The Phoenix Apostles

by Lynn Sholes

  "Like determining if someone is related to another through their DNA?"

  "Exactly."

  "What about the kind of person someone was? I don't suppose you can discover anything about an individual's personality by analyzing their bones?" Matt figured he'd go in this direction because all the missing remains were from notorious mass murderers.

  "We can get clues to the type of life the person led. We can look at where muscle was attached and tell if the muscles were welldeveloped from physical labor, or repetitive movement. Teeth can tell us a lot about the health and diet. But obviously, personality is centered in the brain. And even if you have the brain preserved, once it's dead, all traces of personality and memory are gone."

  "It was just a thought."

  "However, there are some interesting new studies out that claim personalities are determined from birth based upon our DNA."

  "I'm not sure I follow."

  "Well, let's say a person grows up to be shy and introverted. The latest studies in genetics claim that personality characteristics can be predicted by analyzing the DNA. So if a person is predis posed to be shy, it was probably determined from day-one by their unique DNA."

  "But I thought a person's disposition was mainly shaped by environment. You know, if Hitler had been raised in totally different surroundings, he wouldn't have turned out the way he did."

  "You would think. But the studies say that our DNA from birth sets the course of our life. And the theory is impossible to disprove because no one can be reborn and experience a different environment and upbringing. Hitler was what he was. There's no way to try raising him again and see if he would be any different. Of course I think there is some interplay between nature and nurture, but science is now finding that DNA plays a much larger role than we ever thought. If you are born a peaceful soul, so to speak, environment and experiences would probably not be enough to turn you into a violent murderer. You'd have to be predisposed to that type of behavior through your DNA. And vice-versa."

  "The Bad Seed."

  "Excuse me?"

  "An old movie." A spark ignited in Matt's brain. Perhaps the remains of mass murderers contained more than decayed calcium and carbon. Perhaps they contained a code for personality and behavior. Could this be the motive behind the robberies? To capture that code and somehow use it?

  "Senor Everhart, are you still there?"

  "Yes. Sorry. Thank you very much, doctor. I really appreciate your help."

  Matt hung up, his head still spinning with the thought. Was someone designing mass murderers?

  DESTINED 2012, BAHAMAS

  "WHAT DO YOU WANT With me?" Seneca didn't understand what this man was talking about. Why did he call her Sweet Flower? And what was the other word he uttered? Had she been abducted by some wacko religious cult?

  Yes, she'd heard of the Phoenix Ministry, especially the attention it was getting in the media concerning all the speculation of what the highly anticipated ultimate proof event would be. It was scheduled to take place in Mexico on the fall equinox. Wasn't that only a few days away? So far the details were a well-kept secret. Such mystery only amplified the fervor; it seemed people wanted more of Javier Scarrow and his teachings.

  Seneca hadn't paid much attention to the buzz. What little she did know about him was that his message sounded to her like New Age spirituality. She was always on the hunt for an exclusive, but since Scarrow and his Ministry already had so much media coverage, up until now she hadn't taken much interest. Maybe she should have been more inquisitive, she thought as she stood before the leader of the Phoenix Ministry.

  "All your questions will soon be addressed." Scarrow moved out of the radiant backdrop of light and walked toward her-his gait powerful and confident.

  For the first time Seneca saw his eyes, the color of coal. His skin was bronze, and his hair and close-cropped beard were as black as a raven's wing. Once out of the frame of light, he didn't appear so ominous, but rather handsome and sophisticated. She could understand his magnetism and appeal to so many.

  The corners of his mouth turned up in a curious smile. "First, let's make you feel at home and comfortable. You are our honored guest."

  Seneca followed Scarrow toward the doorway, but stopped short. He had to be crazy. It didn't make any sense. Who did he think she was, and what did he expect of her? How could this be the same man who had tried to kill her four times but now called her Sweet Flower? Honored guest?

  "What is this all about?"

  His gaze locked on hers, and Seneca felt rooted in place, spooked and confused by the serene smile that creased his eyes.

  "All in good time."

  After their brief meeting, Scarrow departed while Carlos escorted her up a spiral staircase to a second-story hallway lined with doors. Seneca couldn't help herself from thinking of this man, this Coyotl, as Carlos. That was who he was to her. She felt nervous and uncomfortable being so close to the man responsible for Daniel's death. He seemed to sense her revulsion and kept his distance.

  Stopping at one of the doors, Carlos inserted a keycard in the electronic lock and ushered her in.

  The room was a nicely furnished guest suite with private bath, king-size bed, dresser, armoire, desk, and nightstands. On the wall behind the bed hung a framed woven textile of brilliant colors and complex patterns. On one of the nightstands rested a small crystal decanter of water and a glass, both etched with the Phoenix Ministry logo.

  Carlos filled the glass from the decanter and handed it to her. "I'm sure the aftereffects of the drug we gave you have left you thirsty."

  Yes, she thought, her mouth and throat were dry. She downed the entire glass as Carlos watched.

  When she was done he took the glass, set it back on the table, and moved to the door. "You should rest now."

  Seneca heard the momentary buzz of the locking mechanism as he closed the door. Once his footsteps faded, muffled by the Oriental runner down the center of the marble hallway, she tried the door handle. Locked.

  As she wandered around the room she noticed the data ports and phone jacks by the desk, but no computer and no phone. There would be no communicating with the outside world. Yet there were worse places she could think of to be held captive. Maybe Scarrow's intent was not to kill her. After all, wouldn't he have done that in Miami instead of going to all the trouble to fly her here?

  She thought of Al. If he was okay, he would already be trying to track her down. There were the hospital security cameras. Maybe they caught Carlos or the woman on video. Or the limousine's license plate. Her car was still in the parking lot. They would locate it right away. Perhaps someone found her purse and turned it in to security. She prayed her father-

  Seneca stopped herself, realizing she had actually thought of Al as her father. With it brought a mix of emotions. He had come from out of nowhere to suddenly be so important in her life. She felt a surge of hope that he and his friends at ILIAD would be all over her disappearance. It was just a matter of time before he figured out who kidnapped her and where she was being held.

  That is, if Al was okay.

  Seneca sat on the bed feeling inordinately drained and spent. She leaned back and allowed her body to discharge some of the tension and fear. A soft hum from overhead caused her to focus on the slow hypnotic motion of the ceiling fan. Her mind wandered from warm childhood memories of her mother and recollections of treasuring her father's correspondence, but quickly turned to darker thoughts-the panic at the mangrove island, the desperate isolation of the catacombs, and the sickening death of the impostor. The images slipped through her mind, finally settling on Daniel-his comforting smile, infectious laughter, and seductive touch. Then his last moments when she felt the flutter of the hummingbird drift away. Her eyes closed as she sorted her thoughts. Her body finally acquiesced, and she slept.

  A knock at the door caused Seneca to struggle to sit upright.

  "Yes?" Had it been a few moments or hours? There were no windows so she had no reference. />
  The door swung open.

  It was Carlos. Her first thought was that she was dreaming because her mind seemed so fuzzy, but quickly realized she was not. Carlos was dressed in some sort of Indian garb-a black and red breastplate adorned with turquoise stones and gold trim. He wore leather band anklets with dangling shells. His hands were painted yellow. Two men stood behind Carlos, also dressed in similar breastplates and brightly colored loincloths with a hem with gold and jade. They each held a long, ornately carved wooden pole tipped with a narrow, ominous-looking blade. From pictures Daniel had shown Seneca in Mexico, she was certain it had to be Aztec.

  "The water," she said thickly. "You drugged me."

  "Come with me." Carlos motioned with his hand.

  "Where?"

  He helped her to her feet. She wobbled, but then steadied herself.

  "He wants to see you."

  He gripped her arm as they entered the hallway and walked to the staircase, the two men following behind them. At the bottom, they crossed the center of the grand entrance atrium where she had met Javier Scarrow and proceeded through a hall ending with a large door. It was intricately carved with images of birds, rabbits, snakes, fish, jaguars, monkeys, others she couldn't decide-some whose eyes seemed alive with emeralds and other gems. All were gilded.

  Carlos pushed open the door and gestured for Seneca to enter. "Don't keep him waiting."

  Pressing her palm against the door, it took all her strength to open it. Whatever they had given her in the water had sapped away her strength and balance. Overwhelmed by the sight, she took a few lethargic steps into the room, followed by Carlos and the two men.

  The space lay dark and heavy with a smoky haze and a pungent spicy scent she couldn't place. A large metal brazier sat in the center of the floor with a wide copper-colored ventilation hood hanging above it collecting the smoke from a smoldering fire. Men dressed in the same manner as Carlos and his escorts lined the wall to her left. To her right were eleven men and women, their bodies painted black. Black hooded capes hung down their backs.

  At the opposite end of the large room stood a massive stone throne, and poised before it was a man wearing a headdress of iridescent green feathers with accents of turquoise and red attached to a golden crown. He also wore a cape, this one of vibrant-colored feathers hanging down his back to the floor and draped around his neck and upper chest. He wore a decorative loincloth woven with golden thread and sandals with gold soles and straps that wrapped about his ankles. His left upper arm had a jewel-encrusted gold bracelet around it. Even with all the regalia, she recognized him as Javier Scarrow. The scene seemed surreal, amplified by whatever Carlos had put in her water.

  "Do not gaze upon my face." Scarrow's voice was strong and filled the large room. "It is forbidden."

  "What?" She was dumbfounded by his statement.

  "Cast your eyes away from me."

  She looked about the room, the movement making her dizzy. But she did notice that no one appeared to stare directly at Scarrow's face. She shifted her gaze to the fire in the middle of the room as her legs weakened. "I don't understand. Who are you?"

  "I am Emperor Motecuhzoma Xocoyotzin, the ninth tlatoani of Tenochtitlan."

  "Who?" Seneca's word came out distorted.

  "Emperor Montezuma II, ninth ruler of the Aztec nation."

  How about Javier Scarrow, insane Phoenix Ministry cult leader, she thought, the words in her head clearer than the ones from her lips. Forgetting his instructions, she glanced at him.

  Scarrow stood beside the fire. He removed a small stone blade from his belt and drew it across his forearm, leaving a thin hairline slice in his flesh that quickly beaded with blood. Then he held his arm above the fire.

  Seneca heard the sharp sizzle as his blood dripped onto the burning coals.

  He looked hard at her. "You are offending me. I don't think that wise. I know this is difficult for you to understand, but because you are a captive with no knowledge of our ways, I am going to forgive your ignorance. Once you are prepared for your great task, then you will understand and accept your destiny. For of all gathered here, you are the most fortunate and privileged."

  Seneca forced her focus from his face to his bejeweled and feathered cloak. "Why me?"

  "You are chosen to be the first Sweet Flower. The first xochimiqui."

  CONNECTING THE DOTS 2012, MIAMI

  "GROVES IS LESS THAN an hour from here." Al sat on a barstool at the kitchen counter in Seneca's new apartment talking to Matt on the phone. He was surrounded by her still-unpacked boxes, and their presence reminded him even more of the temporary nature of life. His daughter had never gotten a chance to put her things away and start her new life without Daniel. Now, she was gone and may never get the chance.

  "So he's in Florida?"

  "No, the Bahamas." Al glanced at his notes taken a few moments earlier from his contact at ILIAD. "He lives on Andros Island in a heavily secured structure called Azteca. It's owned by Groves Consortium's former president and CEO, Javier Scarrow."

  "The guy heading up that New Age movement?"

  "Seems that Azteca is the headquarters for his Phoenix Ministry. Scarrow's the one holding those crusades all over the world. He's building a big temple right there in Mexico."

  "Hang on." Matt picked up a tourist magazine from the bedside table. He flipped through a few pages. "It's northeast of the city near the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon. I saw on the news that there's some big event of Scarrow's getting ready to take place out there. He claims to be prepared to show undeniable proof that his teachings are the last best salvation for mankind."

  "Lofty goals."

  "Sure are, but his popularity and following are undeniable."

  "Well, whether he's a savior or a scammer, he's got big bucks behind him." Al read off his list. "He's had huge rallies in France, the U.K., China, Germany. Even in Uzbekistan."

  "Okay, we know he's connected to Groves. So what would tie him to Seneca's abduction?"

  "And is there a link to the tomb robberies?"

  "Wait a minute," Matt said. "Did you say Uzbekistan?"

  "Yes, in the capital city of Tashkent. Scarrow was there for a two-day crusade. It drew thousands from all over the region." He heard the rustling of paper before Matt spoke again.

  "Okay, Al. Bear with me here. You have a list of the Phoenix Ministry crusade locations, right?"

  "I'm looking at it."

  "When and where was the first?"

  "Two years ago in Munich, Germany."

  "According to the list you compiled for Seneca, the first tomb robbery was that of Ilse Koch two years ago. Did Scarrow have a crusade then?"

  "Yes, with huge attendance."

  "The second name on the list is Idi Amin. Was there a Ministry event in Uganda?"

  Al looked at his notepad. "No, sorry."

  "Okay, maybe my idea doesn't work after all."

  There was a long pause and Al could almost hear the gears in Matt's head turning.

  Finally, Matt said, "Where was the next major Phoenix Ministry event?"

  "It wasn't actually a crusade like the other locations. It occurred in the Saudi Arabian city of Jeddah, along the coast of the Red Sea. Just a couple of days visiting with some of the royal family who happened to be there at the time and the local leaders."

  "Yeah, but you know what? Idi Amin's remains were discovered missing from the Ruwais Cemetery in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia."

  "I'll be a son-of-a-bitch."

  Matt sighed. "I'll bet if we match them up, their major rallies will coincide with each tomb robbery."

  "Let's try it," Al said. "Call out the rest of the robberies."

  Matt continued down his list until he got to Josef Mengele. "The good doctor's remains were stolen from a forensics' lab in Sao Paulo."

  "Yep, there was a crusade there."

  Matt read the rest of the list, ending with Hernan Cortes.

  Al said, "We've got two tomb robberies in Mexico City, and
there's that huge Phoenix temple built where Scarrow's big event is scheduled."

  "Okay, let's think about this. We have a direct connection between Scarrow, Groves, and the Veil of Veronica. We now believe that the group conducting the tomb robberies is most likely Scarrow and the Phoenix Ministry. No doubt their events were a means of getting them into each country-a cover to pull off the robberies. When they pack up their gear and leave, the stolen remains are hidden somewhere in their trucks."