Logan quickly asked, “Who are you talking about? I don’t know who taught my father that!”
* * *
The opening of the apartment’s front door coincided with Logan’s return from his candle vision. Mr. Perrot walked into the den, and Logan leaned forward and blew out the flame of the candle. Without stopping to inhale, he said, “Who taught my father the King’s Gambit?”
Mr. Perrot was taken aback by Logan’s abruptness, but, noticing the blue candle on the table, he understood his urgency. “Madu. He was our chess master.”
“When are Madu and Nadine leaving for Egypt?” Logan asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” Mr. Perrot said.
Logan nodded. “You’ll need to pack your bags.”
44
Life is not a test. That idea comes from the notion that life can be passed or failed.
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
WASHINGTON, D.C., 8:10 A.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 25, 2070
After spending a restless night at Valerie’s apartment, Logan and Valerie returned to the lab. Mr. Perrot, who had slept on Valerie’s couch, left the apartment with them but went instead to the Council offices to help Adisa deal with the aftermath of last night’s attack. Later, in the afternoon, he would fly to Cairo.
In the WCF Cube, Valerie stood in front of a large glass writing board. Chetan and Sylvia sat at their desks while Logan stood nearby eating a muffin. Sliding the tip of her right index finger across the glass, Valerie scribbled a list, which appeared in radiant blue writing:
1. Attack on Council offices
2. Man kidnapped from Calhoun Medical Center, Sumsari Baltik
3. Earthquakes
4. People getting sick
5. Australian gas field explosion
6. Nanite infestation, Goshi dead
7. Break-in at Château Dugan, two agents dead
8. North African Commonwealth explosion
“Anyone have anything else to add?” she asked, stepping back from the glass.
Although Logan had a few suggestions—the photos of his mother and father that had been found at Château Dugan, the surfacing of Madu Shata and the mystery of the pyramids, the Munch picture Sebastian Quinn had sent him, his mother’s recordings, and his own mirror visions—he remained silent.
“I would add the seventy-nine-point-six-five-four-hertz signal’s suddenly stopping, not that I’m complaining about it,” Sylvia said.
“I’ve analyzed the device that was found under the sink in the bathroom,” Chetan said. “It is remotely activated. Whoever turned it on and off had to have been relatively close to the device.”
“Obviously, the nanites link items one, five, six, and eight on the list,” Sylvia said, as she took a sip of her coffee. “Chetan and I confirmed that the nanites unleashed in the Council building have the same watermarks as the ones that were found at the gas refineries. I’m not sure about the other items on the list; they might be coincidences.”
With the tip of her finger, Valerie circled items one, five, six, and eight.
“We can infer that whoever is bent on destroying the world’s energy supply is also bent on destroying the Council of Satraya,” Chetan said.
“I only know of one person who had that aspiration,” Valerie said, “and he’s dead.”
Logan tossed his muffin wrapper into a nearby trash can, sighing before he spoke. “We still haven’t identified everyone involved in the Freedom Day plot. We know that Victor Ramplet was helping Simon and Andrea. We heard Simon mention a man named Dario. And we found an old e-mail message from Simon’s father to Dario in which a woman named Catherine was mentioned.”
“A message that mysteriously vanished,” Valerie added. “We originally found it in an old FBI archive stored at the Akasha Vault. But now it’s gone.”
“How does something like that vanish?” Sylvia asked.
Valerie shook her head.
“We also need to add Randolph Fenquist to the list,” Logan said. “Until eight hours ago, we thought he might have been killed in the pulse that hit Compass Park last year.”
“That’s quite a suspect list,” Chetan said.
“And there’s one more,” Logan said. “In my mother’s old recordings, I heard her mention a man in a wheelchair who used to visit Simon’s father and Andrea from time to time. That same unnamed man was in a newspaper photograph we found. He was pictured alongside Andrea and Simon at Andrea’s husband’s funeral six years ago.”
“Your mother’s recordings?” Sylvia asked.
“Long story,” Valerie said, as her PCD sounded. “Looks like the team just retrieved the video surveillance from the Calhoun Medical Center. They say to start looking at time marker fourteen.” Valerie handed her PCD to Sylvia, who brought the video up on the large glass display next to the list Valerie had written. Everyone watched as a dark-skinned man with shoulder-length dreadlocks and a white orderly uniform pushed a wheelchair down one of the darkened hallways of the Calhoun Center. His back was to the cameras as he moved, preventing them from getting a good look at him.
The man stopped in front of a door with a small window, where a dim light shone through. The room number, 169, was stenciled on the door frame. Sumsari Baltik’s, they knew. They continued to watch as the man set the brake on the wheelchair, looked up and down the hallway, and then peered through the door’s small window, before opening it and entering. Rapidly moving shadows on the floor indicated that a struggle was taking place inside. After a few moments, the man emerged, dragging the body of an older man dressed in a pale green robe.
“That must be Sumsari,” Logan said, leaning closer to get a better look.
The man swung the limp body into the wheelchair. The old man’s head flopped backward.
“Pause there,” Valerie said. “What is that on the side of his head? Near his left temple.”
Sylvia zoomed closer. “Looks like some kind of neuro implant. Impossible to say what for.”
The video continued rolling. The dark-skinned man in white shut the door and bent down to put Sumsari’s feet into the wheelchair’s footrests. Now he was facing the surveillance camera.
“Hey,” Logan called out, placing his finger on the glass where the face of the man with the dreadlocks appeared. “I’ve seen that guy before.”
Sylvia paused the recording. “Where?”
Logan shook his head, unable to place it. It was recent, he knew, but he couldn’t take it any farther.
“At the beach in Mexico,” Valerie suddenly said. “He looks very similar to the photographer we met on the beach, the one who insisted on taking our picture. But he didn’t have dreadlocks then.”
“Are you sure it’s the same person?” asked Sylvia.
Logan took a closer look. “They look awful similar,” he said, before something else caught his attention. He squinted and pointed at the man’s right wrist. “Can you zoom in here?” Sylvia obliged. The man was wearing a thin gold bracelet with the letter N attached to it. Logan turned to Valerie with alarm. “I saw this same bracelet being worn by a woman at the commemoration last night.”
“Who?” Valerie asked.
“She introduced herself as Catherine Bribergeld,” Logan said quickly. “She was in President Salize’s group.”
“Are you sure it’s the same bracelet?” Valerie asked.
“I’m positive. The letter N was very distinctive. It’s the reason I noticed it in the first place.”
Chetan began manipulating the controls on his display to project a list. “These are the people who attended the president’s conference yesterday.”
“Catherine Bribergeld,” Sylvia said. “Fourth name from the bottom.”
Valerie looked at Logan. “You’re telling me that this guy in the video is linked with Catherine Bribergeld, who was at the commemoration last night?”
“That’s what it looks like,” Logan said. “Your father, Madu, and Nadine were all there when she spoke to us.”
“So a guy who k
idnaps people and hangs out with the rich and powerful is also a beach photographer in his spare time?” Chetan said incredulously.
Sylvia looked at Valerie. “And didn’t you just say a Catherine was mentioned in a note that magically disappeared?” she asked.
Valerie nodded. She and Logan continued to look at the image of the dark-skinned man with dreadlocks; he had been spying on them in Mexico, they now realized.
“Let’s see what we can find on this Catherine Bribergeld,” Sylvia said. Within moments, a series of images appeared on the glass display. “She is definitely rich. CEO of the Bribergeld Bank of Spain. One of the largest financial institutions in the world.”
“The bank’s recent investments include these,” Chetan said, as another list appeared:
The John Mason Institute
Miracle Fitness Centers
AB Control Systems
ComData
NovaCon International.”
“NovaCon was on that list we pulled up the other day,” Valerie said, turning to Sylvia. “When we were looking into which companies had recently purchased a DNA spectrometer. We zeroed in on the Tripod Group, but I’m sure NovaCon was on the same list.”
“And you all remember AB Control Systems, don’t you?” Logan asked. “That was Andrea’s husband Alfred Benson’s technology company. If Catherine Bribergeld knew Alfred and Andrea, she also would have known Fendral and Simon Hitchlords.”
They stared at the picture of Catherine Bribergeld being displayed next to the frozen image of the man who had abducted Sumsari Baltik.
“Agent Perrot,” a stern female voice called out. It was Director Sully. She approached with two WCF agents and saw the image on the glass board. “Why do you have a picture of Ms. Bribergeld up there?”
“We believe that she’s working with this man,” Valerie said, pointing to the frozen video footage. “Who happened to have been involved in an abduction yesterday at the Calhoun Medical Center.”
“The Calhoun Center?” Director Sully said in a raised voice. “Do you understand priorities, Agent Perrot? We’re in the middle of a global energy crisis. You’re supposed to be investigating the gas wells.”
Logan was about to jump in, but Valerie did so first. “We also believe that Ms. Bribergeld is involved in a company called NovaCon. They’re involved in alternative energy research and—”
“I know who they are,” the director responded. “You must know that Ms. Bribergeld is a valued member of the president’s crisis panel. In fact, at the meeting yesterday afternoon, Ms. Bribergeld presented NovaCon and its newly constructed energy device. NovaCon has offered to let the NAF use this device at a reduced charge until we can get the natural-gas crisis under control.”
“What kind alternative energy device?” Sylvia asked.
“I don’t know the particulars,” the director answered, annoyed by the question. “She called it zero-point fracturing. You will hear all about it this afternoon at the president’s news conference, where he will be announcing the plan and introducing NovaCon to the world.”
“What if the crisis never ends?” Logan suggested. “What if the destruction of the natural-gas wells continues?”
“I couldn’t have made the point better myself,” Director Sully said, turning her gaze to Valerie. “You need to focus exclusively on the destruction of the gas wells. Let the agent assigned to the Calhoun Medical Center handle the kidnapping. And leave Catherine Bribergeld out of this. NovaCon is the only hope the Federation and the rest of the world have at the moment.” The director turned and began to walk away. “Get focused, Agent Perrot. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”
No one said anything as Director Sully left the Cube. Logan couldn’t help but notice the look of defeat on Sylvia’s and Chetan’s faces. Chetan manipulated some controls, causing the images of Catherine Bribergeld and the video feed from the Calhoun Medical Center to disappear from the glass board.
“What are you doing?” Valerie asked.
Chetan shrugged. “The director just said—”
“We’re not done! Get those images back up here.”
Logan and Sylvia both smiled. They knew Valerie too well. She was not going to be deterred from pushing forward with her line of investigation.
“Bring up everything you can find on NovaCon. Let’s find out exactly who this Catherine is and what NovaCon does.”
“Yes, boss,” Chetan said, also letting loose a smile as he displayed some documents on the glass wall beside the restored image of Catherine. “Looks like NovaCon International is registered in Spain. Over the last six years, the Bribergeld Bank has invested more than five hundred million Universal Credits in the company. Also looks like NovaCon has filed more than two hundred patents in that same period. Most of the filings concern atmospheric electrical induction, something to do with pulling electricity right out of the atmosphere.”
Logan turned to Valerie, his expression grave. “That’s the same thing that your father and I were investigating with Madu in Mexico.”
“You need to bring them up to speed,” Valerie said.
Logan turned to Sylvia and Chetan. “For the last forty years, Madu Shata has been developing a theory about the large pyramids around the world. He believes they were used in ancient times to harness an endless supply of electrical current directly out of the atmosphere.”
“Free energy,” Sylvia said.
“That’s right,” Logan said. “It’s similar to the research into energy production that Nikola Tesla was doing in the late 1800s.”
“Tesla did a lot of work in the areas of free energy and wireless energy transmission,” Chetan said. “Some say he even figured it all out.”
“Why didn’t his work come into the mainstream?” Valerie asked.
“According to historians, his funding got pulled,” Chetan said. “But I think it was more than that. As Tesla performed his experiments, he began to see negative side effects of his work. If he didn’t do his calculations precisely, things would go haywire. He claimed that one of his experiments caused an earthquake in New York City in 1898. Scientists dismissed the claim, because it didn’t have any epicenter, and—” Chetan broke off suddenly.
Sylvia had the same stunned look on her face. “That’s what’s happening now,” she blurted out. “None of the recent earthquakes has had a seismic epicenter.”
Valerie looked at the list and circled point number three, earthquakes. “Where is this NovaCon company based?” she asked.
Sylvia read from her display. “The Azores. NovaCon spent a massive amount of money buying property on one of the islands from the Spanish government.”
Logan looked over at the large globe rotating at the northwest corner of the Cube. “Isn’t that where we noticed all those earthquakes and the frequency spikes?”
“Yes,” Chetan said.
“Here is the latest aerial view of Pico Island, where they bought all the property,” Sylvia said, as she projected it on the glass board. “It is one of the few islands left in the archipelago after the Great Disruption. There’s a big volcano at the center of it.”
“What’s that shiny thing to the west of the volcano?” Valerie asked. “It looks like a square building.”
Sylvia zoomed in.
Logan understood what it was at once. “They built themselves a pyramid,” he said.
“We need to get to that island,” Valerie said, staring at it.
“I’m not sure they’re going to just let us show up in a row boat and then escort us around,” Sylvia said. “There is no way Director Sully is going to authorize a raid on NovaCon and Catherine Bribergeld.”
“There might be another way,” Chetan said. Everyone turned and looked at him. “But I’m not sure anyone is going to like it.”
45
If you truly forgave someone, you would never have to let anyone know that you did.
Forgiveness is a state of mind and does not have to be broadcasted.
—THE CHRONICLES
OF SATRAYA
PEEL CASTLE, 2:18 P.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 25, 2070
“I don’t see anything here about the story Mr. Quinn told us about Atlantis,” Halima said, flipping through a large book. Its pages were made of thick parchment on which text had been handwritten and illustrations hand-drawn.
“Not surprising,” Anita said, scanning a chapter in a science book that explained the finer points of electromagnetic waves. “Recorded history is more about what those in power were doing at the time than what actually happened. People want to be remembered, so the vain and powerful tended to control the quills of antiquity. I’m not sure that will ever change.”
Anita and Halima were sitting at the illuminated table under the dome of the Alexandria Room. The surface was covered with books and manuscripts they had been pulling from the library’s shelves for the better part of the day. Britney had been helping with the research but she’d had to return to the university to attend a class. Sebastian’s explanation of the voice of the earth being disrupted and the story he had related about the downfall of Atlantis concerned Anita. She was determined to understand what was disturbing the world and, more important, what she could do to help stop it. While assisting Anita in the Alexandria Room, Halima had taken the opportunity to retrieve several volumes of The Unexpected Life, the writings of Sebastian’s mother and father. She was particularly interested in volume eight, which contained the references to Sumsari Baltik.
“It says here that the Schumann resonance is a series of electromagnetic waves that bounce between the surface of the earth and the bottom of the ionosphere,” Anita said, her eyes widening. “The waves are caused by lightning emitted from the thousands of storms constantly taking place around the world at any given moment. It goes on to say that as the waves bounce and flow around the earth, the crests and troughs eventually align to create a collective resonance that amplifies the original signal. The resonance can be as low as eight hertz.”
Halima blinked. “And that’s important because . . . ?”
“Because it’s the same frequency range as the alpha and theta waves in our brains,” Anita said, looking up and sitting back in her chair. “If the Schumann resonance is somehow being altered, as Mr. Quinn suggested, that would explain why people are reporting hallucinations and headaches and are having trouble falling asleep.”
Journey Through the Mirrors Page 30
