Death in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 1)

by Gary Williams

  “I only ask because if someone nefarious wanted to gain leverage on him, the best way would be to threaten his family, and that would be easier to do if you were nearby.”

  Sherri looked up in surprise. “You think Tina and I were intentionally brought to St. Augustine?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  Scott spoke. “Curt, are you suggesting the City is involved in Tina’s kidnapping?”

  “Certain members, maybe,” Curt continued, turning back to Sherri. “Do you have the email that you forwarded from Sydney’s computer yesterday?”

  “I should.” She went to her laptop on the table and booted up. A minute later, she had logged into her email. “Yes, here it is.”

  She rose, giving up her seat to Curt, who studied the screen. He clicked on the link and opened the forwarded email. Sherri watched over his shoulder.

  “Jesus Christ,” he said running a hand through his short hair, “how did I miss this?!”

  “What?” Scott asked, now crowding behind Sherri.

  “The email names. Sydney’s email is JudgeS2687@yahoo.com.” He turned to look at Sherri. “Remember when I asked you if Sydney was a judge? I thought the email name stood for Judge Sydney, followed by some random numbers. Obviously, it didn’t. The man was never a judge. It’s meant to be Judges!”

  “I’m not following you,” Sherri said.

  “Judges is one of the books in the Old Testament, and the email address of the second incoming email is Joel7355@yahoo.com! Joel is another Old Testament Book.”

  “I still don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  Scott spoke, understanding Curt’s point. “The Blue Council had 39 members to match the number of Books in the Old Testament. It appears they each took a book name as their email address, probably as cover.”

  Curt picked up Sherri’s cell phone from the table.

  “Are you suggesting that Uncle Sydney is part of this.....this Blue Council? That’s utterly ridiculous.”

  Curt looked at the computer screen, then back at the phone face.

  “What are you doing?” she asked after several seconds of silence.

  “I thought the four numbers after the Book name in the email addresses were random. It appears they’re not. Look.”

  He pointed to Sydney’s email: JudgeS2687@yahoo.com. “If you match the numbers to corresponding numbers on the face of the phone, one possibility for 2687 is ‘coup’: the first four letters of ‘Couperin.’ It seems they also embedded their last name in the email address when they communicated to other members.” He continued to look from computer screen to the phone face.

  “C’mon, Curt. There’s what....three possible letters to each number on a telephone? It’s just a coincidence it spells ‘coup,’” Scott said.

  “I’ll grant you there are numerous variations, but I’ve had my suspicions about another man in particular. One of the combinations of the four numbers in the other email, Joel7355@yahoo.com, is ‘pekl,’” he looked up, “as in the director of the Florida National Park Service, Dr. Travis Peklis.”

  “Wow,” Scott said.

  “Sherri,” Curt rose and placed his hands on the sides of her arms, holding her firmly yet supportively. He looked into her eyes. “What were Sydney’s exact words on his voice mail? Not the warning, the other part?”

  Sherri thought for a moment. “He said that if he disappeared, I’d know where to look for answers, but I’ve gone over it in my mind a hundred times. I have no idea what he meant. How would I have any idea where to look?”

  “Think hard. It must be something you two had in common, some shared experience.” Curt released her and reached for a hotel matchbook from the table. He twiddled it in his fingers as he paced the room.

  “I realize that, but I haven’t seen the man in five years.”

  Curt stopped. “Maybe something about your father? Some place they went?”

  “I don’t know,” she said in frustration.

  “It’s a vague statement to anyone else. He did that on purpose, but it must mean something to you.”

  She threw her arms up in frustration then rubbed her temples in an attempt to remain calm. She plopped down on the bed, burdened by frustration.

  Curt absently tucked the matchbook in his pants pocket and sat on the bed beside her. He released a long exhale.

  Scott walked over to the small in-room refrigerator and opened the door. “Sherri, do you mind if I take one of your Cokes?”

  She laughed. Given all that was going on, Scott was being overly formal. “Of course I don’t mind, but I don’t have any ice. The machine is on the first floor near—” she stopped herself, a look of revelation on her face. She turned to Curt, wide-eyed.

  “What is it?” Curt asked.

  “Oh my God, I know where Sydney wants me to look!”

  ****

  On the way to Sydney’s house, Sherri explained. “When I was young and visited Uncle Sydney, I loved to go into his freezer and get ice to chew on. He had those old metal trays with a handle to pivot the metal molds so that the ice cracked into squares. For some reason, as a child, I found it fascinating. He even mentioned it to Tina on Sunday night at dinner when I asked her not to chew on ice. I’d completely forgotten about it.”

  “You think he left you something in his freezer? Something that could lead us to him?”

  “I’m certain of it.” She looked out the side window then burst out, “Damn it! St. Augustine City officials are the ones who recommended a babysitter to watch Tina. They had me leave her with someone of their choosing so they’d know where she was!” She slammed her palm on the dashboard.

  “Or leave her with someone who’s involved with the Blue Council,” Scott remarked.

  They arrived at Sydney’s house in Ponte Vedra at 9:10 p.m. As expected, it was dark, except for a lone lamp glowing from the living room. Traffic had been practically non-existent with the evacuation of the coastline. Sherri used the key she had kept from yesterday to unlock the front door. She led the way, dashing into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and found two ice trays, which she removed and dropped onto the Formica countertop. They were the exact same metal types Sherri remembered Uncle Sydney having when she was a child. For all she knew, they were the same trays.

  For several seconds, she looked from one ice tray to the other. Then she spotted it. “There!” she pointed.

  Embedded in one cube of ice was a nearly transparent casing around a white square. Sherri took the tray and slammed it down on the vinyl floor at their feet. Shards of ice shattered in every direction. She lost sight of the cube. Scott knelt and retrieved it from underneath a low cabinet overhang. She took it and moved to the sink where she ran it under hot water.

  The ice began to melt away. The white square was a folded remnant of paper inside a tiny plastic bag. When it melted, she pulled the bag free and opened it. She removed the piece of paper and held it out for them to read:

  746 Mison Street, Lot 4

  St. Augustine, Florida 32092

  8788852

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Wednesday, August 17, 8:54 p.m. EST US (1:53 a.m. DST. Thursday) – Isla de la Palma

  Dr. Lila Falls and her two assistants had elected to remain in the cave and work late into the night. They were standing at the base of a wall continuing the excavation when a hellish rumble rose from somewhere deep in the earth below. The cave shook violently and the scaffolding teetered, collapsing in a pile of bouncing aluminum beams that chimed off the concentric stairs, spilling about the cave.

  “It’s an earthquake!” Lila shouted. “Hold on, it should pass momentarily.”

  A continuous smattering of rock rained down from the ceiling, pelting them with force. There was no overhang under which to take refuge, so they huddled flat against the wall. In the onslaught, their faces were strafed b
y the falling debris and their skin was ripped, leaving bloodied scratches.

  Shielding her eyes, Lila looked about at the shivering walls. To her chagrin, they were flaking away; the exquisite artwork of the paired animals was disappearing, erased by the faulting earth.

  As the cave shook and the ceiling continued to crumble, a large section of rock struck Walker Denoy. He fell forward, slumping face down on the stone floor between Lila and Trudy Gaines.

  “Walker!” Trudy screamed. She dropped to her knees and tried to get to him but the rock fragments fell in sheets, pummeling her. Lila reached out and yanked Trudy back against the wall as her own arms were raked by the falling rock.

  “You can’t do it!” Lila screamed at the girl. “You’ll be killed!”

  Walker lay prone, unmoving. At a minimum, he was unconscious. The morbid probability, Lila realized, is that he was already dead.

  A primal wail issued from Trudy, and she broke into tears. The half dozen auxiliary lights in the room began to fail one by one.

  Then, as suddenly as it had started, the earthquake stopped. A deep rumble echoed in the cave until it was only a memory. The lights had all been extinguished. Endless thick dust spiraled around them in white eddies, catching the sheen of the auxiliary lights which flowed in from the adjoining entry cave, creating macabre silhouettes on the far wall. They each coughed, gasping from the chalky air caught in their throats. Tears were streaking down Trudy’s face, forming wet tracks in the caked dust.

  Lila bent down and checked Walker Denoy. Trudy slowly collapsed to a seated position against the wall as Lila shook her head, affirming their worst fears. Walker Denoy had most likely died the moment he was struck. The large rock that killed him now rested several stairs down. Trudy closed her eyes and cried, her face screwing into agony; red cheeks blotched by gray powder.

  Lila touched the girl’s shoulder reassuringly, crunching across the layer of stone covering the floor. Then she carefully walked down the steps and through the sauce pan depression.

  She felt as if she were in a daze. She inched her way slowly and deliberately across the depression in the near pitch darkness of the cave and continued up the far stairs, returning seconds later with one of the auxiliary lights from the entry cave. The dust had already begun to settle, and visibility increased. Lila paused at the crack that she theorized had allowed the water to escape long ago. It had increased to a one-foot-wide crevice. There was, indeed, hollow space underneath the floor, confirming her assumption the water had drained out: interesting yet unimportant at the moment.

  Lila shined the light upon the near wall.

  The Aramaic writing of the Noah’s Ark account and the information about the Fish were gone. She looked down at the layer of rubble, knowing the story and images were lost within the tiny pieces of rock strewn across the cave floor. She spun, examining each wall and finding the same deflating results.

  It was as if God had wiped his own slate clean. Now the world would never be able to see this incredible discovery.

  She suddenly remembered the photography equipment and the hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures stored on the camera and memory cards, then cringed even before she turned to look for the bag. The last place she had left it was on the highest stone step near the scaffolding. With trepidation she turned, and, eyeing it, felt her heart sink.

  Just as she suspected, the camera and all the equipment were in shambles, ripped from the carrying case and crushed into pathetic pieces. She walked over to it, hopeful that one of the memory cards had survived. She found none. Either they had been obliterated or were buried under the rock.

  Things could not get any worse.

  For the first time since her divorce, Lila felt tears form. There was always a bitter sadness accompanying the death of a young person. Over the last few days, she had worked closely with both Walker and Trudy and had come to appreciate their enthusiasm and quest for knowledge. Most archaeologists would admit that to sacrifice their life in the pursuit of the truth was a palatable way to die, but for Walker’s life to be expended and also lose a historical find of this magnitude was nothing short of tragic. Unless Lila could find one of the memory cards intact to confirm tangible evidence that Ham’s cave drawings existed, Walker Denoy’s death would be meaningless.

  She was not going to let that happen.

  Lila dropped to her knees and began scouring the ground, pushing aside stones of every size, cutting her already raw fingers. A minute passed, and she uncovered one of the memory cards. It had been irreparably damaged. She looked at it in disgust and tossed it aside.

  Trudy walked over to Lila, wiping the tears away. Lila looked up. Trudy seemed to understand Lila’s unspoken message. Don’t let Walker’s death be in vain. She dropped to her knees, and the two women pushed aside rock fragments, slicing their fingers on the sharp edges. They began fanning out from where the carrying case had been crushed. Rock so fine it resembled sand coated most of the floor and steps.

  It was nearly ten minutes before Lila’s sweeping fingers passed over an object that felt peculiar. She paused, trying to shield herself against disappointment, and slowly withdrew the object from a bed of tiny rocks.

  Trudy paused to watch.

  Just as Lila was about to clean the object off, a set of footsteps echoed in the antechamber. Both women turned in unison as a figure emerged into the large cavernous room. Backlit by the auxiliary lighting, it was an amorphous form.

  “Who…who are you?” Lila called out.

  There was no response. Instead, the figure raised a long object to eye level. There was a thunderous explosion. Trudy’s head jarred backward, and her body slumped lifelessly to Lila’s side. The young woman’s temple began oozing blood.

  Lila went numb. “What are you doing!?” she screamed. The form lowered the rifle before him, and she heard the bolt click open and slam shut. Her survival instinct kicked in. She dashed several steps down, ducking behind a large boulder. Another ubiquitous blast echoed in the large chamber. Lila cringed as the bullet whizzed over the top of the rock, barely missing her head.

  “Come out. This little adventure is over,” a man shouted.

  Lila’s pulse fluttered. She could barely think. Why is this guy trying to kill me?!

  Another blast; another grazing shot echoed loudly, this time on the right side of the boulder.

  She tightened her body behind the cover. “What do you want?!”

  “Only what I was paid to do; nothing personal. I particularly like your looks. Always found the short haired bitches to be more feisty in bed.”

  Lila’s blood chilled. She was shaking uncontrollably. He was an assassin! Someone had paid this man to kill them!

  “C’mon, no games,” he yelled. “That little earthquake makes me uncomfortable being down here. Come out, and I’ll make it quick like I did the girl.”

  Lila tried to stay calm. She had to think of options. There were always options, no matter how bad a situation appeared. Curt had taught her that.

  Still hidden behind the rock, she visualized the cave room in her mind: the walls, the concentric steps, the dish-shaped cavity in the middle. There was nowhere to hide, no cover unless she found another boulder. She considered the items they had brought with them: the smashed photography equipment case, the aluminum scaffolding, the cleaning material, and archaeological tools of every ilk. Several of the tools could be used as weapons. There was a pickaxe, a hammer, a scraper, and three knives, but the bag of tools was on the far side of the room near the man. Not only would she have to somehow reach them without being shot, she would have to be close enough to use them against him.

  “Hello there,” the man said from over the top of the boulder. He aimed the rifle down at her face, barely a foot away. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder. While she had been considering options, he had snuck up on her.

  She felt all hope evapor
ate. “Please…” she began.

  “Sorry, there’ll be no bargaining. Your American friends paid me well. Too well, actually.” He paused, eyeing Lila with an expression that turned curious. She now saw he had dark, stringy hair and a dark beard. His English was foreign; obviously not American. “Which begs the question, eh? What exactly did you discover in here?” He looked around.

  “Pictures. Very old pictures,” Lila heard the words come out mechanically. She could focus on nothing else other than the end of the long barrel aimed at her face. She had never known such formidable terror.

  He shrugged uncaringly. “Pictures. Big fuckin’ deal.”

  Lila closed her eyes, praying it would end quickly.

  Suddenly, a dreadful sound filled the cave, and the room floor slid down as if the entire mountain had shifted. A second, drawn-out noise bellowed like a thousand freight trains burrowing through the island. Rock fragments fell from the arched ceiling. The bearded man lost his balance and toppled to the side, sending an errant shot into the wall behind Lila. He tumbled backward down several stairs, his rifle careening away from him. The boulder Lila had been hiding behind shifted forward and rolled down the steps to the depression in the center.

  The cave went still again.

  Lila did not stop to consider what had just happened. She only knew it gave her an opportunity. Already the man had righted himself and was moving toward the rifle. Her first instinct was to race to the far side and exit the cave, but it was too far. She knew she would never make it. The man would shoot her with ease.

  Then she saw it. Near where the boulder had come to rest at the base, the crevice in the floor had widened even more. Without further thought, she flew down the steps and slid behind the rock just as the man reached for his rifle. He raised the weapon and fired a shot that ricocheted off the floor near her.

  Knowing it would take a second to reload the bolt action rifle, Lila did not hesitate. She scooted over to the enlarged crack in the stone floor, and wormed into it, legs first. She gripped the edge and dropped her head through just as she heard a blast. She felt a searing pain in a finger on her left hand which caused her to lose her hold.