“Around 1000 BCE when the Minoans were visiting Asia, vestiges of matrism still remained in Korea and Japan,” Griffin objected. “They would have had no need to travel as far north as Sakhalin Island.”
“Which brings me to another reason why we picked it,” Zach countered. “Geography. Your riddle says to go past the golden road of Boreas where his islands kill the sea. We still don’t know what the golden road means but Boreas means that you should go north and look for islands that can kill the sea. Sakhalin Island is only separated from the mainland of Asia by four and a half miles across the Tartar Strait. The strait itself is narrow and shallow. When approached from either the south or the north, it looks like a dead-end bay where the sea dies. Early explorers were fooled into turning back the way they came, not knowing they could pass right through the channel to the other side.”
“That’s plausible,” Griffin nodded. “The island and the strait might be said to ‘kill the sea.’”
“But wait, there’s more,” Zach added impishly. “In the winter, the Tartar Strait freezes solid.”
“That would kill the sea alright,” Cassie agreed.
“Aside from which, the second line of the riddle has some connection to Sakhalin too.”
“Which is?” the scrivener prompted.
“It says to follow a great river. The Amur River flows across half of Asia and empties into the Tartar Strait right across from the northern tip of Sakhalin Island.”
“I’m sold,” Cassie concluded. She glanced at Griffin quizzically.
He seemed to be pondering the evidence for several moments. Eventually, he glanced up and gave the tyro a rueful smile. “Well done, Zachary. You may put me out of a job one day.”
The boy grinned with relief. “I’m glad you think so.” He paused. “Not the part about taking your job, I mean.”
“Yes, I quite understand.”
“It’s good that you two are on board with the location,” Maddie said. “I’ve already sent a recon team to Sakhalin to see if they can turn up anything before you get there. I also contacted the Jomon trove keeper and told him to meet you once you’re ready to leave for the next leg of your trip.”
“We should wait a week, just to be convincing,” Cassie said. “Daniel might get suspicious if I instantly announced I got a vibe about Japan.”
“That makes sense,” Maddie concurred.
“A short delay will give me time to do a bit of tidying in my office,” Griffin added sotto voce.
Everyone chose to ignore the comment.
In a sheepish voice, Zach asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten an update on Hannah, have you?”
Cassie gave him a consoling smile. “Don’t worry. Daniel promised to check in on her as soon as he got to the compound. He said he’d call if there’d been any change in her situation. So, no news is good news.”
“Okay,” Zach assented half-heartedly.
“Speaking of Daniel,” the chatelaine said. “How did he behave during your mission?”
“He seemed surprisingly open-minded when we briefed him on matristic prehistory,” the scrivener remarked.
“Daniel was OK,” Cassie agreed. “Except...” she trailed off.
Griffin completed the thought. “During our last day in Melbourne, he left abruptly to pay a visit to a Nephilim compound. When he returned, we could tell something was amiss, but he didn’t offer any additional information.”
“You should keep your guard up,” Maddie advised. “Just because he’s playing nice for now doesn’t mean he hasn’t got his own agenda on this quest.”
“Quite right,” the scrivener said.
The chatelaine scowled with dissatisfaction. “Speaking of hidden agendas, we’re still at a loss to know what Abe’s got up his sleeve. Why does he want the Sage Stone? What’s his end game? I just wish there was some way for us to get the inside scoop.”
“I doubt Daniel will be forthcoming with that type of information,” Griffin demurred.
“I doubt he even knows,” Maddie countered. “His father doesn’t seem to be the trusting sort. The diviner operates on a need-to-know basis, and nobody needs to know all the facts but him.”
“All we can do is go along from day to day and hope somebody slips up,” Cassie said.
“In other words, pray for a miracle.” Maddie gave a mirthless laugh.
“A miracle would be good right about now,” the pythia agreed wistfully.
Chapter 13—Character Assassination
Leroy Hunt yawned and stood up to stretch. He paced around his living room to take a break from staring at his computer screen. He’d been at it for days, trying to pick up a paper trail from the farmhouse in the sticks that would lead him to Mr. Big. The preacher had given him the boring job of tracking down the secret organization that had become such a thorn in his side. No matter what old Abe had promised to Miss Cassie and Grif, he still planned to wipe out their whole operation at the end of the day. That meant Leroy needed to zero in on their headquarters while the two were otherwise occupied.
The cowboy resented being consigned to the role of paper monkey. He’d have much preferred trailing after Daniel and the dynamic duo in Australia, so he could look after his own vested interests. Once the last doodad was found, he’d be able to cash in his chips and collect his winnings. Leroy had waited a long time for his payday to come around and it was almost here. He didn’t want any screw-ups so close to the finish line. He cast an eye back toward the computer, considering whether it was time to knock off for the evening. Just then, his phone rang.
He picked it up and answered. “Hello?”
“Mr. Hunt?”
It took him a moment to identify the voice. “Brother Dan’l?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“You back in the States now?”
“We returned yesterday afternoon.”
Hunt swore under his breath. “Your daddy ain’t keepin’ me in the loop like he should.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Daniel apologized distractedly. “I need to speak with you in person.”
“Right now?” Hunt checked his watch. “Son, it’s almost quittin’ time. I ain’t gonna drive way the hell out to the compound tonight.”
“No, not the compound,” Daniel corrected. “I’m already in the city at the downtown library. I thought I might come to your apartment.”
Hunt offered a counter-proposal. “There’s a bar around the corner from my place.” He gave Daniel the address.
“I’ll be there in half an hour.” There was a long pause. “And Mr. Hunt...”
“Yup?”
“Please don’t tell anyone about this meeting.”
The cowboy raised his eyebrows, intrigued by Daniel’s attempt at cloak-and-dagger. “Okey-dokey.”
***
Thirty minutes later, Hunt sat on a barstool nursing his second glass of whiskey while he waited for Daniel to show. He idly scanned the tavern clientele. It was still too early in the evening for serious drinkers to arrive. Happy hour was in full swing which meant there was enough noisy chatter to drown out whatever the kid wanted to tell him.
Daniel sloped up and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Grab a stool, boy,” the cowboy instructed.
“Uh, no. I’d rather not sit at the bar. I have something confidential to discuss with you.”
Growing even more intrigued, Leroy gestured toward the booths against the wall. They had high wooden backs which prevented nosy third-parties from eavesdropping.
Daniel ordered a pale ale. When it arrived, the two men took their drinks and headed for the stall farthest from the door.
They slid into seats opposite one another.
Studying the scion’s beverage choice, the cowboy observed, “Son, someday you’re gonna have to belly up to a grown man’s drink.”
Daniel took a sip of his ale. “Considering that I didn’t touch spirits at all when you first met me, you ou
ght to view this as a sign of progress.”
“Suit yourself.” Hunt shrugged. “Now what’s so all-fired important that you had to bother me after-hours?”
“This.” Daniel pushed a leather portfolio across the table toward Leroy.
The cowboy stared at the bag uncomprehendingly and then at the diviner’s son. “What y’all want me to do with that?”
“Help me understand what it means,” the scion replied.
The cowboy scrutinized the bag, his eyes immediately drawn to the gold leaf on the front that spelled “Bowdeen.”
“This belonged to Chopper?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes. I visited the Melbourne compound while I was in Australia. The archwarden said Mr. Bowdeen left this behind.”
“Well, it ain’t like he’s gonna need it where he is now.” Hunt guffawed.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Returning the bag to its owner isn’t my concern. It’s the paperwork inside. I need your help to...” He hesitated. “...connect the dots.”
“I ain’t no good with puzzles, boy,” Leroy demurred.
“This is a special kind of puzzle.” Daniel opened the case and drew out several sheets of paper. They appeared to be blueprints. “One I’m sure you’ll understand far better than I do.”
Leroy leaned over the table and peered at the pages in the dim light. The layout seemed vaguely familiar.
“This is the floorplan for the central compound,” Daniel explained.
The cowboy remained unimpressed. “So what? As I recollect, Chopper was workin’ on security for your old man in the States and overseas. Why shouldn’t he keep blueprints to the compound?”
“Yes, but look at these notes.” Daniel traced his finger across a series of arrows hand-drawn on the blueprint. The arrows marked a route from an access door on the west side of the building. They ended right outside a room that was labeled “diviner’s Office.”
Leroy knit his brows in concentration. “That is a trifle strange,” he admitted.
“And look at this.” Daniel pointed to three dots inside the diviner’s office and one dot right at the end of the corridor leading to the office. They had all been circled. “Those are security camera locations,” he said.
A notation scribbled next to the designated surveillance equipment read, “Joshua to disable cams.” A date was scrawled next to the message along with the words, “12 AM sharp.”
The cowboy sat even farther forward, his interest finally piqued. “Will you look at that? Chopper was up to somethin’ all right.” He transferred his attention to Daniel. “That date mean anythin’ to you?”
The scion nodded gravely. “It certainly does. That was the night Mr. Bowdeen attempted to kill my father. Your friend was shot by my brother Joshua instead.”
The cowboy scratched his head. He pondered the evidence before him in silence for several seconds before rising abruptly. “I need another drink,” he announced and walked back to the bar.
Returning a few minutes later, he set down a bottle of whiskey and a spare glass. After resuming his seat, he poured himself another shot and filled the empty glass, sliding it across the table to Daniel.
“I don’t drink whiskey,” the scion protested.
“You will by the time we’re done sussin’ this out,” the cowboy muttered with a scowl on his face. “Before I tell you what I think, give me the lowdown on what happened that night. Step-by-step and don’t leave nothin’ out.”
Daniel launched into a detailed account of the facts he’d been able to gather about the assassination attempt.
The scowl on Leroy Hunt’s face deepened with every sentence. When Daniel had finished, the cowboy asked, “And your brother Josh just happened to be cruisin’ through the neighborhood while my old buddy was fixin’ to shoot your daddy?”
“My brother said he’d grown suspicious of Mr. Bowdeen’s behavior and that he’d been keeping tabs on him for quite some time.”
“Don’t it strike you funny that a feller your brother tagged as a shifty character could make it all the way to your old man’s office at midnight without bells and whistles goin’ off in the guard shack? How come security didn’t stop him before he got that far?”
Daniel grew chalkier than usual. “Nobody questioned Joshua’s version of events.”
“Uh huh,” the cowboy remarked laconically.
Without thinking, the scion took the glass of whisky and gulped half of it down, causing him to sputter and cough. When he could breathe again, he gasped, “That means Joshua must have disabled the cameras just as the blueprints indicated.”
Leroy chuckled sardonically at Daniel’s dawning recognition. “There it is.”
“They must have planned the assassination together,” Daniel speculated shakily. “Maybe my brother lost his nerve at the last moment,”
“And there it went.” Hunt shook his head in exasperation. “Boy, you ain’t got the street smarts God gave a country hen.”
Daniel looked confused. “What are you saying? That my brother intended to shoot his accomplice?”
“Accomplice, my ass!” The cowboy treated the scion to a withering look. “That set-up wasn’t Chopper’s style. Tell me some more about your brother Josh.”
Daniel regaled Hunt with Joshua’s rumored activities as a spymaster, his close association with Chopper Bowdeen in militarizing the satellites, and his lifelong envy of his brother.
“So, Josh thinks he got the short end of the stick cause you’re next in line to run things?”
“He would do anything to discredit me.”
“Maybe he wasn’t havin’ much luck with talkin’ you down you, so he tried a different tack. He figured to make himself look good by savin’ your daddy’s life.”
Daniel took another gulp of whisky. “So, you think he saw an opportunity to betray his co-conspirator and took it?”
“Nope.” Leroy rubbed his chin absently. “I know for a fact that Chopper was always jumpy about workin’ for your old man. I never could conjure why. Maybe Josh knew my buddy’s weak spot too seein’ as how they spent so much time together. Could be your brother worked that nerve raw ‘til Chopper was ready to do somethin’ really stupid.”
“What are you saying?” The scion stared at him intently.
“I’m sayin’ your brother Josh played Chopper like a cheap fiddle. He set him up, son. Ole Josh never planned to kill your daddy. He only wanted to make himself look like a hero by shootin’ my army pal in the back. And Chopper was just dumb enough to fall for it.”
Daniel swallowed the rest of his whisky and poured himself another glass.
The cowboy gave a grim smile. “Though I ain’t met him, your brother Josh strikes me as the kind of feller who'd slip a rattlesnake in your pocket and then ask you for a light. Better watch your back, son, or what happened to Chopper is gonna happen to you.”
“Joshua wouldn’t kill me!” Daniel exclaimed. “He’s my own brother.”
“So, I guess you ain’t never heard the story about them two boys named Cain and Abel?” the cowboy asked dryly. “With you bein’ such a Bible-thumper, that surely is a wonder.”
Daniel was too stunned to speak as the implication hit him.
Leroy took his companion’s silence as an opportunity to mentally assess how much of a threat this new player might be to his own plans. A sidewinder like Josh who made it his business to know everybody else’s might be trouble. Of more concern was Josh’s desire to mess with Daniel at a time when Leroy still needed the runt to find the last doodad for him. Josh was a wild card that could queer Leroy’s chances of cashing in. No matter how the cowboy looked at it, Josh needed to meet the pointy end of a well-placed bullet. The cowboy quickly rejected that notion. Killing him outright might open a whole new can of worms. Maybe there was a craftier way to put him out of commission.
He turned his attention back to Daniel. “So, what you fixin’ to do about this situation, son?”
“We have to alert my father immediately. These blueprints are all the proof we need. Joshua must be stopped.”
Hunt downed the rest of his drink and grinned. “It’s like you read my mind.”
Chapter 14—Survivor Immunity
Erik blinked his eyes several times. The glare from an overhead fluorescent light was too intense. He shut them again. Was he lying on a hospital cot? He tried to raise his arms but discovered that they were strapped down. He felt a panicky sense of disorientation. What was this place? He couldn’t remember. He’d been in and out of consciousness for days now. Or was it weeks?
He did recall being shot—repeatedly. Then he saw a man in a white hazmat suit sticking a gas mask over his face. That process seemed to be part of an infinite loop as it recurred at regular intervals in his dreams. He tried to roll to his side, but his ankles were pinned down as well. No matter, any movement he made caused a jolt of pain. The bullet wounds, he supposed.
“Ah, I see you’re waking up.”
Erik’s eyes darted around the room, trying to locate the speaker.
A dark-skinned man in a white lab coat came to lean over his bed. He looked Arabic. Strangely enough, he was smiling and appeared pleased about something. “Congratulations, my friend. Despite my best efforts to kill you, you seem determined to live.”
The paladin squinted at him, not sure if he’d heard the words correctly. They made no sense.
“While you were napping this afternoon, we removed the intravenous needles and catheter. It’s time for you to function on your own. If you promise to give me no trouble, I’ll remove the restraints and help you to sit up. Alright?”
“OK,” Erik murmured. His mouth was so dry that the word sounded like an incoherent croak.
The man in the lab coat released the Velcro straps from his wrists and ankles. “Slowly now. You may experience dizziness if you rise too quickly.”
Erik couldn’t rise quickly even if he wanted to. His muscles refused to obey him.
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