The Shroud of Heaven

by Sean Ellis

  “Earth magic. It’s the belief that the planet itself has power which can be tapped for…well, whatever a person wants, I suppose. The Chinese still practice a form of it today: Feng Shui. It was the driving force behind most Pagan religions as well, Wicca, Druidism, and so forth.” He trailed off as the cathode ray tube began displaying lines of text. The folder marked “Geomancy” was a journal of Chiron’s musings and revelations on the subject.

  Before attempting to decipher and digest the information, Kismet checked his watch. Almost twenty minutes had elapsed since his separation from Marie and Buttrick. It was almost time to make contact. Then the irony of his situation hit home. He had left them in order to throw off pursuit, and in so doing had walked right into the web of the woman he most believed to be his enemy, only to forge a tacit truce in pursuit of a greater need.

  But who had been following them?

  “You know,” he said, half turning to Rebecca. “There is something you could do for me.”

  ***

  With Marie’s guidance, Buttrick expertly navigated the boulevards of Paris, running a gauntlet of traffic signals and fearless French drivers from one end of the city to the other. The sedan pursuing them made a valiant effort to keep up, but without even trying, Buttrick managed to lose them somewhere along the way. After another five minutes of observing the flow of traffic around them, Marie confirmed that they had lost their shadow. A few minutes after that, they pulled over in front of her apartment building.

  The excitement of the chase was like a tonic to the Army officer. He had no idea who their pursuer had been and didn’t really care. It had been enough for him to have an opponent against whom to pit his talent and wit. The company wasn’t too bad either.

  Marie had opened up more and more during their ride together, and when she finally guided him into her tastefully decorated flat, it felt as natural as a visit to an old friend. She directed him to a seat at the breakfast bar and began preparing a light snack for them to share.

  “How long have you known him?” she inquired, taking a seat beside him.

  “You mean Nick? We’ve only just met.”

  She raised an eyebrow in obvious surprise. “I had no idea. You two seem to have a genuine rapport.”

  “Well, you should have seen us earlier,” he answered with a grin. “How about you?”

  Marie touched her fingers to her chest in a quizzical gesture. “Me? I too have only known Nick a short time. In fact, I had only just met him at the airport when we came under attack.”

  It was Buttrick’s turn for surprise. “I just assumed that since you both work for… You are a… I mean, together, right?”

  She gave a coquettish smile. “Nick is very brave and charismatic. Given the circumstances, I suppose it was inevitable that we would…” She shook her head as if trying to dismiss a bothersome notion. “Who can say what the future holds? Nick will return to New York, I will stay here.”

  For some reason, Buttrick was suddenly in a very good mood, but before he could respond, Marie let her smile slip and put on a serious mask. “There is one thing that has troubled me. Nick told me that, when he was attacked that day at the museum, the assassin indicated he was under orders not to kill him. He was specifically told not to be the cause of Kismet’s death. How can that be?”

  The mere mention of the museum incident had instantly soured Buttrick’s euphoria, but it took a moment for the precipitation from that dark cloud to actually soak in. “Hold on. Are you suggesting they were in cahoots?”

  “No,” she answered, earnestly. “I don’t see how that could be possible. I mean if that were true, why would Nick reveal what was said? There has to be another explanation. There’s something about Nick that makes him very important to his enemies. I thought you might have some insight to that.”

  “Do you think it could have something to do with his military service?” Wheels began turning in his head. He checked his watch. “It’s still afternoon in Washington. I know someone who might be able to help. Can I use your phone?”

  ***

  Although vehicle traffic to the area was restricted, Chiron managed to thread the minibus through the barricades and drove right to the edge of the structure he thought of only as “le observatoire”. Despite the lateness of the hour, the area was crowded with tourists and it took a few moments for park security personnel and the gendarmes to reach him. As they got close, they wisely assumed defensive positions and those few equipped with handguns covered one of their comrades who cautiously approached him. Chiron rolled down his window.

  “Monsieur, you must get out of the vehicle.”

  Chiron did not attempt subterfuge. He slowly raised his hands, openly displaying the remote. “This is the trigger for a very large explosive device. If I let go, it will detonate.”

  The gendarme blanched, but did not retreat. Chiron could almost see the wheels turning in his head—the blank look as he searched his memory to find the correct response for the scenario. The paralysis was contagious. Chiron knew that if he did not keep moving, if he got stalled here on the ground, it would all be for naught.

  “Young man!” he snapped. “You are wasting time and endangering lives. It is not your job to negotiate with me. Evacuate the area, or the blood of all these people will be on your hands.”

  His words galvanized the policeman into action. The man hastened away without comment and began conversing with his peers. Chiron kept his hands up, careful to hold the remote in their view. Beyond their perimeter, rumors were already beginning to surface and he could hear the shouts of panic welling up from the group. Even before the security guards could sound an alarm, the stampede began.

  With a heavy sigh, recognizing that he was now irretrievably committed to his chosen course, Chiron opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement. He heard the young gendarme he had spoken with shouting for the others to hold their fire, but did not look to see the result. If even one of them unthinkingly loosed a shot, they would realize that the object in his hand was nothing more than the remote control unit for a television set. He had contemplated actually arming the device, but there was too much risk associated with a wireless remote. All it would take was a cell phone or garage door opener randomly hitting the same frequency to set the weapon off prematurely. There would be plenty of time to arm the detonator once he reached his ultimate goal. His bluff worked and the discipline of the gendarmes held. No shots were fired. Chiron moved to the rear of the Caravelle and opened the door.

  For all the technical complexities of the device and his plans for it, the thing that had stymied him almost to point of failure was the physical difficulty of moving the bomb the final distance. Although it was not yet armed, in order for his deception to be convincing, he could not let go of his decoy control for even a moment. He was faced with the logistical dilemma of moving the detonator, which weighed almost as much as he did, one handed. The answer had occurred to him only recently, while watching a hospital drama on television: a medical stretcher with spring-loaded collapsible wheels. It now took only a minimum of effort for him to draw the mobile gurney from the spacious interior of the minibus, and as soon as the undercarriage was exposed, the accordion-like wheel assembly deployed with the suddenness of a trap being sprung. The multi-directional rollers glided along on the concrete surface as if there was no burden at all.

  Why then, thought Chiron as he began the long walk toward his destination, does it suddenly feel like the heaviest thing in the world?

  Seventeen

  The suggested connection between the 1995 French atomic tests and the worldwide increase in volcanic activity was just the beginning for Chiron. He had discovered an area of science—or rather fringe science—dedicated to the study of just such a phenomenon, linked not surprisingly to the theories, both actual and suggested, of radio pioneer Nikolai Tesla. Tesla’s experiments with seismology and the generation of acoustic waves, conceivably with the potential to destroy the planet, were so plausible, so in
flammatory, that it was easy to gloss over the seemingly minor flaws and inconsistencies.

  For a brief while, Chiron was sucked in; the link between the bombs and the period of increased volcanism seemed beyond dispute. But experimental and computer models did not support the hypothesis that an acoustic wave from the tests could have awakened slumbering mountains. Such a catastrophic harmonic could only be generated by repeated detonations of relatively small yield, not a single massive explosion. There had to be another explanation, but it would require turning his back on the exciting, but ultimately mistaken ideas put forth by the Tesla supporters. The answer occurred to him one day while he was contemplating the observatory.

  “What observatory?” inquired Rebecca.

  Kismet scanned the surrounding paragraphs. “That’s all he says about it: ‘le observatoire’. Oh, wait… it seems to be some sort of lab for studying the earth’s magnetic field.” He kept reading.

  When the world entered the atomic age, the governments with the bomb made the classic mistake of leaping before they looked. The full range of side effects from the weapons was not immediately understood, and it took decades of testing, which of necessity involved hundreds of detonations, before these unintended consequences came to light. One such was the EMP, or electromagnetic pulse.

  Those first tests had revealed that in the instant that radioactive material went critical, it released a flux of gamma rays, which in turn produced a burst of high-energy free electrons. Trapped in the earth’s magnetic field, these electrons created an oscillating current and a rapidly rising pulse of magnetism that would destroy power systems and unprotected circuitry anywhere within the visual horizon of the burst point.

  Chiron, as a leading scientist in the field, knew all about the discovery of the EMP effect, yet did not immediately see how it could affect the geological makeup of the planet. But his explorations into the radical theories of fringe scientists had taught him to look for connections in unlikely places. A review of those ideas brought unexpected illumination.

  Ancient man had known about the existence of the magnetic field, and had even gone so far as to lay out the supposed course of these Telluric currents. The Chinese had called them lung-mei, the Dragon Current, and had believed these invisible lines of force to be the qi, or life force of the planet itself. Pagan cultures in England had erected monoliths known universally as ‘Standing Stones’ along what early twentieth century spiritualist Alfred Watkins dubbed ‘ley lines’. His contemporaries further speculated on how the druids and other pre-Christian cultures might have made use of their advanced knowledge, even putting forth the theory that the Neolithic monument Stonehenge might have been erected using geomancy, perhaps even by the legendary wizard Merlin. Alternately, it was believed that Stonehenge might have been a means of focusing the earth’s power with a technology indistinguishable from magic.

  Kismet let out a low sigh. “I remember this. Pierre told me all about it. Only he was discussing pyramid power and the miracles of Moses.”

  A trilling noise from Rebecca’s pocket interrupted him, and as she took the call, he resumed reading. He heard her say, “Right now? Yes… No, continue surveillance.”

  Chiron’s writings thoroughly detailed the theories he had shared with Kismet in the ruins of Babylon, but then abruptly switched gears by jumping to the modern age. When Rebecca finished her phone conversation, he showed her the information.

  “Listen to this. ‘What Project Argus and its successors demonstrated is that modern man now has the capacity to permanently alter or damage the earth’s magnetic field.’ Project Argus? Ring any bells?”

  Rebecca indicated negatively with a toss of her coppery hair.

  “Those two words are in English. I wonder…” He minimized the “Geomancy” file and opened an Internet browser. Within a few moments, a search engine had returned several hits on “Project Argus”. He chose one from a reputable resource and read the information there.

  “‘When the US Department of Defense first conceived it, Project Argus was considered the biggest scientific experiment ever undertaken. In the Fall of 1958, the US Navy exploded three atomic bombs almost 500 kilometers above the South Atlantic Ocean, in the lower part of the Van Allen radiation belt. The Van Allen Belt, an area of intense electromagnetic activity which had only been discovered less than a decade previously, served to shield the planet from a near constant barrage of cosmic rays. Project Argus, and the subsequent EMP, created a new belt of radiation that almost completely encompassed the planet. Four years later, another DOD experiment, Project Starfish, further disrupted the Van Allen Belts, actually destroying one section completely, and created a new band of electromagnetic activity at a lower altitude.’”

  “It is interesting information,” commented Rebecca, “but I hardly see its relevance. Chiron is out there with a live nuclear bomb, which he intends to use or sell.”

  “I don’t think he’s going to sell it. What worries me is how he plans to use it.”

  “You think he is going to attempt his own Project Argus?” Her tone was skeptical.

  “What am I missing here?” Kismet leaned back in the chair and steepled his fingers, trying to see the pattern of the puzzle from the scattered pieces. “Pierre isn’t in his right mind. No matter how ridiculous his actions might appear to us, they make perfect sense to him.”

  “He seemed lucid enough to me.”

  “He’s changed since I first met him. Collette’s death…” Kismet suddenly stiffened as if struck by lightning. “My God, that’s it.”

  “What? Revenge for his wife’s death? She died from an illness. There’s no one to blame.”

  “Who do you blame when there’s no one else?”

  Rebecca blinked in disbelief. “God? Chiron blames God? Then he’ll choose a target with religious significance.”

  “I don’t think so,” Kismet answered, shaking his head. “Pierre’s beef isn’t with the Church. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been an atheist. Collette was a practicing Roman Catholic, but Pierre never believed. Science was his religion. But he said something, just before we went into that cave, which seemed completely out of character. He claimed to be looking for proof of the existence of the Divine: God’s fingerprint.

  “Then he started talking about the earth’s magnetic field. He was speculating that it somehow gathered psychic energy—our psychic energy—to the extent that it had become a sentient entity.”

  “Lung-mei,” Rebecca whispered. “The earth’s life force, not just as a force, but an actual living thing. And Pierre thinks he can… can kill it…? With the EMP from a nuclear detonation?”

  Kismet was grateful that she did not burden him with further incredulity. “We just have to figure out exactly how he plans to do it.”

  “Project Argus was an airburst. He might try to set it off aboard an airplane.”

  “Maybe. But Pierre started this research on the ground. The ley lines have to be the key to his plan. It’s like Chinese acupuncture. Find a critical point and put the needle in.” He scrolled the computer back to the relevant section of Chiron’s journal. Crude maps showed the proposed path of the Telluric currents as they flowed across the planet’s surface. There was a concentration of lines in the British Isles, but the thread also flowed in every direction, across oceans, to touch every continent. One line passed directly through Paris, but the map was too general to pinpoint the juncture. Kismet let his mind wander back to his mentor’s discourse on the eve of their ill-fated subterranean journey. They had talked about miracles… the ten plagues and the exodus from Egypt… Moses’ staff… “The Solomon Key!”

  Rebecca was nonplused by his outburst. “Is that some sort of religious artifact?”

  “Not exactly. Occult practitioners have always believed that King Solomon had some special insight into the spirit realm, and as early as the twelfth century, manuscripts purporting to contain his wisdom began to appear. Collectively, they became known as Clavicula Salomoni, or the
Key of Solomon. But Pierre speculated that the legendary wisdom of Solomon lay in his understanding of how to manipulate the Telluric currents. He did it by building a temple. It was the structure itself that somehow channeled the energy, just like the Giza pyramids or Stonehenge. The Solomon Key has got to be a building of some kind, and I’ll bet my last dollar it’s this observatory he keeps talking about.”

  Before she could venture a question, her cell phone rang again. Kismet ignored the distraction and kept talking, not so much to share information with Rebecca as to put his thoughts in coherent form. “It would have to be tall, like a skyscraper… Incorporate metal in the frame…”

  Suddenly he knew the answer. It had been staring him in the face earlier in the night. But as he saw a look of aghast horror spreading across Rebecca’s countenance, he knew that she had somehow beat him to the answer. “Chiron,” she rasped, barely able to speak. “He’s—”

  “Let me guess.” There was no triumph in his tone, only bitter certainty. “The Eiffel Tower.”

  ***

  When it was erected as part of the World Exposition in 1889, the Tour Eiffel, stretching more than three hundred meters into the sky, was the tallest man-made structure in existence. That record endured for more than thirty years until technological advancements made possible the construction of skyscrapers like the Chrysler Building and the Empire State Building in New York City, USA. And while the Eiffel Tower had ceased to be ranked among the world’s tallest structures, it remained one of the most instantly recognizable monuments on earth.

  From the turret-like observatory, just a few meters below the television antenna that completed the steel tower’s extraordinary skyward reach, Pierre Chiron had a spectacular view of the city. Unlike most residents of Paris, for whom it was a destination only for visiting tourists, Chiron was intimately familiar with La Tour Eiffel. He had made the vertical journey to the summit many times in the last six years and had made an exhaustive study of all available reference materials. Yet there was more to the history of the tower than what was reported in books and travel guides. There were perhaps only a handful of people alive who knew the real story, and for a brief moment, Chiron had almost joined their number.