Godschild Covenant: Return of Nibiru

by Marshall Masters

  “I take it she was your first case?"

  “No, but she was my first child. Damn, that was rough. You know, something odd happened with this one, though. First off, our brave little Lieutenant Colonel Tanya Wheelwright choked up the instant she saw the kid and lit out the room like a scalded rabbit. It didn't make sense until later in the day when Anthony asked me if I ever heard about a place called the Hotel Lombardy in Washington, D.C."

  Tzu's eyes popped wide open. He set his mug down and leaned forward toward the webcam on his desk. “There is only one Hotel Lombardy in Washington, and my wife and I stayed there back in ought five. Great staff and the place gave us a wonderful feel of privacy and simple elegance. Of course, that was before. So, why is he asking you about it?"

  “To be honest, I didn't even know the place existed until he asked, but I was curious so I played him along, telling him I've got all kinds of contacts in Washington with people who can get things done, which is a load of bull because anybody I know from Washington is either dead, or his wife is most likely wishing I were. Anyway, I got him to open up, and he dropped this whole thing in my lap. He wants me to run down a videotape using one of my friends and see to it that it gets delivered to her anonymously."

  “So he doesn't want to tell her about this special request?

  “That's my guess. Also, my instincts tell that there might be some kind of connection here between the child, him and Wheelwright."

  “You don't miss a trick,” Tzu said with a wink.

  The sincere compliment brought an approving smile to Ann-Marie's lips. “Thanks Henry, but before we go any further, let me send you a picture of the girl I took today, because her parents didn't have a current photo in her records.” Ann-Marie aimed her photo pen at the webpad and depressed the send button. Moments later, a photo of Becky's ashen face appeared on Tzu's display.

  “She was a beautiful child,” he sighed. “What a pity. Her parents must be heartbroken."

  That they were, but here is the kicker. Anthony told me that during Becky's termination, he had an after death contact with Wheelwright's own daughter Svetlana, who died along with her husband and parents when that tsunami hit the coast. It seems this girl, Becky, is a spitting image of Wheelwright's daughter. I'm talking dead on."

  “So, that was why she flipped out when she laid eyes on the kid,” Tzu noted.

  “Uh-huh. Now, here is where the hotel part comes in. Anthony told me that according to Svetlana, her cat, Charlene had given birth to four kittens while Tanya was going through training in Washington."

  Tzu slapped the top of his desk. “Bingo! Now the Hotel Lombardy part makes sense. It's on I street, as I recall, and within walking distance of the George Washington University Hospital. Yes, this fits perfectly. Let me call it up in my browser while we're talking. Man, I'm already getting chills all over my body. Go on."

  “It seems her husband overnighted the video to Tanya's hotel in Washington the day before the wave hit. Unfortunately, he got the room number wrong, and it is still sitting in the mailroom. Obviously, Tanya doesn't know that the tape exists. Since all her possessions were washed away in the tsunami it could very well be her only remaining keepsake, other than what she carries in her personal luggage."

  You know, I'm thinking about this fact that Anthony doesn't want to tell her about the encounter, and I think your instincts are solid."

  OK, let's do as he asks. You may not have any living friends in Washington, but I do. I'll look into it. Just a thought does he want to surprise her?"

  “It will be a surprise for her if it turns up, of course, but that is not what he's thinking about. I think he's afraid that if he tells her and she finds the tape was thrown away or never existed, he'll only cause her more pain. Worse yet, it could put a wall between them."

  Tzu pursed his lips, as he drummed his finger on the desktop. “He's got feelings for her, doesn't he?"

  “Honey, he's got it so bad it hurts to look at him when he's around her. I never saw something click that fast."

  “But what about her?"

  “She's interested, but frankly, she's still grieving her loss so much that she can't see getting past that for a while. She needs time."

  “You sound like you've got a handle on things,” he replied. “I'll get to work on finding this tape and seeing that she gets it.” He scratched his head and added thoughtfully, “I can't take something like this through normal channels without stirring up a lot of questions even if the tape is still there. Here, look at this bulletin.” He forwarded the Hotel's home page to Ann-Marie's webpad. The usual home page text had been replaced with a notice in bold letters. “The Hotel Lombardy is now the home of the 7th French Peacekeeper Company and is no longer accepting guests until further notice."

  Ann-Marie's head drooped. “Oh crap!"

  “Relax,” Henry cautioned her. “Look, if the tape is still there, we'll get it out without anyone knowing.” He held up a finger. “Hold on a second, I'm putting you on standby.” Tzu pressed his intercom switch. “Piper, get in here right now!"

  The corporal, who was monitoring the debriefing at his own desk, flew through the door with a cocky smile.

  “Can we find somebody in Washington slick enough to steal something form a hotel mailroom and make it past a bunch of French Peacekeepers?"

  “You betcha, boss; we've got a whole network of Progressive Libertarians in Washington, but I gotta tell you, this one sounds tricky. Something like this will would usually be expensive, but for Anthony Jarman, I'll swing us a good deal."

  Tzu smiled from ear-to-ear. “Piper, you're the man!"

  The corporal beamed with confidence and pride as Tzu turned his attention back to his webpad. “Ann-Marie, I'm pleased to tell you that Piper has it covered, so consider it done! Anything else before we switch off?"

  “Yes. Kind of odd, but I thought I'd pass it along."

  A puzzled look crossed her face. “Vigo wears this funny, gray, shiny medallion with a chain made of the same stuff as the medallion. It has these odd-looking characters on it and he wouldn't take it off. The characters, symbols or whatever they are look like nothing I've ever seen so I took a photo of it while he was sleeping.” She aimed her photo pen at the webpad and transmitted an image of the platinum colored disk. “The odd thing about it, is while it is about the size of a half-dollar piece, it weighs less than a dime. He says he took it off a dead terrorist, but that doesn't wash with me. I know him too well and the body vibes weren't right. You ever see anything like this?"

  “Nope, not me.” He looked up from the webcam at Corporal Piper who shrugged with a clueless expression. “No answers on this end, but we'll look into it. Tzu out."

  * * *

  The Assassin's Pen

  DANIELLE PETERS CLOSED the door into the small auditorium used by the UNE for press conferences and special events on the fortieth floor of the First City Tower in Houston, Texas behind her with cautious satisfaction. It had taken a great deal of treasure to lure Senator Connie Chavez to UNE Governor Merl Johnston's regional headquarters, and now she had finally been drawn into the spider's lair.

  Attended by her own armed security chief, Chavez had come by invitation of the UNE, leading a five-person delegation of senators and congressmen from California. They had all arrived from Washington D.C. that morning for the momentous announcement and signing and were now divided up amongst small clusters of news reporters, giving interviews as their press assistants passed out handfuls of press releases.

  She closed the door and returned to Johnston's office. He had finished dressing and a makeup artist was gently powdering his face to keep it from shining under the halogen news lights. She clapped her hands twice. “Everyone out!"

  Her words immediately silenced the ambient chatter in the room. Obediently, the various aides and office workers in the room filed out in quick order leaving Peters all alone with Johnston.

  “Everything is ready,” she announced.

  “Well, that's fi
ne, but there is one small detail you've left out. I still do not know how and when I'm going to deliver my final blow to Senator Chavez."

  “Normally, you would have known this all along. However, you're not a professional, and amateurs tend to be inventive, which can be problematic, which is why I've been opposed to your desire to do this yourself. Wet work is best done by those well trained for it, like myself.

  “Yeah, but you're not doing it."

  “I know that, and I've made sure that your task will be as simple as possible. As to why I've kept you in the dark until now, I did not want you to have enough time to be inventive, so that you will do exactly as I say."

  He scowled at her. “Fine; for the umpteenth time, I'll do exactly as you say. So, what the hell do I do?"

  “Listen, and do exactly as I say,” she responded in cool, firm command voice. Johnston had never heard her speak in this voice before, and it sent an uncomfortable shiver through him as he realized a new and deadly aspect of Danielle. As she opened her handbag and drew out a small squeeze bottle, he began to appreciate why a professional like her would hold an amateur in disdain.

  “Hold out your hands, palms up,” Danielle ordered. He held them out and she squeezed a large bead of clear, viscous gel onto both hands. “It is important that you rub this gel in thoroughly, as it will protect you from infection."

  Johnston began rubbing his hands together vigorously, spreading the gel all around his hands and fingers. For extra measure, she squeezed a few more large beads of gel on his hands, and he obediently rubbed that in, as well.

  Satisfied that he was completely protected from infection she tucked the squeeze bottle back in her handbag, exchanging it for two pens, virtually identical to those he would be using shortly to sign a momentous UNE executive order, giving the State of California a windfall prize that would be envied in many nations across the globe.

  She tucked the handbag under her arm and held one pen in each hand. “Listen carefully. You will use five pens to sign the executive orders, and give one to each of the members of the Chavez delegation. They are all customized, midnight blue Cross Townsend Pens. Your official seal is engraved on the cap of each pen along with a small replica of a maglev passenger train on the clip. The pen clip is the key.” She held up the pen in her left hand. “Note that this clip of this pen I'm holding up is silver. Four of the pens have the same silver clip, and you will give them to everyone but Chavez.” She changed hands. “On the desk, you will see only one pen like the one I'm now holding, and it will have a gold clip. This is the first pen you will use when signing the order, and you only give it to Chavez. Do you understand me?"

  “Yes."

  “Repeat it back to me."

  “The first pen I used for the signing must have the gold clip, and I am to give it to Chavez. The other four pens with the silver clips go to everyone else in her delegation."

  “Excellent."

  “Is that all I have to do?"

  “Yes. The gold pen is coated with an engineered virus targeted specifically for the Senator. We managed to obtain a sample of her DNA collected from a blood panel drawn during a routine physical. She will need to hold the pen for at least a minute before the virus can be transmitted through her skin, so be careful not to rush the signing.” She put the pens back in her handbag. “One of my operatives, a young brunette named Angela, just finished placing all five pens on the desk and is standing guard over them to make sure nothing is disturbed."

  “I'm impressed,” he exclaimed.

  “I can tell you now that the School of Assassins has been working on this for several months, long before you pressed the Secretary General for his approval. They are not happy about this, and neither am I.” “Yeah, well tough darts, farmer. I want payback, and that is all there is to it. So what happens after I give her the pen? Is she going to croak right there?"

  The question annoyed her deeply. In all respects but this, she felt comfortable with Johnston, but now he was on her turf and acting like a typical gung-ho novice. She held up her hands. “You just can this attitude crap, Merl, or I'm going to pull the plug on this deal right now, and if you don't think I can, just try me!"

  Johnston backed up. “Sorry; I was out of line. It won't happen again."

  She had actually hoped that he'd continue being a jerk so that she could override him and implement her backup plan, but his quick retrenching had pushed that option back out of reach. “The viral coating on the pen will be fully oxidized within an hour. After that, there will be no detectable residue, and the pen will be just that, a pen. A few weeks from now, she will succumb to pancreatic cancer. How soon she dies will depend on the strength of her immune system, but even with the best odds, we're only talking a matter of weeks. This virus has been carefully engineered to kill her and her alone. Once it has passed through her skin, she is as good as dead."

  “You're good,” he exclaimed.

  “It's what I've been trained to do. By the way, follow the script I've laid out for you. You will make a quick announcement with Chavez and her delegates standing behind you. After that, we'll run the video promo for the project, and straight from there, you go to the table, sign the order using the pen with the gold clip and give it to Chavez. Then, take your time finishing up so that she'll have to stand there holding her pen. After that will come the usual photo ops and open question and answer stuff."

  He repeated the instructions back to her, word for word. She smiled for the first time that day. “You'll do fine. Well, gov, it's show time!"

  * * * *

  NEWS CAMERAS FLASHED across the room as Johnston took his place behind the podium with Senator Chavez and her delegates standing behind her. Danielle stood off to one side of the stage, her eyes occasionally darting to the operative standing behind the table. Standing at shoulder height to Johnston, the senator's dignified Castilian features and off white skin made her seem like a natural fit to his southern style. Her figure widened somewhat over the years, but her wide-set black eyes and dark brown hair still retained their youthful vigor. A widow of ten years, she had never remarried choosing instead to focus her life on her only child, an extremely talented young girl, and her career.

  Johnston held up his hands and the room quieted down. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” he glanced back at Chavez, “and a very special welcome to Senator Connie Chavez.” He then introduced each member of her delegation with great fanfare before moving directly into his speech.

  “As the new UNE governor for southwestern America, it gives me a great personal sense of joy to announce plans for the first American maglev train system, using the new room temperature superconducting supermagnets recently developed in the new Las Vegas Research Complex, with the help of my predecessor, Melissa Chadwick, who now heads the UNE efforts in Las Vegas. In a few moments, I will be signing an executive order that will create a statewide network of maglev guideways all across the State of California, and eventually with its neighbors as well."

  A round of applause filled the room and Johnston beamed as he paused for a moment before continuing. “This morning, I was notified by Secretary General De Bono that the UNE will not only pay for the construction of the guideways, but that it will also purchase five specially designed Yamanashi maglev passenger trains, which will be capable of traveling at speeds well over five hundred kilometers per hour.” The room exploded with cheers and clapping hands in celebration of the announcement.

  He held up his hands, waving them back and forth. “With the help of the Yamanashi media department, we've prepared a wonderful five-minute video presentation that will show you the system routes and the amazing new low-power technological advances that will make this system the most advanced of its kind in the world.” The clapping and cheering swelled again. “And without further ado...” He turned to face Danielle. “It's show time."

  The large display behind and above the podium sparkled to life as the room lights dimmed. Johnston switched off the podium microphone and st
epped back next to Chavez.

  “Congratulations, Merl, they're eating it up,” she said in a soft voice loud enough that only he could hear it over the catchy theme song. “You'll get some mileage out of this one, for sure."

  “I knew they would Connie, but I'd like to think of it more as a gift to you and your state. I know we were not on the best of terms before, but times have changed and I'm hoping this project will convince you to bury the hatchet once and for all and work with me. I can do a lot to help my friends, if you know what I mean."

  The music faded back to a gentle level as the narrator's deep masculine voice explained the new California maglev system in glowing details. “I know what you mean, Merl. Have you ever read Aesop's fable about the Scorpion and the Frog?"

  “Can't say I have,” he answered, wondering where she was about to go with this parable.

  She stepped closer to him so she could be easily heard over the presentation. “My daughter used to love this story. As I recall, it begins with a frog sitting beside a large pond one day, when a scorpion happens by and asks him for a favor. It seems the scorpion urgently needs to visit some friends on the other side of the pond and asks the frog to carry it across the pond on his back. At first, the frog refuses, telling the scorpion it is his nature to sting things and that he's not interested in risking his life to help him. However, the scorpion convinces him that doing so would mean certain death for both of them, as scorpions cannot swim, and so he wouldn't dare do such a thing, so the frog agrees. He lets the scorpion hop up on his back and off they go across the pond. Sure enough, they're halfway across the pond when the scorpion rears up and stings the frog. As the frog feels his life ebbing away, he asks the scorpion why he condemned them both to die and the scorpion simply replies, ‘It is just my nature to sting things.’ Now the whole point of this story boils down to this,” she looked into his eyes with a friendly smile, “it will be a cold day in hell, Merl, before I ever let you ride my back."