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Anne stretched out along the length of Michael’s body, luxuriating in the feel of skin on skin. She nestled her head in the crook of his arm, content after their early-morning lovemaking. Their two crystals sat together on the nightstand, refracting rainbows onto the walls from the east-facing window. But her peace was short-lived.
“What do you think about it?” she asked.
“I think this is the most wonderful morning of my life.” Michael burrowed beneath her hair and kissed her neck.
Anne smiled. “I mean Maria’s story.”
“Oh, that.” Michael flipped over onto his back. “I don’t know what to make of such ideas.”
Anne turned over and propped her head on her elbow, looking down into his face. “Scientists pretty much agree that given the distances involved in interstellar travel, the amount of fuel needed would be double the size of the craft itself. The energy requirements are simply prohibitive.”
“According to our current level of scientific understanding, Ms. Scully,” Michael added. “Haven’t Joe Whyte and even our Mr. Marchant convinced you the Khemitians were more scientifically advanced than we are? We still don’t have cranes to lift the heaviest blocks in the Great Pyramid. Most people don’t realize we still couldn’t duplicate it.”
“So how did these aliens get here?”
Michael reached up and traced the bridge of her nose. “Maybe they used some laws of nature we don’t understand yet. Quantum physicists theorize that space travel could be achieved by bending space in front of the craft, creating a stable space-time bubble for the ship to travel in.”
“Maybe, but what about her claim that the shadow forces plan to use the Giza power spot to affect other planets?”
Michael shrugged. “So many people have predicted global catastrophes, but none of them have materialized.”
“The shadow government seems interested in power, plain and simple. Controlling the Earth’s energy sources and the global economy.”
“Is that all?”
Anne smiled at his tone. “And any government that gets in their way. But planets in other dimensions? It seems like a fairy tale to me.”
“A month ago you would have considered some of your visions fairy tales.”
“That’s true.”
“We’ll just do our job. That way we’ll never have to find out if she’s right or not.”
Anne turned to face him. “Maybe we should skip the conference today.”
“I think it’s best if we go. Keep our cover.”
“Do we still have a cover? Maria knows. Marchant suspects something. Somebody attacked us in Aswan.”
“Good point,” Michael conceded.
“It seems strange, going shopping. That’s not how these adventures work in the movies.”
“What should we do instead? We’re waiting for our initiation, waiting for Marchant to contact you, waiting for Thomas to find the last key. All our efforts to find it here have turned up nothing.”
“Has Tahir scheduled our time in the pyramid?” Anne laid her head on his shoulder.
“Saturday night, around midnight.”
“We’d better get some sleep tonight. I haven’t had a full night in a while.”
“I don’t regret a minute of it.” Michael pulled her to him again.
☥☥☥
During the flight to Lhasa, Thomas forgot about his tail. The mountain peaks piled higher and higher on top of each other, reaching beyond the sky straight for heaven. The rising sun turned them a deep rose.
Once they landed, Steve rented a Land Rover. They were blessed with clear skies and good roads. This time they were followed by a jeep. On the ferry, Thomas tried to get a good look at who was following them.
Steve advised against it. “Pretend you don’t see them. Let me handle it.”
They arrived at the Samye Monastery in the early afternoon. Lama Tenzin had furnished Thomas with a letter of introduction. Upon presenting this to the main office, he was ushered in to see the Rinpoche, who listened carefully to Thomas’s story, interrupting him several times to clarify points. Thomas was impressed with the man’s grasp of history. He seemed well versed in the European metaphysical traditions and their struggles. His understanding of Egyptology was strong as well.
Finally, after Thomas finished his story and the Rinpoche seemed satisfied, the monk said, “I need some time to go through our library. Can we meet tomorrow?”
Thomas swallowed his objection. Only seven days remained before the alignment. Thomas took his leave, and he and Steve drove back to their hotel in Lhasa. This time the jeep followed more closely. The man with the Fedora and hooked nose sat in the passenger seat. A Chinese military officer drove.
It was dark by the time Thomas got back to the room. He put in his daily progress report to Dr. Abernathy; then he, Ralph, and Steve went in search of a restaurant. The ubiquitous jeep appeared when they’d walked only half a block.
Steve nodded his head toward them. “They’re just trying to intimidate us. Apparently, they do that sometimes to people who seem to be involved with the monks.”
“I’m not worried about them. I’ve seen worse.” Thomas had a bad headache from the altitude, even though he’d drunk a great deal of water. They went into the first place they found and, once they were seated, the waiter brought them each a cup of yak butter tea. With all his travels, Thomas had never mastered this particular taste, but it was impossible to refuse. With his headache, he just hoped he wouldn’t get sick. He forced down a few sips of the liquid and nodded his appreciation to the waiter. He was grateful when a rice, vegetable, and bean dish smelling strongly of curry was placed before him. The food helped his head and he felt a bit more substantial by the end of the meal.
After receiving some helpful tourist hints from the waiter, none of which they had time to pursue, the three men gathered their coats. Thomas pushed open the door and saw the jeep parked directly in front of the restaurant. Steve stepped forward, putting Thomas and Ralph behind him. They took two more steps and more jeeps rushed from down the street, jumping the curb on either side of them and coming to a screaming halt. Men dressed in Chinese military uniforms jumped out of the vehicles and pointed automatic rifles at them.
“Don’t resist,” Steve whispered and raised his hands in the air.
Thomas took a step back, but ran smack into the closed restaurant door. One of the soldiers stepped toward Thomas, brandishing his rifle. Thomas raised his hands. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking around for someone in charge.
The man in the fedora climbed out of his jeep and sauntered up. He stuck his face into Thomas’s and said, “You’re under arrest.”
“How can you arrest me? You’re not with the Chinese government,” Thomas said.
The man nodded for the soldiers to handcuff the three men.
“What’s the charge?” Thomas shouted, trying to pull his hands away from the soldiers who’d grabbed him.
The man spat on the sidewalk just in front of Thomas’s boots. “Take him away.”
☥☥☥
Earlier that afternoon in Egypt, the conference group arrived in two buses at the Khan el-Khalili market in downtown Cairo. Tahir went to the middle of the plaza and waited for the group to follow. A large circle formed around him and a flock of hopeful pigeons pecked around their feet.
Tahir pitched his voice so everyone could hear. “Several hundred years ago, this was a slave market. The people were held in the rooms above the ground floor.” The group’s eyes followed the closely packed buildings up several stories. “Now it is a much happier place, the best shopping in Cairo—jewelry, clothes, statues, papyrus. Enjoy yourselves and don’t be shy about bargaining. It’s expected. I’ll be in this teahouse if you have questions.” He pointed to the first alleyway. “We’ll meet back in the plaza in two hours. The alleys twist and turn, so don’t get lost.” Tahir walked across the plaza, where he was greeted by the restaurant owner and given a prime seat.
The group milled around, the adventuresome already making off toward the narrow alleyways. Anne set off for the far lane to look for the papyrus shop where Michael planned to meet her. She found it quickly and stopped in front of the store.
“We have fine silks,” a man behind her said. “Very good price.”
“Replicas from the museum store. Much better price,” another called out.
Anne spotted a restaurant a few stores down and took refuge there. The waiter approached her table.
“Mint tea,” she said.
He nodded and went back to the kitchen. She sat back in her chair, relaxing. From her vantage point, she could see down the narrow alley crammed with shops, workers, and tourists. The air carried snippets of Japanese, French, German, English, and Arabic. The windows of the shops gleamed with color.
A man in his early twenties stepped into the teahouse and approached her table. “Such a beautiful—”
“Go away,” Anne said in a firm voice.
“But it is such a waste for a beautiful woman to sit alone.”
“Imshee!” Anne shouted. “Scram!”
Several men at another table looked up. Arnold materialized beside her wooer, who turned and made his escape. Arnold sat down at a nearby table. The waiter brought her order and Anne sat sipping tea, enjoying the display of humanity that poured past her table, careful to avoid eye contact with any men. A knot of Japanese tourists went by, the latest in camera equipment hanging from their necks. A European couple walked by, the woman dressed in short shorts. Several eyes followed her. A boy around ten offered blue-glazed, mass-produced scarabs. She shook her head.
“There you are.” Michael’s voice surprised her. “I thought we were going to meet in the papyrus store.”
“The shopkeepers started in on me.”
Michael shook his head. “Things used to be different, but with the economy, people are getting aggressive.”
“Let’s go contribute to Egyptian prosperity. We can’t do anything to save the world right this minute.” Anne put an Egyptian five-pound note on the table and took Michael’s arm.
“We hardly know each other, remember?”
She put her hands in her pockets. “Who are you buying presents for?”
“No one.”
“What? Here you come to Egypt and don’t bring anything home for your family?”
“I come to Egypt a lot. They’re tired of my trinkets.”
“My family will expect something. Assuming we make it back and the world is still intact.”
I’m planning on it.”
“So show me around.”
They entered the papyrus shop and the owner greeted Michael like a long-lost brother. Michael turned to Anne. “This is my very special friend. She’s looking for quality and I brought her to you.”
“What are you looking for, madam? Anything in particular?”
“Show her your Nut.” Michael turned to Anne. “His colors are excellent.”
The man pointed to the samples hanging on the walls.
“Oh, that one. I’ve never seen a double one like that.” After forty-five minutes, Anne left the shop with three double Nuts, one Isis with her wings spread wide, a Ma’at, and several generic court scenes. She jostled several passersby with her cardboard tubes. “Maybe I should have asked him to ship them.”
“It’s not too late. Let’s go back—”
Two men ran smack into Michael.
Michael let out a yell. He dropped the package he was carrying and grabbed his arm.
“What’s the matter?” Anne stepped closer to him. Michael’s face was pale, his eyes registering pain. “What happened?” She took his hand away and saw blood.
“They took my crystal,” Michael said.
“Oh, my God!” She looked around, but the two men were gone.
Arnold was at her side.
“They’ve got the crystal,” she repeated.
Arnold took off.
“Let me see.” Anne guided Michael into a side alley and took off his jacket. “Roll up your sleeve.”
There was a round hole in the middle of Michael’s forearm. The flesh was white immediately around the puncture wound, then an angry red. The bleeding had already slowed.
Arnold reappeared. “It’s no use. They’re gone.”
“They stabbed him.” Anne pointed to Michael’s arm.
Arnold checked Michael’s pulse and pupils. “How do you feel?”
Michael blinked. “It hurts.”
“Are you dizzy?”
“No.”
“Can you breathe?”
Michael nodded as he gingerly lifted his shirtsleeve away from the wound.
“Any stomach cramps?”
“No.”
Arnold’s shoulders relaxed. “Then it probably wasn’t poison.”
“Poison?” Michael looked up at Arnold in alarm.
“But we need to keep you under observation. Let’s get a taxi. I’ve got a first-aid kit in my pack.” He started walking Michael out of the market toward the square.
Anne followed. The man from the papyrus shop ran after her. “Is he hurt?”
“Just a scrape. Somebody wasn’t being careful.” She handed him the tubes and her business card. “Can you mail my packages?”
“Anything for my friend.”
She opened her purse. “Here’s two hundred pounds.”
“But this is too much.”
“Keep the change for your trouble.”
The man hesitated.
“Please.” Anne turned and ran after Arnold and Michael.
“Sukran,” he called after her.
They quickly found a cab. By the time they were halfway across town, Michael’s arm had stopped bleeding and the pain had lessened.
“Did you see anything?” Arnold asked them both.
“Nothing,” Michael said. “My back was turned.”
“And you?” Arnold looked at Anne.
“Two men. One was just under six feet tall, the other shorter. Both wore dark-blue gallabiyas and white turbans. I think one had a beard.”
“Any distinguishing markings?”
Anne’s forehead wrinkled, then she shook her head. “I can’t remember anything.”
“Nothing to go on,” Arnold said.
“They got the key. What the hell was this all about?” Michael pointed to his arm.
“We still haven’t ruled out an assassination attempt,” Arnold answered.
“Assassination? Why would anyone want to kill me?”
“Let’s see,” Arnold said. “You’re involved in a plot to change world power. You’ve become romantically involved with a Le Clair.”
“All right.” Michael looked from Arnold to Anne. “But if they wanted to kill me, they’d have used a different weapon or stabbed me in a vital organ.”
“Not necessarily,” Arnold said. “They didn’t want to create a scene in such a crowded place and risk getting caught. If I were doing it, I’d use a slow-acting poison or something to induce a heart attack later.”
Michael stared at Arnold, speechless.
“Don’t worry,” Arnold added. “I can test your blood for most slow-acting agents once we get to the hotel.”
“I see.” Michael found his voice. “What if I am poisoned?”
“I have the antidotes for most agents commonly used in espionage circles.”
“Do you have a tank hidden away somewhere?”
“Not necessary.” Arnold kept a steady eye on Michael.
Michael looked at Anne, who just shrugged.
They rode in silence for a while and Michael closed his eyes. Arnold leaned forward, but Anne put her hand on his shoulder. “Let him meditate.”
After seeing that Michael’s breath was even, Arnold leaned back.
“Why him? Why not me?” Anne whispered.
Arnold shook his head. “Who can say? He’s involved with several high-profile spiritual groups.”
“High profile?” Anne said. “You’d barely heard of them.”
“But Dr. Abernathy knew them. You can bet the Illuminati know them and have some kind of conflict with them. It’s all speculation at this point. We don’t have any evidence.”
The taxi pulled up in front of the Mena House and they rushed to Michael’s room. They opened the door to find all the drawers emptied into the middle of the floor and his books strewn on the bed.
“For pity’s sake.” Michael sank onto the floor.
“Check to see if anything else is missing.”
Michael searched his briefcase and looked through the papers scattered over the bed and floor.
Anne turned. “Arnold, go get the blood kit.”
He left without comment.
“I’m sorry, Anne.” Michael sat on the floor amidst the contents of his overturned drawers, his face pale beneath his tousled dark hair.
“What are you sorry about?” Anne sat next to him and took his hand.
“My crystal, what else? Who do you think did it?”
“The shadow government’s black ops men. Who else?”
“I’d like to find the bastards.” Michael tightened his grip on her hand.
Anne gently pulled away from him. She opened the torn sleeve and looked at his arm. The red had faded, but it was swollen now. “It’s better.”
Michael sat with slumped shoulders, his eyes filled with sorrow. “What are we going to do?” he whispered.
“We’ll figure something out.” She’d never seen him like this. She tried to inject her voice with optimism. “It’ll work out. It has to.”
“I can’t do anything without my crystal.”
“Are you certain we need all six?”
He nodded. “Looks like we’re going to find out whether Maria’s right or not.”
Arnold returned with a medical kit. “Come, sit in this chair. Hold out your arm.”
Michael complied, his movements wooden.
Arnold swabbed Michael’s arm and drew blood into a syringe. He opened a case, revealing a series of vials, each with a different colored liquid in the bottom, and began injecting small amounts of Michael’s blood into each one. “The results will take about fifteen minutes.” He turned to Anne. “I suggest you consider allowing Michael to move in with you. Otherwise, I’ll have to secure this room as well.”
Anne turned to Michael, who was looking more cheerful. “But what about our cover?”
“We’ve been spending nights in your room anyway. We’ll just have to be careful coming and going.”
Anne nodded.
“Good,” Arnold said. “Bob and I will search everything before we move your things.”
“You don’t have to wait on me,” Michael objected.
“We need to sweep the room and your personal possessions anyway. There may be several bugs.”
Michael nodded. “Let me know when you’re ready to pack.”
“I want you to rest,” responded Arnold. “You’ve been attacked, remember?”
Michael sat back in his chair and dropped his hands in a gesture of surrender.
Arnold looked at his watch, then walked over to the various colored vials.
Anne crowded in to see.
“You’re in my light,” Arnold said.
Anne sat back, holding her breath.
Arnold held each vial up to the light, his eyes squinting. Finally, he stood up. “There are no agents present in your blood that I can identify.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there may be something present we don’t know about,” Anne explained. “Or that somebody just punched some flesh out of your arm—” She stopped, eyes wide.
“It could be,” Arnold said.
“What?” Michael asked.
“Maybe they just wanted a sample of you to use with your crystal,” Anne said.
Michael sat back heavily in his chair. “These people are really twisted.”
☥☥☥
Dr. Abernathy was in the firm’s library when his secretary rushed in. “There’s an urgent message, sir.”
“Can’t you put it through?”
“I think you’ll want to take it in your office.”
He got up and walked down the hall with his secretary. “Who’s calling?” he asked.
“Assistant director of the CIA.”
Dr. Abernathy hurried to the phone, closing the door behind him. “This is Abernathy. What’s happened?”
The voice at the other end identified himself, then said, “It is my duty to inform you that the Chinese government has arrested a Mr. Thomas Le Clair in Tibet.”
Abernathy’s breath caught in his chest. “What’s the charge?”
“Espionage. It’s always espionage in Tibet.”
“Is anything being done to seek his release?”
“The State Department will receive the report at the end of business today.”
Abernathy looked at his watch. Two o’clock. Three hours.
“Can I have the details?” Abernathy wrote down the particulars of where Thomas was being held and by whom. “Thank you.” He punched line two and dialed Spear. When his secretary had put him through, he told him the news. “What’s our best option?”
“Call Katherine.”
“Katherine? She’s the last person we need on this.”
“She’s friends with that senator who toured China last year. That’s our best bet for fast action.”
“I’ll call her.”
He buzzed his secretary. “Get me Katherine Le Clair, please.” She had a married name, but nobody used it. The phone on his desk rang. His secretary said, “She’s on the line, sir.” A beep announced he was connected. “Katherine, I’ve got bad news.”
“What’s happened to Anne?”
“It’s not Anne. It’s Thomas.”
“What’s happened?” Katherine’s voice was sharp.
“He’s been arrested in China. Tibet, actually.”
There was a pause. “Tibet?” Katherine’s voice had dropped an octave. “Arrested?”
“Spear thought your senator friend could help. The one who toured China last year.”
“Oh, Rodman. Excellent idea. Give me the particulars and I’ll call right away.”
Dr. Abernathy repeated the information he had.
“What do you think they want with him?”
“He’s been to the monasteries asking questions about one of the keys. Went to Dharamsala in India, then flew to Lhasa.”
“Did they arrest any of the monks he spoke to?”
“I don’t have that information.”
“You should lodge a formal protest at the State Department. It will help speed things up.”
“I’ll do that, but you’ll probably have him out before the paperwork goes through.”
Katherine chuckled. “I’ll let you know.”
Dr. Abernathy hung up the phone and sat back in his office chair. Katherine could be all business when she needed to be, and Dr. Abernathy was grateful that this emergency had catapulted her into that mode. Politics still operated on friendships, favors, and grudges.
Rousing himself, he turned to his computer to check his e-mails. After decrypting Arnold’s report, he read that Anne and Michael were continuing their relationship. Why couldn’t she have waited? He just hoped their intelligence on Michael was complete. He didn’t want any nasty surprises in that arena.
Arnold next said that a woman from Guatemala had revealed she held another crystal. Dr. Abernathy nodded his head. The Maya. That made sense. Excellent news. Just one more to find. This shed some light on the possible motives for Thomas’s arrest. Anne’s group now had four crystals under their control. Perhaps the Illuminati were trying to shift the balance of power back in their favor. That meant they probably knew where the last crystal was hidden and had plans to secure it.
He buzzed his secretary. “Joan, get me an appointment with our contact at the State Department, for as soon as I can get down there. Tell him it’s an emergency.”
“Right away, sir.”
The computer emitted a series of beeps that signaled a top-priority transmission. Dr. Abernathy clicked on the relevant message and tapped his foot as it cycled through the decryption process. It was from Arnold. “Michael attacked in market. Key stolen. Strange wound on arm like punch biopsy. No poison. Please advise.”
He stared at the computer screen, adding it all up. Thomas arrested. Michael’s crystal stolen. The Illuminati were making their move seven days before the alignment. The anxiety he’d felt dissolved into a clear focus. He didn’t want to fly down to D.C. for a meeting, but Thomas’s life might depend on him doing just that. Was his old enemy trying to divide his attention, divert him from their real target? He’d double security on Anne.
He had to admit Michael was as good a target as she was, perhaps better, considering he’d trained all his life for this task. Compared to Michael, Anne was a beginner. Dr. Abernathy’s last suspicions about Michael Levy evaporated. He rubbed his temples. He had to figure out the Illuminati’s next move before they made it.