Bowdeen’s complexion blanched slightly. “Yes, sir, he has. He explained your plan to set up an intelligence squad. I helped him select the boys who were best suited for the gig, I mean, task.”
“While you are conducting weapons training at the satellite compounds, I would like you to keep your eyes open for suitable candidates to fill the same roles there.”
“You mean you plan to have secret intelligence units deployed at all the other compounds too?” Bowdeen asked in surprise.
“Yes, is that a problem?”
Again, the mercenary denied that it was, but Metcalf had the distinct impression that he was lying. “You are to identify suitable individuals and give their names to my son Joshua. He will be responsible for vetting them and organizing the command structure. They will report to him, and he will report to me. The archwardens of the satellite communities are not to be involved, consulted, or informed of what you are doing. Always remember that you are to speak of the Order of Argus to no one besides Joshua and me. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Bowdeen nodded. “No one.”
“Very well, then.” Metcalf turned abruptly on his heel and made for the door. “Carry on with your work.”
***
Metcalf climbed back into the limousine and resumed his journey. Miles of cornfields ready for harvest flew past his window. Yes, harvest time was fast approaching, the diviner thought to himself. Sorting the wheat from the chaff, the worthy from the unworthy. All his plans were falling into place.
The limousine slowed and turned down a dusty dirt road into the middle of a flattened cornfield. A construction trailer stood some distance away. Metcalf’s driver steered the sedan through the ruts and bumps, parking beside the building.
The diviner entered and found a foreman with a hard hat consulting with Dr. Rafi Aboud—the latter dressed, as ever, in a thousand-dollar suit. They both looked up when the diviner entered.
Aboud gave an uncharacteristic smile.
“Leave us to talk in private for a few moments,” Metcalf told the foreman.
The man nodded wordlessly and left the trailer.
“What do you think of your hole in the ground now, Doctor?” Metcalf asked acerbically.
The foreign doctor smiled again. “I am very pleased. The work is progressing well. The underground complex is nearly complete. The laboratories, the incinerator, just as you promised. I have begun interviewing staff. Within a month, we will have the supplies we need.” He paused and let out a relieved sigh. “At last my work can begin in earnest.”
“Yours and mine both, doctor,” Abraham murmured. “Yours and mine both.”
Chapter 49 – Spirited and Lively
Daniel had been tossing and turning for hours trying to catch sleep. It succeeded in eluding him. Thankfully, he had disentangled himself from Annabeth’s embrace, pleading the excuse of travel fatigue. She had allowed him to spend the night alone in his own chamber. Tomorrow he would invent another excuse to put her off, and so it would continue. Soon her attention would be consumed by the pregnancy, and she would feel less inclined to pester him.
His mind was a jumble of images. What had happened in the cave on Anboto? Who had died this time? Daniel’s desperate ploy to protect the injured man had failed. The scion had clearly detected a pulse but then lied about it, hoping to prevent the mercenary from finishing the job. The man died in the hospital anyway.
Hunt was told by the police that it was a tourist who must have been exploring the depths of the cave and was shot by a person or persons unknown. They believed the attacker may have known his victim and wanted to settle a score with him. The explanation was a perfectly plausible one. Nevertheless, another person had just died because of this cursed relic quest. The diviner’s mad ambition was drowning Daniel in a sea of blood. He was carrying this burden of guilt because of his father’s obsession. Whoever Hunt thought his anonymous victim may have been, Daniel had seen a different face in the few seconds when the beam of his flashlight fell across the dead man’s visage. It had been one of the three from Karfi. Not the blond man, not the young woman. It was the tall brown-haired man this time, and Daniel recognized his features plainly.
He tried to think of something else to tire himself out. He even recited passages from the Bible. “The Lord is my shepherd...” He felt no conviction in the words anymore. They were a meaningless jumble of sounds, like saying the alphabet backwards. He drifted off before he came to the line about justice and mercy.
Daniel was standing on the hillside at Karfi once again. Nobody else was around. The sun was rising, and he was staring down at the rock-choked entrance to the tomb behind which three bodies lay sealed forever. Then, much to his horror, he saw three specters materialize from the other side of the dome. They drifted toward him, their feet hovering several inches above the ground, all three clad in burial shrouds.
The young woman was the first to speak. She stared directly at Daniel with unseeing grey eyes. “A man...” She stopped abruptly.
Next to her, the blond man hovered. The one who had died twice—first at Karfi and then again on Mount Ida. He opened his mouth and said, “Cannot serve...”
The third man wafted to join his companions. This was the one whose face Daniel had glimpsed on Anboto. He said, “Two masters...”
The three of them then spoke in unison. “A man cannot serve two masters.”
They hovered above the ground for a few seconds more and then, instead of disappearing, their forms became solid. Their feet touched the earth. Their burial shrouds metamorphosed into hiking clothes. The three linked arms and walked down the hillside away from the tomb. Daniel watched them go in speechless wonder.
He sat upright in bed, heart racing. He clutched
