “I’ve been through it, Huntley. You are good at what you do. Don’t let it shake you. I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”
“If you need someone to save the world again, please, don’t call me.”
“The map you left on Dupree’s desk. The one with eight European locations. They were geographically significant. I’ll leave it at that. If you want back in, let me know. Until then, enjoy Omaha and give Daniel my congratulations on his qualifying so far.”
“William, is British intelligence watching me?”
“No. Why? Are you being watched?”
“Yes, and they are really good, practically a ghost.”
“Trust your instincts and be very careful, Huntley. Holy s—” Intrepid says suddenly. “Hang on.”
“What happened?”
He doesn’t respond, and I wonder if we’ve lost our connection until he comes back on the line.
“There’s been a possible terrorist attack.”
“Where?” I ask, my heart instantly concerned about Montrovia.
“The Strait of Malacca. It’s one of the busiest and narrowest shipping routes in the world. Numerous ships are on fire. Officials from Malaysia, Singapore, and Indonesia are trying to figure out what happened.”
“William, I looked at the map and saw the locations marked were not Montrovia, but I didn’t pay attention to where they were. Is there a pattern?”
“Our strategists seem to think so. If those locations had been hit, it would have devastated key European military installations.”
“Taking away their ability to fight back. If something happened in Montrovia, Europe would be the first to come to its aid, right?”
“Britain and their allies have bases all over the world. No one could stop us. Especially not with a few nuclear backpacks.”
“Maybe, for whatever is planned, they don’t need to stop you, just slow you down.”
“We’ll talk more about this when I see you,” he says quickly. “I have to go. This is going to be a day. We also just got word that the chairman of the International Financial Committee’s plane went down.”
The Ghost’s phone buzzes in his breast pocket with a call from the leader of Black X.
“Two things have just happened simultaneously.”
“I heard about the explosions in the Strait of Malacca,” The Ghost states. “They showed a news update in between heats. What else is going on?”
“The chairman of the International Financial Committee’s plane just went down. He’s dead.”
“Do we care?”
“Yes, we do. It’s not publicly known because the board operates in a behind-closed-door fashion and does not allow the public access to their discussions or decisions, but I happen to know that, last year, the committee passed a resolution allowing the chairman the power to close all the stock exchanges in the world in the case of an impending worldwide financial crisis in extreme cases, such as nuclear war, alien invasion, or any catastrophic event. Upon his death, the vice chair will move up to take his place.”
“Duh, nuh, nuh, nuh,” The Ghost hums, like a movie soundtrack would to show impending doom.
“It’s not funny,” the leader says. “The new chairman is Rutherford Elingston, meaning they have control of Tartus, have successfully shut down the Strait of Malacca, and now not only control the world’s banks through Rut’s family holdings, but also the financial markets. Is it just me, or do you see a trend here?”
“Things are starting to happen fast.”
“And we need to act fast,” the leader states firmly. “We must stop them.”
“If we knew their ultimate plan, we might have a shot at it, but that’s been the problem from the beginning. We don’t know by what means they will create Arcadia. It also doesn’t help that she quit, and you ordered everyone at Blackwood Academy, who might have been able to help, to be killed. Any word on where Josh is? If we could find him, maybe we could use him as leverage against her.”
“No,” the leader says, thinking. “We might have to threaten someone she loves.”
“Are you saying you’re considering killing her brother or the King of Montrovia? You do that, and she’s going to come after you with a vengeanc
e.”
“That’s exactly what we need from her—vengeance. Only against them. We need to give her a new mission.”
“She visited the Georgia Guidestones yesterday,” The Ghost offers.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” the leader says upon hearing his first good news of the day.
“Because I wasn’t sure what it meant.”
“It means, she hasn’t really quit. She’s gone rogue.”
“Shall I take measures to bring her in?” The Ghost asks.
“Absolutely not,” the leader says, a proud smile forming on his face. “She’s doing exactly as she was trained—to thrive on her own, to avoid emotional entanglements, and to not confuse duty with love. She’ll figure it all out. I know she will.”
“Hopefully, before we’re all dead.”
“I’m so proud of you,” Grandma Spear says to Daniel, pinching the spot on his cheek where his dimple likes to hide, after he just won the one-hundred-butterfly semifinal. “My grandson is on his way to winning more Olympic medals. You know, the newspapers are speculating that, at your age, you could take the record for number of medals for a single athlete in all of history.”
“Nothing like a little pressure,” Daniel teases her back.
“Well, it does impress my gardening and book clubs. No one else can brag about that.”
“Are you saying that you don’t brag about me?” the President of the United States fires back. “I’m the leader of the free world.”
“Maybe, if you led with your shirt off, the ladies would be more impressed,” Grandma says seriously.
“That’s all those hen clubs are for,” Grandpa Spear says. “Gossiping, day-drinking, and ogling young men.”
“Oh, you can’t talk,” Daniel’s mother counters. “There’s a reason all the waitresses at your golf club look the way they do.”
“That’s just good business,” Judge Spear amicably fires back.
“Huntley and I are dating,” Daniel says. “Seriously dating.”
“Well, that’s nice, dear,” Grandma replies. “Thank you for sharing.”
I glance at his mom, who momentarily narrows her eyes at me, but then she beams at her son. “You know all we’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”
