Her teammates leaned over the table, hanging on her every word.
“Griffin, give me the bird,” she instructed.
“I beg your pardon?” The Brit drew himself up.
Cassie sighed. “Where’s the dove?”
“Why, in my room, of course. You don’t think I’d come trotting into the dining room with a priceless artifact under my arm, do you?”
“Then I’ll improvise. Do you have a sheet of paper on you?”
“Certainly,” he replied, reaching for a leather-bound notebook on the table beside his plate. He tore off a sheet and handed it to Cassie.
“You’re the go-to-guy for low tech solutions,” Cassie teased. She took the sheet and folded it into the shape of an airplane. “Let’s pretend this is the dove.”
“The Minoan priestess taught you origami?” Erik asked sarcastically.
“Ears open, mouth shut,” Cassie advised him. “In my dream, the dove came to life and flew up in the sky.” She mimicked the bird’s motion by holding the paper plane with its nose pointed toward the ceiling. “But then it changed direction. It flew toward the sunrise.” Cassie banked the paper aircraft sideways so that one of its wings pointed to the ceiling and the other to the floor. “Get it?” She nudged Griffin with her elbow.
The scrivener stared back at her vacantly for several seconds until the significance of her action dawned on him. “Oh, my goddess! I’ve been remarkably stupid!”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Cassie consoled. “By the look on Erik’s face, I’d say you’re still miles ahead of him.”
The paladin scowled. “Cut to the chase. What does it mean?”
Griffin took the paper airplane out of Cassie’s hands. He contemplated it ruefully before turning his attention to Erik. “When I calculated the latitude we were to search, I measured the distance from the bird’s beak to the end of its tail. That measurement put us in equatorial Africa.”
“Yeah, so what’s the problem?”
“I failed to consider the part of the clue that mentions the direction of the dove’s flight—east.” Griffin spun the airplane sideways on the table. “I should have measured the distance from wing tip to wing tip.”
Erik squinted down at the airplane. “But that would be longer, right?”
“Precisely,” Griffin concurred. “Translated into a measurement of latitude it means we’re too far south.”
“Then where should we be searching?”
“I’ll have to verify my calculations, but I believe our hidden artifact lies somewhere in the Sahara desert.” The scrivener gave Cassie an approving look. “I must say, your newfound ability to communicate with the Minoan priestess through your dreams should prove quite useful.”
Cassie beamed back at him. Then turning to Erik, she added pointedly, “And you know why I had that dream?”
“Beats me.”
“Because I was sleeping, dude. Sleeping.”
“OK, I get the moral of the story,” Erik admitted, rolling his eyes. “Never wake a sleeping dragon or a jet-lagged pythia.”
“I think I’ll have that motto engraved on my luggage,” Cassie murmured as she sipped the last of her coffee.
Chapter 19—Eyes and Heirs
It was shortly after sunset when Joshua Metcalf drove his car down a deserted stretch of dirt road and parked it next to a cinderblock foundation sticking three feet out of the earth and capped with a tar paper roof. He walked up to the odd structure. Two metal doors were set into the concrete at a forty-five-degree angle—like the entrance to an old-fashioned root cellar. Joshua swung the doors outward and revealed stone stairs leading down into darkness. The young man flipped a light switch on the side of the stairwell. He shut the doors behind him noiselessly. Clandestine behavior was now a part of his job, but it had always been a part of his nature. The room at the bottom of the stairs was cloaked in shadow. He flicked another light switch on the wall, and the shadows retreated before the glare of fluorescent ceiling lights.
Joshua gave a start when he saw his father seated behind a desk at the back of the room waiting for him. “I... I... didn’t realize you’d arrived before me, sir. I didn’t see your car.”
“That’s the point,” the diviner replied gruffly. “No one is supposed to see us together. That’s why we’re meeting here at the training facility instead of the compound.” He gestured toward a folding chair which had been drawn up to the desk. “Sit down.”
Joshua complied. He noted that Abraham’s voice wasn’t as commanding as it had once been. The fluorescents gave his skin a greenish cast. Gossip swirled around the compound that the loss of his favorite wife had dealt a heavy blow to the diviner. Joshua held a different opinion. It wasn’t pining for a lost love that was draining the life out of him. Rather, his father’s confidence must have been shaken to the core to know that a girl of fourteen could successfully defy him. Joshua suppressed a smile. Pride, not love, was the dominant emotion here. Nobody had ever dared thwart the diviner’s will during his five decades as prophet. Joshua hoped that someday he might be in the enviable position of exacting unquestioning obedience from the brotherhood. He expected that his new position among the Nephilim would further that ambition.
‘You know why I’ve called you here?” Abraham demanded with a little of his imperiousness returning.
“Of course, Father,” Joshua agreed smoothly. “I understand the need for secrecy. It wouldn’t do for the rest of the flock to know that I am the new head of the Order of Argus—your eyes and ears among the people. A spy can’t be very effective without the element of secrecy, now can he?”
“And what about the men you’ve chosen as part of your team. Can they be depended upon to keep their mouths shut when among their own families?”
Joshua gave a self-satisfied smile. “I wouldn’t have chosen them if they had any such flaw.”
“Good,” Abraham said curtly.
It was the closest thing to a compliment Joshua was likely to get. The young man continued. “I have a dozen men deployed
