David Golemon - Legend

The rotund man dressed in work overalls didn't hear the door open as he was busy picking up books from the floor around a large desk. The man at the door noticed that the big man seemed to be crying. The gunman turned away and looked behind him to make sure his entrance into the office area had gone unnoticed. When he turned back the man in the office had straightened up and was just standing there; he was looking right at the doorway where the gunman stood. The man opened the door all the way. Archbishop Santiago placed the books he was holding on the desk, then slowly crossed himself as he saw the object the man was holding.

The tall, thin assassin knew exactly who was standing before him and it angered him that this task had fallen to him, a man raised in the Catholic faith. The Frenchman had failed to carry out his explicit orders calling for a death that looked accidental. Now, because there was a severe shortage of time, that could no longer be accomplished.

"I was given the promise that nothing shall befall my cathedral," Santiago said as he reached into his coverall and felt for the crucifix there.

"And nothing shall befall your church, Your Excellency," the man said coldly in Spanish as he raised the silenced pistol.

One mile below the sands of Nellis Air Force Base, the department managers of the Event Group sat around the conference table of sublevel seven. The debriefing had gone mostly without comment from the department heads, as only Niles Compton, the Group's director, asked any questions. The conversation had centered mostly on the assistance they had received from the Frenchwoman and whether this may have possibly been an attempt by her to thaw relations between the United States National Archives and their French counterpart, the Commission des Antiquites, which had been strained for many years under a corrupted director and his aide, Colonel Henri Farbeaux. The French government knew nothing of the Event Group and Department 5656, as they thought the Group was just a section of the National Archives. For reasons he could never figure out, Niles suspected Colonel Henri Farbeaux had shared their existence with his ex-wife alone. He knew the reasons were selfish ones, but still the answer to why Farbeaux didn't tell the French government about the Group was beyond him.

"So, the person who called me on my private line was the new director. And she's Farbeaux's ex-wife?" Niles Compton asked. "Looks like you two owe her your lives," he said to Lieutenant Commander Everett and Second Lieutenant McIntire.

Carl and Sarah just nodded without comment.

"And she stated that she was hunting down Farbeaux to kill him?" he asked Jack Collins.

" 'Eliminate' was her word," Jack answered.

"I guess that's what you can call irreconcilable differences," Niles said without much humor.

The others around the table thought Niles was straining to make this meeting light, but the attempt failed when they looked into his worried eyes.

"The anthrax, have we generated a report yet on how it was manufactured by the Chinese seven hundred years before it was possible?" asked Virginia Pollock, deputy director and head of Nuclear Sciences.

"There's nothing official as yet from the Japanese government. Sarah did have a chance to speak with Danielle Serrate some before we left the island."

"Did she impart a theory?" Niles asked, turning and looking at the new second lieutenant.

"Well, it's a rough theory, but she thinks they used human blood, possibly intentionally infected with the anthrax antibodies carried by cattle. Really amazing for the time to have known the extreme nature of the infectious disease they were dealing with. Anyway, our Ms. Farbeaux, or Serrate if you prefer, thinks the ancient Chinese developed a way of synthesizing the anthrax organism in the animal blood and incubating it with human material inside clay ovens. Recent discoveries of alchemist's dwellings, actually very rudimentary laboratories if you will, have been recently uncovered just outside of Beijing. The buried site was complete with eight- and twelve-lens microscopes, amazing technology for the time. The Chinese took no chances on the spread of the anthrax so the whole laboratory system was destroyed, buried forever, or so they thought. Once the incubation cycle was tested, again we assume on human guinea pigs, they mixed the dried blood with nothing more than rice starch, thus rendering the anthrax in powder form as a weapons-grade airborne bacterial substance, very ingenious for the time. God only knows how many people died in its manufacture. The Japanese can thank the heavens for the storm that sent that ship off course and the rest of Kublai Khan's invasion fleet to the bottom of the sea."

"And the former Mrs. Farbeaux thought her ex was going after the anthrax?" Niles asked.

"According to her, yes, he was. It seems our friend has expanded his interest to include weapons-grade material instead of just antiquities," Jack said. "She stated that was just one of several sites he had investigated. But since they had an eyewitness that said the Chinese junk was in reality buried inside a lava flow chamber on Okinawa, she took a leave of absence in the hope he would be there, that being the most viable site to date."

"Okay, I'll turn Ms. Serrate's interview tape over to the president and he in turn can ask the FBI and our friends at Homeland Security to keep an eye out for our French friend."

Niles looked around the table at his department heads. "All right, remember we have a briefing tomorrow at ten on the joint field trip to Iraq by the University of Tennessee and Cal Poly-Pomona. So I need names of Group personnel being assigned from the departments that are applicable." He looked at his notes, "That's you, Bonnie," he said, indicating Professor Bonnie Margate of the Anthropology Department. "And you, Kyle," he glanced at Kyle Doherty of the History Department. "Jack, I need a minimum of four security men on this trip. There's no need for a cover for them as it's Iraq — we'll just give them credentials from the State Department and National Archives; they'll be there to assist the Iraqi government at the site, okay?"

Jack nodded his agreement.

"You two." Niles pointed toward Sarah and Carl at the end of the long conference table. "If Jack agrees, stand down for a week. You did an excellent job out there. More than likely saved some lives. Be sure you get a good once-over in medical to make sure you didn't bring some of that Kublai Khan face powder back with you. Thank you, that's all I have."

The assembled group in the conference room moved for the door as the meeting broke up.

"Jack, you have a minute?" Niles asked.

Jack placed his case and notes back on the table. His uniform's silver oak leaves glittered in the light as he pulled out his chair and sat. "Sure," he answered.

"This development with Farbeaux is worrisome. Why would he switch interests when all he ever did was to go after antiquities? It's not making a whole lot of sense."

"I can't figure it myself. I did some rough estimating on the plane ride home. The anthrax, even if only thirty percent of it had been viable after so many years, it would have been worth five hundred million dollars on the open market."

"God almighty, Jack, would he have had any takers at that price?" Niles asked, astonished.

"That sum would have eliminated any low-budget fringe elements that pass themselves off as terrorists, but the new influx of Middle Eastern money has filled the wallets of JRA leadership and a few others, so they can afford it. Also, don't forget Osama bin Laden and his boys, so yeah, there are those willing to pay big money for crap like that. If we had had more time on this operation we could have passed this information on to the FBI through another channel and they could have set up some kind of sting and netted a whole bunch of bad guys," he said with regret.