Journey Through the Mirrors (39 page)

“Mr. Quinn?” Logan took a step forward, almost tripping into the pond. “You look much clearer to me this time, although still a little blurry.”

“You look clearer, too,” Sebastian said.

“I was expecting the candle to bring me to the old study,” Logan said.

“That is where Camden’s candle led,” Sebastian replied. “Deya’s candle is linked to her garden.” Sebastian stretched out his arms, gesturing to the surroundings. “The fact that you are here and that you no longer see me as a shadow indicates that it is working for you. Your perspective is expanding.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“The A-Tee-Na and the Sin-Ka-Ta. Have you not been able to see the marks?”

Logan’s eyes widened. “You mean the hidden symbols. Yes, I can see them now.”

“And do you remember my telling you that it is a progression?” Sebastian said. “First, you will see them, and then you must experience them?”

“My blurry vision—my perspective shifts,” Logan said, realizing what Sebastian was referring to. “Are those the experiences you’re talking about?”

“The Sin-Ka-Ta is an invaluable companion should you learn to harness its power. You will have the ability to see the world through many eyes.”

“And what about the other symbol, the A-Tee-Na? And the fragmented symbol on the last page?”

“Patience. That will come in time. The power of the symbols must emerge gradually in one’s life. Otherwise, the wisdom to administer them will run aground on a ship called power.”

“I understand,” Logan said with a sigh. “I could certainly use some wisdom now. The world is in trouble again. Someone is destroying the world’s energy supply, and the same person or people attempted to kill everyone at the Council of Satraya commemoration tonight. On top of that, people are getting sick, and no one knows why. I can’t help but wonder if it is related to the DNA collars that were injected into people as part of the Freedom Day plot.” He waited for Sebastian to say something, but Sebastian remained silent. “I don’t know what to do. Is there anything you can tell me?”

“Have you unlocked the mystery of the Munch picture I sent you?” Sebastian asked. “Did you discover why the screaming man was screaming?”

“The scientist, Nikola Tesla,” Logan said. “The experiments he was conducting had something to do with it.”

“Something to do with it?” Sebastian repeated. “You cannot make nature scream and expect it to have no effect upon the world. Your daughter, along with many others, can attest to this truth.” With the tip of his index finger, Sebastian began to draw something in the air in front of him. As his finger moved, a gold tracing appeared, and Logan saw an image that was familiar to him.

“That’s what I saw at Teotihuacán and also in Tesla’s journal.” The gold tracing pulsed with light. “What does it represent?”

“It is the Rokmar, one of the nine veiled symbols of Satraya. Whoever possesses the secret of this symbol can draw energy seemingly out of thin air.” The golden symbol pulsed brighter and brighter, to the point where Logan raised his hands to protect his eyes from the dazzling light. “Be vigilant of the man who taught your father the King’s Gambit. It is his sincere pursuit that could mark the onset of dark times.”

The intensity of the light diminished, allowing Logan to lower his hands. The mist had returned, obscuring his view of Sebastian.

Logan quickly asked, “Who are you talking about? I don’t know who taught my father that!”

*  *  *

The opening of the apartment’s front door coincided with Logan’s return from his candle vision. Mr. Perrot walked into the den, and Logan
leaned forward and blew out the flame of the candle. Without stopping to inhale, he said, “Who taught my father the King’s Gambit?”

Mr. Perrot was taken aback by Logan’s abruptness, but, noticing the blue candle on the table, he understood his urgency. “Madu. He was our chess master.”

“When are Madu and Nadine leaving for Egypt?” Logan asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” Mr. Perrot said.

Logan nodded. “You’ll need to pack your bags.”

44

Life is not a test. That idea comes from the notion that life can be passed or failed.

—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA

WASHINGTON, D.C., 8:10 A.M. LOCAL TIME, MARCH 25, 2070

After spending a restless night at Valerie’s apartment, Logan and Valerie returned to the lab. Mr. Perrot, who had slept on Valerie’s couch, left the apartment with them but went instead to the Council offices to help Adisa deal with the aftermath of last night’s attack. Later, in the afternoon, he would fly to Cairo.

In the WCF Cube, Valerie stood in front of a large glass writing board. Chetan and Sylvia sat at their desks while Logan stood nearby eating a muffin. Sliding the tip of her right index finger across the glass, Valerie scribbled a list, which appeared in radiant blue writing:

1. Attack on Council offices

2. Man kidnapped from Calhoun Medical Center, Sumsari Baltik

3. Earthquakes

4. People getting sick

5. Australian gas field explosion

6. Nanite infestation, Goshi dead

7. Break-in at Château Dugan, two agents dead

8. North African Commonwealth explosion

“Anyone have anything else to add?” she asked, stepping back from the glass.

Although Logan had a few suggestions—the photos of his mother and father that had been found at Château Dugan, the surfacing of Madu Shata and the mystery of the pyramids, the Munch picture Sebastian Quinn had sent him, his mother’s recordings, and his own mirror visions—he remained silent.

“I would add the seventy-nine-point-six-five-four-hertz signal’s suddenly stopping, not that I’m complaining about it,” Sylvia said.

“I’ve analyzed the device that was found under the sink in the bathroom,” Chetan said. “It is remotely activated. Whoever turned it on and off had to have been relatively close to the device.”

“Obviously, the nanites link items one, five, six, and eight on the list,” Sylvia said, as she took a sip of her coffee. “Chetan and I confirmed that the nanites unleashed in the Council building have the same watermarks as the ones that were found at the gas refineries. I’m not sure about the other items on the list; they might be coincidences.”

With the tip of her finger, Valerie circled items one, five, six, and eight.

“We can infer that whoever is bent on destroying the world’s energy supply is also bent on destroying the Council of Satraya,” Chetan said.

“I only know of one person who had that aspiration,” Valerie said, “and he’s dead.”

Logan tossed his muffin wrapper into a nearby trash can, sighing before he spoke. “We still haven’t identified everyone involved in the Freedom Day plot. We know that Victor Ramplet was helping Simon and Andrea. We heard Simon mention a man named Dario. And we found an old e-mail message from Simon’s father to Dario in which a woman named Catherine was mentioned.”

“A message that mysteriously vanished,” Valerie added. “We originally
found it in an old FBI archive stored at the Akasha Vault. But now it’s gone.”

“How does something like that vanish?” Sylvia asked.

Valerie shook her head.

“We also need to add Randolph Fenquist to the list,” Logan said. “Until eight hours ago, we thought he might have been killed in the pulse that hit Compass Park last year.”

“That’s quite a suspect list,” Chetan said.

“And there’s one more,” Logan said. “In my mother’s old recordings, I heard her mention a man in a wheelchair who used to visit Simon’s father and Andrea from time to time. That same unnamed man was in a newspaper photograph we found. He was pictured alongside Andrea and Simon at Andrea’s husband’s funeral six years ago.”

“Your mother’s recordings?” Sylvia asked.

“Long story,” Valerie said, as her PCD sounded. “Looks like the team just retrieved the video surveillance from the Calhoun Medical Center. They say to start looking at time marker fourteen.” Valerie handed her PCD to Sylvia, who brought the video up on the large glass display next to the list Valerie had written. Everyone watched as a dark-skinned man with shoulder-length dreadlocks and a white orderly uniform pushed a wheelchair down one of the darkened hallways of the Calhoun Center. His back was to the cameras as he moved, preventing them from getting a good look at him.

The man stopped in front of a door with a small window, where a dim light shone through. The room number, 169, was stenciled on the door frame. Sumsari Baltik’s, they knew. They continued to watch as the man set the brake on the wheelchair, looked up and down the hallway, and then peered through the door’s small window, before opening it and entering. Rapidly moving shadows on the floor indicated that a struggle was taking place inside. After a few moments, the man emerged, dragging the body of an older man dressed in a pale green robe.

“That must be Sumsari,” Logan said, leaning closer to get a better look.

The man swung the limp body into the wheelchair. The old man’s head flopped backward.

“Pause there,” Valerie said. “What is that on the side of his head? Near his left temple.”

Sylvia zoomed closer. “Looks like some kind of neuro implant. Impossible to say what for.”

The video continued rolling. The dark-skinned man in white shut the door and bent down to put Sumsari’s feet into the wheelchair’s footrests. Now he was facing the surveillance camera.

“Hey,” Logan called out, placing his finger on the glass where the face of the man with the dreadlocks appeared. “I’ve seen that guy before.”

Sylvia paused the recording. “Where?”

Logan shook his head, unable to place it. It was recent, he knew, but he couldn’t take it any farther.

“At the beach in Mexico,” Valerie suddenly said. “He looks very similar to the photographer we met on the beach, the one who insisted on taking our picture. But he didn’t have dreadlocks then.”

“Are you sure it’s the same person?” asked Sylvia.

Logan took a closer look. “They look awful similar,” he said, before something else caught his attention. He squinted and pointed at the man’s right wrist. “Can you zoom in here?” Sylvia obliged. The man was wearing a thin gold bracelet with the letter
N
attached to it. Logan turned to Valerie with alarm. “I saw this same bracelet being worn by a woman at the commemoration last night.”

“Who?” Valerie asked.

“She introduced herself as Catherine Bribergeld,” Logan said quickly. “She was in President Salize’s group.”

“Are you sure it’s the same bracelet?” Valerie asked.

“I’m positive. The letter
N
was very distinctive. It’s the reason I noticed it in the first place.”

Chetan began manipulating the controls on his display to project a list. “These are the people who attended the president’s conference yesterday.”

“Catherine Bribergeld,” Sylvia said. “Fourth name from the bottom.”

Valerie looked at Logan. “You’re telling me that this guy in the video is linked with Catherine Bribergeld, who was at the commemoration last night?”

“That’s what it looks like,” Logan said. “Your father, Madu, and Nadine were all there when she spoke to us.”

“So a guy who kidnaps people and hangs out with the rich and powerful is also a beach photographer in his spare time?” Chetan said incredulously.

Sylvia looked at Valerie. “And didn’t you just say a Catherine was mentioned in a note that magically disappeared?” she asked.

Valerie nodded. She and Logan continued to look at the image of the dark-skinned man with dreadlocks; he had been spying on them in Mexico, they now realized.

“Let’s see what we can find on this Catherine Bribergeld,” Sylvia said. Within moments, a series of images appeared on the glass display. “She is definitely rich. CEO of the Bribergeld Bank of Spain. One of the largest financial institutions in the world.”

“The bank’s recent investments include these,” Chetan said, as another list appeared:

The John Mason Institute

Miracle Fitness Centers

AB Control Systems

ComData

NovaCon International.”

“NovaCon was on that list we pulled up the other day,” Valerie said, turning to Sylvia. “When we were looking into which companies had recently purchased a DNA spectrometer. We zeroed in on the Tripod Group, but I’m sure NovaCon was on the same list.”

“And you all remember AB Control Systems, don’t you?” Logan asked. “That was Andrea’s husband Alfred Benson’s technology company. If Catherine Bribergeld knew Alfred and Andrea, she also would have known Fendral and Simon Hitchlords.”

They stared at the picture of Catherine Bribergeld being displayed next to the frozen image of the man who had abducted Sumsari Baltik.

“Agent Perrot,” a stern female voice called out. It was Director Sully. She approached with two WCF agents and saw the image on the glass board. “Why do you have a picture of Ms. Bribergeld up there?”