“It’s not darkness we need!” She waved Miyuki away from the stone. Her friend’s umbrella had been casting a shadow over the crystal. As Miyuki stepped back, raw sunlight bathed the crystal. The star burst with radiant brilliance. “It’s
A loud crack sounded from the stone. The others moved back a few steps but Karen stood her ground.
A hidden seam appeared around the solid block. It outlined a four-inch-thick lid resting squarely atop the stone block.
Karen stepped forward.
“Be careful,” Jack warned.
She touched the block’s lid and pushed. The slab of basalt shifted, moving as easily as if it were Styrofoam. “It hardly weighs a thing!”
Jack moved beside her, his gaze fixed on the crystal star. He shadowed his hand over it. “Try pushing now.”
She did. The lid wouldn’t budge.
Jack removed his hand, exposing the crystal to sunlight again, and using a single finger, he moved the slab of stone to the side. “The star has somehow extended its weight-altering properties to the basalt.”
Karen was stunned. “Amazing. This must be how the magical ancients ‘floated’ the stones in the past.”
“It looks downright magical enough to me, that’s for damn sure.”
Miyuki, beside them, pointed into the block’s interior.
Karen leaned over as Jack pushed the stone lid back farther.
Inside the altar there was a carved alcove, lined by a shiny metal. Karen touched it. “Platinum.”
Jack nodded. “Like your story. The platinum coffins the Japanese divers discovered underwater during World War Two.”
Karen nodded. “But
Resting inside were the bones of a human skeleton.
Mwahu spoke at Karen’s shoulder, a whisper. “Horon-ko.”
Karen studied the remains. Clinging to the bones were a few scraps of dusty cloth, but what had captured her eye was a book, bound in platinum, clutched in the bony grip of the coffin’s occupant.
Carefully, she reached inside.
“No!” Mwahu cried.
Karen could not resist. She gripped the book and lifted it.
Disturbed, the bones of the fingers fell away to dust. Then, like toppling dominoes, the degradation of the bones spread. The rib cage collapsed, the femurs and pelvis disintegrated, the skull caved in. Soon the form was no longer recognizable.
“Ashes to ashes,” Jack mumbled.
Karen held the platinum book in her fingers, stunned by her thoughtless act of desecration.
Mwahu began to weep behind her. “Doomed,” he moaned.
As if hearing him, the first bullet struck the basalt altar, stinging Karen’s face with a spray of rocky shards.
Admiral Mark Houston climbed the five levels to the bridge of the USS
Reports coming from the region were growing worse by the hour. Apparently, the Chinese naval and air forces were merciless in their determination not to surrender Taiwan.
Passing through a cipher-locked hatch, Houston shook his head.
Still, he could understand the administration’s position. President Bishop had been murdered. Whether the upper levels in Beijing knew of the plot or not, the crime could not go unanswered.
Upon hearing of the escalating conflict, Houston had offered his services to remain on board and proceed to the beleaguered front. Calmer heads were needed out there. He was to oversee the situation and report his recommendations to the Joint Chiefs.
He climbed the last ladder, his knees protesting, and entered the bridge of the
“Admiral on the bridge!” an ensign called out.
All eyes turned in his direction. He waved them back to their duties. A groggy-eyed Captain Brenning pushed from his day cabin into the main bridge. He looked like he’d had less than an hour’s sleep in the past three days. “Sir, how can I help you?”
“I apologize for disturbing you. Just coming topside to stretch my legs. How are things faring?”
“Fine, sir. We’re thirty-six hours out and ready.”
“Very good.”
The C.O. nodded aft. “Sir, the Marine commander is over in debark control. I can let him know you’re here.”
“No need.” Houston stared out the green-tinted windows of the bridge. Rain sluiced across the glass. All day long a thin rain had been falling and a misty haze obscured the horizon. Having been holed up in his cabin since morning, conferring with Washington, he had primarily come up here to see the sun. He had thought a climb up to the bridge would do him some good, cheer him up. But instead he felt a heaviness grow in his chest. How many would die these next few days?
At the communication station, a lieutenant pulled headphones from his ears and turned to his captain. “Sir, I have an encrypted call from the Pentagon. They’re asking for Admiral Houston.”
Captain Brenning nodded to his day cabin. “Admiral, if you’d like, you could take the call in my cabin.”
Houston shook his head. “That’s no longer my place, Captain. I’ll take it out here.” He crossed and picked up a handset. “Admiral Houston here.”
As he listened, the cold of the island’s superstructure crept into his bones. He could not believe what he was hearing, but he had no choice. “Yes. I understand.” He handed the receiver back to the lieutenant.
The others must have sensed his dismay. The bridge grew quiet.
“Sir?” Captain Brenning stepped toward him.
Houston blinked a few times, stunned. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer to borrow your day cabin.” He turned and walked toward the door, indicating that Brenning should follow.
Once inside, he closed the door and turned to the C.O. “John, I’ve just received new orders and a new objective.”
“Where do they want us to go?”
“Taiwan.”
The captain blanched.
“Word has come down from the Hill,” Houston finished. “We’re officially at war with China.”
16
Cat and Mouse
