Desert Heat
And Sandstorms

Cotten could still feel the anger burning inside her as she left Cardinal Fazio’s office.

Felipe Montiagro followed her. “Cotten, wait up.”

She didn’t look back, but heard his footsteps as he trotted down the hall until he was beside her.

“I’m sorry you didn’t hear what you wanted to hear. But it is the only stance the Holy See can take. You understand that. I know you must.”

Cotten stopped. “No. That’s the position that politicians and governments take. And what about the Venatori? Why doesn’t the Church send in a team?” She waved the envelope containing the photos in the air. “If this super secret spy agency is so freaking powerful, why aren’t they saving one of their own?”

“The Venatori is an intelligence gathering organization, not a combat or SWAT team. It’s made up almost entirely of priests, not commandos.”

Cotten resumed her course down the hall, the archbishop beside her. “Well, maybe it’s something they should consider. What good is the intelligence if you don’t have any way of—”

“You’re wasting your energy. It is what it is, and that’s where we are. You can’t change that.”

She stopped again and looked him straight in the eye. “Then just where do you suggest I focus my energy? In prayer? That’s your job. Yours and the cardinal’s. I’m no good at that.” Cotten pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen, I appreciate you being my friend and trying to make me feel better, but I’m not going to rest until John is safe and home again.” She paused a moment then said, “I’ve gotta go.” She turned away from Montiagro.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” he called. “John wouldn’t want it.”

___

Moon leaned over a microscope in her lab and peered through it one last time before shutting down the diagnostic systems and preparing to lock up. The past few days had been difficult physically, the tremors often interfering with her work. Her doctor advised her to rest, but that was not an option. Not at this point. She was so close to completing her work, a work that would bring the Americans and their allies to their knees, as helpless as flopping fish in the bottom of a boat. At first they would not understand, just as they had not understood the pings. But when the day came that they did …

It was late and the wind outside made the building moan. The night sounds of creaking and snapping were different from those during the day. In the sunlight she never noticed the noises. But at night the howl of the wind made her edgy.

As she switched the last of the computers off, she heard the door to the lab whine open. Moon turned around, clutching her chest as she saw a figure in the doorway.

“Good evening,” the Old Man said. “You are working late, Dr. Chung.”

Moon let out a long breath. “I am sorry. You startled me.”

“Then I am the one to apologize.” He walked into the room. “How is your work progressing?”

“Good,” she answered, wondering why the late-night visit. “Everything is in its place.”

“How much more time do you need?”

Moon shifted her weight to her other foot. She wasn’t sure exactly how to answer how many more days it would take to confirm the virus would work as she had engineered it. So far all tests were positive. None of the different ethnic groups tested appeared to harbor primitive genes or mutations that would interfere. All the pings had been successful. There was still one left to complete, one that would test a group of people who had the same genetic make-up of primitive man 8,000 years ago—and that would mean that whatever genes they had were probably from the dawn of man and shared at some level by billions. If that one proved positive, then nothing would stand in her way.

Still there was the final work to be done in the medical labs, preparing the new generation of zealots who would give their lives for the cause. And that was going to be testy. They would probably lose a few. But she didn’t want to reveal too many details to the Old Man. Not now. Soon she would present her final report to Dear Leader, and with his blessing they would launch the three waves of attacks. For now, all the Old Man needed to know was that they were progressing as expected, perhaps even a little ahead of the predicted schedule.

“A day?” he asked. “A week, a month?”

“Two weeks at the most. There is a strong likelihood we may be ready before that.”

“Good,” he said with a wide smile. “That is what I like to hear. The distraction I have designed is working. No one will be following up on Calderon or T-Kup for a while.”

“Not even that woman reporter?” Moon asked.

“No.”

“Has she been eliminated?”

The Old Man laughed. “I am afraid not. That would be a complicated endeavor. But I have arranged to divert her attention.”

“You can be certain? If there is an investigation into T-Kup it will lead directly to us.”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Chung. I promised you additional time, and you have it. I know the Stone woman well and the way she thinks. She is strong-willed. That is precisely what will keep her from investigating T-Kup and the Calderon debacle—at least for a while. I have thrown her off track. But that doesn’t mean you have extra time to squander.”

She watched his eyes turn even darker, like a deep abyss spiraling into a world of desert heat and sandstorms.

In that instant, Moon was certain who she dealt with. But she dared not utter his name.