The Cleric's Vault (7 page)

Chapter 13

Washington, D.C.

A
black iPhone vibrated angrily on top of the dark, wooden nightstand. After ten
seconds of ringing, a tanned, masculine hand reached out and grabbed the
device, lifting it so his eyes could make out the caller’s ID.
 
He wondered who had the gall to
interrupt his sleep at this hour of the morning.

Eric
Jennings had been somewhere between a sandy beach and the 18
^th
hole
in his dreams.
 
Now the call he was
receiving interrupted that.

In
the soft glow of the phone’s face he noticed the slender feminine body lying
next to him.
 
Money may not be able to buy happiness but it can sure buy a lot of
other stuff.

He
answered the call gruffly, “This better be good.”

The
voice on the other end paused.
 
“It’s not, sir.”

“What
do you mean?” he sat up in the bed and looked back over at the sleeping
escort.
 
The phone call hadn’t
awakened her.

“Wyatt
had help,” there was another moment of silence.
 
“He got away.”

Jennings
was not a man to be taken lightly.
 
He’d ascended in the Justice Department by being ruthless and
direct.
 
He’d always careful not to
piss off the wrong people but cunning enough to know when to cut throats.
 
Surely, his agent on the other line
knew this.

His
eyes were tired.
 
For someone in
his mid-fifties he seemed to carry the burdens of man thirty years older.
 
“Then go get him,” he answered,
annoyed.

“We
aren’t certain where they went, sir.”

Jennings
rubbed his eyes.
 
“Who was with
him?”
 

“Agent
Starks was one of them.
 
We didn’t
recognize the other woman.
 
We’ll
have to run a check once we get connected to the system.
 
Shouldn’t take too long.”

Jennings
thought for a moment.
 
So Emily was there.
 
Why?
 
What was Axis up to?
 
Perhaps he had a leak
.
 
That was something he’d have to attend to later.
 
Although,
it could have been a coincidence
.

“What
should we do sir?” The voice on the other end of the line asked.

“I
already said, go get him.
 
Wyatt
can become a thorn very quickly.
 
We cannot risk letting him find out what we’re up to.”

“Understood,
sir.”
 

Jennings
thought for a moment.
 
His
conversation had finally aroused the young woman next to him, but she had only
stretched for a few seconds and then gone back to sleep.
 
“Don’t make me regret putting you on
this assignment, James.
 
You and
Angela are my best agents.
 
I have
made you privy to things that only a precious few know about.
 
If you fail me, you know what the
consequences are.”
 

There
was silence.
 
Then, “Of course
sir.
 
We won’t fail you or the
Prophet.”

With
that, Eric hit the end button on the display and set the phone back down on the
little table.
 
He looked back over
at the silhouette of the naked woman underneath a thin sheet, accented by the
streetlights of Washington D.C. coming through his second-story window.
 
She’d been vigorous early, a real
pleasure to bring home.
 
He
wondered if she would be at this hour of the evening as he reached over and
slipped his arm around her waist.
 
Besides, he needed something to take his mind of the problem that had
arisen in the desert.

Chapter 14

Las Vegas, Nevada

Adriana
whipped the Audi SUV out onto Las Vegas Boulevard and pressed hard on the gas.
 
They sped down the strip passing the
Palazzo, Wynn and Encore as well as the last few major Casinos in the
area.
 
The car’s unique strip of
LED headlights did little to change the brightly lit streets of the
Boulevard.
 
“Ok girls, someone
needs to tell me exactly what is going on and right now would probably be the
best time to do it.”
 
Sean said as
he leaned forward from the back seat.
 

What
had been a fun vacation with some gambling and maybe a few shows had turned
into a bloodbath inside his favorite hotel.
 

Some
of the less famous spots in the city blurred by as their driver tried to make
sure she hit every green light possible.
 

Finally,
their luck ran out and she slammed on the brakes at a red light.

She
looked around in all the mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed
before speaking. “You friend is right.
 
They are with the group that calls themselves The Order of the Golden
Dawn.”

Emily
cast him a quick glance as if to say, “I told you so.”

The
light turned green and Adriana continued talking, satisfied that they were safe
for the moment.
 
“Ms. Starks, what
you think you know about this organization is irrelevant to what they are
capable of and the extent of their reach.”
 
She gave a look out of the corner of her eye as a warning.

“How
do you know what I know about them?” Starks replied.

 
“I don’t,” Adriana responded.
 
“But I know how your government works
and your agencies usually never know the whole story.”
 

She
ignored the slighted glance from Starks.
 
“I have been following their movements and actions for some time.
 
They have been extremely active over
the last year, as Ms. Starks made you aware of earlier, Senor Wyatt.
 
However, no one in the intelligence
community seems to know why they have all of the sudden started moving pieces
on the chessboard of the world again.
 
I do.”

“And
just why is that?” Emily interrupted.

“They
have been looking for the Golden Chambers of Akhanan,” Adriana gave Sean a
quick look.
 

“Yeah,
that much we know.
 
But we beat
them to the first one, and I don’t think they are going to come anywhere close
to the next one.
 
We took care of
that little problem.”
 
Sean spoke
with a little swagger in his voice.

“Did
you?” she asked.
 
“I would say from
the events of the evening so far that you are incorrect in that
assessment.”
 
She made another
quick turn and merged on to a highway leading out of town.
 

“Where
are we going?” Emily looked suspicious.
 

Adriana
looked straight ahead into the darkness outside the city.
 
“Somewhere safe.”

Inside
the vehicle became silent as she drove.
 
For fifteen minutes no one said anything.
 
The lights of the city began fading further and further away
until the town was just a bright spot in the middle of the desert.
 
The black Q7 cruised through the rising
twists and turns of the mountains easily, living up to it’s sports-car
lineage.
 
As the jagged mountain
crested, the asphalt vanished into dirt and gravel.
 
Villa made a quick right turn onto another dusty roadway and
slowed down slightly.
 
Up ahead,
sitting next to a large rock formation was a sandstone building.
 
Its wood appointments and craftsman
design were uncommon for the area, more suited for somewhere like the northwest
or maybe in the southern United States.
 
Dim lights emanated from within and a large, metallic garage door began
opening on the underside of the house as they wheeled around a slight downgrade
turn that led into the port.

“Nice
place,” Sean broke the long silence.

Villa
barely gave him a look out of the corner of her eye.
 
“Gracias.”
 
Her
Spanish accent was alluring.
 
She
spoke with a confidence that was extremely attractive.
 
It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous,
too.
 

She
brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine and opened her door.
 
Something in the corner of the garage
caught Sean’s eye as he exited the vehicle.
 
It was red, smooth, and tough looking.
 
No fairing, single swing arm, big front
and back tires.
 
It called to him
from across the room.
 
“Ducati
Streetfighter?” he asked, impressed.

“Si,
Senor Wyatt,” she answered with a smile.
 
“I love to ride.
 
When
Ducati came out with this one, I bought it immediately.”
 

Sean
thought about his small fleet of motorcycles back home.
 
Each one had a unique sound, rhythm,
and feel.
 
He’d ridden them all
extensively and loved each one like they were his children.
 
She interrupted his thoughts as if
reading his mind.
 
“I understand
you have quite a collection of bikes yourself, Mr. Wyatt.”

He
grinned slightly.
 
“It’s nothing
major.
 
Just some I’ve worked on
and restored over the years.
 
I’ve
never ridden a Streetfighter, though.
 
What’s it like?”

Her
smile was slightly wicked as she raised an eyebrow.
 
“Like strapping a grenade to your chest.”

Chapter 15

Nevada Desert

Alexander
paced slowly around the small, circular wooden table.

The
other two men, Albert Mornay and Jonathan Carrol, sat nervously in their
chairs, uncertain why they’d been called at this time of night but both thought
they knew the answer.

“Gentlemen,
I’m sorry to have ‘roused you from your slumber this evening, but it seems we
have a problem,” Lindsey began, not expecting the other two to start the
conversation.
 
They were both weak
men, easily controlled.
 
Well,
until this last little outburst.
 

Mornay’s
family had been involved with Golden Dawn since the 1920s.
 
He’d basically been grandfathered into
the order.
 
The man had never done
a day of hard labor in his life.
 
Tall, slender, with a beak for a nose and a high forehead, he was the
realized image of Ichabod Crane.
 

Carrol
was different.
 
He’d been a
low-level suck up in some company for a long time until he finally got promoted
to the level of partner.
 
Though
he’d worked hard for the Order, he had given away his best years.
 
Now in his mid-fifties, the man looked
like he was pushing seventy.
 
A
real “yes” man, Jonathan Carrol took crap from everyone who gave it out so long
as it helped move him up the ladder.

Both
men had their usefulness.
 
They had
money and some influence in certain circles.
 
More important than that, they could be manipulated however
Alexander saw fit.
 
He’d known that
Carrol and Mornay resented the fact.
 
They knew their position, and neither was willing to do anything to
jeopardize the possibility of becoming top dog at some point in the future.
 

Lindsey
had taken the reins ten years ago from his predecessor.
 
He’d served the old man well, learning
everything he could about the Order.
 
It was his benefactor that had seen the ambition in Alexander’s eyes.
 
That understanding had led him to
reveal the secret of the lost golden chambers of Akhanan.
 
It was a secret that only a few people
knew.
 

“So
why
did
you call us, Alexander?”
Mornay asked.
 
His thin eyes
blinked in irritation.
 
He’d always
been the more annoying of the two.
 
Unfortunately, he would be the next in line to be Imperator of the
Order.
 
The man was rash and
foolish.
 
It had probably been his
idea to go after the scientist in Atlanta.

Lindsey
eyed both men with fierce scrutiny.
 
Knowing Carrol, he’d probably just
nodded and said nothing rather than put up a fight.

“Why?”
Lindsey answered boldly.
 
“Because
there is a dead Georgia Tech professor in Atlanta right now because of your
foolishness.”

Carrol
perked up slightly, a look of concern washed across his face.
 
He’d become clearly less comfortable.

Mornay
tried to play it a little cooler.
 
“So?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair, feigning a lack of
concern.

Alexander
stopped pacing and placed both hands down on the table, peering into the man’s
soul with cold and calculating eyes.
 
He’d had enough of Mornay’s snide disrespect over the years.
 
The man’s family line had brought him
into this little world but Lindsey could take him out.
 
In the moment there was nothing he
could do according to the laws set forth by the founders of the Order.
 
But the day would come.
 
“Your idiotic attempt to steal the
translation of the second stone has potentially brought our operation to
light.
 
Do you realize that?”
 
He was on the verge of rage.
 
His face became red and a vein on the
side of his neck bulged slightly.

Mornay
cowered only a little.
 
“What about
all the stuff that happened a few weeks ago, Alex?
 
The police, the feds, everyone is watching us now.
 
It’s only a matter of time until they
start asking questions.”
 
He raised
a finger in Lindsey’s direction.
 
“You have put us in more danger than anything we’ve ever done.”

“Don’t
you ever raise your finger at me, Albert!
 
How dare you question my authority!” his voice boomed through the
conference room like thunder in the night.
 
“Unlike with the little ‘play’ you two made, I conversed
with both of you before moving forward.
 
You didn’t even ask me for permission.
 
It is strictly forbidden to use an asset without the
agreement of the Imperator.”
 
Frustration and anger poured out of him.

“Guys,
let’s just take it down a notch,” Carrol finally entered the conversation.
 
He looked uncomfortable with the
confrontation that was taking place.
 

Lindsey
wasn’t surprised at Carrol’s reaction.
 
He didn’t have the stomach for
what sometimes needed to be done.

“You
were unavailable,” he continued.
 
“We had an asset nearby, and we felt like we could make the move with
little risk.”
 

That was certainly out of character for Carrol
, Lindsey thought.
 
More than likely, it
had been Mornay’s idea and the worm didn’t have the spine to say no.
 
Either way, they were wrong for doing
it
.
 
“The events from a few
weeks ago were unfortunate but were necessary,” Alexander began.
 
“They got us the result we needed which
was finding the first stone.”

“It
does us no good if it stays in the hands of those morons from IAA,” Mornay
injected.

Lindsey
stood straight.
 
“Will has control
of the situation, Albert,” his tone chastising Mornay as if he were a small
child who had broken a window.

“We
didn’t feel like that was the case,” Albert replied indignantly.

“You
acted without consulting me first.
 
That is strictly against our code.”
 
Lindsey was right and Mornay knew it.
 
They’d taken a huge gamble.
 

Carrol
looked increasingly less comfortable.
 
“We just wanted to speed things up.
 
That’s all.
 
You
weren’t around so we made a decision and went with it.”

“And
now we have a mess to clean up in Atlanta,” Lindsey looked disgusted.

“What
are you going to do?”

Alexander
looked at Carrol.
 
“Our agent is
taking care of it now.”
 
He paused,
thinking for a moment.

“See
to it that neither of you do anything like this again.
 
You know what is fully within my
rights, if necessary.
 
An act that
endangers the order is an act of treason.”

The
room was smothered by an ominous silence.
 
They knew he was justified.
 
And the laws of the Order were very clear.
 
If the acting Imperator ever believed anyone in the
organization had committed treason he could have the accused put before the
council and executed.
 
It was a
simple monarchic system when it came to that charge.
 
Even the adepts were vulnerable.

An
adept’s execution had only occurred once in the century since the Golden Dawn
had achieved prominence.
 
In 1946,
the post-war world was a place of uncertainty.
 
Though World War II had been an enormous atrocity, more than
a few shrewd businessmen had made their fortunes off of it.
 
Aramus Dawson was one such
character.
 
He’d profited millions
of dollars making vital parts for the weapons that the US Air Force took into
battle.
 
While many made money on
the planes, Dawson made his on the guns that took down other planes.
 
At the age of 45 he was still one of
the youngest adepts to ever ascend to the chair.
 
Unfortunately for Aramus, his greed and ambition were such
that they caused him to hoard some of the money he was supposed to contribute
to the Order.
 
Every man, down to
the most insignificant initiate had to pay their tithe to the
organization.
 
Ten percent of all
gains, just like in a church, went to the group.
 
It was how they maintained an operational bankroll and how
they were able to function in secrecy and yet extend a powerful arm into places
other groups could not.
 

Dawson’s
Imperator had warned him not to hold back funds from the Order.
 
If necessary, accounts could be called
into question.
 
If the accused
could not or would not produce any evidence against their supposed wrongdoing,
they could face punishment at the discretion of the Imperator.
 
When Dawson’s bank accounts were
requested he refused, boldly challenging the right of the Order to ask for such
personal information.

Unfortunately
for Aramus, the order controlled many of the banks in the United States and a
few in Europe.
 
It only took a
short time before documentation began coming to light that showed the greedy
adept’s treason.
 
He’d kept tens of
millions of dollars from the order, only paying a fraction of the tithe he was
required to give.
 
If the numbers
had been just slightly off, that was excusable, a technicality that could be
overlooked.
 
But such an enormous
amount had to be accounted for.
 
Aramus defiantly stood his ground, claiming he had earned that money and
deserved to keep it.
 
He’d
evidently forgotten how the order had helped him fund some of his investments
in the first place.
 
In front of a
conclave of 12 peers, the other adept, and the Imperator, he stood trial for
treason.
 
His judgment was swift
and unanimous.
 
Death.
 

The
means could be decided solely by the Imperator himself.
 
They had a room in their secret
gathering place that could be used for just such an occasion.
 
In the center of the large,
semi-circular room, an enormous brass bull rested over a fire pit.
 
On the side of the metal sculpture was
a door.
 
They had adopted the
“brazen bull” from ancient Greece where it had been a rare form of execution
during a particularly sinister reign of power.
 

The
victim was placed inside the metal beast and the door close.
 
A fire was then lit underneath,
effectively roasting the victim.
 
The most effective and disturbing means of torture was to keep the fire
burning low.
 
Hot coals could keep
the person inside alive for extended periods of time, cooking them even slower
than a higher flame.
 
Internal
pipes were fastened to the victim’s face and exited the mouth of the bull so
that the screams of those inside would be amplified and contorted for any
observers.
 
As soon as his sentence
was pronounced, Aramus Dawson realized the gravity of what he’d done.
 
He then began to beg and plead with the
conclave to give him another chance, promising to give them double what he
owed.

The
group was unimpressed.
 
Once he was
dead, they would take control of
all
of his assets, a fact the Imperator made sure he knew just before the brass
door was sealed.

Mornay
and Carrol cast each other a quick, uncertain glance.
 
There was just such a device on the premises.
 
They’d both seen it in passing while on
a tour of the compound.
 

“We
won’t make any decisions without consulting you again,” Carrol said sheepishly.

Mornay
said nothing; his silence revealing that he understood the gravity of the
situation.
 

“Good.”
 
Lindsey turned around and walked towards
the door.
 

“Alex,”
Mornay spoke up.
 

He
turned and looked back at the snooty character.
 

“Any
word from our mole in the Justice Department?”

Alexander
stood thoughtful for a moment, considering the man he’d had thrown from the
helicopter earlier that evening.
 
When he spoke, it carried a cryptic tone.
 
“I don’t think we’ll be using him anymore.”