by Barry Reese
“You do it all the time. You think you’re making helpful suggestions but you’re not. I have a hard enough time acting as leader as it is. I’m young, I’m female and I’m new at this. The last thing I need is somebody who’s already done the job looking over my shoulder.”
“But you speak so highly of Josef. Isn’t that what he’d be doing if he hadn’t been murdered?”
“Probably but we’ll never know because he’s dead.”
Mortimer paused, considering her words. “What if I promised to hold my tongue unless asked to speak?”
Charity frowned. “I’m not sure I want that, either. I don’t want you letting something slip just because you’re afraid of my reaction.”
Mortimer’s hands flew up in exasperation. “Then I really don’t know what you want!”
“Neither do I. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know. Until then, stay at the house.” Charity strode over to the desk, plucked up the skull and headed towards the door. “I’m going to change and then head into town,” she said. “We’ll talk more this evening.”
Shaking his head, Mortimer wondered if he wouldn’t be better off just leaving. If all she wanted was advice, then she could call him on the phone, couldn’t she?
THE PRISON WAS a gray stone monstrosity that sat high on a hill. A large wall, topped by barbed wire and powerful searchlights, enclosed it. The facility had a reputation for being a harsh, violent place and Locke didn’t doubt it in the least. Sovereign’s criminal underworld was filled with sadists and many of them had ended up here, courtesy of the city’s plethora of vigilantes and antiheroes. Even if you avoided the harsh glare of Doc Daye’s all-prying eyes, you had to contend with Lazarus Gray or Fortune McCall, not to mention the less famous names like The Dark Gentleman or Gravedigger.
It was that last one that concerned Locke the most. While the others preferred to take their opponents alive, Gravedigger seemed the opposite. It was rare to find one of her enemies with their heads still intact.
Locke pushed such thoughts away from her mind, not wanting to be distracted from the mission at hand. Her cab dropped her off inside the prison walls, where she signed in at the front desk and received a visitor’s pass. From there, she was led through a circuitous path that ended at a small room marked ‘Visitation.’
Warden Matthews was standing outside the door, an unpleasant look clinging to his heavy features. He glared at the guard who had escorted her and when the man had moved away, the Warden leaned in close to Locke. “He’s in there but you’re only going to get a few minutes. Do you understand?”
Locke smiled sweetly and placed her hand on the Warden’s cheek. The slap that followed was so sudden that both Matthews and the guard standing at the end of the hall blinked in surprise. Even as a red handprint began to form in the wake of the blow, Locke was grabbing hold of the Warden’s tie with a firm grip. Her smile never wavered and when she spoke, her tone was so matter-of-fact that it was all the more chilling. “Johnny, if you ever speak to me in that tone of voice again, I’ll cut off your testicles and mail them to your wife and kids. Are we on the same page here?”
Matthews swallowed hard and nodded. He straightened up when Locke released his tie and he cast an angry glance at the guard, who quickly looked away. “I wasn’t trying to be rude,” he hissed. “I just wanted to let you know that people would start to talk if you spent too long in there. We don’t generally let people be alone with prisoners.”
Locke nodded, accepting his apology. She knew that he meant it. The drugs that were still in his system would prevent him from bucking her orders to any real degree. “If tongues start wagging, I’m sure you’ll know how to handle it. I don’t plan to take any longer than necessary but I won’t be rushed.”
Without waiting for him to respond, Locke reached for the door and opened it. She found Jonah Craig waiting for her, dressed in prison grays. He looked even thinner than she remembered and he was unshaven, adding to the haunted look that he possessed. His eyes traveled hungrily over her body as she took a seat across from him and she wondered how long it had been since he’d even seen a woman.
“Jonah,” she said, clasping her hands on the small table that separated them. “Do you remember me?”
“Sandra Locke,” he replied. “You attended Sovereign University the same years I did but we only had one class together. If I recall correctly, you dropped out before graduation.”
“You have such a good memory! I found employment and decided that an education wasn’t going to be of much use to me.”
“Education is very important. So much so, that I’d appreciate it if you called Dr. Craig.”
Locke laughed and looked away shyly, using her beauty to manipulate him. “I agree, Dr. Craig, about the importance of education, I mean. I just meant that in my line of work….”
“What work is that?”
Locke leaned forward and lowered her voice, inspiring Craig to do the same. “I work for a man who’s going to take over the country.”
Craig stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing. When he did speak, his words conveyed no doubt about her honesty. “What’s his name?”
“Hiroshi Tamaki.”
Craig looked quickly at the door and then at Locke. “I’ve heard of him.”
“He knows about the connection between Pandora and the Silver Skull. In fact, he’s got someone working to confirm that right now.”
“It doesn’t need confirming. It’s true! The Silver Skull belonged to her.” Craig’s eyes were wild now, as if he could barely contain his rising excitement. “Is that why you’re here? You want me to look at something to prove this?”
“Better than that. I’m here to break you out.”
“How?”
“Patience, sweetie. All good things come to those who wait.” Locke glanced at her arm, where she wore a small timepiece. “While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me about Pandora?”
“The myth?”
“The truth.”
Craig grinned wolfishly and Locke wondered if all of his sanity was still intact. “Cursed for her actions, Pandora was told that she could not rest until all of the sins she had unleashed were placed back into a vessel. She became a nomadic warrior, seeking out the demonic entities that were the avatars of mankind’s darkest fears and desires. She’s still out there, even now, seeking to undo the damage she’s done.”
“And you believe that?”
“I believe she exists, yes. Unfortunately, I don’t think she’ll ever succeed in her task. The darkness is ingrained in all of us now. Even if she destroyed the forces that embody those fears, there’s no removing the taint from our souls.”
Locke looked at him with curiosity. “Tell me, what you were trying to steal from the museum back when they caught you and put you in here?”
“Hiroshi didn’t tell you?”
“I want to hear it from you.”
“You prefer primary sources? I like that. Shows good research methods.” Craig spoke quickly now, pleased to be able to share his knowledge. “The museum purchased a collection of antique weaponry; mostly swords and knives but flails, shuriken and more were included. No real rhyme or reason to the set, it was from all over the world and different time periods. I heard that some of it may have belonged to Pandora herself and I wanted to have a look at it… a permanent look at it, I have to confess. Immortals like her leave impressions on things that are important to them. If you know how, you can use them like a divining rod.”
“Wait, you thought you could actually track her using some old sword?”
“Yes! Of course, I didn’t get a chance to test my theory since I was captured on the way out the door.” Craig rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. “But she’s out there, I’m sure of it.”
“What would you say to her if you found her?”
Craig paused, apparently having never given serious thought to that obvious question. “I… I think I would ask her what things she’s seen and done over the ye
ars. From a historical perspective, she’d be the most valuable find in the entire world! Everyone would know my name when I was done. I’d be the one who uncovered the truth!”
Locke smiled, a genuine one this time. She liked finding out what drove other people, what dirty little secrets made them tick. Obviously, Craig’s desire wasn’t just to help the rest of mankind. He wanted to be some kind of superstar, with newspapers and radio programs begging him to speak to them. She wondered if he even cared at all for this Pandora woman and how she would be affected by all of this.
On the surface, the entire notion of Pandora surviving was ludicrous but Locke had seen things from Hiroshi that defied explanation. He believed in Craig’s theories, which meant that Locke did, too.
After casting another glance at her watch, Locke stood up and gestured for Craig to do the same. “It’s time. Get as far away from the exterior wall as possible.”
Craig did as she directed but his next question was lost in the cacophony of sounds that suddenly rendered all conversation pointless. Alarms began to blare throughout the prison, followed quickly by gunfire.
Locke was obviously expecting all of this, Craig realized. She was staring at the sole window in the room. Through the bars, she saw a large hook and rope drop down, just outside. Moving quickly over, she reached through and grabbed hold of it, attaching it to one of the bars.
“Where is that coming from?” Craig shouted. Before Locke replied, he received his answer. Through all of the alarms and gunfire, he heard the telltale sounds of an autogyro.
“Don’t get too close,” Locke cautioned, leaning close so she could speak directly into the doctor’s ear.
The rope grew taut and as Craig’s eyes widened, cracks began to appear in the wall around the bars. The entire wall came tumbling back, tumbling down into the abyss. The hook and its trailing line were cut from above, seconds before a second one was thrown down, close enough for Locke to grab hold. She pulled Craig close and tied the rope securely around his waist. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gave a pull on the cord and indicated that Craig should hold on tight.
Up above, silhouetted against the sun, was the autogyro, a strange sort of wingless aeroplane with rotating blades that gave it both propulsion and the ability to hover in midair.
Craig gave a startled cry as he was lifted into the air, dangling below the autogyro. He looked back at the prison, seeing inmates running around, guns in hand, exchanging gunfire with the guards.
“We did this for you. We’ve been sneaking in weapons and setting up explosives for nearly a month.” Locke said, her lips brushing his ear. “All because Hiroshi believes in your research.”
“But… what does he want?!” Craig asked, his heart hammering in his chest. He was afraid of heights and didn’t want it to show, though it was obvious to Locke that he was terrified.
“I told you. He’s going to become the first Emperor in the history of the United States. And you’re going to help him do that, but first we’re going to have to find a way to introduce you to Pandora.”
THE SOVEREIGN MUSEUM of Natural History was a sprawling structure. It stood in the heart of the downtown area and was comprised of twelve interconnected buildings. The Museum housed well over a million specimens, only a relative few of which were on active display. With a scientific staff of over a hundred, the Museum funded nearly four dozen scientific expeditions each year, sending explorers out all over the globe. The Museum was divided up into numerous displays but the most popular was the ever-present Start of Sovereign Hall, where the origins of the city were examined. To access this, visitors had to stride through the huge entranceway, where they could stare up at a full-size model of a Blue Whale which hung from the ceiling.
Charity barely glanced at the model, which was built from papier-mâché, iron and basswood. She wasn’t here for sightseeing and even if she had been, it wasn’t the sort of display that would have impressed her. Instead, she found herself drawn to a set of ancient weapons mounted on the wall. Something about the blades called out to her and she wished she could reach out and touch them. She wondered if it was simply the fact that she utilized such killing devices on a daily basis that made her appreciate these or if it was something more, something that called out to her on an even more primal level. These weapons all belonged to a woman, she thought, despite there being no evidence to support that idea. All of them… to the same woman.
Smartly attired in a figure-hugging black dress and heels, Charity looked like a pretty young socialite. It was so far from the truth that she felt a bit silly. Her half-sister, Samantha, had grown up with a life of privilege while Charity had scraped by on the mean streets of Sovereign, engaging in petty theft and deceit to ensure she had enough food to eat. It hadn’t been pretty but she managed to eke out an existence.
Besides, that was all in the past now, though she was still working the sin off the ledger.
“Miss Grace?”
Charity turned to see Kelly Emerson striding towards her. Though many in the city thought of Kelly Emerson as merely “the curator’s daughter,” she was in fact much more. A graduate of Sovereign University, Kelly held doctorates in archaeology and anthropology. Standing nearly six feet tall and possessed of flowing red hair, she looked like a modern Amazon, with enough curves to unsettle even the most ardent of playboys. Her glittering green eyes and full lips had made her one of Sovereign City’s most sought after figures.
All of that, however, would not have made her a fixture of the city’s gossip columns. It was her on-again, off-again romance with Lazarus Gray that kept tongues wagging.
Kelly looked like she was ready for a day in the jungle rather than the museum. She wore a white blouse, jodhpurs and black leather boots that reached to her calf.
Obviously noticing that Charity was looking at her garb, Kelly smiled and explained, “I apologize for my appearance. I literally just got in this morning from Cairo. I haven’t even had the chance to unpack yet.”
“Then I really appreciate you meeting me like this. If you’d prefer, I can come back later.”
“Nonsense.” Kelly waved away the very thought. “Besides, we have some mutual friends.”
“Lazarus?”
“Well, yes, but I was actually speaking of Samantha.”
“We’re not close.”
“So I’ve gathered. But that might change, right?”
Charity shifted her weight from foot to foot, thinking about how to best answer that. “Given that her employer doesn’t approve of me or my methods, I’m not sure that my sister’s going to be inviting me over for brunch.”
“She’s her own woman. I think you might be surprised.” Kelly gestured towards an office down the hall. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to have me poke around in your life. Why don’t we go someplace where I can take a look at those runes?”
CHARITY WATCHED KELLY at work, marveling at the way the woman did her job. Immediately after taking a look at the slip of paper, Kelly had gone to one of the massive bookshelves in her office and pulled out three leather-bound tomes. She laid these out on her desk and hurriedly flipped the pages in each until she had found what she was looking for. She then set out translating the runes, writing down the words on a pad of paper.
“Do you get any flak about being a woman?” Charity asked. “The only other females I’ve seen around this place are fetching coffee and looking pretty.”
Kelly answered without glancing up from her task. “I’ve gotten my share of coffee for my father and his friends, and I like to think I look quite pretty.”
“You know what I mean.”
Kelly paused and sat back in her chair. With a nod, she said, “Yes, all the time. Even after all the accomplishments I’ve had and the tens of thousands of dollars in relics I’ve personally added to the collection, I still have men who – every day – ask if they can speak to my father instead of me. By all rights, I should be the obvious choice to succeed him as Curator but I honestly thought t
hat it would ever happen. It’s not my father’s fault, mind you, but the museum board is comprised entirely of old men and they’d rather look at my legs than listen to me give a presentation.”
“It’s not the same by any means but I’m the first woman to do… this. All the Gravediggers before me were all men.”
“Lazarus told me a little about that,” Kelly admitted. “It all sounded a bit… mystical.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Charity responded, laughing as she did so. She leaned forward, realizing that she really liked Kelly.
“So do you feel extra pressure because you’re a woman?” Kelly asked.
“I do. Not sure why but I really do.”
“It’s natural, believe me. We’re so aware that people are usually looking to the men for leadership that we feel we have to not only be the equal to them but their superior. All the while without losing the femininity that people not only expect but that we want to hang on to, as well.”
“I worry that I’m pushing my people too hard.”
“That depends on the people.”
“I only have three years. You know that, right? I have three years to get all my work done. If I screw this up, I’m going straight to hell.”
“I don’t believe in hell,” Kelly said, looking a bit embarrassed by the revelation. “Heaven, either. My father nearly had a stroke when I said that to him.”
“I won’t judge you and I don’t know if The Voice is God or just some powerful entity that’s using me. Whether or not the hell I might end up is the same one from the Bible, don’t know that either. But whatever it is, I don’t want to end up there.”
“Can’t say I blame you for that.”
Charity pointed towards the notepad. “What do you think it says?”
“I’ve been re-checking my translation for awhile now because there must be some mistake.”
“Why do you think that?”
“The closest runic translation I could decipher says: THE AGELESS WOMAN SLEEPS IN THE SILVER SKULL. TO AWAKEN HER IS TO BEGIN THE END TIMES.”
