Lucifer's Fire

by Richard Turner

  Emily Martinez stepped out from her tent and smiled. She always enjoyed listening to the sounds of the jungle. Fulfilling a lifelong dream to work in Africa, Emily eagerly supported her husband, Cristoval, when he was offered the opportunity to teach in Liberia. Tragically, the only school for kilometers burned to the ground the previous year, and work had just begun to build a new school near the remains of the old one. Living out of a tent for a few weeks until their school was rebuilt was hardly an inconvenience; in fact, Emily thought it helped her and her husband acclimatize to their new home.

  With pale, almost white, skin, ice-blue eyes and blonde hair, Emily stood out against her husband with his tanned skin, dark brown eyes, and black hair. Neither of them was very tall and both needed glasses to see. Emily and Cristoval met at university and were married the day after they both graduated. Emily obtained a degree in geology, while her husband became a teacher.

  Joined by a dozen friends from back home who had come over during the summer break to help rebuild their school, Emily and Cristoval walked over to the roaring bonfire in the middle of their camp and took a seat on an old log.

  “A good day’s work,” said Cristoval, smiling at his wife.

  Emily nodded her head in agreement. Aided by a work crew from the local village, they had staked out the ground where the school was going to be built. In the morning, they would begin to dig the foundation.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Martinez, I’m sorry to intrude,” said a Liberian youth in his late teens, “but there’s a call for you.”

  “Thank you, Henry,” said Emily as she stood up.

  “Your father again?” asked Cristoval.

  “Who else could it be? We never should have brought the satphone with us.”

  “If we hadn’t, do you think he would have given you his blessing to come out here and teach?”

  “No, I suppose not; you know he’s still in denial over our marriage.”

  Cristoval chuckled and then stood up beside Emily. “You had best chat with your father before he boards the next plane and comes over here.”

  An hour later, Emily rejoined her husband in their tent. It may have still been early, but after a day under the sun, both were ready for bed. Quietly crawling under the bug net draped over their cots, Emily kissed Cristoval on the cheek before lying down. With a deep sigh, she thought of her father all alone now that she was thousands of kilometers away from him. She decided that it would be best if they invited him to come visit them as soon as their school was built. Emily closed her eyes. Within seconds, she was fast asleep.

  The next morning began like any other. A quick, chaotic breakfast was immediately followed by prayers led by the local priest before they got to work. Cristoval quickly broke down the people and their Liberian workers into teams for the work that lay ahead. Noisily chatting they walked away; they wasted no time in getting to work.

  The school’s boundaries were marked off with yellow barrier tape in the rough shape of an oblong. When their only backhoe quit working, everyone picked up a shovel and kept on working. Toiling under the stifling heat and humidity, Emily and her friends’ clothes soon became soaked from perspiration.

  Emily and Cristoval walked together around the outline of the new school dug into the ground. Until that moment, it had all just seemed a wild dream; now, looking down into the ground, it became real. They were about to join their friends in the communal meal tent when an excited voice called out. Emily and Cristoval saw a small group of Liberian workers huddled around a freshly dug hole. They walked over and stepped down into the knee-deep hole dug into the ground; the smell of dirt filled the air.

  “What do you have there, William?” asked Cristoval.

  “Sir, I found this,” said William proudly as he held up an old rusted belt buckle and several small, uncut pink diamonds.

  Cristoval took them in his large hand and examined the buckle, his mind studying every minute detail. “Where exactly did you find this, William?” asked Cristoval, his curiosity piqued.

  “Right here, sir,” said William, pointing to a recently dug hole in the dark earth.

  Cristoval bent over and brushed more dirt aside. A couple of seconds later, he found two lead balls embedded in the dirt. Picking them up, Cristoval rubbed the dirt off them and stared down at the lead shapes in his large hand.

  “What did you find?” asked Emily, inquisitively peering down at the objects in Cristoval’s hand.

  Cristoval stood up and looked around at the anxious crowd of people gathering around the find. “Any guesses . . . anyone?” said Cristoval.

  “Ball bearings from an engine?” guessed one of the young Liberians.

  “A good assumption,” Cristoval replied. “However, these are musket balls, and this is a belt buckle that probably hasn’t seen the light of day in hundreds of years.”

  “Why would you say that?” Emily asked.

  “My father used to explore old Civil War battlefields with his metal detector when I was a kid. We have hundreds of these lying around the house,” explained Cristoval. “As for the belt buckle, it has an engraving on the back. I think it’s a Spanish crown. I could be wrong, but I’m sure that I’ve seen it before inside some of the old churches in Texas and Northern Mexico.”

  An animated murmur raced the crowd of onlookers.

  “That’s incredible. What do you want to do?” asked a tall, lanky friend of Cristoval’s.

  “We’ll take a picture to record where we found it. Aside from that, I say we have our lunch and then get right back to work.”

  With that, the crowd broke up and headed for the meal tent, excitedly chatting away about the unusual find.

  “Curious,” said Emily as she took the musket balls, diamonds, and buckle from Cristoval’s hand and held them up to the light to examine them closer.

  Cristoval said, “Aside from the diamonds, these man-made objects are things that honestly shouldn’t be here. I’m no archaeologist, but our dream to teach in Africa has just become somewhat more interesting.”

  “I can’t wait to tell Father when he calls tonight,” said Emily, not knowing that she was about to trigger a chain of events that would forever shatter their lives.

  4

  Lenzburg Castle

  Switzerland

  Located not far from Zurich, built atop a circular hill overlooking the countryside, stood the imposing, medieval Lenzburg Castle. Dating back to the 11th century, the castle had always been home to the family that ruled what would become the Canton of Aargau.

  The charity event had been planned for months, drawing in the rich and well-to-do from all over Europe and the States. Celebrities from the world of sports and entertainment rubbed elbows with billionaires from the tech and oil industries. Everyone in the main hall of the castle was dressed to the nines in expensive tuxedos and long, designer evening gowns, laughing and chatting excitedly with one another. But none of this interested one woman standing off to one side all alone; to her the evening was becoming an unbelievable bore.

  With a feigned look of interest on her narrow, Patrician face, Caroline Seras couldn’t wait to make her exit. She was clad in a form-fitting, long black dress, with designer, Italian-made, high-heeled shoes, a black leather Louis Vuitton purse and a brilliant pearl necklace with matching earrings. At over two meters tall, she was easily the tallest woman in the room. Seras had a slender build with long, thin arms. The deep-red hair that she wore braided down her open-back dress offset her pale skin. She had a slender face with thin lips and a small, upturned nose. Not a stunning beauty, there was something about her that men always found alluring. She, however, had no time for them. Love was something for other women, not Caroline Seras. What people always seemed to remember about her the most were her deep, dark, emerald-green eyes that seemed to burn with unmatched intelligence and intensity. She had learned early on in life that her eyes were a weapon that she could use to intimidate and bend her business rivals to her insatiable will.

  Born int
o money, Caroline Seras was the undisputed owner and CEO of Orithyia Corporation, the largest and most successful commercial laser manufacturer in the world, and she intended it to stay that way. In her late thirties, Seras had never married and was totally uninterested in affairs of the heart. The pursuit of power and greater wealth were the only driving forces in her life. Born in the States to an American father and a French mother, Seras was educated in Europe. Returning home, she took a position in her father’s mining corporation and within a couple of years was running the business for her father. When her parents died under mysterious circumstances in a small plane crash, Seras assumed control of the company. Selling her stocks, Seras established her own business, and before too long, she had a virtual stranglehold on laser technology in the States.

  Slightly back from Seras was her bodyguard, a bull of a man dressed in an expensive, dark blue suit that didn’t hide the bulge in his jacket: the telltale sign of a concealed weapon. A noise in the man’s earpiece caught his attention; raising his jacket sleeve to his mouth, the guard quietly acknowledged the message, and then discreetly walked over and whispered into Seras’ ear. Her eyes glistened brightly, like a star in the night sky. With her heart excitedly racing in her chest, Seras hastily made her apologies to the elderly hosts of the event. Seras dug out her checkbook and quickly filled out a check for a quarter of a million Euros. Gracefully making her way to the front entrance, Seras, with a practiced smile, ensured that the local media caught a picture of her placing the check inside a massive crystal bowl shaped in the form of a lion’s head.

  Outside, her silver BMW SUV X5 was already waiting at the front door for her. Her bodyguard took a quick look around, his hand resting on his weapon; sensing no danger, he opened Seras’ door and then closed it behind her before getting in beside the driver. Immediately, the vehicle sped out of the castle’s cobbled courtyard. Heading away from the castle, the SUV followed the dark and winding road as it meandered through the local countryside.

  “Are you positive that the information you have is a hundred percent accurate?” asked Seras, looking over at the young Asian woman dressed in a dark gray suit sitting beside her in the back of the SUV.

  “Ma’am, the message we intercepted is authentic,” said Gao Yuan, Seras’ executive assistant. “Our people have been monitoring all communications going in and out of West Africa for the past six months. The intercepted telephone call and subsequent email sent earlier today has convinced our experts that the information is authentic.”

  “Who sent the pictures?”

  “They are from a young American couple living on the outskirts of Weasua, Liberia. It’s a small village on the Lofa River,” explained Gao as she handed a satellite picture of Weasua to Seras.

  “Who did they send them to?”

  “Patrick Cole.”

  Seras’ eyes narrowed. “Never heard of him. Is he anybody?”

  “Ma’am, he’s a billionaire. He owns several casinos in Las Vegas and Atlantic City.”

  “Another rival?”

  “Ma’am, I’m not sure; however, the emailed pictures are from an ongoing dig and were forwarded by Mister Cole to a Professor of Archaeology in Las Vegas for his opinion.”

  “Damn it, that’s all I need, more competition.” Seras bit her lip. She needed proof before she acted.

  Gao saw the hesitant look in her mistress’ eyes. She dug out several pictures from her briefcase and handed them to Seras. “These are the pictures that were embedded in the email.”

  The back of the car grew silent as Seras carefully studied the pictures.

  “Ma’am, you also need to know that Braxton Gray called me five minutes ago and confirmed your suspicions. Russian Imperial Diamonds has been in secret negotiations with a delegation from the Liberian Government this past week in Paris. If successful, which he believes they will be, they will be allowed exclusive and unfettered access to look for diamonds anywhere in Liberia.”

  “Screw the Russians,” said Seras angrily. “Aleksi Platov is too late again.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Gao, knowing that her mistress would never allow anyone to get in her way; those who did disappeared, or soon lived to regret it.

  “If the legends are true, by obtaining this lost treasure trove of unbelievably rare diamonds you will leap decades ahead of your competition in Europe and Asia. The money from military contracts for ground- and space-based laser platforms would be in the hundreds of billions,” added Gao.

  “All right, I’ve heard enough,” said Seras as she handed back the photos. Turning to look over at Gao, Seras’ voice grew deadly serious. “Does Braxton still stand by his timeline? Can he get us what we need in five days or fewer?”

  Gao confidently nodded her head.

  “Okay, then. Contact Braxton and tell him to put his plan into action. I want him to move, and move now,” Seras said firmly.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” said Gao as she dug out her cell phone from her purse and made the call.

  Seras turned and looked at her bodyguard. “Marius, I want you on the ground in Liberia. Join Braxton as soon as you can. You will be my eyes and ears. If Braxton so much as deviates by as much as a millimeter from our agreed-upon course of action, kill him and take charge of the operation.”

  “Very well, ma’am,” replied Marius calmly, his accent Slavic.

  Seras leaned back in her plush, leather seat, closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. A smile crept across her porcelain features; the only thought in her mind was that the stories weren’t just a fable. In a matter of days, she would be richer and more powerful than any woman in history.

  5

  Las Vegas

  Nevada

  Patrick Cole opened the door to his apartment overlooking Las Vegas Boulevard. The bright lights from the strip lit up his darkened home with a mix of neon colors. Heading into the kitchen, Cole opened his fridge and grabbed himself an ice-cold beer. Opening it, Cole savored the flavor. The silence of the room was heartbreaking. His wife had died of cancer two years ago, leaving him inconsolable. He tried to convince his daughter and her husband to move out to Las Vegas and teach at one of the local high schools. It proved to be a waste of time; their hearts were set on teaching in Africa, and no matter the incentive he offered them, they wouldn’t budge. He checked his watch and saw that it was close to ten at night. The time difference between Las Vegas and Liberia was eight hours. As Emily was an early riser, she would establish a link in an hour or so with him so they could chat over the net.

  Taking his beer with him, Cole had a long, hot shower before drying himself off and crawling into a set of old gym clothes. He was pushing sixty, with short, salt-and-pepper hair. An avid runner, Cole kept in shape running ten kilometers a day, come rain or shine. He sat down behind his laptop, booted it up and checked his overflowing email inbox while whittling away the time. Emily was his only child, and he had always been very protective of her.

  On time, the line opened and Cole saw Emily’s smiling face fill the screen.

  “Hey there, Dad, we’re still here,” said Emily, waving playfully at her father.

  “Good day to you, too. How is the weather there?” asked Cole, going through his usual repertoire of questions that he asked no matter the circumstances.

  “It’s cool. The sun is just creeping up on the horizon. I checked the weather forecast; they’re calling for another really hot one today.”

  “How is Cristoval?”

  “He’s well. You know, Dad, we spoke for an hour last night. Not much exciting has happened since then.”

  Cole felt foolish. Emily was right. Perhaps he needed to let go just a little bit.

  “Dad, did you get a chance to take a look at those pictures that I emailed you last night?”

  Cole smiled. “I did. I know a man who teaches at UNLV, and I forwarded them on to him. A couple of hours later he called me at work. He sounded quite excited. He thinks that you may have stumbled across the remains of slavers.”

&n
bsp; Emily cast her mind back to the Atlantic slave trade that plied its miserable business throughout West Africa during the 1700s.

  “You know, I wondered that, too,” said Emily. “But Cristoval disagrees with me; he said that the European slave missions were normally established along the coast, not this far inland. It’s a real mystery, that’s for sure. I suspect that we may find more artifacts as the dig progresses.”

  “Well, it all sounds really exciting.”

  Emily smiled at her father. She was about to say something when the sound of scared shouting outside her tent caught her attention. A burst of gunfire erupted close by. Emily’s blood turned cold. She had never heard the sound of automatic rifles going off before.

  “Emily, what is going on?” said Cole, trying to stay calm.

  Another longer burst of automatic gunfire ripped through the air. Emily could hear people screaming and crying.

  “Dad, something’s up,” said Emily, her voice quaking in fear.

  “Get out . . . get out of there!” screamed Cole into the computer.

  A dark shape appeared behind Emily. Cole watched helplessly while his daughter was grabbed from behind and then forcibly dragged out of the tent. His heart raced as he looked down at the empty computer screen.

  Emily was no longer there. Over the laptop’s speaker, Cole heard more gunfire followed by screaming and then the line abruptly went dead.

  For a moment, Cole sat there, staring at the blank screen while his mind played back the last few seconds of what had just happened. Reaching for his phone, Cole dialed Horace Jacobs, his close friend and retired U.S. Air Force general. He quickly passed on precisely what had happened.

  Jacobs said, “Stay by the phone in case your daughter calls. I’m going to place a few calls to some people I know from my years in the service.”

  Staring numbly at the blank computer screen, Cole found himself beginning to panic. He took in a deep breath and decided to put his faith in Jacobs. Cole knew that he would help. Money was no object; his daughter’s safety was his only thought. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer for his daughter and all those with her.