Pentecost (5 page)

 
“So why the sudden interest in the stones now? Why the men in my office tonight?”

 
Jake signaled to the man at the laptop. The screen changed again to display an image of Earth, with a circling comet in a wide elliptical orbit.
 

“This is the Resurgam comet.”

 
“Isn’t that Latin for resurrection?” Morgan asked.

 
Jake nodded. “This comet is in a long orbit pattern around Earth. It’s calculated to return into the atmosphere in the next two weeks, triggering a series of stratospheric events. Scientists are already predicting it will cause extreme weather patterns in many parts of the world.”

 
“How is this related to the stones?”

 
Jake turned towards her, his eyes deep with concern. Morgan could see that something disturbed him deeply about this situation. “The comet was last in orbit in 33 AD.”

 
“When Jesus rose from the dead,” she marveled.

 
“And when the stones were empowered at Pentecost,” he finished for her.

 
“You’re sure of this?” Morgan asked.

 
“The comet is definitely coming and it explains the sudden interest in the stones. We believe that they’re being sought by a fringe religious organization that aims to use them to invoke the powers of Pentecost again, perhaps to trigger a fundamentalist uprising. The return of the comet could be seen as a catalyst for the power of the twelve.”

 
“But that’s crazy. These are just pieces of rock, even if they are two thousand years old. They can’t have any special power.”

 
“You might be wrong about that.” Jake turned and flicked open a file on the screen in front of them. It was an article from the Times of India dated only a few weeks before. The image of flames leapt out with a headline proclaiming miracles in the midst of a fiery storm. Morgan scanned the article quickly.

“Varanasi ... that could be the stone of Nathaniel.”

 
“The ARKANE researchers agree with you. The Apostle Nathaniel, also known as Bartholomew, supposedly died in India after taking the gospel there. A Christian nun disappeared on the night of the miracles and may have been murdered. We believe she was a Keeper.”

 
“But who took the stone?”

 
“We don’t know yet, but a body was also found in Jerusalem at the church of St Matthias. He preached in Ethiopia but was killed in the holy city. Two mysteries relating to the Apostles along with the reported miracles was enough to get ARKANE interested enough to do some more research. Do you know why your father gave you and Faye the stones?”

 
Morgan stood up, rubbing her neck again to release the strain she felt both physically and emotionally in talking of her family.

 
“It’s complicated,” she said. “My parents were archaeologists, passionate about their work. They met on a dig in Turkey and fell in love amongst the ruins of Ephesus.”

 
Jake smiled and waited for her to continue. “Apparently these two stones were found in a commoner’s grave and considered of little value, so they kept them. Faye and I were conceived there, so the twin stones had an emotional value.”

 
“What happened to your parents?”

Morgan hesitated. The truth of what happened long ago was a story repeated in so many broken marriages, yet it had meant her life was never normal.
 

 
“They couldn’t hold a relationship together away from the dig, especially as their careers generated professional rivalry. My father hated the British weather and my mother just wanted peace, so they separated. My father took me to Israel and Faye stayed here. I don’t remember us ever being a family.”

 
“So the stones were separated and handed down to you both?” Jake questioned.

 
“Yes, my father gave me mine when I turned 21. I know he regretted the past but he just wasn’t able to compromise. By the time I came back to England after he was killed, my mother had succumbed to breast cancer. I know she wore her stone until the end and now Faye wears it in her memory.”

 
“That’s a sad story,” Jake said. Morgan shook her head.

 
“I think it’s probably the story of many relationships. I had a happy life with my father in Israel. Now I’m trying to get to know my sister and niece.” She looked at her watch. “Talking of them, have you heard back from the men sent to protect them?”

Woodstock. Near Oxford, England.
 
May 18, 10.47pm

 
From his study, David suddenly heard Faye’s voice raised, a scream cut off quickly and a scuffle from the kitchen. He leapt up, grabbing the nearest thing at hand, a poker from the fireplace that hadn’t been moved from last winter. He was a big man, having played rugby for years and still muscular. Striding into the kitchen, he saw Faye slumped on the floor and a man in black talking into a radio.

 
“Faye!” He ran towards her, raising the poker to hit her attacker. As he moved past the door of the kitchen he felt a powerful shock in the middle of his back and excruciating pain spread through his body. He fell to the ground, grunting as he lost control of his limbs and his bladder. Another man leant down over him, grimacing at the stink of urine.

“We’ve got at least ten minutes before he can move. Let’s get the girl.”

 
David lay there, his ears ringing, agony flooding his senses. In that moment, he cried out to God to save his family. He wanted to scream ‘take me, not them’ but he could only lie there, body jerking in his own piss, witnessing the abduction. The man holding Faye had taped her mouth even though she remained unconscious. He hoisted her over his shoulder and took her out into the night. David heard footsteps come down the stairs and then the other man walked past him, carrying his two year old daughter, Gemma, who was also, thankfully, unconscious. David moaned, an animal sound of desperation. The man turned and said, “Bye bye Daddy” in a falsetto voice. He waved Gemma’s little hand at her father and tears welled in David’s eyes as they left him there alone.

*** 

Pitt Rivers Museum, Oxford, England.
 
May 18, 10.50pm

 
A radio hissed, turning Morgan’s attention from the screen. The man at the computer looked over to Jake.
 

“Sir, you need to see this.”

 
Jake stepped over to the man’s side as the radio crackled into life. The voice was desperate.
 

 
“Man down, man down. We’re under attack. I repeat, we’re under attack. Man down. Calling for backup, all units.”

Morgan felt a chill of fear as she heard the chaos on the radio.
 

 
“What is it, what’s happening?” she asked, her heart hammering in her chest. She should have gone straight there.
 

 
Jake turned, his eyes serious.

 
“It’s Faye’s house. They must have come for her already. I’m so sorry, my men didn’t get there in time.”

 
Morgan stared at the tiny computer screen. It showed her sister’s house, but instead of the quiet scene of the little village, there were men everywhere. She tuned out the sounds of screaming and gunfire, watching in horror as she saw a man running out of the door with the body of her sister slung over his shoulder. Behind him ran a man carrying a small bundle that could only be Gemma. They had taken her family.

Woodstock. Near Oxford, England.
 
May 18, 11.35pm

 
The ARKANE team arrived at the house twenty minutes later, Morgan with them. She had spent the journey staring out at the landscape, unseeing, fear snaking in her gut. Police were thronging about the house. Jake showed his badge to the officer in charge and they were waved through. Morgan ran into the house ahead of Jake. This was her sister’s haven, a peaceful retreat from the busy city life. Faye had cultivated it out here in Woodstock, far enough away for them to have chickens and fields to stride through with the dogs but close enough to have coffee in Oxford when the sisters had time to catch up. Anger simmered inside Morgan at the people who dared invade their home. This is quiet sleepy Oxfordshire, she thought. This type of thing happened in Israel but not here. Had she brought this terror to them?
 

 
David was sitting on the sofa in the lounge surrounded by scattered toys and upended furniture. He stared into a mug of tea as a medic examined him, a blanket over his shuddering shoulders. One of the policemen said to Jake in a low voice,

 
“They tazered him. He saw the whole thing so he’s pretty shaken up.”

 
Morgan knelt in front of him, and spoke in a soft tone,
 

“I’m going to get them back, David. I promise.”

 
He looked at her with glazed eyes, shock rendering him barely capable of speech. Morgan reached out to him and then pulled back. There was too much history for this not to be awkward. Her guilt over what had come between them made her even more determined to solve this. David hunched over his mug, tea cold at the bottom. It said ‘best Dad in the world’ and was decorated with baby Gemma hand-prints. He looked at her, his voice breaking with emotion.

 
“They’re everything to me, Morgan. Who would want to kidnap them anyway? We don’t have much money.”

 
He lent across and touched her hand. Morgan had a sudden flashback of that one night and she jolted away from him. Her guilt grew stronger as she remembered the promise she had made that night never to hurt her sister, to protect her and keep David pristine in her eyes. Morgan had felt helpless then, adrift on what had happened with her sister’s husband and how he made her feel. Now David was the helpless one, unable to do anything to rescue his wife or daughter.

 
“She’s not dead, Morgan,” Jake said from the doorway, beckoning her into the kitchen so they could talk away from David. “There’s no body and no demand yet, but no doubt it will come. They clearly want to use your sister as a bargaining chip for your stone and perhaps ours as well, so for now, they’ll keep Faye and Gemma alive because they want all the stones.”

 
Morgan sat down at the kitchen table, head in her hands. She was suddenly overwhelmed as the situation seemed out of her control. She should have been there and it was Jake who had stopped her. She looked straight up at him, her voice rising in anger.

 
“Who are these people anyway? You’ve told me about the stones but who are this group who are murdering and kidnapping to collect them in one place? You know, I’d happily trade my stone for their lives. You don’t even need to be involved.”

Jake shook his head.
 

 
“You don’t understand Morgan. This thing is bigger than just you and Faye now. You saw the paper from India and the potential of the stones. We can’t allow them to be gathered together, especially with the Resurgam comet approaching.”

 
“People will say anything. Varanasi could have been mass hysteria, you know that.”

 
“But what if it wasn’t? What if the stories of power and the comet event are true? Imagine the force of the stones demonstrated in a digital age, the phenomenal ability the holder would have to make people follow him, maybe even to start a holy war. ARKANE’s job is to shield the world from such events, we hold the supernatural secrets that the world isn’t ready to see yet. We can protect you and we can find Faye and Gemma, just give us some time.”

 
Morgan laughed then, a bark of indignation.
 

“So much for your all powerful organization, Jake. You couldn’t even protect one woman and a child in an Oxford village. This group know our names, they are informed about you but you don’t know anything. I’m doing this alone. I don’t need you. I’ll take your stone with mine and I’ll get my sister back.”

 
Morgan stood up and strode out of the kitchen, running upstairs to gather her thoughts. She pushed open the door to Faye and David’s room. Like her, Faye always wore the stone around her neck so it would have been on her at the time they attacked. The bedclothes were rumpled. There was a thick romance novel on the side cabinet by the bed, next to a well thumbed Bible. Morgan went to the antique dressing table and felt around the back of the pine framed oval mirror. This had been their agreed upon hiding place if anything bad ever happened. Faye had laughed when Morgan had suggested it over a year ago. She had said there was no need for such a thing, that England wasn’t Israel and Morgan was just paranoid. Now they needed it, but there were no messages. Faye had not known what was coming.
 

Morgan sat on the bed and stared at the photo of the two of them that stood on the dressing table in an art deco frame. Their faces were similar in bone structure, but apart from that the twins were light and dark opposites. Morgan had inherited their father’s Sephardic Jewish looks, the ebony hair and dusky skin from his Spanish descent. Faye had a Celtic look from their Welsh mother, blonde hair and fair skin with a sprinkling of freckles she tried unsuccessfully to hide. Only their eyes gave their kinship away. Both were blue with an unusual violet slash through them, Morgan’s in the right and Faye’s in the left. Their parent’s personalities were equally separate in the twins; her own passionate, explosive nature and Faye’s cool, calm demeanor were diametrically opposed. Their parents couldn’t overcome these differences, but perhaps the sisters could succeed where they failed. Morgan traced Faye’s face on the picture with a fingertip, willing strength to her sister who had helped her start again after Elian’s death. Everywhere she walked in Jerusalem there had been memories of him, but here in England his ghost was silent. Here she could reinvent herself as an academic, a sister and an auntie. Morgan knew she would give everything to bring Faye and Gemma home again. Then the guilt came flooding back and she put her head in her hands.