She reached up to touch the cloth, but drew back in pain. Inside her elbow, her arm was badly bruised. Pools of dark purple and black extended into her forearm and crawled up her bicep.
David.
She looked out at the room, some sort of classroom maybe — it was long and wide with a rustic wooden floor, white plaster walls, and wood beams every ten feet.
She barely remembered getting off the train. It had been late in the night. The men had carried her up endless stairs, into a mountain fortress. She remembered now, a monastery, or a temple.
She started to roll off the bed, but something startled her — movement in the room, a figure rising from the floor. He had been sitting so still she hadn’t seen him. He walked closer, and Kate could see he was young, a teenager. He looked almost like a teenage Dalai Lama; he wore a thick crimson robe that was clasped at one shoulder and extended to his toes, resting just above his leather sandals. His head was shaved. He smiled at her and said eagerly, “Good morning, Dr. Warner.”
She put her feet on the ground. “I’m sorry, you scared me.” She felt lightheaded.
He bowed extravagantly, extending one arm out toward the ground as he bent. “I did not mean to alarm, Madam. I am Milo, at your service.” He spoke each word with care.
“Uh, thank you.” She rubbed her head, trying to focus. “There was a man with me.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Reed.”
Reed?
Milo paced to a table near the bed. “I came to take you to him.” He picked up a large ceramic bowl with two hands and walked back to her, extending it into her face. “But first, breakfast!” He raised his eyebrows as he said it.
Kate reached out to brush the bowl aside, but as she stood, she felt faint. She collapsed back onto the bed, disoriented.
“Breakfast does a Doctor Warner good.” Milo smiled and extended the bowl again.
Kate leaned closer, smelled the thick porridge concoction, and reluctantly took the spoon and tried it. Delicious. Or was it that she was so famished and the ration packs had been so bad? She finished the bowl in seconds and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Milo returned the bowl to the table and handed her a thick cloth like a handkerchief. Kate smiled sheepishly and wiped her mouth.
“Now, I’d like to see—”
“Mr. Reed. Of course. Right this way.” Milo led her out of the room and down a long breezeway that connected several structures.
The view was breathtaking. A green plateau spread out before them, reaching to the horizon, interrupted only by several snow-capped mountain ranges. Smoke from several villages emerged from the plateau below. In the distance, something dotted the sides of the mountains — other monasteries, built right into the steep snow-capped slopes.
Kate had to fight the urge to stop and take it all in. Milo slowed to let her catch up.
They turned another corner. Below them, a large square wooden deck overlooked the valleys and mountains below. Twenty or thirty men, all with shaved heads and dressed in crimson robes, sat Indian style, unmoving, staring out into the distance.
Milo turned to Kate. “Morning meditation. Would you like to join?”
“Uh, not today.” Kate mumbled as she fought to look away from the scene.
Milo ushered her into another room where she saw David lying in an alcove similar to the one she’d woken up in. Kate ran to him. She knelt at his bedside and examined him quickly. He was awake, but listless. Antibiotics. He needed more to fight the infection. Unchecked, it would kill him for sure, assuming the septic shock from the bullet in his chest didn’t get him first. She would have to deal with the bullet sooner or later.
First things first. She had left the antibiotics on the train. “Left” when she was abducted. Or rescued? There were so many mysteries at this point.
“Milo, I need some medications, antibiotics—”
The young man motioned her over to a table like the one he’d served her breakfast porridge from. “We assumed as much, Dr. Warner. I have prepared a series of remedies for your use.” He waved a hand over several piles of dirt-ridden roots, a pile of orange powder, and a bundle of mushrooms. He smiled and cocked his head, as if to say pretty great, huh?
Kate put her hands on her sides. “Milo, these are, um, very helpful, thank you, but I um… I’m afraid his condition is seve—, will require some medi—”
Milo stepped back, grinned like a Cheshire cat, and pointed at her. “Ahhh, I get you good, Dr. Warner!” He threw open the doors to a floor-to-ceiling wooden cabinet, revealing a bounty of modern medical supplies.
Kate rushed to the cupboard, scanning it row by row. They had a bit of everything: antibiotics, painkillers, anti-fungals, bandages. Where to start? Kate shook her head and smiled warmly at Milo as she sorted through the antibiotics. “Yes, you got me good, Milo.” She read a few labels. Definitely made in Europe, possibly Canada. Some were out of date, but she found some she could use. “Your English is excellent. Where did you learn it?”
“Rosetta Stone.”
Kate glanced over at him skeptically.
Milo’s grin faded as he grew serious. He gazed out the window at the valley below. “They found it in a cave at the base of this mountain. For thirty days and thirty nights, a hundred monks hauled the rocks away, until all that was left was a small passageway. They sent me in — I was the only one who would fit. There, deep in the cave, a yellow light shone down on a stone table, and I found the tablet there. I carried it out that night and earned my robe.” He exhaled deeply when his story was finished.
Kate stood there, holding the antibiotics, not sure what to say.
Milo sprang around to face her, pointing. “Ahh, I get you again, Dr. Warner!” He leaned back in a full body laugh, like an American teenager who’d just pulled a prank they thought was hilarious.
Kate shook her head as she returned to David’s bedside. “Well you’re quite full of yourself, aren’t you?” She popped the top off a bottle of antibiotics.
“Milo is full of life, Dr. Warner, and I am happy to entertain guests.”
Guests? Clearly Milo saw this as an opportunity to make a new friend. Kate smiled at him. “Call me Kate.”
“Yes, of course I will, Dr. Kate.”
“So really, how’d you learn English out here?”
“Rosetta Stone—”
Kate eyed him playfully, but the young man just nodded. “It’s true. I received it in the mail, from an anonymous benefactor — very, very mysterious. And very fortunate for Milo. We don’t get too many visitors. And when they say you speak English, it has to be Milo, no one else speaks English, not as well as Milo. I learned for fun, but look at my luck!”
Kate grabbed a cup of water from the table and helped David wash down a few antibiotic pills. She had selected the broad spectrum antibiotic, and she hoped it would do the job. IV antibiotics in a hospital setting would be ideal. She fed him a large pain pill as well. When he came out of the delirium, the pain would be real, and she wanted to get ahead of it.
What to do next? A thought occurred to her. Rosetta Stone. “Milo, you have a computer?”
“Of course; that’s how we found you.” He raised his eyebrows conspiratorially. “Cryptic email.”
Kate stood. “Email? Can I use—”
Milo bowed. “No, I’m sorry, Dr. Kate. Qian wants to see you. He says as soon as you give the medicine to Mr. Reed, I must bring you to him. He is a very serious man, not funny like Milo. He says he has something to give you.”
CHAPTER 68
Main Auditorium
Indo-Immari Corporate Office
New Delhi, India
The small talk died down as 200 pairs of eyes in the auditorium focused on him, waiting for the reason they had been dragged out of bed at 6 AM. Dorian walked out into the middle of the stage and surveyed the crowd. Most were Immari Security. There were a few dozen from other Immari subsidiaries: Immari Research, Immari Logistics, Immari Communications, and Immari Capital. They would all play a rol
l in the coming operation. And then there were the Clocktower Operatives.
The New Delhi Station Chief swore he had eliminated anyone who could be a problem. Immari Security had helped with the purge, and there were still a handful of analysts and field operatives in the brig — pending “final assessment”. Only the Station Chief and Dorian’s Immari Security unit knew the details of Toba Protocol and what had to be done. Dorian needed to keep it that way, but he also needed help, a lot of it, from all the people in the room. Hence the speech, the convincing — something Dorian wasn’t used to. He gave orders, and they were followed. He didn’t ask; he told, and his people didn’t ask questions. But these people would; they were used to analysis and thinking independently. There wasn’t time for that.
“You’re all wondering why you’re here, at this hour, in a room with so many new faces,” Dorian began. “If you’re standing in this room, you have been chosen. Chosen as a member of a task force, a very special working group, an elite team that Immari Corporation and all its predecessor organizations are pinning its hopes on. What I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room. You will take what I say here today to your grave. Some of it will be hard to believe. And some of what you’ll be asked to do will be even more difficult, in ways you can’t yet understand. I must tell you now that I can’t give you all the answers. I can’t assuage your conscience, at least not right now. After it’s over, everything will make sense. You will know the vital role you played in history, and others will know. But you deserve some answers, some reasons for the terrible things you’re going to be asked to do.”
Dorian paused and paced the stage, scanning the faces.
“Here’s what I can tell you. Immari Corporation is the descendant, the modern incarnation, of a tribe of people that left this area, we believe somewhere in India, Pakistan, or possibly even Tibet, around 12,000 years ago. We’re not sure the exact date, but we know it was some time shortly after the last ice age, when the flood waters raised sea levels hundreds of feet, destroying the world’s coastal communities. This group had one goal: to uncover the true origins and history of the human race. These were people of great faith, and we believe they created religion in their quest for answers. But as time passed and humanity progressed, a new avenue of investigation emerged: science. And science remains the core of our work today. Some of you have seen small parts of this grand operation: archaeological digs, research projects, genetic experiments. It is our great work. But what we found, we never could have imagined. I’m reaching the end of what I can tell you, but you must know this: many years ago, we discovered a clear and present danger to the human race. A threat beyond belief. We have known for almost 100 years that a day would come when we had to battle this enemy. That day has arrived. Each one of you is a soldier in the army that will stop this coming apocalypse. The next two days and what follows will be difficult. I’m not talking about a brush fire conflict in a backwater country. This will be a battle for the human race, for our very right to survive. We have one goal: humanity’s survival.”
Dorian retreated to the center of the stage, letting the audience take the speech in. There were confused looks, but there was also engagement, heads nodding.
“Questions are surfacing in your mind. Why can’t we go public? Why not enlist the help of governments around the world? I wish we could, truly. It would ease my conscience about what has to be done. Indeed, your conscience is the other enemy you will fight in the days to come. And going public would also lift the burden, the proverbial weight of the world — knowing we weren’t the last line of defense, that help was coming, that there were others battling the enemy, that we could fail. But we cannot fail, just as we cannot reveal the details of the threat. It’s the same reason I can’t tell you all the details, why I can’t sit here and justify every last thing I’m about to ask you to do, though I wish I could. If we went public, the result would be mass panic, hysteria, a meltdown of society at the very instant we must stay intact. There are seven billion people on this planet. Imagine if they knew we were facing extinction. Our goal is to save the lives we can. There won’t be a lot of them, but if we all do our part, we can ensure that the human race survives. Those are the stakes. And we aren’t just facing the great threat. There are other, smaller obstacles. Governments, media, intelligence agencies. We can’t beat them, but we can hold them at bay long enough for our plan to work. And that’s what we must set about doing, right now. The packets my men are passing out are your assignments — subgroups, responsibilities, your marching orders. The actions are drastic, but so is our situation.”
Dorian squared on the crowd. “I am a soldier. I was born into this. I’ve dedicated my life to this cause. My father gave his life for this cause. Our cause. But I know you are not a soldier. You’ve been drafted, but I won’t ask you to do what you’re not capable of doing. That would be cruel, and I am not a cruel man. Immari is not a cruel organization. If, at any point, you cannot participate in the operation that follows, you can simply inform one of the Immari Security agents in my personal unit. There’s no shame in it. We are all links in a chain. If one link breaks, the chain breaks and then disaster happens. And that’s what this is all about — preventing disaster, no matter how it may seem. I thank you, and I wish you good luck.”
An Immari Security agent greeted Dorian as he exited the stage. “Great speech, boss.”
“Don’t patronize me. You need to keep a close eye on these people. Any one of them could sink the entire operation. Where are we on the primary task force?”
“The Immari components are assembling at the Clocktower Station HQ. The Clocktower agents are in the crowd. They should arrive when we do.”
“Good. Give everyone thirty minutes to compile their intel, then convene the group. Where are we on the trains?”
“We should have the roster of live and dead within the hour.”
“Speed it up. I want to have it for the meeting.”
CHAPTER 69
Milo swung the lantern back behind him, illuminating the stone steps. “Not much farther, Dr. Kate.”
They had descended the spiral stone staircase for what felt like an hour. Kate thought they must be at the center of the mountain or a mile below the monastery by now. Milo skipped down the stairs, carrying the lantern like a kid carrying a candy bag on Halloween night, never tiring, never stopping to rest. Kate’s legs burned. She hadn’t yet recovered from yesterday’s exertion. She dreaded the return trip up the stairs.
Up ahead, Milo had stopped again, waiting for her, but this time he stood on level ground — a large round opening at the base of the stairs. Finally. He stepped back and held the lantern out, illuminating a wooden tombstone-shaped door with a rounded top.
Kate waited for a moment, wondering if he was simply waiting on her again.
“Please go in, Dr. Kate. He’s waiting on you.”
Kate nodded and opened the door, revealing a cramped circular room. The walls were covered in maps and shelves that held glass bottles, figurines, and metal artifacts. The room was… medieval, like the ancient lab in the tower of a castle where someone with a name like Merlin or Archimedes might work. And there was a sorcerer in the room, or at least he looked like one. An old man sat at a shabby wooden desk, reading. He turned his neck slowly as if it pained him. He was Asian; his hair was long since gone, and his face was more wrinkled than any Kate had ever seen. He must have been more than 100 years old.
“Dr. Warner.” His voice was a whisper. He stood and ambled toward Kate, leaning heavily on his wooden cane.
“Mister…”
“There are no misters here, my dear girl.” He paused. Walking and talking were too taxing for him. He stared patiently at the stone floor while he gathered his breath. “Call me Qian. I have something for you. Something I’ve waited 75 years to give you. But first, I have something to show you. Could you help me with the door?” He motioned to a small wooden door Kate hadn’t seen before. It was no more than four feet tall. Ka
te opened the door and was relieved to see that the passage beyond was taller than the doorway. She waited at the door as Qian paced past her, stopping every few feet. How long had it taken him to get down here?
Kate looked into the corridor and was surprised to find that it was illuminated by modern LED lights. And it was short — no more than fifteen feet long. It seemed to dead end into a stone wall. It took Qian several minutes to reach the door, and when he did, he gestured toward a wooden button on the wall.
Kate pressed the button, and the stone wall began to rise up, like a false wall in an Indiana Jones movie. Kate felt air blowing past her feet, rushing into the room. It must have been sealed.
She followed Qian into the room, which was square, approximately forty feet by forty feet. It was empty except for a large rug laying in the center of the room, which must have been at least thirty feet by thirty feet. Kate glanced to the ceiling and saw a thin linen cloth that covered the entire area of the room. Above the cloth, she could see another identical cloth, and beyond that, another as far as she could see, like layers of mosquito net reaching to the top of the mountain. A method to wick away moisture? Possibly, but Kate saw something else — tiny pieces of dirt and rock, caught in the cloth.
Qian nodded toward the rug. “This is the treasure we protect here. Our heritage. We have paid a dear price for it.” He cleared his throat and continued speaking slowly. “When I was young, men came to my village. They wore military uniforms. I didn’t know it at the time, but they were Nazi uniforms. These men sought a group of monks who lived in the mountains beyond my village. No one would talk about these monks. I didn’t know any better. The men paid me and some other children to take them there. The monks were not afraid of these men, but they should have been. The men who had been kind in our village turned ruthless in the mountains. They searched the monastery, tortured the men, and finally set fire to the mountain.”
Qian paused again, gathering his breath. “My friends were dead, and they were searching the monastery for me. And then they found me. One of the soldiers took me in his arms and carried me through the monastery into a tunnel. Three monks were waiting there. The man told them that I was the only survivor. He handed me a journal and said that I had to keep it safe until the time was right. The three monks left that night with only the clothes on their backs and this tapestry.” Qian settled his gaze on the massive work of art — some sort of biblical story with gods, heroes, monsters, heavens, light, blood, fire, and water.