NEISEN SWITCHED ON HIS office computer and clicked to his mail account. The excitement he felt in London had withered somewhat under the hot blast of Erick Stiediger’s presence. The two men had never liked each other, but the haughty German was necessary, especially in light of Abelard’s stroke.
Neisen called him in Bonn immediately after depositing the old man in the hospital. In less than four hours, Stiediger was in Neisen’s hotel suite listening as he related all that had happened the previous night as well as the contents of Ruth Starling’s letter.
Neisen had removed the stone only briefly from its pouch when Stiediger asked to see it. “It behaves strangely when exposed to the light,” he said, adding he thought it wise to know more about it before examining it more closely. Though he was sure his explanation did not fully satisfy Stiediger’s curiosity, it did seem to pacify him, at least for the moment.
Not being in on the stone’s discovery had obviously bruised his ego, and Neisen tried to soothe it by asking him to take the scroll and get it translated as soon as possible. “It may give us the answer to the stone’s purpose,” he said.
Neisen returned to America with the stone and had since been preparing for his journey to the Amazon. He fumed about weather delays in that godforsaken part of the world, but knew he had no choice but to wait.
The intercom buzzed, and he snatched up the phone.
“A Mr. Stiediger for you,” Greta said. Neisen punched the button without replying.
“You have the translation?” he asked without preamble.
“You will have a complete copy in your hands soon,” Stiediger said. “It was written in Aramaic and not difficult to translate at all.” He paused for a moment. “Unfortunately, most of it is just a rehash of material we already have from other sources.” Again, he let a beat of silence lengthen. “Except for the prophecy.”
“A prophecy?” Neisen could hear the rustle of papers on the other end of the line as Stiediger searched for something.
“Ah, here it is,” he finally said, “an exact quote.”
“‘Before all things are restored, the stone will seek out a people to return it to its source.’”
“That’s it?” Neisen could not mask his disappointment.
“That’s it,” the thick German voice replied emphatically. “No explanation of the stone’s purpose or how to use it at all. However, we have business that is just as important. Is your line safe?”
“If you mean secure, yes, it is.”
“Good,” he replied curtly.
“What could be as important as the business at hand?” Neisen asked.
“What happened yesterday,” Stiediger replied.
“What do you mean? What happened yesterday?”
“It seems we don’t have long to discover the stone’s purpose if we’re to stave off Armageddon, my friend.” There was no longer the slightest hint of haughtiness in Stiediger’s voice.
“Quit screwing around, Stiediger. What are you talking about?”
“My sources in Bonn say a terrorist threat has been made against all the Western governments. If their demands are not met in four months, they have threatened to begin wiping out our major cities with nuclear weapons.”
Neisen was speechless. He stared into the mouthpiece of his phone.
“The Chancellor tells my sources your President will be making a token response to these demands in hopes of buying time. The assessment here is that when the terrorists realize the governments are stalling, they’ll begin setting off their bombs before the deadline.”
“This makes absolutely no sense. Why haven’t we heard about this? What are the Western powers doing about it?” Neisen hardly knew where to begin. He had at least a million more questions.
“Leaders here in Germany have already begun the orderly evacuation of critical services to underground shelters near Berchtesgaden. My informants say your President and his cabinet are going to your command and control center at Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado. Your other critical government personnel will be scattered at underground sites in Virginia, West Virginia, and the Smokey Mountains.”
“Don’t they think all this sudden movement will set off national panics?” Neisen could envision the interstates of the country clogged with autos as the large cities tried to disgorge millions of people at once.
“There’ll be the usual speculation from the press,” Stiediger said, “but I’m told Western defense establishments have a boiler plate plan for such an emergency. They think it will give temporary cover and hold down panic. Tomorrow, Western leaders will hold a joint press conference via satellite announcing the launching of Operation Hard Hat. They will announce this is a security training exercise whose purpose is to test our ability to disperse military command and control and other critical government functions rapidly.”
“Won’t that provoke a response from whoever has his hand on the trigger?” Neisen asked, still having trouble believing he was having this conversation.
“Probably not immediately,” Stiediger replied. “Your President, in coordination with other Western leaders, plans to begin a cosmetic response to the ultimatum starting tomorrow. Several of your aircraft carriers on standby in the Persian Gulf will be recalled for refitting. He will also announce a five-thousand-man reduction in your military stationed along the DMZ in South Korea, saying this is being done in light of improving relations with North Korea.”
“And he thinks these moves will buy them time to get out of town?”
“They hope so,” Stiediger replied, “and by the way, Brotherhood members have been alerted, and I’m sure are already beginning to scatter.”
“What about Abelard?”
“Resilient as always,” Stiediger said. “Our people in London are saying he still can’t walk but has regained his speech and left the hospital. When I hang up, I am sending a plane to take him to my country estate in Scotland.”
“That should put him outside of harm’s way,” Neisen thought aloud.
“I hope so. We certainly need him, especially now.”
Really, Neisen thought, smiling.
“This will probably be our last contact before you leave for the Amazon,” Stiediger continued. “You must be gone before all this madness goes down. At most, you have a matter of a few weeks. It goes without saying The Brotherhood is depending on your success.”
“Of course.” Neisen felt the same power rush he’d felt in London when he took possession of the stone. “Thank you, Stiediger, for the warning. Good luck.”
A dial tone told him their conversation was over.
Neisen returned to his computer, put the curser on compose, and stroked a key. He typed in the address of the New Tribes Mission office in Caracas. Rainy season or not, he and Spencer needed to get out of the United States before the whole world blew up.