David Sakmyster - The Mongol Objective

Just a box with three pyramidal indentations near its lid.

The old man smiles, then spins around after tapping his cane twice on the floor-an action which seems to trigger a reaction. The great onyx door appears, descending from a groove above and filling the space, slamming down and sealing the room forever.

The man walks up the stairs and out into the hot sun under the shadow of the Sphinx, and Caleb…

… snapped back to the present just in time to see Robert fall to his knees, still pushing. Grunting, screaming and finally cursing. He pounded his fist against the door, twice, coming away bruised and bloodied. He lowered his head, then stood up and spun around. The skin on his face was cracking. His suit and shirt were streaked with sweat, his eyes full of fury.

He gripped the necklaces in his bloody fist. “Why isn’t it working?”

Montross let out a soft chuckle. “For the simplest of reasons. You’re not worthy. You’re not the one.”

“I am, damn you. I am!”

Shaking his head, Montross said, “It was a long shot at best. You knew that. Caleb and I-we’re related at least. Half-brothers, an estimable relationship to the ancient people, but you’re only a brother-in-law. Did you really think it was enough?”

“It’s my birthright. Marduk has chosen me!” He stood fully erect, then composed himself, brushing off his suit and smoothing his head. “Marco, get on the phone. Call in the demolitions team. We’re breaking through.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Caleb said.

Marco turned away from them, set down the case with the tablet, then dialed on his satellite phone and turned away so they couldn’t hear.

Montross spoke up. “Come on, Robert. I knew you were ambitious, but really? You’re the chosen one? You, a Keeper? That’s all. You’re no messiah, no psychic even.”

“Shut up, Xavier.” He tensed, weighing his decision, and then barked to his commander. “Marco, once you’re done with that, kill this man. In fact, kill them both. I thought we might have needed all three brothers present, but if it doesn’t help, if only one needs to use the keys, then they’re expendable.”

“Wait!” Caleb protested. “I saw-”

But he never finished.

Marco put the phone away, pulled out his. 45, aimed it square at Montross’s unflinching face, and then turned and aimed to his left.

He fired three times. Twice in the heart, then right between Robert Gregory’s startled eyes.

Blood coated the black door as Robert Gregory stumbled into it, slumped to his knees and fell forward without a word.

Caleb continued to stare at the blood and bits of brain oozing out the back of Robert’s head, and didn’t look away until Marco bent down and not-so-gently tugged the three chains off his neck. He placed them back in the case. Then, keeping the gun on Montross and Caleb, put the phone to his ear again.

“Yes sir,” he said. “It’s done.”

Marco was quiet for a moment, listening, then nodded. He pushed a button on his shoulder-equipped transceiver and yelled out to his men. “Bring her down. And the boy.”

Caleb shook his head. “Not Alexander. What are you doing?”

“Easy,” advised Montross. “Just wait and see.”

Caleb stared at him. “What do you know about all this? What have you seen?”

He smiled. “I believe all will soon be revealed.”

Down the stairs came Alexander, his hands free, but his face wrapped in a mask of fear-which cracked wide open into a relieved smile when he saw his father. “Dad!”

But Caleb was too surprised to respond, too shocked at who followed Alexander down the stairs. He had assumed Marco meant Phoebe, and had intended to use both his sister and his son for leverage. But then she appeared, still moving with her usual catlike grace, her head held high like a priestess marching at last into her temple.

“Here,” said Marco, and handed Nina the satellite phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

Liberty Island, New York

Senator Mason Calderon took a moment to catch his breath after the exhausting climb. His aide and secret service agents were about to come to his side for support when his cell phone rang. He waved them off, then opened his phone as he slowly walked to the edge, catching up to the young boys.

After hearing the news from Commander Marco, he nodded grimly, but without a hint of surprise. “I feared as much, Commander. Then I fully authorize you to go to Plan B.”

He sighed, holding the phone a few inches from his ear so the echo of the gunshots didn’t make him wince. Poor Robert, he thought with a rueful smile. Oh, the man had his aspirations. His resources after all, were quite useful, and his access to the ancient texts, while providing nothing new to the knowledge the elders already had, at least corroborated it. They had voted to let Gregory play at his vaulted role, but at the same time, others were being groomed.

The chamber at the top of the crown was empty, cleared by the secret service just for Calderon and his wards. The two boys giggled, climbing up on the ledge to gaze out the windows.

“Wow!” one of them shrieked as he helped the other up to gape at the view of the harbor far below. “Gosh, we’re high up,” said the other.

“Boys,” Senator Calderon snapped. “Be quiet a moment, I need to take this call.” He waited, then heard a shuffling, some static, and then her voice.

“ Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi Nina. You don’t know me, but you’re about to do exactly as I tell you.”

“ And why in the world would I do that?”

“Because,” he said calmly, “I have something here that belongs to you.”

He smiled at the two boys, the twins, as they looked back at him with their mother’s eyes.

Nina listened as Marco held the phone to her ear. Her hands were still restrained behind her back and despite coming in from the sweltering heat, she trembled.

“ I have something here that belongs to you.”

“What-?” she started, and then froze as a vision suddenly blasted back at her. A vision of a…

… gigantic crowned head, with blue-green radiating spikes, and viewing holes in the crown. Two young boys look out with amazement at the view, then glance up, hoping to climb the last part up to the torch.

And a well-dressed man on the phone, a man with gray hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Nina? Are you listening.”

“I… I see you.”

Silence, then, “Do you, now?”

“Statue of Liberty.”

“My, my. What big eyes you have, my dear.”

Nina swallowed hard, her vision locked on the blood-stained onyx door, seeing beyond the splatters into the first layer of smooth darkness, the black portal that trembled in her sight like a vertical pool of water at night in a breeze.

And suddenly, she saw into it.

Into its depths that had become the past. She saw herself…

… lying on a slab-like table inside a white room. A pod. A decompression chamber. Unconscious, in a coma. Almost dead. George Waxman looking in on her with concern, and fear… Another room. Darker, but more spacious. At the end of a long, shadowy hallway with non-descript walls and doors. A subterranean facility somewhere. Soldiers standing guard at the only entrance.

Inside. Strapped to a table. Monitors checking her vitals. IVs hooked to her day and night. Machines to keep her alive, extract her wastes, keep her warm, nourish her body, monitor her pulse, blood pressure, heartbeat…

Hers. And the two heartbeats inside of her.

She sees it now, suddenly with abject clarity. Something so undeniable.

Her belly, swollen under the sheet. Nine months from the accident under the Pharos. Nine months from the night with Caleb.