by Aiden James
Jack recoiled, as much from his stale breath and strong cologne as from the venom in his words.
“That was self defense, and you know it!”
The agent snickered, shoving him back against the couch.
“Self defense!” Stu Johnson repeated derisively as he stepped away and turned toward his cohorts, who all snickered with him. “Is that why Peter McNamee was shot in the left eye and stuffed in the trunk of the sedan you stole from us? Or, why Ben Casey was executed similarly? Hmmm??”
Jack glared at him, but knew it futile to plead their case further.
Agent Johnson grinned wryly; as if their reaction was the one he’d been after all along. He turned again to his associates and motioned for them to gather with him in the dining room. The group huddled briefly, the three protégés drawing on the whispered wisdom from their master. A moment later the younger agents smiled knowingly at Jack and Jeremy before moving outside to the back porch. Stu Johnson drew his weapon and approached the couch.
“All right...let’s cut the bullshit right here,” he said.
He grabbed a chair and sat down directly in front of them, checking his handgun to make sure it was ready for immediate use.
“You know and I know that the towers, or whatever those things are will be here shortly.” His tone low and solemn, he glanced over his shoulder toward the dining room before going on. “When they arrive everything’s going to turn to shit—at least here in Tuscaloosa. After that, who knows? My guess is we’re headed for a new world order, and when it happens the most readily liquefiable assets will be gold and precious gems. Currency, stocks, guaranteed bonds, and whatever else is under the Federal Reserve’s protection will either be worthless or on the way to being so.
“For someone like me, who’s given nearly twenty-five years to serving our great country, sacrificing time with my family and the pursuit of more profitable enterprises, this is especially disheartening,” he continued, leaning forward in his chair. “Can you imagine my surprise when I learned a few weeks ago that a shipment of priceless gems and artifacts found there way into the United States illegally? That’s right…I’m talking about the crates we confiscated Thursday afternoon from the basement of Dr. Quard-e-Lazim’s house, boys.”
Jeremy shook his head while Jack glared at him again, not at all surprised by the man’s unscrupulousness.
“When I first heard about this wonderful opportunity, all we knew for certain was that the items had been brought to an unknown location in Tuscaloosa, and somehow your pal Dr. Oscar Mensch was involved,” Agent Johnson explained, ignoring their indignant reactions. “My intent was to arrange a secret meeting with the professor, but unfortunately he was attacked on May 4th. I hoped for a full recovery, or at least to where he could reveal the shipment’s whereabouts, but his assailants finished the job in his hospital bed. That left just you two for me to glean what I needed.”
“So, you’re the one that had us kidnapped and detained?” asked Jeremy sharply.
“Exactly,” he said. “But, I had to be coy in my methods in determining just how much either of you knew. When my colleagues in Washington failed to coerce the information I desired, I sent my finest assistant at the time, Peter McNamee, to obtain the critical details on where Dr. Mensch or Dr. Quard-e-Lazim had stashed their ancient treasure. Unfortunately, I never anticipated Peter’s lips would reveal some closely guarded secrets, as very few people are aware of what that golden haze on its way here contains or where its components originated from.”
“You killed him, then, didn’t you,” accused Jack, evenly.
“Me? Oh, no,” he said, scowling in denial. “That would’ve been too messy for my taste. It’s always better for one’s subordinates to take care of the dirty work.”
“So, Bo Cochran has much bigger balls than you, huh?”
Jeremy added a smug smile to go with his scornful taunt.
“If you’re referring to the fact he took care of our little problem with Peter, then that’s correct,” said Agent Johnson, returning his smile, though his cold steel eyes betrayed his annoyance. “If he had only completed the work he was commissioned to do, we wouldn’t be here holding this discussion right now. Of course, the location of the crates would’ve likely remained a mystery.”
“Hey, boss, do you need us yet?”
The Anglo agent leaned his head through the back door, the others behind him.
“Not yet, Jimmy!” Agent Johnson called over his shoulder. “I’ll come get you in a minute!”
“All right!”
Once the back door closed, Agent Johnson returned his attention to Jeremy and Jack.
“I’m afraid it’s time to end this ‘chit-chat’,” he told them. “Here’s your deal in a nutshell: Tell us where Dr. Quard-e-Lazim has taken our treasure, and we’ll let you go as soon as we’ve got it back. Oh, and that does mean delivered to us in the remaining two trucks we started with so we can continue our trip to Atlanta, where I’ve got a private storehouse waiting. If you continue to stonewall our attempts with another ‘I don’t know where it is’, then Agents Anderson, White, and Van Dussen will come in here and play target practice with you. Is that clear enough?”
“For the last time, asshole, we don’t have any idea where your fucking loot is!” sneered Jeremy while Jack looked on, trying to remain calm.
“Must we be so ‘fucking’ petulant?” Agent Johnson stood up and immediately stuck his gun in Jeremy’s face. “You almost make me want to do this myself, you obnoxious piece of shit!”
The two glared at one another. Stu Johnson snickered in contempt and then shrilly whistled. His three associates reappeared in the living room.
“They’re all yours!” he announced. “All I ask is that they suffer terribly for what they did to our friends!”
Stu Johnson pulled his gun away from Jeremy’s face and stepped back to allow the others to take his place. As he turned to leave the living room, Jack called after him to stop, trying to ignore Louis Anderson’s gun aimed at his crotch.
“What would you like to tell us, Jack?”
“While I don’t know where Dr. Quard-e-Lazim is or where your trucks are, Dr. Mensch kept journals with all of his contact information in them—”
“Not good enough!!”
“I swear, man! This shit’s real!!”
The other two agents pointed their weapons at Jeremy, who braced himself for the volley that was sure to come while Jack continued to plead his case.
“It’s all there, Agent Johnson! The journals belonged to Dr. Mensch under his former name of Seiverlich!!”
“Wait!!”
The three younger agents turned their heads, looking to their leader, who motioned for them to hold off a moment. Jack knew his and Jeremy’s fate hinged on what would transpire in the next few seconds.
“Seiverlich?”
Agent Johnson’s icy glare was now replaced by the gleam of extreme interest.
“Yes,” said Jack, realizing this would likely be the last chance they had. “His real name was Dr. Viktor Seiverlich.”
The agent motioned for his colleagues to put down their weapons.
“Where are these journals, Jack?”
“They’re hidden in a safe place.”
Jeremy tensed slightly, which went unnoticed by everyone but Jack. He knew his brother would follow wherever he chose to go with this.
“And where would that be, Mr. Kenney? It’s almost four o’clock in the morning, so make this quick!”
“1016 South Queens Court.”
Agent Stuart Johnson chuckled and turned to face his colleagues again, who began laughing along with him.
“We’ve combed every inch of the house and grounds, and we found nothing even remotely resembling what you’re talking about, Jack!” he said, turning to face him again. “What the hell do you take me for, Mr. Kenney? I’m going to end this foolishness right now!!”
He walked over to him and pushed his pistol against Jack’s forehead, w
hile Jeremy looked on in horror.
“It’s there, I assure you!” said Jack, flinching and worried his next word could be his last. “I’ll be happy to take you there and show you!”
“Just fucking tell me!!” Stu Johnson snarled, pushing the Glock to where it would leave a lasting bruise on Jack’s forehead.
“What kind of fool do you take me for?” said Jack bravely. “If I told you now, that would be it for me and Jeremy!”
The agent paused, and seemed to seriously consider his words. He withdrew his gun and bent down in Jack’s face, forcing the nauseating mixture of his breath and cologne on him once more.
“You had better be right about this, or I’ll paint the walls of that beautiful house with your brains! You got that asshole?”
“Yes.”
“All right everyone!” He stood up and backed away from the couch. “Laura, you and I’ll take Jack in our car, and Jeremy will ride with Jim and Lou. Let’s get moving!”
***
Surprisingly strong for her slender build, Laura Van Dussen grabbed Jack and yanked him up from the couch while Louis Anderson did the same with Jeremy. James White led the way out of Marshall Edwards’ house with Stu Johnson right behind him.
The rain had tapered off to a slight drizzle when the agents threw their captives into the back seats of two sedans parked along the street. Agent Van Dussen moved into the driver’s seat while Agent Johnson sat next to her in the passenger seat, with Jack forced to lie down in the back seat. In the other sedan, Agent White was the driver and Agent Anderson joined him in the passenger seat. Like his brother, Jeremy was forced to lie down behind them in the back seat.
The first sedan pulled onto Cedar Creek Road and the second one followed. The two vehicles headed north toward McFarland Boulevard, while the immense orange and gold haze closed in on the city’s southern edge. The funnel-shaped ends of the seven shimmering objects within the haze descended to where they hovered less than two-hundred feet above the ground. Emergency sirens filled the air in the distance.
The agents in both sedans commented excitedly about this incredible sight and its close proximity, while Jack and Jeremy were forced to rely on whatever details they heard concerning the arc’s progress. After reaching McFarland Boulevard, the cars backtracked along several side streets until they reached South Queens Court. Half a mile from the one-thousand block the air above them shook mightily. Both sedans screeched to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road.
The darkened sky grew extremely bright, bathed in colors far more spectacular than any earthly sunset and sunrise. The object’s sheer enormity caused everyone to draw in their breath as it passed less than a hundred feet above. Jack craned his neck to better witness this marvel through the rear windows.
Likely the base of one tower, the mile-wide object descended rapidly, threatening to obliterate a huge portion of the University’s campus. Though hard to discern in the brilliant light now surrounding them, the fiery contours of the object’s underside resembled the circuitry patterns of a computer motherboard and the maze designs from the ancient world, like Mesopotamia.
The top of a distant dormitory and several radio towers exploded as it moved northward. But then the entire image began to distort and dissipate, soon leaving just a shimmering mist behind. When the mist dissolved, the agents rolled down their windows to get a better look. All signs of the incredible structure were gone, along with the other six objects and the mysterious haze that shrouded them.
Listening to Stu Johnson and Laura Van Dussen whisper anxiously, Jack could tell neither one expected anything quite like this to actually happen, despite the unusual light displays along the southern skyline since the previous afternoon. He envisioned a similar conversation playing out for Jeremy in the other sedan.
When the sedans reached the English Tudor estate, they pulled up into the circular driveway. Two empty police cruisers sat parked on either side of the front door.
“Where are Officer Adams and Lieutenant Dupree?” asked Laura Van Dussen, worriedly, as she stepped out of the car. “Didn’t they have instructions to remain outside until we got back?”
“Yes, my dear, they did.”
Scowling, Stu Johnson’s attention was drawn to a large blast hole where the recently repaired front door had been when they last visited, just three hours earlier. A soft orange glow emanated from inside the mansion through the doorway’s torn remnants.
He and Laura motioned for Agents Anderson and White to wait a moment. With guns drawn they examined the police cruisers, where broken glass and blood splatter covered the driver sides of both vehicles.
Agent Van Dussen suggested they should immediately call for backup, but her boss scornfully rejected the idea, stating the four of them should be able to handle the situation just fine. For a moment, she looked at him incredulously. But an icy glare was all it took to get her to surrender to his point of view. Reluctant, she motioned for their colleagues to bring the Kenney brothers over to the front steps.
Jack and Jeremy noticed the Essenes’ vans were nowhere around. With weapons drawn, Agents White and Anderson escorted them over to the front porch. After a brief deliberation, Stu Johnson led the way inside the house.
“Officer Adams!... Dupree??”
No response other than a dripping noise coming from the kitchen and a terrible stench. Quietly, Agent Johnson motioned for everyone to follow him there. As soon as they rounded the corner of the dining room and stepped into the kitchen, the group stopped, covering their mouths and noses in revulsion.
Like the front door, the basement door had been obliterated. A brighter version of the orange glow illuminating the main floor emanated from the house’s lower level. The light’s lustrous radiance added an eerie tint to the kitchen’s contents, every detail clearly visible.
Impossible for the brothers to tell what either policeman once looked like, their remains were spread throughout the kitchen. Everything from bloody entrails to arms, legs and partial genitals were either left on the kitchen island and nearby counter, or smeared upon the floor and refrigerator door.
The scene reminded Jack of when he and Jeremy were kids and had tried to make a surprise lasagna dinner for their grandfather, creating an awful mess of his kitchen. Only in this case, Adams and Dupree were the main entrees. Obviously, the macabre feast at their grandfather’s house had been a mere appetizer for Genovene and her kin.
Agent Van Dussen especially affected, the look she gave Jack told him her mind was filled with confusion, regret, and obvious terror. Surely she now understood he and Jeremy had nothing to do with the carnage at Marshall Edwards’ house, and that her boss had lied.
Trembling, she moved over to the refrigerator while everyone else looked on, and then threw open the door. It lay empty. Relieved, she opened the freezer door. The severed heads of the two policemen greeted her, with wide frightened eyes already covered in ice crystals.
She slammed the freezer door shut, screaming. Neither Agents White nor Anderson could calm her, running to her side while glancing over their shoulders for direction from their fearless leader. Meanwhile, a woman’s laughter floated toward them from the basement. The laughter invaded the kitchen and traveled throughout the rest of the house until it returned, reverberating loudly in their midst.
Jeremy looked over at Jack, who silently confirmed it was Genovene.
“Show me where the journals are stored now!” ordered Stu Johnson, motioning with his gun for Jack to get moving.
Jack pointed to the basement’s open maw, indicating the journals were hidden in the basement
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding!”
Agent Johnson’s face turned crimson with fury, and Jack feared he might shoot him and Jeremy where they stood. But instead, he shoved them both toward the stairway while telling his subordinates to give him a hand.
A cut-stone stairway had replaced the original wooden staircase. It appeared to descend several hundred feet into the thick haze, sp
iraling steeply. Lined with straw torches, the stairway’s polished gray marble blocks glistened under torchlight and the haze’s ethereal glow. Jack wondered if this pseudo-reality had been there when he experienced the sensation of a huge chasm two days earlier.
“Wel-l-l-com-m-m-e!!!”
Genovene’s voice echoed up toward them, and Jack thought he heard one of the male agents murmur. Irritated, Agent Johnson hissed over his shoulder for whomever it was to shut the hell up. The haze steadily thickened, and the footing on the narrow stairs grew increasingly precarious. A mere misstep could send everyone tumbling to the bottom.
It wasn’t until they neared the basement floor that the haze dissipated enough to see through it. The cement floor had also undergone an amazing transformation, now an immense mosaic made up of tiny jewels. Insect-like creatures similar to what Jack once saw in Genovene’s village long ago glistened, dressed in strange armor. Victorious in this battle scene, the creatures routed an ancient human army from biblical times, perhaps Sumerians from several thousand years ago.
But the floor wasn’t the most amazing thing that awaited them. As large as the basement had been before, following Dr. Quard-e-Lazim’s alterations, it now spanned several hundred feet in any direction from where they presently stood.
Immense blocks of exquisite white marble had replaced the earthen walls. Lined with fiery oil vats, these new walls climbed toward some unknown height far above. All of this created the perfect surreal environment for the fabulous structure that took up most of the basement interior. The fully restored ‘Star of Karachi’ gleamed spectacularly before them, far more glorious than Jack imagined it would be.
The Blood Star’s eight white marble spires were several feet wide and each one stretched more than a hundred feet in length, culminating in ten-foot wide reservoirs beneath the tip of each spire. Immense jewels, nearly fifteen feet in height and at least three feet thick, hovered in the air above each spire. Each one oval in shape, they turned slowly in unison. The sheer enormity of the jewels made them look like glass prisms. At the end of each spire, rising from the eight reservoirs, loomed enormous columns of dense mist. Each five to six stories in height, they pulsed fervently, as if driven by one unified heartbeat.
