Reformation (12 page)

“True, but I put that as an equivalent to
a lifetime spent in captivity and as such consider them both the same outcome,” Brian countered.  A nod from Alex let him know she was of the same opinion.  “Now the best case scenario is we find nothing of importance in China and we go home after a few years.  Then we both sign our book deals and do the talk show tours once all the dust has settled.”

Alex reluctantly nodd
ed in agreement, but added, “I’m still leery that they’re just working us to eventually get information about what went on over the last week.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Brian ans
wered, “but for now the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

From the moment
Mark closed his phone after talking with Terrance he had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.  The man was a control freak.  Almost anything he wanted to know the NSA could get for him, including kidnapping or eliminating anyone he didn’t like.  His executive powers gave Terrance control; it was practically part of his DNA now. 

D
ealing with the stalemate this doomsday device created required giving up a certain amount of control.  Maintaining the symmetry of tensions was critical, yet every fiber of Terrance’s being would demand he try and upset that delicate balance in his favor to regain control.  Mark wondered if he made a mistake by informing him of recent events.

When his
Humvee rolled to a stop outside the command tent near the Sphinx monument, he immediately stepped out of the vehicle and looked to the partially cloudy sky.  He pictured satellites moving into position to better monitor events for Terrance.  He could also envision dozens of radar evading aircraft circling overhead while waiting for the order to drop their payload.

Mark redirected his eyes to the sandy plateau
where over a hundred Egyptian military personnel still secured the location from the prying eyes of tourists.  Soon hundreds of NSA assets loyal exclusively to Terrance and his orders would be on the ground.  All so the man might gain control of a situation that was indeed dangerous, but not any more so than it has been for hundreds, if not thousands of years.  There really was no need for panic in this situation just yet, but Terrance ran the risk of doing just that.

Mark realized he would very quickly lose his
own control over the situation if he didn’t do something.  This thought caused him to turn around and look into the backseat of the Humvee at the Egyptian Colonel who was meant to be his observer while operating in the country.  The man meekly sat between two SEALs and went with the flow so far. It was time to enlist more than just silent cooperation from his government watcher.

Mark opened the back door
to the desert camouflaged vehicle and waited for the nearest soldier to exit the Humvee to give him direct line of sight with the Egyptian officer.  “Colonel, would you please come with me?” he asked in as cordial a tone as he could summon.

“You have pushed and ordered me around for days and now suddenly
you are making requests?” the colonel snapped.  “You realize those are my men out there.  Once in the open, I can yell for help and I will get it from them and you will be arrested.”

“But then you would miss out on having all the answers,” Mark interrupted.  “Now please, follow me into the command tent.”

Mark turned immediately and began walking toward the large tent, which he suddenly realized looked like a miniature pyramid with its tan fabric rising to a point in the middle.  He had no doubt the colonel’s curiosity would win out and moments later had his confidence confirmed with the sound of footsteps following close behind.  They both ducked through the hard plastic door which Mark locked behind them to make sure their conversation would not be overheard or interrupted.

To start things off, Mark extended a hand of greeting. 
“Colonel Azire, I’m Mark Holmes.”

Colonel
Azire evaluated the appendage as if touching it might give him the plague.  In the end he took the chance and shook Mark’s hand.  “I am surprised you even know my name given the complete disregard you have shown me so far.”

“I make it a point to know all about the men I work with,” Mark an
swered while gesturing for the colonel to have a seat near a computer monitor with a set of screensaver lines dancing across the display.  “You, for instance, are just a few years away from retiring and desperately want to reach that next rank of general and the higher pay grade to pad those monthly pension checks.  It’s curious how you’ve been passed over for promotion four times and keep being handed mundane assignments by your superior, like babysitting me and my men.”

“Bad luck I suppose,” Colonel
Azire responded so dryly the desert outside the tent felt tropical by comparison.

“More like insubordination,” Mark countered.  “The way I hear it, you refused an order from your superior to fire into a crowd of protestors while that whole Arab Spring thing was going on
in this country a few years back.  Considering that uprising led to the downfall of the government your commanding officer was so well positioned within, I don’t think that decision helped your promotional prospects.”

“What is your point?” Colonel
Azire demanded, his eyes now vibrating with anger at the uncomfortable reminder of his actions.

“
My point is you’re a good man who is willing to do what is right for the bigger picture.  I need to call upon that good man now and take him into my confidence.  I trust you to be a man of your word.  Do I have your word that what I am about to reveal to you will not leave the four walls of this tent?”

Azire
clearly valued his word as the man took several seconds to think things through.  Finally he looked Mark square in the eye to give his reply.  “As long as remaining silent does not endanger my country, you have my word.”

Mark cocked his head
slightly to the side, “That will have to do I suppose.”  He then wiggled the mouse resting near the dormant computer terminal to bring the display back to life.  Mark watched the three dimensional rendering of the Giza plateau fade in through the darkness along with four glowing red cubes halfway up the Great Pyramid.  Next to that rested the Sphinx.  The monolith looked like it was suffering from a massive bout of indigestion as a glowing red rectangle took up the entire length of its body along with an underground tunnel leading away from the giant statue.

The c
olonel, for his part, drew in a deep breath, held it, and held it.  Minutes passed and Mark soon began fearing for the man’s safety, but finally a mighty exhale came.

“It’s not a trick,” Mark jumped in before
Azire could make the accusation.  “The archeologists discovered these chambers with their equipment and were kidnapped because of it.  We rescued them from their captors, but are now left to deal with the fallout.”

“What
...what does this all mean?” Colonel Azire finally managed.  “For what purpose are those chambers used?”

“A weapon,” Mark
coolly responded as he brought another view screen to life.  “Are you aware what happened globally a few hours ago?”

“Of course not!
” Azire snapped.  He took his right hand and wiped it across his sweaty brow and showed Mark his drenched palm.  “You and your men have held me at gunpoint inside your vehicle without airflow for hours.”

“No guns were ever
directed at you,” Mark pointed out with a lighthearted grin, “but I suppose you are correct; allow me to get you caught up.”

On the
view screen Mark pulled up a BBC news feed detailing the devastating effects that numerous earthquakes and instances of tidal surges along the coastlines had caused all across the globe over the last few hours. 

Colonel
Azire looked on with disgusted wonder.  “You are telling me a weapon inside those chambers did all that?”

“
Yes, and the weapon is capable of doing much worse,” Mark answered.  “Cooler heads like me are trying to resolve the situation quietly and with as little collateral damage as possible.  Others are on the verge of panic and want to blow the entire Giza plateau off the face of the map.”

Colonel
Azire was aghast at the mention of his country’s national treasures falling under attack. “This is information you expect me to keep from my superiors?”

“For the moment, yes,” Mark confirmed.  “Right now I am the one in charge, and I don’t think blowing up the weapon is a good idea.  We have no clue what destroying it would do, and I refuse to take a course of action with a questionable outcome when the stakes are this high.  However, elements intent on more aggressive solutions are on their way.  When they arrive, my dozen soldiers and I may not be enough to keep them in line.  I need to know I can count on you and your men to help me if push comes to shove with the more hostile players in this game.”

The
colonel looked at Mark with the words ‘hell no’ blaring from his eyes.   The man rose to his feet and pointed toward the exit.  “I believe it is time for me to walk out that door and take control of the situation for myself.”

Mark quickly sprung to his feet as well and
calmly stood between Colonel Azire and the exit.  “Don’t you mean let that general who stands on your shoulders taking a crap on your head while holding your career back take charge?  I have a better solution, one that lets us both get what we want.”

“And what is that,” Colonel
Azire asked while looking ready to physically test Mark’s ability to hold him back from leaving the tent.

Mark flicked his head towar
d the computer desk behind the colonel.  “See those two sets of manila folders on the table. I think you will find them both very interesting reading since they concern your boss and the financial prospects of your pending retirement.”

Once again curiosity won out as Colonel
Azire took his seat next to the computer desk.  “These had better impress me.”

Mark reached past the seated Egyptian officer and picked up the
folders and handed one to the colonel.  “I find it ironic that your commanding officer holds you back for not killing protesters during the Arab Spring uprising.”

Azire
began thumbing his way through the two dozen pages of reports and photos and suddenly looked up in complete amazement as Mark continued speaking.  “As it turns out, his son was an active leader in the rebellion movement from behind the scenes during his more playful college years.  What you hold in your hands there is the kind of information that ends careers, or lives.  Especially for high ranking generals, don’t you think?”

Silence with a
growing smile was compliance.  With that, Mark moved on to his second overture and placed the other folder in Colonel Azire’s hands.  Again Mark waited for the Egyptian officer to glance through the pages before narrating their implications.

“Dr. Hass of your country’s
Organization of Antiquities has been a little naughty selling some lesser artifacts on the black market to fund his own eventual retirement.  I can freeze or transfer those seven figure Cayman Island accounts of his anytime I feel the need.  They should probably go to the proper Egyptian authorities,” Mark pondered. 

Mark waited a set of heartbeats then snapped his fingers and pointed at Colonel
Azire.  “Say, you look like an Egyptian and a man with some authority.  Perhaps I could turn them over to you.”

“What would I
do with this dirty money,” the colonel demanded in a thoroughly insulted tone.

“
Turn it over to your treasury, give it to charity, fund a certain Egyptian authority figure’s retirement account,” Mark suggested off the top of his head.  “You’ll be creative and thorough I’m sure.”

Colonel
Azire looked both offended, yet tempted, by the pages held in his grasp.  To force the issue Mark snatched the two folders back from the man and made ready to run the contents through a shredder resting atop a nearby trash can.  “I can see these are causing you difficulty so allow me to remove the temptation.”

“Stop,” Colonel
Azire bellowed while lunging after the documents to save them.  With the value Azire placed on the leverage Mark held in his hands now known, the Egyptian officer spoke more freely.  “Is this how you operate so freely in your country and mine, by using blackmail or bribery?”

“Sometimes I just ask nicely,” Mark answered while handing over the folder containing the incriminating evidence against
Azire’s superior.

“Wha
t is it you need from me?” the colonel asked before taking the folder.

“Extra manpower, vehicles, an
d weapons under your command,” Mark answered, “as much as possible around here and back at the warehouse.  Oh, I also need a phone number to reach you anytime, anywhere.  Do that and we’ll talk later about me handing you this other folder,” Mark added.

“
truly TRAGIC, half
of Europe died within a matter of months,” Dr. Holmes commented to his patient.

“
Actually the worst of the plague ran its course over a two year period around 1350.  Some areas were hit harder than others, but yes, the casualties were upwards of one hundred million people, or roughly half the population of Europe at that time,” Hastelloy confirmed.

“
The Alpha killed one hundred million people in the hopes of slowing down your progress to bring mankind along technologically,” Jeffrey asked in disbelief.  “One hundred million?”

Hastelloy slowly shook his head in regret. 
“That number was just Europe.  Asia was hit equally hard if not worse.”

Jeffrey felt like he’d just been slapped
by the cold, hard hand of reality.  This was not Hastelloy’s delusion.  Two hundred million human beings between Europe and Asia actually died back then.  It may not have been the Alpha, since they only existed in Hastelloy’s mind, but the plague happened and the magnitude of devastation took his breath away as the patient continued his story.

**********

Armed with a fresh batch of vaccine to combat the spread of the black plague, Tomal and Tonwen sailed into the
completely vacant ports of Venice in northern Italy.

The docks of this booming port of trade were usually five ships deep waiting for a place to dock, but on this day there was scarcely a ship to be found anywhere in the harbor.  As soon as word got out that a city had fallen victim to the plague, sailors steered clear until the epidemic passed.  Even then, only the bravest or most desperate traders ventured back.

Their boat stopped just long enough to pay the captain his exorbitant fee and for the two of them to step off the ship.  Each carried a crate laden with the vaccine.  In all, they transported a thousand doses of the cure, which was nowhere near enough.

“Well, where do we start?” Tomal asked.

“The clergy and physicians,” Tonwen answered.  “They are the ones exposed to the contagion on a regular basis.  If we prove to them that it works they will help distribute the cure more broadly.”

“That’s a fine plan,
Tonwen, but there are over 50,000 residents in this city and we can only inoculate a thousand of them.  If word gets out that we have the cure it will be pandemonium.”

“That is also where the clergy come in,” Tonwen responded.  “Their
monasteries have the manpower, currency, and a moral obligation to mass produce the vaccine once they buy into its effectiveness.  I wrote their rule of conduct.  I ought to know.”

Tomal looked around at the water filled streets of the sunken city and flagged down two gondolas.  “We divide and conquer then.  You start on the west side of the city
, and I will meet you in the middle coming from the east.”

Before the two boarded their respective boats
, Tonwen added a word of caution.  “Remember, the vaccine only prevents a person from contracting the disease.  It does nothing for them once infected so only give it to those treating the patients.”

When Tomal stepped off the gondola on the eastern side of the city he was somewhat concerned he would not be able to locate the hospitals very easily.  As it turned out, all he need
ed to do was follow his nose to the source of the most revolting stench he had ever encountered, which included burying the dead on a battlefield a week after the bloodletting happened.

It wasn’t j
ust the stench of death.  It mixed with sweat, excrement and disease resulting in an aromatic cocktail that made him feel rather lightheaded.

Tomal pushed open a tall wooden door to a church and found the worship
ping pews haphazardly shoved aside to make room for hundreds of sickbeds.   The potent smell did its best to knock Tomal over as he entered the hot, sweaty caldron of disease and decay.

“Out!” a man wearing a piece of white fabric over his mouth and nose shouted upon seeing T
omal.  “All our beds are full. You will need to find somewhere else to take your sick.”

Tomal shook his head and placed the wooden crate he carried on the floor and pulled out two thin glass vials, one in each hand.  “I do not bring sickness.  I bring a cure.”

“Yeah sure,” the exhausted man laughed loudly.  “You and everyone else.”

“I am serious,” Tomal protested.

The man finished placing a wet cloth across the forehead of the nearest patient and then stopped in front of Tomal long enough to say, “You must be the fifth person to come through those doors today attempting to sell an elixir that will restore all these people back to full health.”

The man accentuated his disgust with the abusive practice by spitting at Tom
al’s feet.  “Now get out of here before I get angry.”

To the man’s back Tomal repl
ied, “Unfortunately, those individuals who are already ill cannot be helped.  It is their caretakers I seek to keep healthy.”

The man abruptly turned about and looked ready to toss Tomal out by the scruff of his neck if he did not like the answer to his next question.  “What’s your price?”

“Nothing,” Tomal answered.  “Except spreading the word to your fellow caretakers and friends once you are satisfied with the results.”

“How will I know,” the man asked with a little less anger than before.  “A few, like
myself, seem not to catch the disease.  How will I know it is your elixir and not God’s favor instead?”

“You know as well as I that nine out of ten people
will contract and die from the disease.”  Tomal bent down and removed a cluster of twenty vials held upright by a wooden frame and handed them over to the man.  “Give each of these to a different person you know who is not yet infected with the plague.  A week from now if they are all still in good health you will have your proof that it works.  Then you can meet me ten days from now in the square outside of St. Mark’s Basilica to help deliver this cure to as many people as we possibly can.”

The skeptical man accepted the glass vials and Tomal left the building without another word.  When he reached the open air he drew a deep breath of relatively fresh air and then moved on to locate the next hospital with his nose.

Ten days later Tomal and Tonwen hosted a gathering of over fifty clergy, physicians and nurses all clamoring for more vials of the vaccine.

“Is this your plan,” an angry woman shouted.  “Show us the cure and then pretend like you do not have much of it left so you can charge us?”

Tomal raised his arms up to try and quiet the mayhem around him.  “Please.  Please quiet down so we can talk.”

Eventually the chaos died down enough for Tonwen’s voice to carry over the din of lingering voices.  “We have no intention of charging anyone anything for the medicine.  It is our Christian duty to help our fellow man.  The difficulty is making enough of it to help this city and eventually those all around Europe.  The raw herbs cost money.  Trained manpower is needed to properly mix it, and so on.”

The bishop wearing a white robe with a bright red half coat draped over his shoulder
s spoke up for all the clergy in the city.  “I can open the unfortunately meager coffers of the church to purchase materials and my monks, priests and parishioners can provide the necessary labor.”

“I am afraid it will requ
ire significantly more coin than you have available your Grace,” Tonwen said with a slight bow of his head.

“We can charge everyone
a fixed price for the cure,” the first physician Tomal visited on the east side of Venice suggested.

“That would exclude the poor and condemn them to die,” the bishop protested.

“What about enticing the wealthy among the city to contribute for the benefit of all,” a monk wearing a hooded brown robe suggested.

Tomal shook his head.  “No, that will not work.  Every person of means is
squirreling their money away believing it will somehow help them weather this calamity.”

“Then we should convince them that parting with their riches will gain them favor in the afterlife,” Tonwen offered.

“You propose we lie to our fellow man.  Make hollow promises of riches in heaven in order to extort money from them?” the bishop responded in complete shock.

“It is not entirely a lie,” the monk countered.  “My studies of scripture reveal numerous
instances of favor granted by God for good works here on earth.  What could be more holy and noble than contributing to the distribution of a cure that could save hundreds of thousands of lives?”

“Millions of lives,” Tomal
corrected before the bishop could render his final judgment on the suggestion.

The bishop remained silent for several minutes of
silent prayer.  Finally he drew a deep breath while nodding his head up and down.  “There could be truth to it, and at the very worst it is a deceit at the behest of a noble cause that benefits all of god’s creation.” 

He looked around at all the clergy present.  “I will begin work on a series of sermons to deliver the message that financially contributing to the good works of the church wil
l carry favor for the giver in God’s eyes.”

The order was well received, especially with Tomal and Tonwen who exchanged a subtle look of satisfaction between them as the bishop’s plan was put into motion.