Deep Fire Rising

She looked stricken for a moment. “You have to believe I didn’t know about that ship that sank. I heard it on the news. I was sick.” Her words came as a rush. “When I told you something unusual was going to happen in the Pacific, I expected that a research ship called the Sea Surveyor was going to discover the elevated levels of methane and eventually discover the tower.”

“I just came from the Surveyor.”

“Then you know they were doing studies on deep-ocean currents. Part of my job within the Order is to monitor some of our more prominent sites around the world, to ensure that nothing happens to them. I learned months ago about the Surveyor’s mission and was sure that they would find the hydrate deposit. Please, I didn’t know about the navy ship that went by there earlier.”

Her tone was plaintive. Mercer glanced around. A few tourists were watching them. From their sour expressions, it looked as though they thought Mercer and Tisa were having a lovers’ quarrel and fouling the romantic atmosphere. “We should get out of here,” he said.

Tisa immediately understood. “Where are you staying?”

Ira’s office had handled the travel arrangements. From inside his jacket pocket Mercer withdrew his itinerary. “Let’s see, the Hotel Kavalari.”

“Okay. I don’t think it’s far.”

“You don’t know?”

“Hey,” she protested playfully, “I’ve never been here before and I’ve spent most of my time at the ferry dock waiting for you.”

Since the moment she asked him to meet her on Santorini, Mercer had believed she knew the island well and felt safe here. It was yet another assumption that had been proven wrong.

The sun was well down on the horizon and the crowd was beginning to disperse. Tisa led Mercer toward the center of town, climbing a winding set of stairs to Ipapantis Street. The narrow lane was hemmed in by bars that were just getting going and glittering jewelry shops that were just closing. The air was scented with cooking smells, lamb and beef and the light aroma of the world’s premier olive oils. Packs of rowdy teens roamed in search of the opposite sex, their mood carefree and alive.

Like so much of the town, the rambling hotel was built into the cliff face and the rooms were accessible only by walking down rickety stairs. The maitre d’hotel checked Mercer in and led him and Tisa down three flights along the serpentine steps to a private balcony and the room. The room itself had been carved into the stone, and once inside they saw the bathroom had been left as undressed rock.

Mercer tossed his bag on the bed and excused himself to use the bathroom while Tisa stared at the darkening sea lapping a hundred feet below. He shaved as quickly as he could using the tepid water, dragged a stick of deodorant under his arms, and changed his shirt.

He paused coming out of the room. A breeze had kicked up, snapping and tangling Tisa’s hair around her head. She’d removed her glasses and faced the salt-tinted wind with her eyes closed. Her mouth was slightly parted, as if tasting the air. He was struck again by her beauty and how innocent she looked when he could not see her eyes. He committed the moment to memory.

Tisa felt his presence and quickly put on her glasses. She turned to face him. She looked guilty. “Do you want to talk here?”

Mercer grinned. “Nope. I want a drink. I spotted the hotel bar two floors above us.”

Five minutes later they were seated at an intimate table overlooking the caldera. The night had turned chilly and tall gas heaters threw coronas of warmth over them both. Not trusting an unfamiliar bartender with his usual, though not usually popular, vodka gimlet, Mercer had a double vodka and soda with a standing order for at least two more. Tisa drank water.

“Okay, now we can talk,” he said, feeling the knots of muscle at his shoulders losing a fraction of their rigidity. “Tell me about the tower.”

“In order for you to understand, I have to give you a little background. Do you know anything about acupuncture?”

Mercer hadn’t expected such an odd question and was taken aback. For a fleeting moment he was back in an underground cell in Panama with a psychotic Chinese torturer named Mr. Sun, his skin pierced with hundreds of tiny needles that Sun used to induce unimaginable pain from all parts of his body. The memory was fresh and while Mercer hadn’t been physically harmed, the mental scars still felt raw. The old terror welled up, forcing him to swallow heavily at his drink to cleanse his throat. “I know a bit.”

Tisa hadn’t seen his discomfort. “Then you know that the body is connected by force lines that transfer a person’s chi, or essence, and that these pathways can be manipulated to relieve stress or pain.”

“Or to cause it,” Mercer said mildly.

“There is a dark side to the art,” she acknowledged. “But used properly, acupuncture is a proven healing technique that works on animals as well as people. Do you believe that?”

“How’s this? I don’t not believe it.”

“Good enough. Now, what if I told you the earth was like the human body and that it too has pathways for a chi force.”

“Are you talking about magnetic lines?”

“No, not a tangible force. Something more” — she sought the right word and failed — “intangible.” She paused again. “I will give you the proof in a while, but for the sake of this discussion, accept that the earth has a life force, like a person.

Mercer nodded. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. For now.”

She shot him a secretive smile, as if she would make him pay for his skepticism. “This force is very real, you’ll see. Now if someone can detect the force and understand how it concentrates in certain places on the earth’s surface, they can also manipulate it.”

Mercer raised an eyebrow. “Acupuncture for a whole planet?”

“Exactly!” Tisa was delighted he understood.

“Please don’t tell me you built the tower as a giant acupuncture needle to ease earth’s aches and pains.”

She frowned at his mocking tone. “In a sense, that’s exactly what it is. What I’m about to tell you can be verified by checking oceanographic data. Over the past fifteen years a new ocean current has developed in the Pacific that is raising mean bottom temperatures.”

“Yes, I know. I spoke with scientists aboard the Sea Surveyor. My theory is that your group knew about it, and also knew that a large hydrate deposit was right in the current’s path. You built the tower to keep it stable.”

“You do understand. Methane hydrate can exist in only a very narrow range of temperatures and pressures and the new, warmer current would eventually cause a tremendous release. We had to do something. The tower uses the current itself to power machinery to chill a special liquid that keeps the deposit from erupting. Some methane manages to escape, however. That’s what I thought the Sea Surveyor would find and follow back to the site.”

“You said that you monitor other sites for your organization.”

“The Order.”

“Yes, the Order. Are there other towers like the one I was just at?”

“That’s the only one, but I think I know what you’re really asking. Are there other installations that can be used to harm people? The answer, I’m afraid, is yes. But I don’t know if my — if the splinter faction I mentioned has tried to gain control of them. I doubt it because many sites have full-time employees. The tower was easy for them to commandeer because it ran autonomously.”

“If you knew about the current and the methane hydrates, why not tell the world? The UN or someone? Why do it yourselves.”

“Because that is what we do, or at least that’s what we’ve been doing for almost twenty years.”

That shook Mercer and he asked incredulously, “Your group is a hundred years old?”

“Oh, gosh no. Its roots date back almost five hundred years. It’s only been the past two decades that we’ve done anything other than monitor the earth’s chi.”

“Five hundred?” Mercer rocked back in his seat. He had assumed the Order had only formed recently, another New Age fringe group speaking of chi and force lines. Five hundred years made it feel more like a religion.