Chapter 15

ID: 1762291   (Rated: 13+) Artifact Man  A thriller, new age, sci-fi novel about a strange man found in the desert. by Hyperiongate

ID: 1767468   (Rated: E) Chapter 14  The Artifact comes to life - so does JD11. by Hyperiongate

10:00 pm, Sunday, March 22nd
A small village south of Rome

As darkness fell across the small village, locals settled into their homes for the night. By 10:00 p.m., there was no one on the streets to notice the out of place black sedan that coasted down the main street. It stopped in front the only tavern in town. A small man came out right away, as if he had been expecting this particular arrival. He wrung his hands nervously as the car’s rear left window slid down. After exchanging a few words with the unseen car’s occupant, the barkeep hurried back inside. Almost immediately, the lighted sign out front went dark and the blinds were pulled down. The sedan slid around to park in the back.

Soon, another black sedan glided into town and found its way to the back of the tavern. The silent parade continued unnoticed by the village’s sleeping inhabitants. Finally a total of eight vehicles were parked behind the tavern. The nervous barkeep emerged from the back door and hurried off to his home. There were secret goings on in the tavern tonight; things he wanted no part of. He had been paid well to keep his mouth shut and that was what he intended to do.

Inside, eight robed men sat around an old wooden table; hoods hung over heads bowed in prayer. Candles provided the only light. Not a word had been shared, although all seemed to be chanting to themselves. At first the chants were disassociated, giving a sense of randomness to the deep rumbling voices. Slowly, almost imperceptivity, the chants began to join together and build in volume. After a few minutes, the robed figure at the head of the table lifted a gnarled cane that was leaning against the table. He tapped it on the floor loudly, three times. On the third tap, all chanting abruptly stopped. All of the robed figures raised their heads and pulled back their hoods. The man at the head of the table stood as the others faced him.

He closed his eyes and lifted his outstretched arms and said, “We live to serve.”

As one, the others repeated, “We live to serve.”

“We are your army. We are your sword.”

Again, the others repeated, “We are your army. We are your sword.”

“Direct us and we gladly do your bidding without fear; without question.”

The others repeated this final phase as well and then waited as their leader sat down and gathered his thoughts.

“Brothers, it is good to see you again. As always, our gathering is both a blessing and a curse. For all of our lives, and for generations before us, we have served Him as his mortal army here on earth. For this opportunity, we must give thanks. But alas, there is evil afoot. I fear yet another battle calls us to action.”

He paused to look at the faces around the table. He had known most of these men for more than half a century. During that time they had faced some of gravest threats that mankind would never know about. The Dark Angel was always working to bring civilization to an end. He had been doing just that since the Garden of Eden. The calling of the Brotherhood, their reason for being, was to smite down the Dark One, whatever face he may choose to show. With almost unlimited resources, the men that sat at this table, and those that had come before them, had succeeded in keeping evil at bay for more than two thousand years.

“He is here. The Dark Angle has manifested itself in human form once again. We must shake off the weariness of our old bones and take the battle to him.” He was grateful for the lack of fear his comrades showed at the news. They had been through this before and would go through it again, if not them, then their successors. They won their battles but the war they fought was never ending.

“Our information is uncertain. The Dark One is skilled at hiding himself, as always. This time he is in the United States. We have a report out of Las Vegas that an anomalous event has taken place somewhere to the north of there, possibly in a small city called Reno.

“Less than two days ago, I dispatched one of our swords to deal with the situation. Even as we speak, he is landing abroad. His orders are to be silent, swift and efficient. If it be God’s will, this will be over within a matter of days.”

“I will continue to keep you informed. Of course, we will be drawing on all of our considerable resources to make sure our man has all that he needs to get the job done. Are there any questions?”

There were none.

As he rose from his chair, the others rose as well. After a final look around, he left through the tavern’s back door. The others followed. Eight sedans passed out of the village as quietly as they had entered.


2:00 p.m. EST, Sunday, March 22nd
JFK airport, New York, New York

A non-descript man in non-descript clothing passed through passport control. His documents indicated that he was Brad Silverstone from Scranton. He told the agent that he was returning from a business trip to Budapest where he had attended a convention for companies that produced educational software. They didn’t inspect his carry-on bag or his checked luggage. If they had, they would have found software brochures and wrinkled clothing; just what one would expect.

His real name was Rudolf.

As he walked through the airport, he stopped to purchase a prepaid phone card using cash. An out of the way phone booth soon found Rudolf’s gloved hands punching in a sequence of numbers. He listened as the phone rang.

A woman’s voice said “Hello?”

Rudolf responded in a voice free of any accent, “Hi honey, I just wanted to let you know I landed safely. Yes, it was a long trip and I am beat. I should be home in an hour or so.” He listened for the response that would indicate everything was on track.

“That’s great to hear. I can’t wait to see you again,” came the coded reply.

Rudolf hung up the phone, forcing a smile, the smile of a man that was looking forward to seeing his wife again. His mind went back through the next steps. “Great” meant that his next contact was in Reno. “Again” indicated that his contact there was going to pick him up in a taxi at the Reno airport as planned, two days from now. In the meantime, it was time for Brad Silverstone to become Frank Thompson from Miami. Rudolf would use the next few days making certain that his trail was clean. Stepping into a stall at the nearest bathroom, he changed clothes and peeled off his mustache.

5:00 p.m. EST, Sunday, March 22nd
Washington, D.C.

The senator listened to the voice on the other end of the line without comment.

The message received, he hung up without so much as a “Good-bye.”

This was not good. His source has just informed him of the Brotherhood meeting only a few hours ago on the other side of the world. He knew they would be coming to him for help; help he would have to provide. Not for the first time, he wondered if the price he’d paid to get elected was worth it. The Brotherhood didn’t come to him often, but when they did, it was clear that he was their puppet. They had put him in power and could just as easily see him to the nearest exit.

After a few minutes, he picked up his phone. The information they had asked for was not something that would be easy to get. Officially, it wasn’t information that even existed.

But he had friends. He had puppets of his own and it was time to pull a few of their strings.

ID: 1768016   (Rated: E) Chapter 16  Lise talks to Annie about JD11 and the tank. Annie gets her gun. by Hyperiongate