The Nabatean Secret

by J C Ryan

  After a long argument, Eadie said, “Jason Sullivan.”

  Bill felt an ice cube slip down his spine. “No! You can’t! Wait right there in your office, Eadie. I’m on my way.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Eadie replied.

  Bill said, “Don’t go anywhere, not even to the bathroom. When I walk in there, you’d better be in your office. Don’t make me search for you.” He slammed the receiver down in its cradle and called for backup.

  Bill sped from Langley to the White House in a mini motorcade with sirens blaring and lights flashing. The nine miles, which in normal traffic should’ve taken sixteen minutes, was done in ten. On the way, he called Sean and Dylan and told them to get their asses to the White House, pronto.

  Eadie was behind his desk when Bill, Sean, and Dylan marched in, followed by his flustered secretary. “I’m sorry, sir. I tried to stop them.”

  Eadie stood. “What the hell is this, Bill?”

  Bill silently motioned the secretary to leave, shut the door, and sat down. Backed up by Sean and Dylan, he told Eadie what they suspected was going on, psychoanalysis and all.

  By the time they finished, Scott Eadie was as pale as bleached-white linen. “Oh, my God! What do you want me to do right now?”

  He was shaking like an October aspen leaf, wondering if he’d unwittingly exposed the President to an assassination attempt. Thank God, they set me straight!

  Bill answered crisply, “Clear the President’s schedule. We go in immediately, tell him what’s going on. Then, depending if he agrees, you call Sullivan and tell him a slot just opened, and he can come in immediately.”

  Scott dialed the President’s next appointment with shaking hands but managed to keep his voice steady as he apologized. “I’m sorry, the President has had a priority one matter come up. I’ll have to get back to you to reschedule.” He suspected he’d be doing the same for the rest of the appointments that night and probably the next day, if not more.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were briefing the President, who was as incredulous as Bill had been earlier. He was more than a little upset with them. “This guy is my best Cabinet member by a long shot. He’s beyond reproach.”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Bill agreed. “I said the same thing. But I’ve been persuaded we must at least check it out. Here’s what we’ve learned…”

  Bill had Sean and Dylan report on their early-morning interrogation of McCormick. They went through the same objections with Grant as they’d endured from Bill, with the same answers that their methods hadn’t been as extreme as they could have been.

  The President conceded McCormick could have been telling the truth. “But I’d hate to lose a friend and a key Cabinet member over an accusation the accuser isn’t even certain of,” he concluded.

  “That isn’t all, Mr. President.” Bill took over again, summarizing what they’d learned from the psychologist. “As you can surmise, Sullivan is exactly what we’re potentially looking for.”

  Eadie backed him up. “Mr. President, in fact, I’ve just fallen for those very tactics. Sullivan persuaded me to bump Bill and this meeting from its original slot and put him in it instead. Who knows what could have happened if Bill hadn’t come straight here?”

  It took more batting the subject back and forth before the President conceded. “All right. But you’ll all be looking for other jobs if this doesn’t pan out.”

  While Eadie left to place the call to Sullivan, Bill, Sean, and Dylan gave the head of the Secret Service a briefing to make doubly sure Sullivan would not carry any weapons of any nature when he entered the Oval Office later. If they had to subject him to a cavity search as part of a “new security directive” to do random searches like that, then they were to do so.

  Chapter 87 - The last king of the Nabateans

  May 29 7:00 p.m.

  All was in readiness when Sullivan was led into the Oval Office. A nervous Eadie and still-shocked President Grant were there to greet him. The President was a consummate actor. He’d spent most of the past decade in the position of portraying calm no matter what his inner thoughts. He could hide his shock and dismay.

  As he greeted Sullivan, he asked him to take a seat. If Sullivan noticed Grant was keeping his distance, he didn’t say anything about it.

  The President studied Sullivan’s face for any signs of anxiety but saw none. He remembered what Bill had told him—that low anxiety when normal people would panic was a trait of psychopaths.

  Bill, Sean, and Dylan were in Eadie’s office nearby watching the meeting on the closed-circuit TV screen.

  The President started on a light note. “Jason, to what do I owe the honor? Please don’t tell me you’re here to discuss some crisis in the Treasury, or worse, your resignation?”

  Sullivan smiled. “No, Mr. President. None of that. I have a strange request, and I believe you might be able to help me with it. I’ve been wondering if you could assist me to get a face-to-face meeting with Professor Carter Devereux. I can’t get any messages through to him.” Sullivan smiled. “I don’t know where or how to contact him. I know since they have extracted that library of the Giants from the Alboran Sea, every request to get access to it has to go past you first.”

  He was telling a half-truth. It had to go to Bill first, and then James and Irene would examine the request as well as the requester and give Bill the yay or nay. Only then would the President sign off on it.

  “Urgent matter, my ass,” a fully-alarmed Scott Eadie whispered quietly to himself. At least we have the assurance from security he’s not armed.

  The President, on high alert himself, didn’t correct Sullivan, keeping up the subterfuge. “Oh, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem, Jason. But may I ask, what is your interest in the A-Codex that could relate to the Treasury?”

  Sullivan answered smoothly, “Well, it took me a very long time, and I’m sure most people who learn about this remarkable discovery, to come to terms with it. The idea of civilizations that existed so long ago and were much more advanced than ours, that is. I was wondering if there could be something we could learn from those wise ancients about economic and financial systems? I think it’s at least worth having a look. You can never be too sure that you know it all.”

  Now alert to the possibility, Grant had to admit Sullivan was definitely a master spinner—no doubt about that. But what was the real reason he wanted to meet with Carter Devereux?

  When the group in Scott’s office heard Sullivan asking to see Carter, Sean said, “Let’s get Carter over here right now.”

  Bill agreed. “You see to that, and I’ll let Scott know they should keep the meeting going so we can get Carter here.” He wrote a note for Scott on a piece of paper then went to the President’s personal assistant and asked her to take the note in to Scott immediately.

  Scott read the note. Devereux is on his way. Stall the meeting as long as you possibly can. Show this to the President.

  He nodded and said, “Apologies for the interruption, Mr. President, Jason. Just a quick note for you, sir.” He handed the note to Grant, who read it quickly and nodded.

  “Jason, you’re in luck. Professor Devereux is actually on his way here right now, and my schedule is clear for the rest of the night. Isn’t it, Scott?”

  Scott thanked his lucky stars he’d foreseen this possibility. “Yes, Mr. President.”

  Grant smiled, turned to Sullivan, and said, “Why don’t we use the time and you bring me up to speed with how things are going in your department? When Devereux arrives, we can get you two acquainted and set up the terms of your joint research project as we did with all the others.”

  It was not entirely how Sullivan wanted it to happen. He preferred to meet with Carter in private, not in front of the President. But he’d take what he could get. It meant he’d have to reveal the sorry mess to the President and Scott Eadie as well.

  But, beggars can’t be choosers.

  It wasn’t ideal, but better than not being able
to talk to his only hope. Carter Devereux had become mystical to Sullivan. He’d been placing so much hope in Carter he’d lost contact with reality and thought of him as an immortal, not a normal, fallible, human being of flesh and blood like others.

  “That’s great news, Mr. President. I appreciate it very much.”

  ***

  At Camp David, Carter heard the helicopter approach as Sean gave him the message. “Get your ass on the chopper, which will land at your doorstep in about two minutes. I’ll see you soon and explain then.”

  As the pilot took off the second he’d cleared the door, Carter asked, “Where are we going?”

  The pilot answered, “All I know is I’m supposed to get you to the White House without delay.”

  Must be some serious stuff. Carter didn’t waste time trying to figure it out. He’d know soon enough.

  Sean met him outside on the south lawn, where the President’s helicopter, Marine One, always landed and took off. “Jason Sullivan wants a word with you.”

  “The Treasury Secretary? Why?”

  “Well, he’s told the President it’s because he wants to learn if there’s anything in the A-Codex about advanced financial systems or some such bullshit. But here’s what’s really going on…”

  Sean began the briefing as they jogged to Scott Eadie’s office, where Dylan was waiting to help bring Carter up to speed about events leading to this meeting.

  Carter expressed the same shock as Bill and the President when he heard they suspected Sullivan of being the leak from the NSC. But he was intelligent and quick-witted enough to keep his mouth shut and listen, process it quickly, and do his best to prepare himself for whatever was coming.

  ***

  The President’s secretary showed him into the Oval Office, but before she could announce him, the most bizarre scene any of them had ever seen began to unfold.

  Sullivan started up from his seat on a sofa facing the door where Carter had just entered. Before reaching his full height, he dropped to his knees. He bowed his head and kept it like that, staring at the floor, not daring to look directly at Carter.

  Sullivan started speaking in a loud voice. “My master and my King. I’m your eternal and humble servant, Jason Sullivan.”

  Carter’s mouth dropped open as Sean and Dylan rushed the door, guns drawn and pointed at Sullivan, yelling, “Hands on your head! Do it now!” Secret Service agents streamed in, pointing their guns at Sean and Dylan, yelling, “Drop your weapons!”

  No one knew how it happened, but the President was flat on his stomach behind his desk, Scott Eadie on top of him. He struggled to rise as Sean and Dylan lowered their guns, looking sheepish at their mistake.

  Later, when the surveillance tapes were reviewed, it would be seen that Scott had dived onto the President like a Secret Service agent to protect him from the bomb blast he’d believed would come.

  Sean and Dylan apologized to the Secret Service agents for pulling guns in the Oval Office, explaining they, too, had expected a bomb or something of that nature.

  Everyone would joke with Scott from then on he’d have no need to look for a different job after the new President took office—the Secret Service would hire him in a heartbeat.

  In the moment, however, Sullivan was on his knees still, hands on his head, with six guns pointed at him. He seemed to be unaware of what was going on around him. When the yelling and hysterical explanations had stopped and things were quiet again, he began speaking again.

  “Your majesty, I bring you a message of extreme importance. Please bear with your humble servant as he gives your majesty this crucial information.”

  Carter, who was stunned speechless and motionless while all this unfolded somehow managed to get his equanimity back. Based on his quick briefing about Sullivan’s possible mental state, it struck him what could be going on.

  He motioned to everyone to be quiet and started speaking—like a king.

  “Approach, Sullivan. What is this important message you have for your king?” Carter knew he was never going to live down the jokes that would follow from those who saw and heard him—assuming he and they got through this alive.

  Sullivan began to get off his knees. The Secret Service agents tensed, and Sean moved to keep him down, but Carter motioned Sean to stand down. Sullivan got to within six feet of Carter and dropped to his knees again, keeping his hands on his bowed head. He started speaking again.

  Everyone in the room was agape, staring at this medieval scene as it unfolded, but their amazement was soon replaced by shock and awe as they listened to the words coming out of Sullivan’s mouth.

  Pouring it all out in a stream of consciousness, Sullivan raved about the Nabateans, his role in the Council of the Covenant of Nabatea, and their latest plans.

  Everyone in the room had plenty of questions, and they tried in vain to get Sullivan to answer them directly. He ignored them as if they weren’t there.

  Grant was the first one to figure out how to get his questions answered—ask Carter. But Sullivan would only answer if anyone talking to Carter addressed him as “your majesty.”

  His thoughts of earlier about the jokes that would come in the days and years to follow became stronger every time the President addressed him as “your majesty.” The smile on Grant’s face every time he did so told Carter everything he could expect—if they survived this. Carter was just happy that all Sullivan’s attention was on him. There was no telling what the man would do if anyone broke his fantasy by showing they didn’t take it seriously.

  Bill, Sean, Dylan, the President, and Eadie, who knew what these Nabateans were capable of, wondered nervously if Sullivan could somehow have been rigged up into a living bomb the White House security measures couldn’t detect.

  Could he be about to push a button at any moment?

  Carter seemed to be the only one who didn’t worry, or maybe he was so immersed in his role he didn’t think about it.

  Sullivan remained on his knees on the carpet for more than two hours.

  Slowly, it settled on the others that the man was heavily burdened and deeply troubled, as the words kept pouring from his mouth.

  King Devereux now and then ordered one of his other “servants” to give the messenger a sip of water. Each time, he praised Sullivan for his diligence and good work before asking him to continue.

  No one dared to ask Sullivan why he thought Carter was his king—keeping it up and playing along with Sullivan kept him talking and divulging information. It was as if they had opened the floodgates of an overflowing Hoover Dam.

  As Sullivan corroborated every assumption A-Echelon and the CIA had made, and added much, much more, the stunning revelations about the full reach and power of the Nabateans alarmed everyone in the room. It was clear they were not safe, and they’d need every ally they could pull in to avert a world disaster.

  Sean had a quick whispered conversation with Bill and got his agreement to bring James and Irene in immediately.

  It was only days later, when Sullivan was secured in an isolated cell and heavily guarded, that they learned Sullivan thought Carter was Rabbel II Soter reincarnated —the last king of the Nabateans.

  Chapter 88 - Letters over Grant’s signature

  May 29

  They learned from Sullivan the Nabateans were planning to set off two big antimatter bombs—one in DC and one in New York. But he didn’t know precisely when or the exact location where the bombs would be placed.

  He also knew about plans to crash US stock markets, but again, didn’t know exactly how or when.

  All he could say was it would happen within the next forty-eight hours. The bomb explosions were going to be the signal that the Council of the Covenant of Nabatea had ceased to exist. They’d been preparing to vanish, destroying everything they couldn’t take with them.

  As Sullivan started revealing the names and exact locations of the twelve council members, the President’s mind went into overdrive. He had to plan the diplomatic delegations
he’d have to send to the various countries where the perpetrators lived.

  He was of the opinion the apprehension of the Nabatean councilors in India, the UK, Japan, Peru, and Saudi Arabia wouldn’t pose much of a problem—the US had good relations with those countries, and their governments were expected to be complaisant with his requests. That would take care of five of the council members, six including Jason Sullivan, and of course their prime target, Graziella Nabati, in Peru.

  However, Grant found himself with a few intractable issues when it came to the remaining six councilors. They, unfortunately, were living in countries whose governments weren’t exactly known for their friendliness and cooperation with the US.

  Four of the twelve Nabatean councilors lived in Russia and China, two in each country. The second highest value target of the whole operation, Mathieu Nabati, who resided in the west Ural Mountains of Russia, was one of them.

  Although the US had diplomatic missions in both countries, Grant thought they would still be hard nuts to crack. It was highly debatable, if they got an audience with those heads of state in the first place, whether they would get any cooperation from them. Grant could only hope they would listen to his delegates and understand the danger facing themselves and the world.

  Getting their hands on the final two Nabatean council members was going to be near impossible.

  Councilor Alireza Karimi-Shah, a very wealthy engineer, businessman, and humanitarian was an Iranian, living in Tehran.

  The US’s last diplomatic mission in Iran had closed during the Iranian Revolution in 1979. The only way to get in touch with the Iranian government was through the embassy of a close ally such as the UK or another. That was how the US, from time to time, communicated with the Iranian government. The problem was, in this case, there was not enough time to make all the arrangements. And even if they could, there was very little to no chance the Iranians would collaborate—US-Iran relations had been at an all-time low for more than a decade already.