The Cleric's Vault (2 page)

After
throwing his key and wallet on a dresser, he flicked on a light.
 
The dark form in the corner of the room
near the window caught the peripheral of his eye.
 
So did the shape of the gun.

Chapter 2

Nevada Desert

Alexander
Lindsey’s old eyes stared out the luxury helicopter’s window at the dark,
jagged mountains below.
 
He’d
always loved flying. Helicopters had been of a particular interest, though
flight in general had always been fascinating to him.
 
The quick rise and fall, the many different directions one
could take, and sheer speed were all very exhilarating.
 
It had never made him nervous like some
unfortunate souls.
 
Of course, his
ancestors seemed to have always been a little more reckless than others.
 
They’d had to be careful in so many
other aspects of their lives that thrill seeking had become a way to balance
things out.

The
moonlit mountains below sped by as the Agusta A-109 cruised smoothly through
the evening air; it’s silver exterior reflecting bending images of earth’s
solitary satellite.

He
loved the turbine-powered conveyance.
 
It was far more convenient than a private jet-smaller, more
maneuverable, and easy to hide if needed.
 
He had used the elegant vehicle for a wide variety of purposes, some of
which were more sinister than others.

The
desert had been a place of solace for a long time for his family.
 
After being tormented back east and in
the mid-west during the 1800s, they’d managed to find a sanctuary in the
American Southwest.
 

Safety.
 
Security.
 
Things that were taken for granted now that he had become
extremely wealthy and powerful.
 
And the vermin across from him could have wrecked everything.

“I
did everything you every told me to do, Alex!”
 
His victim begged from the other side of the cabin,
interrupting his thoughts.

The
squat, chubby man struggled with no avail against his bonds, hands tied behind
his back with rope.
 
Heavy chains
encircled his body and legs.
 
Veins
were raised just beneath the skin of his temples, his face red from
straining.
 
A few droplets of
perspiration dripped down his fleshy forehead.

Two
other men, Lindsey’s personal bodyguards, were the only other passengers in the
cabin.

“You
can’t do this!
 
You need me!”
 

The
desperate pleas were unfounded and irrational.
 
There were plenty of other options available.
 
After all, Alexander Lindsey had
operatives in nearly every branch of the government.
 
Getting a new spy would not be a problem.

Lindsey
gazed unsympathetically at the plump man.
 
For the last two years he had proved useful.
 
An inside guy at the Justice Department was a nice thing to
have.
 
He’d pretty much known
whenever he was being watched and been able to deftly sidestep many potential
problems.
 
However, Gary wasn’t the
only one working for the Order and his prisoner’s usefulness, it seemed, had
run its course.

“What
exactly did you tell them, Gary?”
 
Lindsey asked, peering into the man’s soul.
 
“And stop wriggling around.
 
You should face your end like a man not a squirming little
baby.”

Gary
Holstrum looked down at the gray seat for a moment then back up.
 
“I only told them a few things.
 
I swear.
 
It was stuff that isn’t even important.
 
It wouldn’t implicate you in
anything.
 
I had to give ‘em
something!”

“It’s
important to me, Gary.
 
What you
have done has put everything I’ve worked for at great risk.”

“No,”
he shook his head.
 
“I would never
do anything that would put you in danger, Alex.
 
I’ve worked for you for two years now.
 
You know me.”

Lindsey
sat silently for a moment, as if contemplating the man’s words.
 
He
had
served him well.
 
But too much
was at stake now.
 

Events
of the prior weeks had been most productive.
  
The first golden chamber had been found with the
accompanying clue.
 
Now, Tommy
Schultz was working with a professor at Georgia Tech to unravel the location of
the second chamber.
 
Nearly
everything had gone according to plan, except for a few little wrinkles.
 
However, those problems would be dealt
with soon enough.
 

The
older man cast a quick glance at one of his bodyguards and gave a nod.
 
Acknowledging the unspoken order, the
huge man stepped over to the door nearest the prisoner and pulled up the latch
that slid the mechanism open.
 
Dry
desert air rushed into the cabin along with a significant increase in
noise.
 
A moment later, the
helicopter crested a small ridge and suddenly, a vast body of dark liquid
spread out below them.
 
Lake
Mead.
 

The
bodyguard grabbed Gary and forced him to the edge of the door, his face sticking
out over the expanse of the lake.
 
He screamed, tears streaming down his pudgy, red face.
 
“No!
 
Please!
 
Don’t
do this, Alex!”
 
His voice pushed
over the sound of the wind and the turbines outside.

“What
did you tell them?!” Lindsey raged.

“I
only told them that you were interested in finding some lost treasure.
 
I told them it was stupid, that you
were just some crazy old rich guy who liked to hunt for ancient artifacts.
 
I swear that’s all!”
 

Alex
nodded.
 
“I see.
 
So they know nothing of The Order or
exactly what we are trying to accomplish?”

Holstrum
shook his head sincerely.
 
“They
know nothing.
 
Honest.
 
They wouldn’t believe it even if I told
them.”
 

Maybe
he was telling the truth.
 
Perhaps
he wasn’t.
 
But someone in the
Justice Department had become curious.
 
That never happened unless there were loose lips somewhere.

“Ok,
Gary.
 
I believe you.”

Lindsey
nodded at the bodyguard who loosened his grip, slightly.

Relief
flooded the captive’s face.
 
“Thank
you.
 
Oh, thank you Alex.
 
You’re doing the right thing.
 
You won’t be disappointed.”

A
look of disgust came across the older man’s face and his eyes narrowed.
 
“I told you never to call me
Alex.”
 
For a brief moment,
Holstrum’s face seemed confused. Lindsey nodded again.
 
Suddenly, the bodyguard tensed and
shoved the bound man out of the open door.
 
His scream faded quickly as he fell hundreds of feet towards
the black depths of the lake below.

Lindsey
peered down to see the portly body produce a white splash in the dark liquid
then disappear into the abyss.
 
A
moment later there was no sign anything had even happened.

Created
by the construction of The Hoover Dam, Lake Mead’s depth could be as much as
590 feet at its deepest point.
 
Finding the body would be nearly impossible.
 
It was doubtful anyone would think to look there
anyway.
 
Helicopter flights in the
area from Las Vegas to the Grand Canyon and back happened all the time so their
little jaunt wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.

Alexander
stared out across the expanse of the lake that led up to craggy, dark mountains
in the distance as the bodyguard slid the door shut and locked the latch again
before returning to his seat on the other side of the cabin.
 
Out the opposite window, the lights Las
Vegas glittered in the distance.
 
An eyesore, but a convenient one.
 
It was only a short ride from his mountain complex into town to get
anything they needed.
 
With so many
tourists, it was easy to become one of them.
 
No one remembered anyone.
 
Which was what he wanted, to not be noticed.
 

His
thoughts lingered on the last few words his insolent spy had uttered.
 
In his younger days, Lindsey would have
never considered calling an elder by their first name.
 
The new generations, it seemed, did not
believe in courtesy.
 
The times of
calling people “Mister” or “Miss” had long since passed.
 
Although, soon, he believed, the world
would come to know him by a different title.
 
He smiled at the thought.
 
The Prophet
.

Chapter 3

Atlanta, GA

Tommy
Schultz felt exhilarated.
 
He shook
hands with various patrons, donors, and local elites as they all paraded by him
and exited building.
 
Normally he
hated wearing a black tuxedo and bowtie, but that night he didn’t mind.
 
His dark, thick hair was styled
neatly.
 
Black rimmed glasses sat
atop his pointed nose in front of blue eyes.
 
His skin was more tanned than normal due to the sun exposure
he’d experienced while working on the chamber project in central Georgia.
 

It
was a proud moment for him.
 
His
artifact recovery agency, known as IAA (International Archaeology Agency), had
recovered the single most significant archaeological find in United States
history in a long time and the implications of that discovery were still coming
to light.
 

The
golden chamber they found near Augusta, GA was estimated to be worth over $500
million dollars.
 
Of course, the
government only gave the IAA a small fraction of that, but the reward had been
substantial enough to put the agency’s holdings to over $200 million.
 
Not too shabby for a bunch of
researchers.

He’d
also orchestrated a deal to bring some of the artifacts to the Georgia
Historical Center for an exhibit, along with some other items including a long,
ocean-going canoe that had been uncovered on Weeden Island.
 
The ancient boat’s discovery was
significant because it showed that the natives were capable of sea travel and
trade thousands of years ago, playing right into the idea that perhaps they’d
even navigated the Atlantic at some point.

There
was a feeling of regret, too.
 
His
friend, Frank Borringer, had been murdered because of his obsession with
finding the golden chambers of Akhanan.
 
Another man, a state parks worker had also been killed in the wake of
the race to find the first room of gold.

He
counted himself lucky in many ways.
 
The men that had kidnapped him could have killed him at any point.
 
The things that had kept him alive were
his wits and luck.
 
He hoped
neither of those would run out anytime soon.
 
Like it had for his parents.
 

His
parents had been intense savers and scrupulous investors.
 
They had been wealthy, discreetly so,
very few ever knowing the fortune they’d amassed in secret.
 

Though
their salaries barely topped six figures combined, they were able to scrape
together millions.
 
Tommy had
inherited everything when their plane went down in South America twelve years
before.
 

He
squinted away the pain, trying to imagine how proud they would be to see
tonight’s exhibit.
 
There were only
a few regrets in his life.
 
With
his parents, he just wished he could talk to them again one more time.

After
a few minutes, the glass and steel expo hall had nearly emptied and he stood
alone surrounded by red draperies and enormous pictures of some of the
artifacts from the chamber discovery.
 
The lights of Atlanta’s skyscrapers and hotels poured in through the clear
glass ceiling.
 
A look at his watch
told him it was getting very late.
 

He
scooped up his iPad and water bottle off of a nearby chair and started to leave
the room when he noticed a familiar figure standing silently in the corner near
the door.
 
The man was young, in
his mid to late twenties.
 
Tall,
strong, with short dark hair and eyes to match; Tommy figured Will Hastings was
popular with the ladies but as a police detective he doubted the poor guy had
much time for anything social.
 
There was something about him though, that seemed a bit off.
 
Tommy couldn’t put his finger on
it.
 
He figured it was probably
just his imagination.
 
Maybe it was
ambition.
 
It was tough to sense
those things.
 
He was a historian
not a psychologist.

He
stepped towards the policeman and extended his hand.
 
“How you been, Detective Hastings?”

Will
allowed a momentary smile as he gripped the archaeologist’s hand, but it faded
quickly.
   
Tommy noticed
the change of demeanor.
 
This
wasn’t going to be a happy visit.
 
“It’s about your friend, Dr. Nichols.”

Tommy’s
face instantly expressed concern.

Terrance
Nichols was a mathematics professor at the Georgia Institute of Technology,
more affectionately known as Georgia Tech.
 
Schultz had received a call from the professor a few days
after his discovery of the golden chamber.
 
Nichols had developed a code-breaking software that could
decipher nearly any code on earth.
 
The software would make understanding ancient lost languages much
easier.
 
The man was so excited
he’d gone off in a rant of technical mumbo jumbo that Tommy would never
understand.
 
All he cared about was
whether or not the program worked.
 

After
arriving back in Atlanta, he’d copied the odd assemblage of letters and symbols
on the back of the stone disk he’d found in the chamber and delivered it to
Nichols.
 
The code on the first
stone was deciphered by Professor Borringer.
 
The inscriptions were a combination of ancient languages
that had been unused for centuries.
 
This new stone threw a monkey wrench into everything.
 
The odd letters and symbols were
completely foreign to Tommy.
 
Never
in his life had he encountered anything like them.
 
Fortunately, Nichols had presented a solution that could
potentially help them move quickly towards finding the location of the next
chamber.
 

Tommy’s
thoughts quickly returned to the matter at hand.
 
He could tell Detective Hastings didn’t want to deliver
whatever news he had.
 
“What about
Professor Nichols, Will?”
 

Will
hesitated for a moment before answering.
 
“He’s been murdered.”