Secrets Of The Serpent's Heart (The Arkana Archaeology Mystery Series Book 6) (28 page)

Maddie drew herself up. Her eyes were burning with fury and grief. Tears streamed down her face unchecked. In mute rage, she turned and stormed out of the hall. The doors slammed behind her with a decisive bang.

During the stunned silence that followed her departure, Cassie walked around to the other side of the table. She rested her hands on the back of the Paladin’s empty chair as she searched the faces of her colleagues. “Erik would ask all of you the same question. Did he really die for nothing? The only way you can honor his sacrifice is by seeing this mission through—by rescuing Hannah and recovering the Sage Stone and shutting the Nephilim down for good. That’s the answer the Arkana owes him.”

The Pythia stopped abruptly. “I don’t have anything else to say.” Without another word, she returned to her seat.

Just as the chorus of voices resumed its chaotic rumble, Griffin stood up. “I’d like to add a comment or two, if I may.”

In an instant, the chatter ceased.

“Although Cassie has ably addressed all your concerns, there’s one topic we haven’t touched upon yet—the divergence between the collective and the individual.”

This comment spurred a flurry of confused speculation.

The Scrivener elaborated. “All of you are aware of the brutal methods which the Nephilim employ to achieve their ends. Kidnapping, murder and potentially even global terrorism. From birth onward, members of the cult are taught that obedience is the highest virtue. In consequence, they are willing to commit innumerable atrocities at the behest of the deranged fellow who calls himself their Diviner. Such is the damage that can ensue when unquestioning obedience supersedes personal conviction of right and wrong.”

“I’m not sure what your point is,” Michel Khatabi interjected testily. “But stooping to fear tactics to sway our decision is beneath you.”

“That wasn’t my intention at all,” the Scrivener countered. “I simply wanted to clarify my motives for tendering my resignation as Chief Scrivener.”

Cries of disbelief erupted from around the table.

“Please.” Griffin raised his hand. “Allow me to finish. Collectively, we are bound by the decisions of the Circle. As individuals, we must consult our own best judgment when deciding upon a course of action. Without that necessary counterbalance we would follow authority as blindly as the Nephilim, no matter how misguided that authority might be. Personally, I am convinced that the Sage Stone is Abraham Metcalf’s Achilles heel. If we deprive him of it, all his schemes will collapse like a house of cards. Therefore, should the Circle decide to terminate the relic hunt and declare a blackout, I will dissociate myself from the organization and pursue the Minoan relic alone.”

The assembly fell still. Shock had evidently taken the place of protest.

The Scrivener gazed around at his flabbergasted audience. “Of course, I would welcome the support and assistance of the Arkana but, either way, I intend to see this quest through.” He glanced down at Cassie. “I haven’t discussed my decision with our Pythia yet so I can only speak for myself.”

Cassie jumped up beside him and took his hand. “Griffin speaks for me too. We didn’t battle our way this far to fail in the end. Trust me when I tell you that we mean to finish what we started.”

The Scrivener gave a slight smile. “It would appear the two of us are in accord as to our future plans. The direction the Arkana chooses to take now rests with you but I would hope that you understand the necessity of standing with us in this fight. The survival of the troves depends upon it.”

They both sat down.

Jun looked around at his fellow members. “Does anyone wish to offer any final comments?”

No one spoke.

The old man nodded. “Very well. I will officially close discussion of this topic. Since the Chatelaine is unlikely to return, I suggest we now take a vote on her proposal.”

Cassie reached for the Scrivener’s hand once more and gripped it tightly.

“All those in favor?” Jun announced. He waited several seconds but there were no votes to count. “All those opposed?” Thirty two hands shot up in the air including his own.

“Brilliant!” Griffin exclaimed.

Dr. Rafi Aboud sat in the office of his underground laboratory reviewing a batch of test results. For the past two months he had tried, with only limited success, to develop a vaccine which would quell the strain of pneumonic plague he had created. He was running out of patience with himself. His own mild disappointment was nothing compared to the vocal displeasure of both his benefactor and his business associate Vlad. Their demands for immediate results grew more strident with each passing day.

He scanned the data before him. The last test subject had taken days to succumb. At least Aboud had succeeded in slowing the advance of the bacteria. He’d made some additional adjustments to the vaccine formulation and was hopeful that the next test might produce a better outcome. He smiled morosely. When he first began the testing process, he’d been worried about how to obtain human subjects. Much to his own amazement, his benefactor possessed an inexhaustible supply of people he wanted to get rid of. The trait seemed to run in the family.

A month earlier, Aboud had been surprised by a visit from one of his benefactor’s many sons. The young man introduced himself as Joshua and explained that he was the head of security for his father’s organization.
 
He told the doctor that he was tangentially involved in the supply chain insofar as he was the man responsible for identifying malcontents who were then sent to Aboud’s laboratory. Although Joshua wasn’t privy to what went on inside, he did know that those who entered never returned. Given that fact, he was wondering if the doctor might help him with an awkward situation.

When Aboud followed Joshua out to the reception area, he was confronted by the sight of two of Joshua’s men carrying what appeared to be a body bag. They placed it on the floor. Joshua explained that his father had nearly been assassinated by the person now lying within said body bag. Joshua was aware that the doctor’s laboratory contained an incinerator and he wondered if the doctor might do him the favor of disposing of the remains. Considering the circumstances, Aboud felt it in his best interests to comply. He instructed the security team to leave the corpse and gave his assurances that he would take care of the problem. Joshua left satisfied, presumably never to bother the good doctor again.

Since Aboud was a practical man, he saw no point in destroying something he might be able to use later. The body was still fresh enough to harvest odds and ends. He extracted the organs and removed slabs of tissue to culture several new batches of vaccine. After he had finished salvaging what he needed, the scraps were incinerated along with the most recent test subject. The matter should have ended then and there. Aboud shook his head.

When Joshua showed up with four sentries carrying another body bag two weeks earlier, the doctor began to think he’d gone into the waste management business. His benefactor’s son didn’t bother to explain how this latest subject had come to his untimely end. The chief of security quite literally dropped the remains on Aboud’s doorstep and presumed the doctor would know what to do.
 

The doctor sighed philosophically and prepared for another salvage operation. Once the body had been placed on his dissection table, he performed a cursory inspection to determine if it was still fresh enough to harvest. Aboud drew back in surprise when he realized that this particular body was quite fresh—in fact it was still alive. He found himself wondering if Joshua and his men had even bothered to check for a pulse. As things stood, it would have taken more than a simple carotid artery test to discover the feeble heartbeat that remained. The man might not be dead but he was hovering dangerously close to that point.

The doctor immediately performed a thorough examination of the subject and concluded that it might be possible to save him. Of course he had lost a significant amount of blood from several bullet wounds. Aboud called in his team and they all went to work. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on the doctor. His staff had spent months inventing ever more efficient ways of extinguishing life from the human body. They soon proved to be equally adept at forcing life to remain, no matter how unwillingly. The bullet wounds were cleaned and disinfected. Several blood transfusions later, it became obvious the patient would survive. Aboud dismissed his team and took charge of the subject from there. When the man eventually showed signs of regaining consciousness, Aboud sedated him. Less trouble that way.

The doctor finished checking his test results and rose from his desk. He whistled an old tune from his homeland as he walked into the decontamination chamber where his hazmat suit hung on a peg. There he methodically donned his coverall, helmet and gloves as a prelude to conducting yet another experiment. After he had taken care to cover every square inch of his body, he moved on to the testing area.

His technicians had already strapped the unconscious blond man into the plastic chair. Aboud attached an oxymeter to the man’s finger. Then he gave a signal to his assistants on the other side of the glass wall. One of them waved back to indicate that the vital signs were being transmitted properly.

The doctor retrieved a gas canister from a corner of the room. Then he placed a breathing apparatus over the man’s nose and mouth. The subject twitched briefly. Aboud attached the tube from the canister to the mask over the man’s face. Then he turned the valve on the gas canister to release its deadly contents through the breathing tube.

The man was returning to consciousness. He blinked and struggled to sit up. His eyes opened wide with alarm when he realized his predicament.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Aboud said. “No matter how brief your stay may be.”

THE END

"There's a 52% chance that the next Dan Brown will be a woman ... or should we just make that 100% now?" --Kindle Nation

Nancy Wikarski is a fugitive from academia. After earning her Ph.D. from the University of Chicago, she became a computer consultant and then turned to mystery and historical fiction writing. Her short stories have appeared in Futures Magazine and DIME Anthology, while her book reviews have been featured in Murder: Past Tense and Deadly Pleasures.

She has written the Gilded Age Mystery series set in 1890s Chicago. Titles include The Fall Of White City (2002) and Shrouded In Thought (2005). The series has received People's Choice Award nominations for best first novel and best historical. She is a member of Mystery Writers of America and has served as vice president of Sisters In Crime - Twin Cities and on the programming board of the Chicago chapter.

She is currently writing the seven-book Arkana Mystery series. Her work on the Arkana volumes has prompted Kindle Nation to call her one of its favorite authors.

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