Covenant (50 page)

“How sure can you be?” Ethan asked.

“Yonaguni isn’t the only one,” Lucy said. “There are others: Dwarka, off the coast of India, and Poompuhar, in the Bay of Bengal, a submerged city that may be Kumari Kandam, where local fishermen are often forced to dive to free their nets caught on underwater temples with columns, pyramidal pagodas, and buildings with doorways.”

“So there may be other humanoid remains like the one you found, marking the locations of ancient settlements,” Lieutenant Ash said, trying to keep up.

“Exactly,” Lucy said. “It all fits, and even explains why in the ancient past it wasn’t male gods who were worshipped but female deities, with men honoring the fertility of the female form. Perhaps they understood something of the importance of the way in which the visitors regarded fertility and hereditary mitochondrial DNA.”

“Could the messages in the remains you found still survive?” Ethan asked.

“Probably,” Lucy said. “I was careful not to contaminate the remains in any way. The bone marrow should contain preservable genetic material, provided Sheviz’s goons haven’t tampered with it. I should get to work on this immediately and find out what—”

“Not a chance,” Rachel said, gripping her daughter’s shoulders. “You’re coming home first, and there’s no way I’ll take no for an answer. You need rest before you start playing around in the dirt again.”

Lucy was about to protest when Ethan spoke.

“This has to go into the hands of the DIA,” he said. “Part of the deal to get you out of Gaza.”

Lucy sighed, but nodded reluctantly.

“I thought as much,” she said, and then on sudden impulse stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. “Like I said, I owe you.”

Ethan returned the embrace, and as she released him, he pulled a small plastic jar from his pocket and handed it to her. Lucy saw the label and smiled.
Right metacarpal.

“Like I said,” Ethan corrected her. “You owe me two.”

Rachel stepped up to Ethan as Lucy turned to leave, and kissed him on the cheek.

“I hope you find Joanna, wherever she is.”

“Me too,” Ethan said.

With that, Lieutenant Ash led Rachel and Lucy off the Gulfstream. Aaron and Safiya looked at Ethan expectantly.

“Let’s go,” he said.

NEW COVENANT CHURCH
WASHINGTON DC
AUGUST 26, 8 P.M.

P
astor Kelvin Patterson sat at his desk and listened to the call coming in on his secure line as his heart seemed to stop in his chest.

“… there’s nothing left. Dr. Sheviz apparently managed to escape the raid but was abducted by the Bedouin relatives of his victims and vanished into the deserts, so whatever he learned out there has disappeared with him. All MACE assets have been seized by Israel and what’s left of Spencer Malik and Byron Stone is being collected in small bags in Jerusalem. Their jet is on its way here, however, with the remains on board.”

Patterson tried to speak but found himself unable to form coherent words. He swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Is there any chance that the connection between MACE and the Evangelical Alliance has been made by the authorities?”

The voice on the other end of the line was grim.

“Everyone is dead so nobody’s talking now, but we can’t take any chances.”

Patterson sat in catatonic silence for a long beat before slamming a clenched fist down on his desk. The sound made the two MACE guards standing by the door of the office glance across at him. He forced himself to calm down.

“Then this is damage limitation. We must hold them off for as long as possible. Intercept the jet when it reaches Dulles and ensure that the remains on board are safely locked away before the FBI or anyone else can seize them. Destroy everyone and everything that may betray our involvement, is that clear?”

“That may involve people, not just material.”

“Do what must be done, for the greater good.”

Patterson put the phone down and looked at his two guards. “Gentlemen, Senator Isaiah Black will be attending his primary rally in the District this evening. I am going to request that he call in here beforehand. Please ensure that the church is secure, that all church employees are sent home, and all security staff are at their posts.”

One of the guards frowned.

“We heard that Byron Stone is dead,” he said uncertainly. “We’re not sure who should be giving us our orders if—”

“Byron Stone is indeed dead,” Patterson snapped. “Which means you do as I tell you. Unless you’d rather be unemployed?”

Both of the guards nodded curtly and left the office.

Patterson waited until they were gone before rubbing his face with his hands, struggling to maintain his composure. He walked across to the towering chrome crucifix, standing before the altar and falling slowly to his knees.

“Give me strength, Father, to do what must be done.”

Slowly, he stood, and with one hand moved the bronze eagle on his desk. Moments later, and he was walking down a narrow passage concealed behind the walls of his office, descending in silence to where a door opened into a chamber where the sound of his footfalls sounded dead, as though soulless and without form.

He flicked a switch on the wall, and a single fluorescent tube illuminated an operating theater complete with heart-bypass machine, monitors, glass cabinets filled with vials and serums, and a single, T-shaped operating table.

He checked that everything was in order and ready for his guest before returning to his office. He picked up the phone and began to dial Senator Black’s personal number.

ROOM 517, HART SENATE OFFICE BUILDING
CONSTITUTION AVENUE, WASHINGTON DC

P
lease wait one moment, Detective.”

Tyrell stood in a plush corridor and considered the opulence around him as a young aide hurried into one of the Senate offices. He’d already waited two hours, but then he was a mere mortal walking among the most powerful men on Earth.

The United States of America was built upon the policy of all Americans being equal. The American Dream was supposedly their future, yet too many were born into unimaginable squalor and hardship, their lives expiring from a cocktail of drink, drugs, and sickness, like his older brother. The American Nightmare. It didn’t much matter whether you were black or white, Mexican or Latino; for the Phillies or the Knicks, a Fed or a Yankee. Life was gonna be short and would likely end much as it had begun: feeble, dependent, and flat broke.

“Detective, this way, please.”

Glass doors at the entrance to the two-story duplex suite were flanked by dark-blue flags bearing the Texas State emblem. Senator Isaiah Black extended a hand as Tyrell entered the suite, a bright smile painted across his permatan features. Tyrell relaxed a little as he looked into the senator’s eyes and judged that smile to be genuine.

“My apologies for arriving unannounced, Senator.”

“It’s no problem,” Black replied, gesturing to a chair. “But I’m due out in about ten minutes so this may have to be a little rushed.”

“That’s fine, sir,” Tyrell said. “I’ll be brief.”

Tyrell reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the images of the dead bodies from the Potomac projects, fanning them out across the senator’s desk before he sat down. Black froze with hands flat on the desk and legs half-bent.

“Three young men whose postmortems suggest they were murdered, the killings made to look like a drug-related act of misadventure.”

Black slowly sat down. “Do you know who they are?”

“All three have been identified. Two of them were petty criminals but the one in the middle was a respected scientist working in the District with no history of drug abuse. Do you know him?”

Senator Black shook his head, still looking at the gruesome images. Tyrell swept the photographs out of sight, eager to judge the senator’s expressions as he continued.

“The victims all suffered an illegal medical procedure designed to alter their genetic structure by contaminating them with foreign DNA.”

Senator Black’s jaw dropped like a stone. “You’re not serious.”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Why are you here?”

“We believe that the procedures were financed by the American Evangelical Alliance, with the knowledge and consent of Pastor Kelvin Patterson, who believes the DNA to be that of angels known as Nephilim.”

Black’s face collapsed like a pile of granite slabs.

“Kelvin Patterson?” he repeated, his mouth moving slowly as though wrapping itself around the name. “That’s not possible. The pastor is a man of God.”

“Many have committed terrible crimes with God’s name on their lips,” Tyrell said. “That has been true for all of human history.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Black asked.

“I am trying to connect the events in the District with those in Israel. We believe that there is a link and we think it may be this man.” He handed the senator a picture of Dr. Damon Sheviz and decided to twist the screws a little. “I don’t want to expose you to any negative media at such a sensitive time in your campaign by applying for a subpoena from the district attorney. I thought it best that we should be able to speak privately about this first. Do you know or recognize this man?”

Senator Black looked at the picture and shook his head.

“Never seen him before in my life.”

“He’s a surgeon of some repute. He was here in DC at the time the murders were committed, working for one of the Evangelical Alliance’s churches, and has since traveled to Israel.”

Senator Black nodded slowly. He looked at the picture again.

“You remember something?” Tyrell prompted.

The senator shook his head. “No, I’ve never seen this man before, but …”

“Anything, no matter how trivial, may be worthwhile knowing.”

The senator looked out of his office window, trying to remember.

“Kelvin has spoken publicly of his support for Israel based on a biblical interpretation of history. I’ve tried to distance myself from his comments, and his association with other companies involved in such lobbying.”

“Which companies?”

“MACE, a security and arms company, owned by a man named Byron Stone.”

Tyrell frowned. “This MACE is involved with the alliance?”

“Yes, and they’re one of the companies supporting my campaign,” Black said.

“Why would an arms company ally themselves to an evangelical church?” Tyrell asked.

“MACE is owned by the church,” Black explained. “They’ve invested large sums into advanced aerial drones and cryogenic battlefield trauma surgery to save lives that otherwise would be lost to …”

Tyrell didn’t hear the rest. Four words rolled through his mind.
Cryogenic battlefield trauma surgery.

W
hat kind of surgery?” Tyrell asked. “How were they doing it?”

Isaiah Black seemed momentarily stumped.

“Something to do with a kind of advanced suspended animation, I think.” Tyrell felt a shiver down his spine as the senator spoke. “They rapidly freeze people with severe injuries to prevent death and then thaw them out once surgery is complete. Quite remarkable, although I don’t really understand the details of it all.”