The Cosega Sequence: A Techno Thriller

by Brandt Legg

  “What if it is? If that’s the past, and not the future we’re looking at, then what do you think about his remaining prophecies?” Gale asked.

  Rip thought for a few moments, staring into the Eysen, looking at the circular architecture. Even the flying crafts were adorned with circles and engineered in a similar form. “Maybe we’d better try to stop the Divinations,” he said. “But how?”

  Chapter 64

  Gale, knowing the next part of the conversation would not be easy, took a deep breath. “I found Clastier’s letters to Padre Romero.”

  “You’re amazing,” Rip said, smiling. “Where are they?”

  “A Vatican agent stole them from me. They were destroyed in a fire, when his car crashed over a cliff.”

  Rip closed his eyes. “Did you at least get a chance to read them?”

  “I did, but Rip, there’s something else . . . the same Vatican agent killed Larsen.”

  Rip looked from Gale to Booker. “I do not want to stop that Divination. The Catholic Church can go to hell!”

  “I’m sorry, Rip.” Booker said.

  Gale went on to tell Rip about the book that she missed getting in San Cristobal. “This man beat me to it,” she said, holding out the card she’d taken from the old man’s house.

  “Special Agent Dixon Barbeau,” Rip said, reading the card. “The man saved my life and let me go free. Maybe he was just working for the NSA, but he did it.”

  “The FBI and NSA have not had any cooperation on this case,” Booker said. “The FBI Director has been working counter to the Attorney General, the President, and the NSA. He is trying to root out the corruption at the top of our government.”

  “Is that possible?” Gale asked.

  “I’m certainly involved with corruption in government, not just ours, but around the world. But the NSA is a different kind of thing. It’s about absolute security for the United States, whatever the cost. Those people believe the Constitution is second to national security. So the only way to end corruption at that level is to destroy the NSA, and that is not possible without revolution.”

  “No revolution in the Divinations,” Gale said.

  “Don’t be so sure,” Booker said. “World War III could start in any number of ways.”

  Rip looked into Gale’s eyes, reassured to see the blue again. If he’d been destined to find the Eysen, what was her role? How had she stayed alive?

  “In his letters to Padre Romero,” Gale said, jarring him back, “Clastier mentions the Eysen, which he called the Universal Sphere, or sometimes the Black Sphere. He described it briefly, and told Romero that Church leaders wanted it, but that it could not be allowed to fall into their hands. He went on to say,” Gale checked her journal, “that one day someone would come to the San José de Gracia Church, in Las Trampas and ask for the letters he’d written. He said that only if they were sent by Flora, were they to turn over the letters.”

  “What was in the letters?” Rip asked, hopeful.

  “There were only three; he mentioned others, but those did not survive. In the missing ones, he wrote in detail about how he had used the Universal Sphere to make his predictions. It seems he wanted to refute Church’s claims that he was consorting with the Devil, so he wrote the truth. In it, he explains that only he could make the sphere go deep enough to be able to see the future.”

  Rip nodded. “It seems to be the case and Booker has confirmed that by spying on the Vatican.”

  “It was set up that way so that the Eysen wouldn’t affect events past the lifetime it is in currently.”

  “Meaning we can’t change the future?” Booker asked. “Did someone make this rule for a reason?”

  “Not a rule,” Gale corrected. “Just the way they made it. Once Rip is dead, the ‘deep knowledge’ as Clastier called it will be inaccessible.”

  “So, we can change things?”

  “I think we can. But that’s not my point. There is a way, even if you are dead. And I’m afraid the Vatican knows this.” She held up her Chip.

  “Jesus! Where did you get that?” Rip asked, double-checking to see that his was still under the Eysen.

  “Teresa, the old woman in Chimayó, gave me an Odeon. It was Clastier’s.”

  “So, the Vatican could use that to get deep inside the Eysen they took from Clastier?” Booker asked.

  “Yes,” Gale said. “Here’s the bombshell; Clastier’s Eysen was found when they were building El Santuario de Chimayó. That means he had it for at least forty years.”

  Rip looked at Gale.

  She nodded, answering his unasked question. “The healing dirt.”

  “What?” Booker asked.

  “El Santuario de Chimayó is world-famous for its healing dirt; it is believed to be sacred. There is a small hole in the floor inside the chapel. Pilgrims come from all over the world to take a handful of the earth. Clastier’s Eysen was found in that same hole.”

  “We need to know what’s in that book that Barbeau has,” Rip said.

  “Why is it so important?” Booker asked. “We have our own Eysen and its Chip.”

  “Clastier had an Eysen for forty years. He wrote two centuries worth of prophecies that have all come to pass,” Rip said. “Can you imagine what forty years of constant study would yield from this thing? Nobody was even after him, until the last few years. That means he was free to pursue the Eysen’s knowledge without fear. He could save us decades of research.”

  “Decades we don’t have,” Gale said.

  “I have people who can help,” Booker began. “I’ve spent several billion dollars funding research into a new field called Universe-Quantum-Physics or UQP. As you know, quantum mechanics is concerned with aspects of physics at the nanoscopic level, subatomic particles, the theory of everything, infinite layers, and the like. UQP goes beyond all that.”

  “What is beyond all that?” Gale asked.

  “That’s what I want to know. Other dimensions, metaphysics, psychic phenomena, time travel . . . everything we can’t see with even the most powerful instruments. Where did we come from, why is it all here, what holds everything together, when did it start, when does it end?”

  “Wow,” Gale said. “And you have people working on this?”

  “Some of the brightest minds in the world. In fact, I want you to meet a very special individual named Nathan Ryder.”

  “Are they getting anywhere?” Rip asked, skeptical.

  “There have been many promising developments, and now with the Eysen . . . ”

  Chapter 65

  Jaeger, acting like the general he always wanted to be, worked two phones at once, and shouted commands from his treadmill, while watching monitors covering five states, including detailed live streams coming in from Taos. The governor of New Mexico had been informed that hostile encounters with domestic terrorists were imminent. Advanced weapons had been deployed and were continuing to be moved into place.

  By morning they would have the grids completed and know the location of Gaines and Booker, assuming he was right about Taos, and the NSA would overwhelm whatever force Booker had amassed. Even if it turned out to be somewhere else, the personnel could be transferred to any of the other locations in three to five hours. Jaeger felt good about Monday. He’d even ordered the indictments against Booker to be held. “No sense indicting a dead man,” he told Washington.

  Barbeau had been informed of the potential battle in Taos. The Director ordered all forty-one DIRT agents, who weren’t already in New Mexico, to get there. Additionally, sixty-six regular FBI agents from nearby states were on their way. Both groups would arrive before midnight.

  The translation of the ninety-eight-page book Barbeau had taken from the old man’s house in San Crisobal was nearly complete. The DIRT agent doing the work had switched to voice recognition software and simply read the Spanish into the computer, which translated it instantly.

  It was filled with philosophical passages attributed to Clastier. There was also something calle
d a Divination, which, after he read, Barbeaeu realized was a prediction for the future of the planet. The prophecy mentioned the absence of war, hunger, and disease, among other things. It seemed like a wonderful view of the future; a place he might like to live. But the thing that caught his attention was Clastier’s line that there was also no Catholic Church in that future. This could explain the Vatican’s intense interest. Was it worth the senior Vatican Agent’s death? Maybe.

  Barbeau knew from reading the material DIRT had prepared that Vatican hierarchy, in spite of what they preached to the masses, believed in prophecies and the supernatural. They had the largest metaphysical library in the world, performed exorcisms, and proclaimed miracles. They believed it was possible to tap a higher power, to see things, to know.

  Still, the book didn’t seem that important until he read the two pages titled Universal Sphere. A pupil of Clastier had written the book, someone he was apparently teaching how to operate something that sounded very similar to the reports he’d seen on Gaines’ Eysen. Barbeau couldn’t figure out how the artifact got from New Mexico to inside the cliff in Virginia, but these appeared to be instructions. No wonder the Vatican, Booker’s men, and Gale Asher were all there looking for it.

  Everything Barbeau had read about the Eysen, which had come from the Vatican via DIRT, made him doubt that it was millions of years old. It sounded too advanced even to have been created in the present day. So reading about it in a book, that was nearly one hundred and seventy years old, was jarring. The most powerful religion, government, and billionaire in the world were fighting over something from the past that could control the future, and Barbeau had what might be the key to it all. For the first time since the case had begun, he was terrified. Not for his own life, that was worth about eighty bucks to him. Barbeau feared for all the other people alive and the ones still to come.

  “Put the translation on a flash drive,” Barbeau told the DIRT agent.

  “Done,” he said handing him the drive.

  “Thank you, now delete it off your laptop.”

  “Delete?”

  “I mean, so it can never be recovered.”

  The agent nodded. “I’ll have to backup my other data, then wipe the drive, but if you’re worried about the NSA or Booker, even using DOD protocols won’t make it completely secure. People they employ might still be able to get something.”

  Barbeau zipped the printout he’d been reading and the original book into a nylon evidence bag, and put the thumb drive in his pocket. “Then back up your other data and physically destroy that hard drive. Run it over, pump five bullets into it, whatever. Make sure it can never be recovered. And do it now.”

  Chapter 66

  Booker had been called away, but came storming back into the study. “It isn’t safe to stay here.” He looked at Rip. “Elpate was working with the NSA all along. He planted those tracking devices.”

  “Are you sure?” Rip asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Damndest thing,” Booker said. “Elpate had been laundering money and doing dirty work for the CIA for decades, as part of some deal that kept him from spending the rest of his life in prison. He’d been a big kingpin, when he got busted by the DEA. His connections were so valuable, the feds decided to put him back on the street, and ever since, he’s been doing small-time stuff, and they’ve been looking the other way in exchange for his informing. It was a fluke that you dropped into his lap. The NSA must have felt like they won the lottery.”

  “He saved my life,” Rip said.

  “Maybe. It may have just looked that way. We’ll never know. Elpate is dead.”

  “You had him killed?”

  “It wasn’t me. The Vatican did it. He’d seen the Eysen,” Booker paused. “They also have a hit ordered on Grinley. They already killed his two buddies.”

  “Who?” Gale asked.

  “A trucker named Fischer and some other guy, I don’t remember his name, I think you drove his truck to Taos.”

  “Tuke,” Gale said sadly, “they killed Fischer and Tuke; and their only crime was helping us. They never even knew the Eysen existed.”

  “Grinley is safe?” Rip asked.

  “Booker sent him to Cuba, even compensated him for his losses,” Gale said.

  “I’m sorry about all this, but we must leave Taos,” Booker repeated. “They are preparing for war, and I plan for us all to be far away from New Mexico before it starts.”

  “We have to go back to Teresa’s,” Gale said.

  “Why?” Rip asked.

  “Because she has the only remaining copies of Clastier’s Papers and his letters to Flora.”

  “Asheville?” Rip asked.

  “The Vatican took the place apart,” Booker said. “The night you left, a crew moved in and trashed everything, until they found them,” Booker said.

  “The others were destroyed when the Vatican’s agent car burned,” Gale said.

  “We’re ready,” an aide interrupted. “All sensitive data is loaded in the helicopter.”

  “Booker, we have to get those papers,” Rip said. “Not just to preserve Clastier’s work, but because we still need answers.”

  “The NSA, FBI, and the Vatican are about to detonate northern New Mexico,” Booker said. “I don’t think you understand that this is not like the other times. It’s as if all the agents of evil had to be summoned here to destroy you.”

  “You’re being overly dramatic,” Rip said.

  “I’m trying to make a point.”

  “You made my point,” Rip said. “All those forces are converging here, because as Gale told me forever ago, this is where it all began. This is Clastier’s world. They’re after him as much as us and if we don’t save his work then we’re all lost . . . All of us!”

  “There’s no choice,” Gale added.

  Booker stared hard at Rip.

  “Booker, years ago, you, Larsen, and I sat around a table and talked about what we might find. Maybe you had a dream it would be like this, but Larsen and I just wanted to prove the Cosega Theory – that humans had lived in some form of an advanced society significantly predating our current timelines.” Rip paused, collecting his thoughts. “We found so much more than the Cosega Theory. We found the Cosegans. And what Gale and I began as a quest to unlock the secrets of the strange and wondrous artifact called the Eysen, has now turned into an urgent mission to save the world from itself. How can we stop the final Divinations? Is it even possible? Only Clastier can tell us.”

  “What do you need?” Booker asked.

  “A van, a copier, and as many AX agents as we can fit,” Gale said.

  “Can’t we fly you there?” Booker said.

  “Don’t you think that will attract too much attention?” Rip asked.

  “I guess so, in this climate. I’ll have a unit on standby to extract you. Get them X34 phones,” Booker said to his assistant. “They are scrambled, blocked blind, and linked to communicate only with other X34s.”

  As they were leaving, Booker ran up to the van. “Rip, don’t you think I should keep the Eysen for safe keeping?”

  “I’ve managed this far,” Rip answered. “I’m sure you’ll keep us well protected.” He patted the backpack that Booker had given him that contained a tracking device they had mutually agreed to be a good precaution.

  “Yes, I’ll be watching,” Booker said. “Good luck, see you in the sun.” Booker ran to the helicopter, its rotors spinning.

  Chapter 67

  The van pulled up to Teresa’s house. Gale and Rip jumped out and ran to the front door. They were afraid she’d been killed and the papers taken.

  Gale almost cried when the porch light came on. Teresa opened the door with a surprised look.

  “Thank God you’re all right,” Rip said.

  “I could say the same for you, Mr. Ripley. The newswoman on TV said you were dead.”

  Rip couldn’t help himself; he hugged her.

  “Mind my hip, Mr. Ripley, it’s been acting up sin
ce the rain.”

  “Teresa, I’m afraid we’re in a little bit of a hurry.”

  “Aren’t you always?”

  “We need to make another set of copies of the letters and papers.”

  “Why? Did you lose yours?” She shook her head. I’m not letting them out of my house again.”

  “We thought you might say that,” Gale said. Rip nodded to Kruse. He carried in a copy machine from the van. “We can do it right in your living room, if you don’t mind.”

  “Well, look at that,” Teresa said. “You folks are clever. Sure, come on in. I’ll put on some tea. You know, I’ve read all his papers since you were last here and it’s no wonder those Church leaders in Rome didn’t like him.”

  They followed Teresa inside and Kruse set up the copier, before he was dismissed by Teresa. “I’m sure Mr. Ripley can handle some stacks of paper,” she said. “You can sweep my front walk, if you need something to do,” she said while pointing Kruse to the front door. Rip was going to remind her it was dark out, but let it go.

  It didn’t take long since they were copying copies and not the originals; Rip just had to refill the auto feeder five or six times and they were set.

  “I’m sorry, but we have to go,” Rip said.

  “But you didn’t finish your tea,” Teresa said.

  “There are some bad people after us,” Gale said while Rip gulped his tea. “They may come here and try to hurt you. We can send you somewhere for a while.”

  “To hide?” she asked annoyed.

  “Think of it as a vacation,” Rip said.

  “I’m way too old for a vacation,” Teresa said. “And, have you forgotten? This is Flora’s home. Clastier lived here. This place holds too many secrets for me to just up and leave it.”

  Rip looked at Gale. She shrugged. “You’ll be okay?” Rip asked.

  “I’m the last protector,” Teresa said.