Fallen Masters (55 page)

And the final battle for the hearts and souls of all people everywhere was beginning in earnest.

*   *   *

Bobby Anderson was in his office grabbing some last-minute things before heading out to the Hollywood Grand Theatre. He was grateful that the President’s son was found safe but knew that things weren’t over yet, and the pressure to solve his other case suddenly felt overwhelming. He knew that there was some missing piece, some vital sign that he had overlooked. From the insights he had gained over the past forty-eight hours, and especially the last twelve, he knew that the whole thing was tied in—that is, random acts everywhere and heinous crimes that had made headlines around the world, were all of a purpose, and all were leading to one final criminal manifestation that would put even these unspeakable acts to shame.

He checked his watch. It was Sunday in Belfast. But it wouldn’t be Sunday for much longer, as he was several time zones away. And suddenly he knew. That was the key—Sunday! Not only for whatever was going to happen at the awards ceremony but for the damned murders as well.

This was the day.
Viva Domingo.
The lives of many would be changed—or ended—on this day, if he didn’t move.

He called the chief investigator on the scene in Belfast.

“It’s going down today. The final murder that is going to trigger everything,” he blurted. “Seal off the field in every direction, and station at least a hundred officers around the perimeter. We need air cover, as well. I’m sure the U.S. Air Force can support your own forces. Nothing can move in or out of that area for twenty-four hours. The murderers intend to signal the end of one phase and the beginning of the endgame. If they cannot gain access today, they cannot send their message in time.”

“How do you know all this, Agent Anderson?”

“Don’t ask. The short answer is, I don’t know how I know. But it all fits. I’ve been thinking about this ever since I left. The fact that I was called away was a part of the plan, too. Don’t ask any more questions—just do as I say. Please. For God’s sake.”

*   *   *

His colleagues in Belfast had quickly come to the conclusion that Bobby knew exactly what he was doing, and his expertise made everyone around him look good. They responded without further delay. Word went out, and within the hour the killing field was swarming with Irish cops and national security agents. Police and army helicopters swarmed like bees over the crime scene.

In the city itself, on an obscure street, the man who had been stalking a woman who had been drugged by another man and pushed out of doors closed in on his prey. His intention—on orders from higher ups in his gang—was to take her to a nearby cellar where she was to be executed. The money was good for this job. The anonymous man followed the anonymous woman into an alley between a pub and a factory. This was where he would seize her. The chamber that awaited her was just two blocks away.

A street cop, whose shift was almost over, sighted the woman entering the alley, stumbling, apparently drugged or drunk. He then saw the man follow her, walking into the shadow of the tall factory building. He moved across the street and entered the alley himself.…

In the reaches of the Tribunal, among the hordes of howling and hungry soldiers of darkness, the leaders could not believe what was happening. They had been ready to execute the twelfth victim and plant the body in plain sight for their purposes ordained from the beginning of time. Their plan, so perfectly constructed and flawlessly executed, had nonetheless encountered resistance from unexpected quarters. In fact, it was falling apart.

There was no time to repair the damage to their plan.
This
was the ordained day. Sunday.

Who was this Bobby Anderson, and who was giving him this information? Somebody would pay dearly for their interference.

Part

FOUR

CHAPTER

98

Los Angeles

The Academy Awards ceremony was scheduled for Sunday, March 2. The annual broadcast of this glittering Hollywood tradition was expected to be viewed by at least 3 billion people around the world, the most ever to watch any televised event in human history. Given the international scope of the film industry and the many nominees for awards from outside Hollywood, USA, segments of the awards show would originate in Mumbai and London for the first time, which promised to draw an even larger audience than usual.

The aborted London bombing had made headlines around the world on the eve of the awards telecast, darkening the otherwise almost giddy, festive atmosphere surrounding the event. Although Londoners were used to threats and bombings by now, the U.K. studio was especially somber as the broadcast hour approached and a smaller than anticipated crowd gathered outside the studio that night. The crashed Intercontinental flight was also leading the news, with word that there were no survivors of that Miami-to-L.A. airliner that had been downed, apparently, by a meteorite … and somber pictures of the crash site in the desert haunted viewers as they learned of the unusual accident that had claimed so many lives.

An army of technicians had occupied the Hollywood Grand Theatre in Los Angeles for a month before the date of the broadcast, wiring every inch of the house, building sets on an enlarged stage, even reupholstering every single chair to color code the live audience of celebrities, award nominees, Hollywood power brokers, and spectators lucky enough to snag tickets through whatever connections they could call on to get through the doors.

Seats in the front row center were reserved for the crème de la crème, including Charlene St. John McAvoy and the family of the late President of the United States. But questions arose as to whether the former First Lady would actually attend, in light of her son’s abduction. The outcome of that crime remained a public mystery as the Oscars approached, further dampening the mood anticipating the event.

Vatican City

The pope reconvened the Council of Faith on Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Christian holy season of Lent. For other faith leaders, the impending change of seasons and the approaching spring equinox (in the northern hemisphere) were significant, as well. The Jews would anticipate the celebration of Passover and Muslims the pilgrimage of countless men and women to Mecca, known as the hajj. For the Chinese, in their native land and around the world, it was a new year.

“My brothers,” the Holy Father said, “we have made precious little headway in reaching people of faith across our globe, in sincerely penetrating their souls with the urgent message of impending disaster and tragedy. We have redoubled our prayers here in Rome and in churches everywhere. Some of our people have responded and taken measures to prepare for their families and themselves—and to help others. Every day I pray for guidance and for the Lord God’s mercy to shower the Earth and cleanse us all of sin and error.

“Yet, I cannot testify that the Creator has heard my prayers or those of the faithful.”

The Dalai Lama spoke from his heart in response: “Dear brother, you have lived up to your responsibility very nobly and with much love in your heart. Suffering is a part of the human condition, sometimes by individual choice, most often by the circumstances of life. We cannot interfere with the divine plan, even if we wished to do so. But we may walk with one another through such times of difficulty and help our neighbors to understand and grow stronger.”

Murmurs of agreement rose from those who sat around the table, a now-familiar gathering place for these religious leaders who, in normal circumstances, would likely not even acknowledge one another’s existence, let alone speak with such respect and even affection for each other.

“God is great,” the imam stated with conviction. “May He sow the seeds of peace in the souls of all humankind. If we continue to pray without ceasing, as Your Holiness has done, no evil can befall us. Paradise awaits the righteous.”

The chief rabbi smiled sardonically. He kept his gray beard trimmed neatly and wore a black yarmulke. “Yahweh be praised. He will protect His people as He has throughout all ages.”

The pontiff sat back in his chair as others joined the dialogue. He was utterly pleased that these men had answered his call in good faith and were willing to lend their prestige to this cause that he now—privately—considered hopeless. For in his heart he understood that forces outside his control, or the influence of any in this magnificently adorned chapel, had already set in motion the tribulations that lay ahead.

No prayers, acts of charity, or pure intentions could stop the impending days of reckoning. He prayed silently:
God help the people of this Earth to choose the right path—the way of survival and the way of light.…

Houston

Dr. Jason Chang drove to his office at NASA headquarters on this day, just like any other. He didn’t know what else to do. For a scientist or any rational person of any professional discipline, routine could be a welcome refuge in times of uncertainty. And
uncertain
was a huge understatement of the situation in this case.

He had marshaled the very best minds and resources he could muster in creating a world-class study team to identify the source and nature of the threat. In fact, it was one of the greatest scientific discoveries of all time to have uncovered the existence of the dark energies that threatened the planet. But what had it gained him—or anyone else? Having turned the world’s strongest brains to the task, what solution had they come up with? None. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

If he were susceptible to emotion, right now would be the perfect time for Chang to weep rivers of tears. Instead, he was bone dry—incapable of feeling anything but black despair.

Once he arrived at his office, he sat at his desk and picked up the telephone. He called his opposite number in the Russian space program. But Dmitri Kolnikov, one of the most adept administrators and accomplished physicists he had ever known, was also at a loss. The two spoke for twenty minutes but came up with nothing new, no breakthrough to hope.

Dr. Chang then called his chief researcher to meet with him and review the latest meteorological data from around the world. He held this update daily, usually early in the morning, but today everything was pushed back an hour or so because he could not wrap his mind around what was happening—and what he could not do about it.

Jason Chang was living in a state of total exhaustion. Over just a few weeks, the data his team and other organizations around the planet had gathered pointed to only one conclusion: the fast-increasing presence of a new and distinctly dangerous form of energy—dark matter. Heavier and denser than anything known on Earth. Yet not a substance. A presence that could be described as a black hole—or a series of such holes.

What is it? Where is it? When and how was it generated? Where is it going? And why and what
can
it do?
Far more questions than answers.

Ever since the discovery, he had not slept for more than one hour at a stretch. For at least twelve hours a day, Chang sat before a high-def computer monitor searching obscure websites for clues outside the scientific mainstream. The other half of his day was spent consulting colleagues and connecting disparate bits of data among them, planning the next convocation of brains—if there was to be another. If there was enough time.

Now, David Gyles, one of the most respected weather and climate guys in the world, brought the latest satellite and Earth station readings to his boss.

“Here’s something interesting, sir. There is a fissure or a fault in the weather over California. That is to say, there is an
interruption
by your mysterious matter—or antimatter, as the case may be—in the regular meteorological patterns in two places on Earth. I would almost classify these interruptions as sunspots, or ‘anti-sunspots.’”

“You’re not making a whole lot of sense.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“And where are these sunspot fissures?” Chang asked.

“Very clearly Los Angeles, California, and Belfast, Northern Ireland.”

Chang and Wolcott immediately logged on to Google Earth and searched the two cities. There, as clearly as could possibly be seen, the strange gap in the weather patterns was visible.

“Is there such a thing as finality, as objective truth? My entire training and orientation in life cry out against such absolutes or final ending points.” He sat back in his chair, perplexed.

Gyles was baffled by Chang’s philosophical outburst. He could see that his boss was deeply troubled and confused by the masses of evidence of strange phenomena that overturned his scientific understanding of the world. And he wasn’t the only one. Craig Wolcott himself had infinite doubts and questions about what was happening and what it all meant.

“None of us have been trained for this, Dr. Chang,” he said. “There is no history of such astronomical phenomena affecting the entire Earth. I don’t know how we could have predicted it.”

It was true: There was no current theory into which these strange phenomena could be fitted. The idea of so-called dark energy was not new, but the activity that had so rapidly unfolded before their eyes was totally unexpected.

“But we are responsible for finding the answer,” Chang replied.

“What if we don’t?”

“Well, we may not be around to know what the consequences of our failure will be. Nor anyone else.”

*   *   *

“Our philosophies have proved inadequate to the task of understanding the threat we face—and our scriptures seem but fairy tales in the face of such evil,” the rabbi stated.

“Or are
we
inadequate?” the pope reflected aloud. “I mean, it is possible that we have not read deeply enough or reflected seriously according to our religious traditions. That is why we must help each other now. Never before has universal healing and understanding been so important.”

The Shinto priest, Hira, spoke up, which he seldom did, preferring more often to offer up prayers to the ancestors of the world to guide these imperfect men—including himself and everyone else—to understanding and acting correctly to the benefit of the whole of mankind.