Unfortunately, she’s also more than a little freaked out about this whole Hunahpu genetics thing. Right now, I’d guess she’s leaning toward abortion.’
‘You can’t allow that to happen, Mr. President,’ objects the colonel. ‘The unborn Gabriel child may represent our only means of accessing the Balam.’
‘Easy, Colonel, let’s give the girl a break. Dominique’s been through a lot over the last few months. It’s her life, her decision, not ours.’
‘Homeland Security has set her up with a new identity,’ Marvin says. ‘She’s living in south Florida under the alias, Andrea Smith. We’ve tried to keep her under twenty-four-hour surveillance.’
The colonel shakes his head. ‘MAJESTIC-12 should be in charge of the girl. Homeland Security has more holes in it than a Swiss cheese factory.’
‘We’ll let them handle it for now,’ Chaney says. ‘Dominique’s in no immediate danger, and locking her up in an underground bunker might negatively impact her decision about keeping the child. Anything else?’
‘Just one last thing,’ Marvin says. ‘In reviewing Julius Gabriel’s journal, I came across a passage that referenced a necromancer.’
‘A who?’
‘A necromancer. Comes from the Greek words necro, meaning death, and mancy, describing divination. A necromancer is one who claims to be able to communicate with the souls of the dead for the purpose of obtaining useful information. A few years prior to his own death, Professor Gabriel sought out the services of a necromancer named Evelyn Strongin, hoping to communicate with his deceased wife, Maria. We’ve been trying to locate Ms. Strongin, hoping she might be able to shed some light on Michael Gabriel’s genetic abilities. Unfortunately, her last reported address was in Peru. We can’t seem to locate any current information about her or her whereabouts.’
Chaney shakes his head. ‘Extraterrestrials. People talking to the dead. Whatever happened to the good ol’ days when all a president had to worry about were economic reforms and war in Iraq.’
4
The beige 2001 Dodge with the dented rear bumper turns off Mexican Route 180, following a local road through the poverty-stricken town of Piste.
Dominique slows the rental car, her dark eyes scanning the dilapidated stucco homes lining the roadway. The village is just like a thousand others located throughout Central America along the ‘Maya Route,’ a 120,000- square-mile area stretching east from the Isthmus of Tehuantepec through the Yucatan Peninsula, extending into Belize, Guatemala, and parts of Honduras and El Salvador.
A thousand years ago, the Maya were the dominant civilization in all Central America. Unable to rise against their Spanish oppressors, the Indians were left behind, their decreasing crops unable to compete in the marketplace. The culture is still very much alive, but the Maya are at the bottom rung of society’s ladder.
Dominique’s maternal ancestors were Yucatec-direct descendants of the Maya, and she bears the dark complexion and sculpted cheekbones of her people.
The dusty road widens into a four-lane highway that leads to the entrance of Chichen Itza, the capital city of the ancient Maya and the most visited tourist attraction in Mexico. Harbored within this 3.75-square-mile jungle- enclosed park are richly carved temples and shrines, the centerpiece being the Kukulcan Pyramid, a perfect ziggurat of stone that rises seventy-five feet above the grass-covered esplanade.
Dominique’s heart races as she thinks of the structure… and the alien vessel buried beneath its foundation.
For nearly a week, Dominique had remained at Evelyn Strongin’s home in St. Augustine. But after her initial contact with the spirit of Maria Rosen-Gabriel, the energy force had shut down, refusing further communication. This ‘silent treatment’ caused Dominique to have doubts about the validity of the first message… and its source.
‘No offense, Evelyn, but how can I be sure that was really Mick’s mother who spoke with me?’
‘Who else would it be, child?’
‘Maybe it was you, pretending to be in communication with your sister. Or maybe you weren’t even aware of what was happening. My background is in psychiatry. Over the years, I’ve seen some pretty bad cases of schizophrenia.’
‘The energy source was Maria’s.’
‘If that’s true, then why hasn’t she spoken through you again? It’s been days since the last communication. I can’t hang around this town the rest of my life. You’ve succeeded in freaking me out to the point where I’m seriously considering an abortion.’
‘Choose that route, and you not only condemn Michael, but humanity’s future as well.’
‘So says you. I need real answers, Evelyn, not riddles.’
‘Dominique, Maria senses your fear, and this is why she’s ended communication. Fear is one of humankind’s strongest negative emotions. Negative emotions create negative energy, and negative energy attracts negative spirits. Communicating with the dead is not like placing a phone call. Anyone can answer, including demons like the Abomination, who is as powerful as it is cunning. Sensing your fear, Maria felt it best to end the communication rather than tip our hand to the enemy. The success of future sessions will depend upon your ability to control your negative emotions. But first, you must fully commit to the journey.’
‘Again with the journey. What journey? How can I commit myself to something I don’t even understand?’
‘You do it by acquiring knowledge. Study the Mayan Popol Vuh. Familiarize yourself with its story of Creation. Seek answers from those you trust.’
‘That’s just it, I don’t trust anyone. I’ve never felt so scared and alone in my life.’
‘Julius and Maria felt the same way when they began their own journey, and I’m sure Michael shared these feelings. At times they lost sight of the path, and yet they continued on, their resolve strengthened by faith, knowing they were following their destiny.’
‘What would Mick do if he were me?’
‘He would seek answers from those who know. He would return to the land of the green lightning.’
Dominique turns into the entrance of Chichen Itza. To her surprise, the parking lot is deserted, the front gates sealed, guarded by a platoon of heavily armed American soldiers.
Captain Luke Magierski leaves his station and approaches, his hands resting on his M-16. ‘Sorry, miss, Chichen Itza’s closed.’
‘Actually, I was looking for the local vendors who used to sell inside the park.’
Magierski stares at the attractive woman with the long ebony hair and high cheekbones, her looks vaguely familiar. ‘They’ve set up shop on the grounds of the Mayaland Hotel. It’s about ten minutes from here.’ The soldier removes an identity scanner from his belt. ‘I need to scan you, it’s standard procedure.’
‘Of course.’ She extends her left hand out the window.
Magierski’s device snaps Dominique’s digital photo as it scans her open palm.
SMITH, ANDREA M.
RESIDENCE: WELLINGTON, FLORIDA.
NO OUTSTANDING WARRANTS.
‘Thank you, Miss Smith. You have a nice day now.’
She waves, then drives off.
Magierski stares at the photo. Wait a second, I have seen her before. Removing his Palm Pilot, he scans his old e-mails. Locates the People-First. com website. Checks the photo against the one posted. Holy crap, it’s her!
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching, he e-mails the photo of Andrea Smith to the
