

Of All Things Forgotten

The Greatest Part of Time.

Book one of 'The Extinction Test' series.

By Alan VanMeter

Copyright 2016 Alan VanMeter. All rights reserved.

For the Oak Island team;

Rick, Marty, Don, Dan, Dave, and Craig.

Be careful what you wish for gentlemen, and remember that not

everything is as it appears.

P.S. - You should seriously consider some heavy security if, or when you go pulling things up. There are many folks who have a completely vested interest in the potential artifacts in one way or another, and for goodness sake don't let anyone go opening up that Ark!

Table of contents:

Chapter one: 7

Chapter two: 23

Chapter three: 44

Chapter four: 59

Chapter five: 77

Chapter six: 108

Chapter seven: 126

Chapter eight: 166

Chapter nine: 203

Note: All chapters are bookmarked.

There are two tragedies in life. One is not to

get your heart's desire.

The other is to get it.

\- George Bernard Shaw; Man and Superman -

Dedicated to the Green Dressed Lady Immortal

Thank you for showing me how to transform

my dreams into reality.

Chapter One:

Tamrit region, Ti-n-Bedjadj, of the Tassili-n-Ajjer plateau, North Africa. 150,000 BCE.

The sun was still hot, even though dusk approached, keeping most of the other people inside the much cooler caves that were plentiful in the sharp rocky canyons. One lone man, with golden bronze skin, stood on the rim of the highest crest looking out at the plains in the distance. The disks where the gods lived were plentiful out there today, as if something was happening. He knew he must go and talk with the gods again, because he felt an overwhelming draw towards them.

As he began walking the distance to the plains, the man thought of why he was so different from all the other people. For one thing, he knew his name. The others seemed only to have grunts, shrieks, or growls for names, and they rarely responded to these calls anyhow. They didn't appreciate his joining them so suddenly, and had even tried to injure him, but just like the gods had told him; nothing could cause him harm.

The moon was well up by the time he walked out onto the grassy plains, and a lion growled at him from nearby. He wasn't afraid, and the lion must have sensed this, as it left him alone. Instead he was glad to be back among creatures with which he could converse. It was hard not being able to communicate with the other people in the caves.

As he approached the closest disk, a door opened in it, and a ramp lowered for him. He trotted right up into the disk.

"Welcome back Atum." A familiar mind greeted him. It was Khepri Ra.

Atum didn't speak, but he willed his mind to clearly say, "I am glad to be back amongst the gods Khepri Ra."

"We sensed your loneliness Atum, and wish to give you some company." The god thought to him.

"I would like that, very much." He smiled.

"Good, now we will put you to sleep for a while, and when you awake, you will have a surprise." Khepri told.

Atum nodded with a grin.

When he awoke, Khepri told him to come back in one full change of the moon, and he would receive his company. His immediate surprise was a sparkling blue crystal as long as his palm.

"Use this and try to talk to the others Atum, it will help. It is important that you can communicate with them, for you have much to teach them." Khepri thought.

"I want to stay here. It is better here." Atum begged.

"It is far too important for you to teach them. They are relatives to you, and we find them worthy." Ra sent.

He relented. "I will do as you wish."

The others were not glad to see that he returned, as he could tell by their disapproving grunts. When he showed them the blue crystal, they all were in mystified awe of it. When he started to try to teach them basic words, and sounds to form words, the crystal glowed, and then some of them actually seemed to get a glimmer of what he wanted.

Food was plentiful all around them, so it was easy for Atum to eat. Still he was lonely, though he tried talking with the others often; he watched the moon each night, eagerly waiting to return to the gods. Several times he dreamt of large buildings cut from stone, and many people living in these. Other times he would dream of the disks of the gods flying all about.

He didn't remember anything past two moons ago, just waking up and being told what his name was. When he'd asked where he came from the Ra told him he willed himself into existence and rose from the waters of the great Nun, the ocean of darkness in the night sky. Though Atum knew the concept of a Mother and Father, he also knew that he had neither. This didn't bother him, rather just the loneliness did.

One night, not long before he would return to the plains, one of the females of the other people stayed with him into the night. She was comprehending more of the language he spoke to her than any of the others. As they lay together to sleep, she pleasured him, and Atum was very pleasantly surprised. It was three more days before she repeated the venture, and he more than willingly complied. Then it was the night he would return to the gods, and Atum set off. The female followed only until she saw where he was headed towards, then she sadly retreated home.

As he entered the disk, he heard a voice in his mind.

"Welcome back Atum. We are glad you are with us again." Ra smiled.

"Yes! I too am glad to be home." He thought with joy.

"Atum..." The thought was gentle, but almost reprimanding, "This is not your home I'm afraid. Your home is this world you chose to rise unto."

"Why can't I stay here?" He implored.

"We promised you some company my son, and now wouldn't you like to meet your children Atum?" Khepri asked.

"My children?" he was confused.

"Yes, they were issued forth from you when you slept here last time."

Two young teenaged children walked from a back chamber to him. One was a boy, and the other a girl. They looked much like him with their golden bronze skin, and not too much hair as the other people had. Both smiled warmly. They looked almost identical to each other.

"Hello Father." The girl offered sweetly, speaking with her voice.

"Thank you for our life Father." The boy smiled.

"What are your names my children?" Atum was in awe.

Ra interceded, "It is up to you to name them my son."

Atum smiled, and he looked them over thinking carefully before announcing, "You my son I will name Shu; for you raise my spirit like the clouds are raised on the air, and my lovely daughter is named Tefnut; after the life giving moisture from the air that Shu represents."

"So let it be written!" Khepri Ra thought with power.

Another Ra that Atum did not know the prime designator of, sent; "Your children Shu and Tefnut will be company to you for your whole life. They are to wed each other, and are to have relations only with each other. Their children will do likewise, until the specified time has come, and then your blood will mix with the other people. This will make humans holy, like you are."

"How will we know when the specified time has come?" Atum asked.

This same Ra answered, "When evil has entered the Royal Solar family, and desecrated the holy bloodline. Then your descendants will mix with the other people on your world."

Khepri Ra added, "This is also when your children's children must hide the great gift we will now give to you."

From a back chamber a different Ra brought forth a long staff of the same brilliant blue crystal as the small one previously given to Atum.

"Is this to talk to the others with also?" He asked as he looked it over, seeing written words all over it that he knew.

Khepri told him, "No my son. This is the Staff of Ra's power. Be very careful with this. It will grant you what you would desire in your mind, and it can easily kill. One thing it cannot do is give life, though it can repair health."

"Use this gift to start your new civilization, Atum, and to establish your rightful place as leader." The other Ra thought, and then, "You should be merciful with its use."

Khepri added, "Pass it to your son when you are ready, and then he will do the same for his own son."

"How do I use it?" Atum asked.

"Just think to it like you do when you think to us, and it will grant your thought." Khepri sent.

Atum was silent in his mind as he was reticent to ask the next question.

"What is it son?" Khepri wondered.

"What of my relations with the other female? Is that allowed?"

Khepri smiled, "You may have relations with anyone you wish son, but you will never have any children besides Shu and Tefnut."

Atum grinned at his children. "With them I need no others."

The other people were equally terrified of the two teen children that he brought back with him, as they had been of him at first. These proto-humans only knew that these strange beings came from the things on the plains that they couldn't fathom, which they were terrified of.

The family of three Solar Gods slept together in easy peace, and they all dreamed of a mighty civilization of their children's children. A message was thought to them all by the Ra, and that was to be steadfast and to hurry, as there wasn't much time.

It didn't take long for the others to not only accept them, but to rely upon them for so many things, and the Solar Gods taught the people painstakingly with every moment they had. One of the first things they taught them was how to raise food crops in abundance; the arts of agriculture. Then they showed the people how to capture and propagate herd animals for their use. This took many years to accomplish, and all the while they were instilling language in the people. The Solar Gods lived far longer than the others, so they were able to spread their knowledge through many generations first hand.

Shu and Tefnut had twins naturally, but also with some help from the power of the Ra, and these were also a boy and a girl. The first natural born of the Solar Gods; so they were named Geb, and Nut. Geb meaning Earth, and Nut symbolizing the sky. This was the second divine couple of identical twins as decreed by the Ra.

Approximately 1590 BCE, Earth normal time. In high orbit around the second barren planet of the Cygnus 61 system. On board the Intra Galactic Trading ship named Core House Exchange Vessel OX-3982.

Zuzx strolled arrogantly down the avenue with beaming pride. He was just coming from the purchaser's shop he dealt with for his sometimes shady exchanges of forbidden materials. He'd done well from his last haul he'd made on his favorite picking spot; Earth. A flea bitten, two bit world that was off-limits by Legacy order, but he was quick and efficient in raiding some of the goodies. Now he was on his way to meet some of his friends who'd likewise been looting this sector. The location was down in the raunchy alleys of the vessel, where trade was least restricted. He was flush with ability credits, and ready to party!

The entertainment establishment he was to meet them at was geared for a good time, as there were no limits on what a being could imbibe there, by special permit. He strode in full of vigor and quickly saw an old friend.

"Gagoth! You old worm, how in Zerkle's name are you still in one piece?" Zuzx boomed with his hearty voice.

Gagoth slithered his head around to see Zuzx, as he was an actual worm, and he hissed loudly.

Zuzx laughed and spread his wings. "Ha! I too am very glad to see you my friend, let us imbibe!"

After several rounds of intoxication by various means, the two started telling jokes.

"How many earthlings does it take to start a fire?" Zuzx queried.

Gagoth hissed, and shook his head.

"It depends upon how big of a fire you wish, but one will do. You just have to use an incinerator beam.... Ha, Ha, Ha!" Zuzx laughed with smugness.

Gagoth shook his head and took another hit.

Zuzx kept laughing, he thought his joke was so funny. Gagoth took yet another hit.

"Okay, okay... here... this one will get you my friend. Do you know why the earthlings drag their women by their hair?"

Gagoth shook his head.

"It is so they won't fill up with dirt! Ha! Ha, Ha, ha." Zuzx was again so proud of himself.

The worm took another hit, and then hissed a bit.

Just then a very large beetle crawled up to their table.

"Onxthct! You bastard!" Zuzx roared with laughter. "I haven't seen you in age's friend. What in the wicked universe have you been up to?"

The beetle clicked and buzzed for a bit and Zuzx followed every bit of it.

"That is impressive indeed Onxthct. I sure wish you would tell me where this rich world you found is located my good friend. Here have a hit." Zuzx offered eagerly.

With a wheezing hiss Gagoth got animated.

"What's that?" Zuzx asked.

Gagoth hissed some more.

"Oh, sure buddy. We were just telling some jokes Onxthct, and Gagoth told me to tell you one, to see if you thought it was funny." Zuzx told the beetle.

It buzzed and clicked.

"Okay, here is one. Why did the earthlings build the pyramids?"

Both the beetle and the worm shook their heads.

"It was either that or get cooked by the Ra's incinerator beams!" Zuzx again burst with bawdy laughter.

The beetle buzzed and clicked so much it spat a wad of ugly goop on the table. Both Zuzx and Gagoth were suddenly silent as they witnessed this, and then they both started laughing again in their own ways.

"I made him laugh so hard he puked!" Zuzx boasted.

At that moment another being suddenly materialized from thin air. A very small creature, compared to them anyhow, a being with a large head and shimmering blue skin stood before them. The whole establishment became suddenly very quiet, so much so that you could hear a pin drop.

"Zuzx Gadzertderkel, you are under arrest for trafficking in forbidden materials." The being said through its impossibly tiny mouth slit.

It was the last being anyone in the place wanted to see, a Legacy member for one, but then lastly a Chondeauxk type. They were physically weak as could be, but they could kill with a mere thought.

"I submit to you, freely." Zuzx responded.

The worm and beetle cowered to the floor.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared, the legacy member again vanished, but this time so too did Zuzx.

He was instantly in a plain room of circular design, with absolutely no furnishings. The Legacy member was in front of him, looking deeply into his eyes, with such large, pure black, egg shaped orbs. Zuzx was mesmerized, and helpless.

"We see your guilt Zuzx." It thought to him. "This time we implore you to cease your fruitless ventures, and find something better to do. We will not impose punishment on you this time, but you are on notice. We warn you also, that we are deploying Legacy hunters, of the Yuiltont sequence, to this sector. They will kill you if they catch you on a forbidden world Zuzx. Do you understand this?"

He let them know that he did, fully.

"You are free to go. Please go in good intent." The Legacy member thought.

January 22nd, 1561 CE. York House, off the strand, London.

The coach showed up shortly, just as the messenger had told them it would. Fortunately there was a thick fog to keep unwanted eyes from seeing the event. The lady of the house had dismissed all but two of the servants, both midwives. They had everything prepared already.

Lord of the house, Sir Nicholas Bacon, had the door and gate open before the coach arrived. The woman inside the coach was gently led by her own two servants, both also midwives, inside and to the first floor guest quarters that was also a master bedroom. Lord Bacon closed the gates and front door quickly, and then he helped the coach around to the stables in back, out of sight.

The three women in the house bowed deeply to the woman who was completely veiled and covered so no one could see her face.

"My Queen. We are here to serve you." The lady of the house spoke reverently.

"My sweet child, and friend, Ann. Call me Lizzy please, you must." She paused clutching her abdomen. "Ohhh!"

The midwives led her to the bed quickly and undressed her.

"Please stay with me my friend, I need someone to talk to, or scream at." Lizzy tried to joke, but was in obvious pain. "If Dudley were here, I'd scratch his damned eyes out!" She implored of Ann.

Within an hour she gave birth to a fine young baby boy. The delivery was hard, but the midwives were skilled. As soon as the Queen could talk coherently, she called for Lord Bacon to attend her.

"My Queen." He bowed loyally low.

"Nicholas, I need a great favor from you my friend. I cannot sire this bastard child of mine! It would ruin everything." Elizabeth cried. "Nor can I see it be secreted away, either."

He breathed deeply as she paused. "My Queen, we will gladly raise your son as our own; with love and discipline, balanced well." He offered.

Elizabeth let a deep sigh of relief. "Oh... I am so glad I can rely upon you my dear friends! Oh...my Lord! You need not fear of compensation, some of that is already taken care of. Nicolas, be a dear, and help my drivers unload the cargo for you. Don't tell anyone of it, especially the auditor." She laughed weakly, and then added, "Oh, I do hope your back is sturdy." Again she laughed.

Elizabeth gave the child his Christian name of Francis, before she was secreted away the next day. Lord Nicholas Bacon, and his second wife Ann Cooke-Bacon, gladly accepted their newly swaddled charge, and determined to raise him with proper care and guidance. They had one son already, Anthony, and would treat Francis just as if he were their own also. The many heavy gold bars Nicholas had helped unload into his possession made the burden very easy to bear.

July 2nd, 1951 CE. Embudo, New Mexico.

Another fierce blast of wind coated with sand grains tore against the crawling man's face. He didn't even feel the grains digging into his eyes, as the sharp cactus needles deeply imbedded into his knees, feet, and palms; were all he could sense, while his head swam with merciful visions. This petition for a blessing of protection must be fully paid for, as Christ paid... with much suffering and blood.

"Mi Dios! Estes es mas sufrimiento por mi." He rasped with hardly any moisture in his vocal cords. He could feel blood starting to coat his throat. "Én los nombre de Christo!"

Another pelting blast of sand ripped into him, and a coyote howled in suffering nearby in the darkness.

It seemed like many lifetimes to him, but it actually only took him twenty more minutes to finish the crawl to his destination. At the top of the rugged hill, near the old mine works of the gringo, he prostrated himself before God.

"Mi Dios... Mi Padre... Papi." He cried out with parched lungs. Then he laid out face down to spread his arms to the side forming a cross. He earnestly tried to stay awake through the long night, to feel the suffering, but he fell asleep from exhaustion some time during the night.

Ignacio awoke shivering while it was still dark, and he said his personal prayer of sufferance to the Lord, but he never stood. He began the long crawl back down the rocky hill, all the way home. Ignacio was only half way finished. It had to be done, as the elders said that their charge was extremely vulnerable. She needed the power of Christ himself to protect her, as Satan would indeed be trying to find her, as well as the Lamb. He had infallible faith however, that his petition and suffering would be accepted, and granted by God. It was a good thing they didn't have to protect the Lamb though, as his Bride would be hard enough alone to defend.

Ignacio stopped and picked up a small pebble, putting it in his mouth to suck on for some saliva stimulation. His fingers were bloody and raw, and the cactus strapped to his palms was so deeply imbedded that it wasn't coming off even without the strap. A wonderful vision and feeling washed over him, intensely and mercifully, from God. He saw the Bride of the Lamb with tears in her eyes, and then he saw them light up as she realized she was to be the wife of God. Ignacio was infinitely glad, and knew he would do anything at all to make that possible for her, and his King. He looked up and saw a very bright morning star, and he felt such joy. 'Born this day is the Bride of the Lord!' he thought, but in Spanish.

There was just one thing however, all the Penitentes wished they knew who she was! After all it would make the protection of her so much easier. They only knew she was close by, somewhere near. Now Ignacio had seen her face, and that was something!

I will always consider the best guesser

the best prophet.

\- Cicero -

Chapter two:

September 28th, 2008 CE. Colorado Springs, Colorado.

I blow out the candles on my cake with a bright wish; to be just like my dad when I grow up. There are only ten of them, so it is easy for me to get them all in one big breath. Everyone applauds, and then they sing 'Happy Birthday' to me. The cake is served along with ice cream to everyone; which is mother and father, my maternal grandparents, and my three best friends from school. That was exactly who I invited, no one else.

My dream is to become an Air Force jet pilot, just like my dad. There is no reason in the world why I wouldn't be granted my wish. The Air Force Academy is right there in plain sight on the sloping base of the most magnificent mountain in the continental United States; Pikes Peak. Our family of three attend church services there just about every Sunday. My grades have been perfect marks, as I know what I have to do to make my dream come true. This is my destiny.

I receive my gifts after the cake and ice cream, finding that my parents had gotten me just what I most asked for; a new computer. Eagerly I take to the machine, after the party of course, and right away I join an on-line fantasy role playing game. My character is a meek, non-warrior class, but of a powerful magical class instead. This single lengthy quest takes much of my free time until Christmas that year, but the cast and crew of myself and four other on-line players make it to the final battle with strong spirit. Here though we encounter a seemingly un-defeat able foe. He is a dark wizard with an amazing golden, and jewel encrusted staff of supreme power. Every time we try to take him down, or sneak past him even; we are all slaughtered quickly. Only certain non-lethal spells seemed to have any effect at all on him, and those are incidental at best.

I am the one to solve it. Telling the crew of my plan, they agree to give it a try, as everything else has failed miserably. I had several of the strongest characters make suicide attacks at the wizard, while I slip in to his lair off to the side, and cast a simple spell. The dark wizard's staff spits fire balls at the attackers, and I cast my 'tickling butterfly' spell. A butterfly materializes near the dark wizard, and lands unseen on his ear. The wizard's free hand is held up casting a protective shield in front of him, so he unconsciously uses the staff to scratch at his ear. It spits a fire ball into his own head, exploding it. We have defeated him, and won the game. I, Jeffrey Christopher, am the new hero on the virtual block.

Then, not long after the New Year, the Air Force men come one Saturday afternoon. My mother tells me to go to my room before she even answers the door for them. Her tone is grave, and the look on her face is one I will never forget. I try listening through my bedroom door, and then even open it quietly just a crack. I hear the man mumbling something lowly, and then mother bursts into awful tears.

I know what it is, just from how gut wrenching her moans and sobs are, and I run to mother screaming with anguish. We both hold each other as the Air Force men look on sheepishly.

Finally I turn to the man who had done the talking and say with tears running freely, "My dad was brave."

The man wipes a single tear away, and nods. "Yes son, your dad was very brave."

It wasn't until after the funeral that we found out just how brave father had been. His two seat jet trainer was struck by a bird on its final approach to landing. He ordered the trainee to punch out, while he stayed with his aircraft to try to control the inevitable crash as they were over a residential area. Dad controlled the crash down the middle of a street, only destroying some cars, and singeing some houses, but no one else, save him, was killed. If he would have punched out too, there almost certainly would have been multiple civilian fatalities. Still, both of us are devastated.

Everything changed! All my dreams and wishes seem to fade like steam vapor. Mom is also now far different. No longer is she joyful and happy, now she is sullen and broken hearted. This is when I stopped believing in God. There was no way there could be one, not to let us suffer so much. It is just the way life is, there are no divine blessings. That summer mother grows restless, and she can't stand to be in that place any longer. She put the house up for sale, and we move to be closer to her family in Belen, New Mexico.

Even before the next school year begins, I find I am an outcast in this small town. Though I already know some preliminary Spanish, I learn some new words rather quickly. Like gringo, joto (pronounced hoto,) puto, puta, and the ever-popular pinche' joto. I also learn how to run fast then, real fast, or take the beat down. To put it mildly, life sucks... real badly. It is interesting to me that the traditional local cuisine is amazingly delicious though, and I wonder how people who can create such joy with their food, could have such rotten kids.

One thing occurs soon after our arrival that saves my sanity, as I was surely losing it. Mom is all but gone, and her parents are taking care of us now. I am asleep and entering the dream realm when I feel slowly pulled to a far-away place. It is a desert road near some barren looking mountains, and the sky is a vivid blue. Strangely I can feel a breeze across my face, and I look down to see some small desert flowers swaying in the wind. I kneel down to touch the flower, and it feels right. As I am kneeling I can feel the harsh sun baking my thigh and knee through the tightened fabric of my jeans.

Just then a man walks up to me. I look up at him... it is my father!

"Dad!" I just about jump into his arms, and the embrace is returned with gentle love.

"Son, I'm sorry for you, and the pain that you and your mother are suffering in. It was... well, a tough break, but I need to tell you something very important. I don't have long son." He tells me.

"What is it dad?" I let father set me down.

"You have to get through this son. You must go on and achieve your destiny. This is so important Jeffrey, because you have a very special destiny."

"What is it dad?"

"You will find it son. Just try." He smiles, and his face is radiant, as if he is happy.

"Is this heaven dad?" I look around again.

"No son, this is just a place where we can meet. I will try to arrange this again."

Just then I feel myself yanked away at a billion miles an hour, and I sit up in bed, very startled. Try though I might, I'm not able to make contact again.

I focused on bringing mom back around, instead of on my own miseries. It works! She occasionally wears her bright smile again. Before long she even finds a job at the Air Force base up in Albuquerque. So we leave her parents' home, and move to the much bigger town, into an apartment.

There are many more gringos in the school in Albuquerque, and that alleviates some of my problems. I don't socialize very much however, and instead became very adept at computer skills. Soon this leads me to my first experience with porn. I really don't know what to make of that. It is at once, both enticing, and revolting. I have to think about that awhile. In the end, I decide that I don't want to watch it, because if I started to look at women the way those fellows obviously do, as a toy receptacle for their tools, I know I'd wind up hating myself for it. Besides, I don't really know any girls anyway, and have just turned twelve anyhow.

By the next year however, the girls at school start to really grab my attention. It is then that I first start to be able to realize what a person is going to say, even before they say it. The first couple times I finish mom's sentence for her, exactly as she was going to say it, she just looks at me curiously.

When we are driving on the frontage road one Saturday, shopping for school clothes for me, suddenly a black muscle car passes us noisily.

"Watch out for that guy mom! He's trouble!" I almost yell to her. "Stop! Pull over! Pull over mom!"

She listens to me and does so quickly. Just then the black car side swipes another car it is passing, and forces it to spin out. The black car also spins and stops. The driver lowers his window and fires a pistol into the other car's front windshield a number of times. Then he speeds off with squealing tires.

"Oh my God son! Are you alright?" She examines me. "How did you know son? How did you know that?"

I don't know how to answer that, except to say that I'd gotten a real bad feeling from the car's driver.

The cops ask me the same question when the story is recounted to them. I give them the same answer. No one was hurt in the incident, and later that evening we see on the news that the suspect had been caught and was in jail. I find it amusing that from then on mother always listens to and agrees with my wishes, for the most part anyhow.

Both of us have fallen in love with the beautiful Sandia Mountains bordering the small city rather quickly. We go for picnics all over the range. One time even braving it to hike up the La Luz trail. When we get to the part of the trail where it winds through impossibly tall, sheer vertical cliffs; each of us is silently awed. We also wonder about all the perfectly round holes seemingly drilled into the rock comprising the trail. Then I figure it out, they are bore holes from when the trail was blasted into the granite.

The times we both have the most fun are when we're exploring down near the Juan Tabo Canyon on the lower western side. There are some old mines caved in near here, and we had previously found many nice pieces of what the local rock shop identified as chrysocolla. These weren't worth anything, but they are very pretty green and sometimes deep blue minerals. Since we don't know the actual name of the old mine, we call it 'The Valentine Mine' for the numerous heart shaped rocks we have found there.

Anyhow, one day I am exploring up a hill side near the mine, while mom searches the ravine bed below for minerals. I am wearing a beaming smile as I thoroughly love this raw wilderness so close to the city. Suddenly I have a vivid day dream, an extremely vivid one. A man is running up the hill I am now on, just away from where I stand. The man is dressed like an old time cowboy, and he carries a rifle in one hand, and a saddle bag slung over his other shoulder. There is also a pistol hanging from a gun belt. The cowboy runs up to the same skarn of pure white quartz crystal as I now approach, and nervously looks all around. Next he takes the saddle bag and lowers it into a crevice in the rock. His gun belt goes next, and then a blanket is last. After covering the crevice with a loose chunk of the pure white quartz, he quickly runs back towards me. Then he disappears, and just the same view of the land remains.

So I walk up to the skarn of quartz that I'd just seen in the dream, and I find the rock covering the crevice right where it was in the vision. I start to shake as I remove it, and then peer down into it. The shaking gets worse as I see the ratty disintegrated blanket covering something below it. Reaching in, I pull the blanket free, and a cloud of dust pops out of it. Next I see the old gun belt, with a rusty gun in it over the saddle bags. Carefully I pull the gun belt out, and set it gingerly on the ground. Then I heft the very heavy saddle bags free. Opening one to see another canvass bag inside. I can hear the coins jostling together. I laugh crazily, then I suddenly look all around nervously.

Taking everything with me, I scramble down the hill into the ravine where mom is.

"Mom! Mom!" I call out when I don't see her.

"Here baby." She leans out from around a bend.

I run to her and she wears the same beaming smile that I do, until she sees the gun belt with a gun in it over my shoulder.

"Is that a gun? Where did you get that?" She demands, and then, "Give that to me right now mister, and carefully!"

I obey, and then she sees the saddle bags.

"Where on earth?"

"I found it in a rock up the hill mom." I am very excited.

She sees that the gun is rusted beyond belief, and she visibly relaxes. "So... what's in the bags?"

"Heavy coins." I laugh. Then I drop the bags to the ground, and the sweet sharp jingle of precious metals clanking together resonates.

"Oh my God! I don't believe it." She giggles.

"What did you find mom, anything?"

She shakes her head. "I was all excited to show you, but now... it's just some rocks."

We take the gun into the police department, and the officer who takes it is amazed, then worried as he sees it is an old cap and ball Army revolver that is still loaded. He sets it in a bucket of water, and asks us where we found this. I tell the man the truth, but when he asks if there was anything else with it, I lie and say, "Just an old blanket."

The coins are a mix of silver and gold coins from the mid nineteenth century and earlier. None are dated later than 1852.

"Okay, where can we get the best price for gold and silver?" I ask mom at home.

"Oh no dear. These are worth more than just the metal, and some might even be super rare, and worth a fortune themselves." She informs me with a smile. "I'll have to get a book on the coins' values, and see."

It turns out there are several very scarce specimens, and when we take them to a rare coin dealer in town, he is honest; telling us to have them professionally graded, and then one of the big auction houses back east will be the best bet for the big money. He recommends two grading services, and two auction houses. Mom does just as he told us to do; she insures the pieces for a ridiculous amount, and sends them to the cheaper of the two grading services. They are then shipped from the service straight to the auction house she chose, and within a month the check is delivered from the sale of just one specimen. With just that first sale, we can buy a new home, get a new car, and have enough for not only college for myself, but also to start me off well advantaged. The next two checks come soon after, and we are on easy street then.

I don't let our new found wealth go to my head however, as I know I still have to learn as much as I can in order to achieve my destiny. So I study hard, and delve into every subject that I find even remotely interesting. My strange ability at sensing people's thoughts stays with me, though I usually keep it to myself.

By the time I am seventeen I am almost a wizard with the computer, but I stay away from the temptation of hacking, as well as all the other vices trafficked on-line. There is too much valuable information for me to gather, and then understand, to be distracted by trivial pursuits.

My birthday present from mother is a new mini-pickup. I am giddy with gladness. The freedom that your own ride brings is truly priceless, at least in New Mexico. Then something else also happens which vests my course in life. I have another vivid dream where I meet father again. This time dad tells me that I will soon have an opportunity which I mustn't turn down. Of course I believe him completely. My father hugs me and kisses my head, telling me this is the last time we will meet while I am still alive. We say beloved farewells, and part.

One evening after school I am surfing the web for anything interesting to the eye. A website is listed as unknown category, and the only description is the word 'Abhorrent.' I don't worry too much about opening the wrong site, as I have a custom self-programed firewall that operates much like spyware does. In essence I spy on the site in question without it being aware of the intrusion, so no viruses will upload. I can see what lurks in there waiting for the unwary.

There is just a single page, and it has a still photo of Osama Bin Lauden sitting with his usual smug grin. As I look at it, I see a picture very clearly in my mind of a praying mantis. This stays on my mind until the next night when I again secretly visit the website, and once again I see the same clear image in my head. The next night the webpage is missing.

This bothers me for some reason, and I do a search using the key words "Abhorrent,' but nothing comes up, save the dictionary definition. So I try a search for the term 'praying mantis.' All kinds of sites come up, and I began to look through pages of these matches. Then I see one listed as 'Despised Mantis.' I take a peak and there is a single page with a picture of a mantis, and a start icon over this, indicating it is a video. I take a chance activating the video, as the site will then know I am there for sure, but I closely watch the monitor window for any attempts at system connection, or down loading. On the screen a text box pops up prompting me to enter the password. I try 'Despised Mantis,' but it isn't accepted. Then I think about it and try, 'Abhorrent,' and that too is rejected. Finally I type in 'Abhorrent Mantis,' and it is accepted. The video begins to play, showing the mantis catching and then eating a cicada. While it plays I see another vision in my mind, much like the one with the cowboy hiding his gold, and the praying mantis. In this one though I am walking into the Albuquerque International Airport, and up to a ticket agent behind a counter. I vividly see the man's smiling face.

"Can I help you sir?" He asks me.

I answer, "Would you please put in a call to Cat Woman for me?"

Then the vision stops, and so too does the video. I am mystified, and I play the video again. It gives me the very same vision, but the third time I try, it does not.

The very next day after school, I drive my new truck out to the airport, and park in the vast garage. I walk the fair distance to the terminal with sweating palms. There is no way I am going to see that same ticket agent, it just couldn't be possible. I follow the same path as I had in the vision, and I enter the terminal. My knees buckle, and I almost fall over; the exact same man I'd seen in the vision is behind the ticket counter helping some people. I nervously get in line, but another ticket agent is available first, and calls to me. I tell her with a shaky voice that I will wait for the other man, so she calls the person behind me.

The man from the vision finally calls me over as he is freed up from the previous customers.

"Can I help you sir?" He asks with a smile.

I pause as I can't believe what I am about to say.

"Sir?" The man prods me.

"Um... would you please put in a call to Cat Woman for me?"

The man blinks hard, and then he grins while nodding his head. "Certainly sir, if you would have a seat over there, it will be a few minutes."

I nervously look to the seats against the entry wall. Then I smile at the man, and ask him, "Do you know what's going on here?"

The ticket agent shakes his head, "No, but I'll call the people that do for you."

I nod weakly and go to a seat.

After about fifteen minutes a very beautiful and voluptuous blonde woman, dressed in a sharp black business suit, is escorted in by a man dressed in black, both with dark glasses on. I hope this isn't Cat Woman and company, but when she goes to the same ticket agent, and the man points me out to her; my heart sinks. It is the freaking government!

She smiles innocently enough as she approaches, and sits casually next to me. The man in black stays with the ticket agent and conducts some sort of business with him.

"Hi, I'm Cat." She introduces.

I nervously say, "Hi."

"And you are?" She prods me.

I hesitate a second, then say, "I'm Jeff."

"Well, it's good to meet you Jeff, and I should say congratulations." She smiles easily.

"I don't think I want to know what I won." I say with remorse.

"Oh don't be silly Jeff. This is nothing bad, but is a great opportunity for you. I think you might want to hear me out." She assures.

"Okay, what gives?" I demand.

She laughs, "That's the spirit man! Look, we can't discuss this here, but my office is just out on base. Here." She hands me her badge.

It is an NSA agent's badge, and I am impressed to say the least.

"Now, did you fly in, or drive here?" She wants.

I nod. "I drove. My trucks in the parking garage."

"Good, why don't I ride with you, and show you the way?" Cat offers.

"Okay."

When we get up, the man in black joins us as if on cue, and she tells him to follow us back out to the base. It is a short trip from the Airport, and the guards wave us through with no questions about myself when she shows her badge. She directs me to a building that says, 'Sandia National Laboratories,' and all the way there she rarely takes her eyes off me, though I don't mind the flirtatious manner in which she does this. Hell, I eat it up.

The guards at the lab gate and head-quarters entrance all pass us by when she flashes her badge, no questions asked. Cat takes me to a far distant section of offices on the second floor of the building. She uses her badge on a card reader to gain entry, and leads me through a somewhat busy office area. Again she has to swipe a card reader to get into her personal office.

"Please have a seat Jeff, and I'll make my pitch to you." Cat grins. The man in black hasn't seen since the parking lot, so it is just the two of us alone.

"Would you care for some refreshments?" Cat asks.

I shrug, and she enters something on her phone. Less than a minute later another MIB brings in cold sodas on ice, and a tray full of doughnuts.

"Help yourself sweetie." She encourages.

So I do, while she is busy looking at her smart phone.

"Jeff, we used a new technology to send the subliminal messages to you. Only people with a special gift can see them though. Yours is a very special talent sweetie, very rare..." Cat looks at me with obvious want, at least I hope I'm reading her correctly. "We want to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime Jeff Christopher."

I am stunned, how did they find out my last name? That means they know everything about me.

"I wish I could tell you more about it now, but I can't. Security on this project is very high. What I can say is that the pay is fantastic, and the project is very exciting, to the extreme."

"Count me in." I say.

Cat laughs, and runs her hand across my cheek softly. "That's really the spirit sweetie. There is only one issue. You are only seventeen, and we will need your mother's consent for you to join us."

"That might not be so easy." I let known.

It isn't easy either. Mom is very confused by the whole idea, and insists someone is leading me into a scam somehow. It takes Cat coming and meeting with her at our home to convince her to even listen. After hearing the brief and sketchy pitch, Mom is determined to say no. That night after Cat had left, I talk her into it by telling her of the dreams of dad that I had, and what he'd told me. She finally relents, bawling a fit. To her credit though, she doesn't change her mind the next day, and she signs the release.

August 19th, 1568 CE. York House, off the Strand, London.

The lessons never ceased, his mother was tireless in her pursuit of perfection from her boys. The Bible was already well known in depth by both youth, even unto the deeper spiritual meanings of the writings. She was a devout Protestant, belonging to the Anglican Church like all good Englanders were. Since they weren't allowed to themselves, the boys had to let their imaginations run wild. Francis had the much wilder imagination of the pair though, and he reveled in an imaginary world of his own creation. He learned very rapidly, as he was extremely smart and gifted. Even though his brother Anthony was several years older than he, Francis was clearly the senior intellectually.

The only social interaction they had though was at Church, and that was so very limited. They did learn manners, and in sometimes painful ways, as mother was averse to sparing the rod. Even though this surely garnished their obedience, it pushed Francis further into his fantasy world. He noticed early on that his brother, Anthony, received much better treatment from his parents, than he did. Again this only pushed him deeper into his imagination.

When he was twelve, Anthony and he were sent to Trinity College to study under John Whitgift, the vice chancellor of Cambridge. It was then that Francis started to break out of the mold, and he began to see no fruit in the Aristotelian philosophy that was preached to them. Unfortunately both he and his brother grew ill from their contact with other boys, as they had developed few immunities. During a particularly high fever one night, Francis had a vision.

In it he was the divine ruler of a mighty civilization in a lush, verdant place where a wide river flowed through, and it was very hot there. The name of the city was the City of the Sun. He was all powerful, yet his intent was to raise the people up to great heights. His law was that constructive order, and obligation to such was required by all. He didn't have an army, rather he alone had the power through his mind, and staff to rule and subdue any and all. He knew his name was The Creator of Kings; the King of all Kings!

"Andjeti, Osiris!" The people all called out loudly with loyalty.

Somehow Francis knew this was seventy thousand years ago.

When he awoke the next morning, he wrote down some notes of his dream on some scrap parchment. His benefactor found this and confronted him about it sternly. He explained it was just a fanciful dream, and that there was nothing more to it. That still didn't spare him of the rod. From this experience he decided to learn to take notes that no one else could read, coded cyphers. This quickly became an obsession with him.

Cambridge is where they were each initiated into the secret society of Freemasons. They swore to up hold the sacred knowledge, and then they were taught the basics of the order. Each found the codes and secrecy to be fanciful, and fun. The rituals were much more elaborate than Church pageantry as well, making the order much more interesting all in all.

Their stay at Cambridge was cut short by their recurring illnesses, and in fifteen seventy five they were sent home. Their father immediately set to work pulling strings and things to get Francis accepted by a mentor. He succeeded a year later and Francis was sent to Paris to stay with Sir Amias Paulet, who just happened to be the English Ambassador to France, as a charge in his household. Even though he'd also been accepted as an 'ancient' at Gray's Inn in London, revealing a possible legal career, he went to Paris as was his heart's desire.

Here he learned all about the debauchery of the French court. Francis loved Paris, and the seemingly free life style the Courtesans enjoyed. At all of fifteen years old, he decided he would taste of all that life had to offer him. Only then could he understand it. He would watch people, and could soon easily see their motivations for doing the crazy things they did. There was a recurring natural order to this insanity Francis realized, and he wrote about it, but always in code. He studied his notes and made further observations and connections, becoming perhaps equal to any modern psychologist, and he wasn't even eighteen yet. He didn't fall in love with any of the numerous fine Ladies of the Court, or evening, whichever; yet he did get to know many of them quite intimately, and often in compromising manners. Yes, this was a very formative time for Francis... perhaps the greatest of all his times.

This was the noblest Roman of them all.

\- Shakespeare; Julius Caesar, Act V, Scene V –

Chapter three:

Port city of Ashkelon, Judea. 393 BCE.

King of Judea, Josiah, was impatient to see the ships set sail. The Levite high priest was more than ready to depart as well, but the cargo had to be quite well secured, as there wasn't anything else on this world more important than what they were to carry away. The Phoenician Captain easily saw the Hebrews' trepidation, and he too became worried. It would be a long journey across the great sea, but the price was right, quite right. When he asked what they were going to transport, the Levite Priest told him it was the Holy of all Holies.

The High Priests of the other eleven tribes made consecrations, offerings, and blessing for a safe passage, and the small fleet set off. They stayed fairly near the coast line, and stopped in several ports, before attempting the long crossing to the north-west. This was the most hazardous part of the journey, as sudden fierce storms were known to sweep the sea here. Sure enough, the sea became deadly fierce, and the High Priest could see on the Phoenician sailors' faces that doom was near, so he said a great psalm to calm the sea, and it did miraculously calm. The rest of the passage was without event.

In the southeastern reaches of what would someday become France, the fleet arrived and the pre-arraigned meeting with the hidden members of the Levites in this realm was joyous. They quickly unloaded the precious artifacts and made haste for the sanctuary previously established by the order of the tribe. It was many days to the west, into rugged mountainous terrain, up to an impregnable mountain fortress eventually named Montsegure, or secure mountain. This it was in name, and fact. There they hid away the precious treasure of the Hebrews, and began to teach their descendants the ancient ways of their people, and also how to keep all of this secret. The great treasure had to be stored away for the prophesized time. Still their wise men knew that the Holy instruments would not always be safe there, and thus they made far reaching plans to hide the sacred objects for the foreseeable future.

The treasure remained hidden there for many centuries, through much upheaval and distress, and the descendants who kept the great secret held steadfast protecting their Holy charge, never once allowing the sacred seals to be broken. They all fully believed that the next time the seals were broken, the end time would be nigh.

Their steadfast faith kept them whole, and when a very special woman made her way from the Holy land to them, they were all joyous. She brought with her a number of children, and others saying that their father, and leader had been executed by crucifixion. Her spiritual knowledge and learning was immensely profound in wisdom, and she taught the lost Levites their true destiny. This woman's name was Mary Magdalene. When she passed away, she was entombed on a hill near a close by village, and eventually an Abby was built over the spot.

By the time the Crusades started, the descendants of the Levites now called themselves Cathars. The great secret was still safe, and they accumulated much more treasure from the Crusades than they could store. So the Cathars became like a world bank of sorts, at least there in central Europe they were. Unfortunately this led some of their debtors to become jealous of their wealth, most notoriously Pope Innocent the fourth, when in 1244 CE he put Montsegure under siege. There were five hundred Cathar monks and nuns in the castle, and three hundred surrendered, renouncing their faith and converting to Catholicism, or be executed. The last two hundred swore to fight to the death, but as the Pope negotiated with them, they agreed to give up after a two week cease-fire to fast and pray for forgiveness, then they too would surrender. What the Pope didn't know was that the Cathars had secretly arraigned with the Knights Templar to lower the treasure by a rope pulley system down to the Templars in the impossibly rugged rear valley behind the Castle. The Templars took their new charge quite seriously, and immediately hid the most sacred objects at the Abby in Rennes-Le-Chateau several miles away.

The Pope was furious his troops didn't find the treasure, and he was quite unsure as what to do about it. So his troops searched far and wide, but eventually gave up.

Within several decades the word got out that the Knights Templar were hiding vast wealth, and as soon as the Knights realized this, they again moved the treasure. This time to the Abby at Alet Le Bains, seven miles to the north of Renne-Le-Chateau. It didn't stay there for long as the Knights were busy procuring transport for it to Scotland. They had a plan by then.

One person who got wind of this treasure was unfortunately Phillip the fourth, also known as Phillip the fair; the King of France. He sent his troops to arrest the Templars, and on the thirteenth of October, in the year thirteen hundred and seven; the Templars were seized in great numbers, tortured, and executed. Yet the treasure was already gone by then, and now it was in the stronghold of the order. Eighteen ships had carried it from La Rochelle, France, to Saltcoats in Scotland.

The treasure was well protected there, but the Knights knew they could not guarantee that protection for very long. Politically the world was just not stable enough, and so there was only one answer for them. They needed to do more than just hide it.

Some Scottish royalty became involved, most notably Prince Henry Sinclair. He was one of the Templars, having participated in the last of the Crusades, and realizing the Holy mission now upon him; he put his full effort into the task. The eighteen ships used to bring the treasure to Scotland were added to, and a considerably larger fleet mustered in port.

In the year thirteen hundred and ninety eight, Prince Henry Sinclair led his fleet out of the harbor, and they set sail for a land far to the west, across the great sea. The existence of this land, and how to get there, was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the time. Their people had paid much gold to the Norsemen for their maps of the seas. Now it would pay off for all mankind.

July 4th, 1951 CE. Embudo, New Mexico.

Ignacio lie in bed, with his hands, feet, and knees heavily bandaged. His grandfather was tending to him, and nursing him back to health.

"Try to remember her face nieto." He encouraged. "You are the only one who has had a vision of her face. It might help us."

Ignacio nodded. "If I could use my hands, I would draw her." He helplessly held his bandaged paws up. "She had blonde hair, but with a tinge of red. Strawberry blonde! That's what they call it. Her eyes are big and brown, she's very pretty."

The old man shook his head. "You're right, that doesn't help much. As soon as you can pick up a pencil, draw her! And until then remember her face nieto!"

Ignacio told him he would, and his abuelo left to go talk to the other elders.

It took four more days until he could use his hands again, and during that time he had to have a temporary carrier take over his route, while he took some sick days. Ignacio was the Mailman for the whole area, including Dixon, Penasco, Rinconada, and Pilar. When he finally could hold a pencil, he immediately drew a very detailed and good likeness of the woman in the vision. His abuelo took copies Ignacio had run off to the elders. This could help them, if now they could only identify her.

Ignacio went back to work and looked forward to the turkey hunting season coming up. He always felt closest to God when he hiked through the vast and splendid mountains of the Sangre De Christo range. The sky was such a pure azure blue, and the rugged mountains were his paradise, replete with the most amazingly fresh air. It was obvious to him that God had a very special purpose for him. He could see the miracles all around, but most especially out in nature. These mountains were very sacred to him, and there were divine signs of this Holiness all over them. Ignacio had found actual red crucifixes of a natural crystal form his father called Staurolite, and on three separate occasions. This was no coincidence, no! God was talking directly to him.

Saying that the number three was a very special and Holy number to him, would be a bit of an understatement. Ignacio had three children with his sweet, and pretty wife Maria. He was the third son of a third son, and his abuelo was also the third son of his parents. Then there was the fact that he was the ninth generation of the secret order of Penitentes de Christo Del Desierto. So his whole life was wrapped up in the number three; not to mention his very soul.

There was your body, mind, and soul. Then there was the Christ, the Father, and the Holy Spirit. Some of the order's secrets linked these concepts together. Christ was the body, in so many ways. God the Father was the divine mind, and the Holy Spirit was the great-spirit which moved through all things; giving life itself. Ignacio had been taught that when he was young, his body grew, and when he was adult, his mind grew. Then in old age he needed to grow his spirit, and his soul. He saw the three Holy aspects in everything he observed, and thus he could see the miracles all around him every day.

Just about every workday at lunch he liked to take the short drive up past Penasco, to the scenic pull-off viewing Amole Canyon. He never got tired of the spectacular vista, and he'd been around it his whole life. Here he would slowly eat his lunch; that day his wife had packed a bowl of frijoles con chile' rojo, y tortillas (or beans with red chile' sauce and tortillas.) Maria was a very good cook, and she knew how to make meals that tasted just like his madre and abuela's cooking did. Just down the road was the Institute for Buddhist Studies, and he thought it strange that the Buddhists would want to build their center in mountains named for the Blood of Christ. However they were peaceful, and kept to themselves, so no one bothered them. After lunch he would work the other leg of his route up to Pilar, and then make the short drive home to his loving familia.

Maria would have a delicious hot meal ready for him, and the family always ate dinner together. Ignacio and his wife each had one glass of wine as they supped, and never any more than this. They raised their children to a higher standard, always leading a good Christian example for them. Even though Ignacio didn't have either of his boys crawling around on cactus just yet; someday he would. His youngest child, his daughter, would never have to suffer like that though. No she was destined for a far different purpose. On the twelfth night after his painful petition to God, Ignacio had a revelation as he slept.

An old, but vibrant looking man with a long white beard came up to him. He had dark bronze skin, almost as dark as Ignacio's.

"I am pleased to meet you Ignacio." The old man said without using his voice. "You know my name as Enoch, though I have many other names as well."

"Very pleased to meet you Enoch. I know of you! You are the Great Grandfather of Noah!" Ignacio was excited.

"Actually I am the Grandfather of Noah, and the stepfather as well." Enoch smiled.

Ignacio was very confused.

"Don't worry about all that genealogy Ignacio, it's complicated. What I need to explain to you though is that you truly do have a very special purpose in the bigger scheme of things. You see, your children, and their children will have a very integral part of the most important time in human history." Enoch thought.

"What do you will of me Enoch, servant of the Lord?" Ignacio bowed.

"You are on the golden path already my son, but you must teach your children; that there will be a time when you can no longer protect the Bride of the Lamb, and must not! At that time you must abandon her completely, and remember to leave the Lamb alone always." The prophet was serious.

"How will we know when to stop?" Ignacio asked.

Enoch looked deep into his eyes and transmitted, "When the bottomless pit is closed the first time."

Ignacio blinked, and looked confused again.

"Do you understand what the bottomless pit is my son?" The prophet asked.

"No."

"It represents the complete extinction of the human race, and even of all life on Earth. When that threat is past, the pit is closed, even if temporarily." Enoch explained.

"How will we know when this happens?"

"It will be obvious son, as the Holy Seals will be broken, and the new days of humanity will dawn. Oh, it will be obvious Ignacio my son." Enoch lovingly touched the top of his head, and Ignacio immediately awoke.

He told his abuelo the next evening of the vision, and the old man immediately took him to see the Patron of the Order. As they arrived, so too did several other of the elders, all being driven by their sons or grandsons in old pick-ups. It was just the old men and Ignacio inside as he recounted his revelation to them in the cramped but warm trailer, while the younger men all waited outside in the dark.

They asked him many questions about his experience, and most he could answer, but some he could not.

Including when the Patron asked, "What was he wearing?"

Ignacio couldn't remember for the life of him, it was as if that part had been erased somehow. "I remember he had very dark skin, pure silver hair, and was very handsome, but not what he wore."

The meeting ended shortly, and Ignacio drove his abuelo home in silence. Then he drove the short distance to his house, and retired for the evening. His wife knew to never ask questions regarding the Order, or its activities.

This event shook Ignacio's world, even though it seemed benign on the surface of it, and he wondered if Noah had been equally shaken by his revelation too. Then he remembered something he'd read in one of the Apocrypha, of Enoch prophesying about the coming destruction in his own time, and something about him making preparations for such. Maybe Enoch appeared to Noah too? After all, Ignacio knew for certain that if his abuelo told him to build a huge ark... he would do it! He fell asleep gathering cows, pigs, chickens, goats, and all kinds of animals in his mind.

Near what is known current day as Durango, Mexico, San Pedro del Gallo. 1597 BCE.

The ravine was filled with sharp rocks, yet Zuzx slowly and quietly impaled his body low onto the scrabble. His enemy was fairly close he felt, and he tried to squelch his thoughts, to hide himself from the other's mind. He had no illusions that he would perhaps survive the day, not against a Legacy member. No, his entire mission now was to try to kill the being along with himself, if the opportunity was available.

He wondered if he should activate the suicide vest now, then he quickly tried to hide that thought, and he pictured that he already had activated the device; just because he wanted to confuse that powerful mind hunting him. It didn't work.

"You should give up, I don't wish to harm you." The thought was vibrant and clear.

Zuzx panicked, and he got up to run. Within an instant of him breaching the crest of the small ravine, a blade cut both of his legs off clean.

"I told you to give up!" The thought chastised him as he writhed in agony.

"I was scared!" Zuzx screamed aloud. He moved for the detonation switch, but his arms became frozen somehow.

"One only fears punishment, if one is transgressing!" The Legacy member sent with force.

"All I was doing was taking some mineral samples!" Zuzx protested in shear pain. "As your kind has also interfered here before!"

"We claim temporary edict exemption of clause one for our assistance, as you well know of the impending peril."

Zuzx laughed in agony. "Call it what you will, but all I did is harvest some rock."

"And you destroyed nine of the people who live here!" The thought condemned.

"They discovered me, and tried to attack me!" He protested. "Besides they are nothing, just baseless animals."

"No! I see your fear was first to cause the destruction, simple mind." The Legacy warrior made known clearly.

Zuzx grew tired, and furious at the same time, "Do as you will! And damn the Donox for creating your disease!"

A hazy mist surrounded Zuzx, and he saw the being only for a spilt second before his head was separated from his body. Unfortunately Zuzx's head rolled down the embankment, and then fell down the deep shaft he'd dug mining. The Legacy hunter wasn't about to attempt to retrieve it, so it stayed on earth.

The being contacted his people with trans-dimensional thought, and they acknowledged his punishment on the transgressor. The whole species would not be punished, but they would be put on notice. It then put all of the ore the being had harvested down the hole, and it blasted the shaft closed. Nothing of any technological value was left, or any other evidence. This was a protected world, and the Donox Legacy was certain to ensure that.

There is a Divinity that shapes our ends.

Rough-hew them as we will.

\- Shakespeare; Hamlet, Act V, Scn. II –

Chapter four:

Heliopolis, the Nile delta. 90,000 BCE.

Geb with his twin sister and wife, Nut, ruled the new city that they had built. The people all thrived as they saw the virtue in this sacred endeavor. Atum, along with Shu and Tefnut had guided them all to this new magnificence. The new ruling divine couple of identical twins had two sets of identical twins themselves. The first of these they named Osiris, and Isis. They were unique in that while Osiris, the boy, was very dark skinned, Isis was light skinned. It was decreed by the Ra that they too would marry and have relations with each other. Then Geb and Nut had another pair of identical twins who they named Set, and Nephtys. Their guidance to their subjects that they ruled was paying off, as the people flourished and multiplied upon the Earth.

Osiris quickly proved his excellence in all endeavors he learned, as well as did his wife to be, and twin-sister Isis. As they became young adults, it was apparent that Nepthys had a serious crush on her brother Osiris. This was problematic as Nepthys was selected to be wed and bred with Set, her own twin. The thing was, Set was a jealous loser, and Osiris was the living example of a God. Jealousy was the least of the reasons that Osiris soon decided that he must travel to the four corners of the earth, and spread all of the God given knowledge he could.

So Osiris went with the Ra in their flying disks, and he visited the farthest reaches of the world. They went east first, as that was the land that the sun god himself rose from. He would miss his sister and new wife Isis, the most gorgeous woman on the planet as far as he was concerned, with no close seconds at all. Yet he had a mission to accomplish, this race of humans needed an accelerated boost, and he had been born to do just that.

The Ra explained to Osiris that there would be several times of possible extinction of humanity, and that they were working to help his people, his charges, survive these times and to thrive. The first of these dark times would be very soon, as his own family would ensure. Osiris was remiss that his own flesh and blood would be the antagonists.

"Why would you allow us to do that?" He asked Khepri Ra.

"Observe the people here in the land of newborn dreams Osiris."

He did watch them go about their seemingly mundane lives, until he saw the common thread.

"Even the most pitiful gasp of breath, or wheezing reach for water, or the shaking tremble of starvation, by even any creature; is all the same as the Holiest breath of Divine Spirit. It is the very same thing!" Osiris told Ra.

"You are very insightful, and thus you will be known as the maker of all Kings." Khepri Ra told him.

"Why do we fashion our own deaths before nature Ra?" Osiris asked.

"Because you have desire of the out-come, when you should have desire for the moment of excellence that is every single moment. Be, don't desire. It is simple, but elusive boy." Khepri thought to him.

Osiris could only grin, with excitement.

In the east they showed the people the way of building a civilization, staying with them many generations, and then they went north. There were not nearly as many of the people here as there were in the east, and this part of the mission went quickly because of this. There just weren't nearly as many potential recipients.

Then the Ra told Osiris he could visit his home before the next part of the mission commenced. He gladly went back to Isis with joy in his heart. She received him equally as joyfully, but then told him of the trouble brewing with his bother Set. Nephtys also received Osiris with joy, open arms, and lusty intent. She even magically transformed herself to appear as Isis, and she seduced her brother Osiris. Isis found out about this right away, but she was confounded as to what to do.

Of course Isis told Osiris what trouble he was in, and that they all were in trouble as well. He did the only logical thing he could think of... he split. Yes, Osiris then left with the Ra to complete the rest of his mission. Although he did leave the staff his father had given him, the staff of supreme power to his wife. Isis was completely trust worthy of this responsibility though, this Osiris knew in his soul which he shared with his sister and spouse.

The next generations of humanity that were under the direct guidance of the gods who lived so long, and who flew on the sun disks; quickly took to the rational ways of survival with the depth of fore-thought taught to them. Osiris made many great examples of advanced living to the peoples of the world, in all four directions, and then some. Finally when he was just four hundred and twenty six, Osiris was allotted to return to his home in Heliopolis.

This joyful reunion with his bride was short lived however due to the wrath of his brother Set, but Osiris was warned of these things beforehand by the Ra. They told him what must be done to ensure that humanity passed the test. So Osiris willingly gave his life in forfeit so that his charges, all of humanity now and to come, would see the days of true freedom.

His brother Set was very conniving in the manner in which he betrayed, and then cut his brother's head from his body. All of Egypt cried that day. Set was furious that his wife Nephtys had a son from Osiris, and he condemned all of Egypt, and even all the world in his anger. Mainly though he wanted Isis, and the bastard child of his wife's that she had taken into hiding. The son of Osiris would be the rightful heir to the throne, and Set would not let that occur. It was a number of years that he looked in vain, because the Staff of Ra protected them from his discovery.

During this time Anubus, son of Osiris and Nephtys, grew to be a young man, and he was instructed by the Ra to take a number of wives from the people, and to have many children with them all. His children then were instructed by the Ra to go to the secret cave vaults to protect them from the inevitable destruction ahead. Osiris had already prepared this place to safe keep all the true treasures of their civilization including his people, and had instructed Isis to place all of the truly valuable things there.

Set took his personal flying disk and went to the heavens to shout his displeasure. He pulled a big rock from the sky, and flung it into the Earth. This melted the ice making the waters flood the people of Earth, and he hoped; destroyed Isis and the bastard of his own wife. So Set became the deep, dark serpent of the Nile. The waters swept civilizations away, and few were left after the apocalyptic event. Some had prepared for this, and forefront of these people was Osiris's flock. Isis was the beneficiary of his preparations, as were others of his fold. Somehow though Anubus didn't have the same protection against the flood, and he was washed away.

Isis found Osiris's body and head in the receding flood waters, and she also found Anubus. He was miraculously alive, though barely. She took Anubus and her husband's body to the Ra, and begged them to give Osiris his life back, and to heal Anubus. They relented and resurrected him to life, healing the young man as well.

Osiris and Isis made love as they never had, and she became pregnant with his son. The Ra told them that Osiris couldn't return to the world now, and that he would live with them in the heavens. Isis was very sad as she could not join him yet. She had some very important tasks to achieve before that could occur. Firstly was to hide herself and Anubus away again, as Set would surely keep trying to kill them, especially her own child she was now with from Osiris, the undisputed rightful heir to the throne. For the time being Set had exactly what he desired, and that was the Kingdom. He wasn't about to let anyone threaten his new reign. Isis knew that the power of the staff of Ra would keep them safe from him, until the time she would make her play.

The English embassy in Paris, France. 1579 CE.

Francis Bacon was shocked to learn of his father's sudden death, and he made arraignments to return to England right away. When he arrived, he was less than warmly welcomed by his mother, and his brother even seemed distant. He found out the reason soon enough. The entire estate was left to Anthony, and Francis received next to nothing. The wish to return to Paris was strong, but passing with his father, was the arraignment he had with Sir Paulet.

There was only one option for him at the time it seemed, as he was not welcome to stay in the Bacon Household any longer. Francis was still holding acceptance to Gray's Inn, so he moved into the Inn, and began to study law. As he needed every good connection he ever had right then, he also became reacquainted at his Masonic Lodge. It was a good thing Francis was extremely intelligent, because he knew he was forever on his own now, and every opportunity that he saw would be taken advantage of.

It only took him three years to become a Barrister, he was already a reader, or lecturer at the Inn by then. Shortly he advanced to a bencher, or senior member of the Inn. Also he rose in the ranks of the Masons, mainly due to his excellent skill in writing. As his brother Anthony was also a member of the same lodge, they both amended their relationship over time.

Francis loved to write, in fifteen eighty two he wrote 'Temporus Partus Maximus,' or 'The Greatest Part of Time.' He also loved crafting secret codes in his writing. These skills would lead him to a very intriguing task one day, and the knowledge he would garner from this task would forever change his life. Until then he was struggling financially, constantly borrowing on his securities, and that got him into trouble. In fifteen ninety eight he was arrested for debt, though he was soon released as his securities were seized.

His political ambitions were known by everyone as he had often written letters of advice to the Queen. In fifteen eighty four he had even sat as a member of parliament for Melcombe Regis in Dorset, and he was constantly vying for a position in the Royal Service. Unfortunately Francis made two big mistakes, the first being that one of his letters of advice had offended the Queen, and he had refused to apologize for it. The second was that he obtained Robert Devereux, the Earl of Essex, as his political supporter, and benefactor. The young Earl was a bit of a renegade, and though he certainly tried to get Francis a position, the Queen would always refuse him.

Francis' first foray into play-writing came about from knowing Essex. The man was keenly interested in short dramatic presentations at social gatherings, where the performers all wore masks. So Francis wrote many a 'Masque,' as they were called, for Essex. He also was introduced to some of the other play-writes that wrote for the Earl, including a man he immediately took a liking to, named William Shakespeare. The 'Masques' that Francis wrote were of such excellence, that he was highly encouraged to write more, and even longer works. It was the start of a long friendship between the two play-writes.

It was unfortunate that Essex's own political ambitions grew completely out of control, even to the point where he actually attempted a rebellion against the Crown on February eighth of sixteen hundred and one. It fell apart before it even got started. Bacon cut all ties to the man he now viewed as a traitor. At this time Francis was in a Royal Service position, but certainly not the one he wanted. He was the Queen's learned council, and he even had to preside over the trials of his patron.

Before Queen Elizabeth died, she told Francis that she was his true birth mother, and that his true birth father was Lord Dudley. This bombshell rocked him, and he wondered why she had told him that. He was a Bastard! It made sense though, everything did then. The lack of inheritance, and the way his mother treated him since he'd come back from Paris. Also the reason he looked so different than his brother. When the Queen died, she of course could leave nothing for him either, and she didn't. The year was sixteen hundred and three.

Thanks to the efforts of his cousin, Robert Cecil, Francis was knighted that same year along with two hundred and ninety nine others. Still Francis desired a lucrative, powerful post, so he continued his letter writing campaign to King James the first. It worked, the following year he was confirmed as learned council and sat in parliament for its first session of the new reign.

In sixteen hundred and five he published 'Advancement of Learning,' and dedicated it to the King. The next year he married Alice Barnham, and tried to start a family. One or both of them could not have children though, so it remained just the two of them. His own advancement in position was still his prime pursuit in life, and soon it would pay off.

Any free time, he spent writing prolifically, completing his first draft of 'Novum Organum' in sixteen hundred and eight. Within a year he then published 'De Sapientia Veterum,' translated as 'The Wisdom of the Ancients.'

It took a few years, and the death of one of his rivals, but he finally was appointed as Attorney General in sixteen hundred and thirteen. Francis became extremely loyal to the Crown, setting policies that always benefited the King. By sixteen twenty he had written three dozen plays as well, but published none of them, though his masterpiece, 'Novum Organum' was published finally after more than twelve drafts.

His activities in the Order of Freemasons were also of writing, as everyone had seen his remarkable talent, and so they made him the High Scribe of the entire Order. A couple of years before he published his masterpiece, the Masonic High Priests came to him with a very secret commission. They wished him to write a number of plays that would contain a secret code in them. Francis eagerly agreed, but when they told him what they wished to be encoded; he almost had a heart attack. The High Priests were serious about this, and they swore him to eternal secrecy. This hidden code was to reveal the compass heading to the location of where the Holy of Holy's is buried, and warning of the booby traps that lay in wait. It also had to containing the warning of the curse; that seven men must die before the treasure could be raised. That it was on an island of oak was to be included too.

Francis used some of the plays he'd already written along with Shakespeare, and began the lengthy encoding process. It took a number of years before he was finished, and Francis began to understand that the secret he had been told would truly go to the grave with him. In other words the High Priests would make sure he didn't speak a word of it. He began to make plans for his escape.

Sixteen twenty was the last year Francis would relish in his home country. The biggest development for him was being made viscount St. Albans, but his mighty stature would not last long. For one thing, he found out his wife had been having an affair for some time. Then within a year he was charged with bribery, and found guilty. A very harsh sentence was handed to him barring him from any sort of office, incurring a fine of forty thousand pounds, and brief visit to the Tower of London.

He became an outcast of society, a pariah to anyone he knew. After vainly trying to win some support from any of his previous acquaintances, he knew it was time to leave. Francis took his final draft of the plays that he had written long before, and included only those that his good friend had helped him draft. The works were attributed to his dear departed friend William Shakespeare as well. There was a fitting introductory tribute to him, and supposedly by him, about his life. Francis had known him well.

The High Priests were satisfied, and they told Francis they would take care of the publishing of the work. He knew he had to act fast, as the Priests were sure to. The plan was tricky all the way around, but Francis had been practicing using stage make-up for many years by then. Now he only need a man about his age and height, someone who hopefully wouldn't be missed.

For almost a month he feigned severe bronchitis after he located his man, and sold the story to his wife. Then he met the man who he'd befriended for drinks, and slipped him the poison which would cause him to choke on his own fluids. Francis took him to a room he'd rented, and let him die. Next he changed clothes with the man, and got into another suit of his own. The stage make up he applied to the corpse's face was exacting, and really made the man's face look like his own, it really didn't take that much. Then Francis put his pocket book and personal effects on the body, everything that he always carried with him. Lastly he drug the corpse out onto the street under cover of the depth of night.

It wasn't two hours when he heard the whistle of the Bobbies. He stayed in the room for a couple of days, only stepping out for dinner and to get a news-paper. His passing was listed the day after, and he read of when the funeral was to be held. Certainly he didn't care to see his wife, as he knew she would be outraged over him cutting her out of the will, yet he decided to go to his own funeral in disguise anyhow. This was just so he could see how many of all his former associates showed up, and if any of them were truly sad at his death. It turned out to be merely a formality for the few that actually showed up.

After the funeral Francis took a carriage to the docks, and boarded the ship he'd booked passage on, which was bound for Transylvania. Now he went by the name Saint Germain. He'd been welcomed to come and study with a mysterious man he'd met long ago in Paris, and who he'd kept some correspondence with over the years. His name was Master Rakoczi, and he owned a castle deep in the mystic mountains of that legendary country. Rakoczi was a Master of the occult arts, and Francis, now St. Germain, was already well indoctrinated in the Kabbalistic rituals from his days in the Masonic Lodge. He'd personally codified each key, pentacle seal, and all of the proper rituals belonging to each. All the pentacles of the zodiac, and the art of astrology itself were already his to use. Along with numerology and the crafting of talisman too.

Master Rakoczi would now initiate St. Germain in the ultimate wisdom that these arts lead to. This was nothing less than guiding him to ascension from this plane of existence.

July 1st, 1916 CE. Near Peronne, France. By the Somme River.

Their unit was on stand-down that day, yet they weren't too far to the rear. The Corporal herded his men into the freshly opened mess line, and all had their field kits ready for some hot food.

"Eat as much as you can men. There is no telling when the next time we get hot food will be." He told them, as he got in line to the rear.

The food they were served was much to his disliking, as the Corporal preferred garden fresh produce, and not meat, cabbage, and potatoes cooked with no care. Still, he also ate his fill, as he hadn't lied to the men. He'd been there since the start, and had seen untold horrors. The worst he saw was at Verdun, and that amalgamation of hell on earth was still being fought. It had looked like a strange distant planet of craters for miles around the battle ground. Nothing lived there, nothing.

He remembered at Fort Douaumont he'd seen a casemate bunker all sealed up with a plaque on it that read, 'Here rest 1052 German soldiers'- a whole battalion, who were sleeping in the casemate. Apparently one of them had smoked, and barrels of fuel for the flamethrowers, which were stored there, had exploded, and not a single soul had survived.'

The dead and dying were everywhere, you ate with them, and slept with them while the red blood stained the earth, in some places more than others. There were millions of the dead! It was a literal interpretation of hell, and the Corporal became a friend with the horror. This was all his mind could do to keep control, and not become paralyzed. His new friend had many faces he learned, one particularly gruesome one was the new poison gas called phosgene their own Army was using. He watched several times from a safe distance, after he ran a message to one of the gas attack artillery units; as they prepared the deadly shells for firing. They were utterly simple in design, as they only had a sack of red phosphorous hanging by a string from the top tip of the inside shell casing. Then the crews poured boiling water into the hollow chamber below this, and the shell was fired. It would just break apart when it impacted, releasing the deadly gas reaction. Of course anyone even near the artillery had to wear a gas mask as it was that dangerous.

Even though he found a way to function in that environment, and even began to like it, he was still relieved when they pulled him off the line, and sent him home for leave. He guessed they figured if he wasn't blown to pieces yet, he was to be saved.

After his month home, he joined a new unit of dispatch runners forming far away from the horrors of Verdun. The British had been massing their armies close by, and everyone fully expected an attack at any time. It was early morning breakfast that they all eagerly ate, and suddenly the ground shook heavily. In a couple of seconds a huge blast was heard and felt. It was enormous! The corporal looked at his watch; it was almost exactly the stroke of seven thirty.

"Okay, it has begun men! We have to go now." He shouted to them.

As they fell in to formation, he looked them over briefly. He didn't want to know any of their names, or even to remember any of their faces, as he full well knew that all of them would likely be killed. His friend Horror was back, and Corporal Adolph Hitler smiled.

This battle was also formative of the twenty seven year old corporal's psyche. For one thing, the initial barrages from the British were of an intensity never before seen. They did what was a whole week's worth of shelling at Verdun, in one day! It was said you could hear and feel these barrages clear across the channel. Adolph learned of the power of artillery from all his experiences, but especially from this battle for the Somme. This was also when he saw a tank for the very first time, and the idea stuck with him.

The German Army had to retreat in the face of this onslaught, but the British paid dearly for every blood soaked inch of ground. However, the Germans didn't retreat far, as the Hindenburg Line was close to their rear, and here the Germans would be impossible to dislodge.

True to his belief, most of the men in his unit were quickly killed, but Adolph was very lucky, just as he had been at Verdun, and he was only wounded once. It wasn't from all the times he fearlessly ran through enemy barrages, and machinegun fire to deliver a critical message, no, while doing this he wasn't scratched. Instead it came as he relaxed in the earthen bunker his unit called home. A shell smashed right down into it, exploding amongst him and his men. Adolph received a chunk of shrapnel to his face, while most the rest of his men were outright killed. This is when Adolph began to realize he had a great destiny, and was being protected, but protected by what? Then he knew... it was his old friend Horror that watched over him. Horror was preserving him for a time when Adolph would unleash it again.

From this battle he received his second Iron Cross, but he disdained the medals, as they were given to him by a Jewish Officer. Finally though, this war too came to an end, yet for Hitler and many others like him; this war was not over by a long shot.

Tis fate that flings the dice,

And as she flings

Of Kings makes peasants,

And of peasants Kings.

\- Dryden -

Chapter five:

Wyoming Gate, Kirkland Air Force base, Albuquerque, New Mexico. December 14th, 2015 CE, 8AM.

True to her word, Cat Woman meets me at the gate early this morning. I have to get badged, and signed in, then they will do a background check on me for my security clearance. Cat explains that this is really all just formality, as I am a special case. After I am badged-in she has me follow her out to the Lab parking lot, where I am to leave my truck, and then ride with her.

She drives to the far eastern side of the base in her convertible sports car, to a very secure looking area that is named Manzano Base. It is at the very foundation of an imposing rocky, barren mountain. Four layers of fence wrap all the way around the mountain, and the first has warning signs on it in several languages; that it is electrified.

Cat sees my curiosity at the security. "One of the layers is a minefield too." She feeds me, and it peaks my interest.

After we are both cleared through the four layers of security fences, she drives on a small paved road to the north around the mountain's base. Then we stop at a large semi-circular concrete structure with a large steel door, built into the bare rock. Here a man greets her and takes us both just inside the heavy steel door. A golf cart waits on an avenue that goes deep into the heart of the mountain. I can't see the end of it even though it is dimly lit the whole way.

"This is just some preliminary testing we are going to do here Jeff, this isn't where we will begin training." Cat smiles at me.

"Whatever you need me to do, I'm all yours." I grin at her.

She puts her hand on my forearm and gently squeezes it for a moment, yet without looking at me.

I look around as we come to a 'T' shaped intersection, and tunnels go as far as the eye can see in both directions.

"What is this place?" I ask in awe.

"This used to be the nuclear weapons storage depot for the whole country. Now it's a bunch of lab space for whatever." Cat tells.

I am curious, "Why would you need lab space in the middle of a mountain?"

"Emission suppression for one." She answers.

Many other tunnels branch off from the one we are on, and we stop at one of these. Cat motions me to follow her as she gets down and walks to a secure metal door. She swipes her card through the reader, and the door unlocks. We enter into a very sparse room, with several doors leading from it, and a couple of tables with chairs and screens blocking the view across the table.

"Have a seat there Jeff, and relax. These first ability tests are just for us to get a baseline of your potential, and we'll work from there." Cat points to a chair.

The first test involves another man, who comes out from one of the doors and sits down opposite me. They have me try to guess what playing card the man is looking at. I get a few incorrect, but many of them I hit right on the head, over seventy percent are right. After the first test Cat excuses herself for a bit and she goes into one of the doors.

"He's damned phenomenal! Seventy three percent right, straight out of the box." She gushes to the agent in the room.

He nods with a smile. "Looks like the new recruiting process is quite successful. We'll begin with wider dispersal immediately."

"After the transmission test of him, I want to try a remote view." Cat asks.

"Certainly agent, do as you see fit. I trust your instincts completely." The man grins.

I am only taken to the eerie place carved so deep into the rock for three days, and then Cat tells me that I will have a couple weeks off to take care of any loose ends, and to be with mom, before I am to fly out to Quantico, Virginia for training to begin. I still have no idea exactly what I've been recruited for, but I am sure it involves telepathy.

Cat is not to accompany me, and I am bummed about that. I really like Cat, and get a good read off of her. She has given me firm instructions to follow, including always identifying myself as an NSA agent, and nothing more. I will be undertaking the standard basic training all field agents go through, and then some specialized training afterwards.

The first eight weeks are just like a boot camp in the military, but with the addition of much classwork concerning the legal aspects. We are taught some Jiu Jitsu, and also basic firearms instruction on the nine millimeter pistol. Right away both myself and my instructors figure out that I am a lousy shot, also it is obvious I really don't like shooting. It is noisy, dangerous, and it stinks to high heavens.

Running everywhere as a unit I do kind of like, as it makes me feel real good afterwards, every time. One day during the third week, I see a very pretty young agent running the opposite way with her unit, and she sees me too. Both of us even turn our heads as we pass by. The girl winks at me with a smile, and runs on with her troop. I had definitely gotten a good read from her. Afterwards I only see her a couple times in the chow hall, but we are not allowed to socialize with other recruits. Each time she gives me a fleeting gaze with a mysterious smile.

Then at the end of the seventh week, a big mock war-game is held, where some of the more advanced trainees will play the roles of agents operating independently with their own missions. While the rest of us trainees will form SWAT teams to respond to any calls for assistance from the special agents. I am on a SWAT team, and am kept towards the rear. After all, I am still a poor shot, even though I am marginally improving.

An entire mock town is on the base just for such exercises, and it is full of mock danger. There are two teams set to compete against each other, and the instructors promise to also have some surprises for us as well.

The over ridding scenario is of a hostage location, and rescue bent for our team, and a hostage keeping effort by the others. I am towards the front of the APC (Armored Personnel Carrier) that is hidden behind a grocery store, waiting for a call to help. Each agent on my team has a headset radio, and we all sit there in silence listening to the radio.

"September Tango two, Alpha Romeo, I have enemy movement from the steel mill... wait one..." The radio comes to life.

Everyone is tensely waiting.

Then, "This is Alpha Romeo, I have eyes on two hostages! They are being loaded into the back of a white late model Ford panel van. Two hostiles with them, both heavily armed."

Again everyone is wide eyed waiting for the order.

"White van is prime target! It is moving, heading towards the southern bypass. September Alpha two, you can cut them off and extract the hostages at the east-west exchange road!"

The APC's engine fires up and it roars off.

"September Tango one, get to the east-west exchange road ASAP and back up two!" The same voice says. "Whatever you do, save those hostages!"

It isn't a minute later that the APC comes screeching to a stop; the back door is popped open, and the troops pour out to de-activate the enemy, then save the hostages. Even before I exit, a serious firefight has broken out, and my troop is being slaughtered by withering fire. I duck back in the APC to avoid being blasted with paintballs, and then a paintball grenade clanks down from a hatch above. It spatters me, soaking me with paint. Just then someone rolls off the top of the carrier and stands there in the entrance. It is the girl who had enticed me so much, and she laughs at seeing the mess she'd made of me.

"Sorry." She giggles. Then she points her paintball gun at my head and says, "Bang."

With a cute smile, a wink, and a quickly blown kiss she is gone, like a ghost.

It turns out the hostages weren't hostages at all, but some of the other team's best agents. They had set us up, and ambushed our team very effectively. My team lost the game, and as such none received any glory for our efforts, even if it was just getting blown to hypothetical pieces.

Not everyone graduates the week after, and I thought for sure that I would be set back, or maybe even washed out. My shooting skill is still seriously sub-par, and everyone knows it. However that is not to prevent me from graduating basic training, it seems I have an exemption.

Immediately after the graduation ceremony, as the cadre is dismissed from the parade ground, I scan all around looking for that girl, but she is nowhere to be seen, until I turn around again for perhaps the tenth time, and she is standing right in front of me. I almost topple over.

"Hi, didn't mean to startle you agent..." She lets the word hang.

"Jeff... hi, I'm Jeff." I smile awkwardly.

She tosses her pretty head to the side as if curious. "And don't you want to know my name too, agent Jeff?"

I see it in her mind. "Felicity." I say.

Now she grows much more curious looking. Then she beams a big bright smile.

I am fully absorbed into her rich brown eyes, then as I read some other thoughts of hers, I blush. Suddenly I am confused at the look on her face, as she looks over my shoulder; perplexed seeming.

"Hi agents." A familiar voice says. "Congratulations to each of you." I spin and see Cat standing there in full WIB pride.

"Oh... hi Ca..." I start to say, but Cat puts her finger to my lips instantly.

"Shhh, there's no need for introductions here agent." She smiles at me and then Felicity. "Or goodbyes, at least not in this business." She laughs. "You need to come with me agent, as we have much to discuss." Cat pulls me away by my arm.

I stumble and looked back at Felicity with the plain expression of want, yet I let Cat take me away. That girl which had so enticed me looks hurt as we part, and it breaks my heart.

From Quantico, Cat takes me to the Airport, and we board a small private jet for Billings, Montana. She won't answer any questions until we are safely airborne in the NSA plane.

"Ok Jeff, you've passed basic training... barely! We need to work on your shooting skill, but so far the best instructors in the business haven't been able to do much with you." Cat pauses to sip some water. "So we try the unconventional method. We are going to meet with the very best instinctive shooter in the USA, probably the whole world. You have two weeks with him Jeff, and you had better be able to hit the broad side of a barn when he's through with you son."

I can only sigh.

From Billings we take a rental car and drive to Roundup, where this famed shooter lives. As we pull up and get down I notice his ranch is obviously well organized and meticulous, this is no slouch I realize.

"Howdy Cat!" the man booms as he strides out to greet us. "And this must by my next little Woggy. Howdy, I'm Bill Hardin."

"Hi, I'm Jeff." I shake the burly man's hand with gusto.

"So... Cat tells me you cain't shoot any better'n a crossed eyed ape." Bill eggs me on. Just then he leans against the rental car and pulls a quarter from his pocket, then starts flipping it, and catching it.

"Well... I do need some help." I am honest.

Suddenly Bill flips the coin directly at my face, and hard too. I catch it right before it strikes me, with a quick and deft move.

"Well it shore ain't from lack of depth perception." Bill muses with a groan.

"Can you fix him?" Cat asks.

Bill shakes his head. "We'll just have to see about that Missy, no guarantees."

Cat looks to me, "Two weeks. I'll be back for you sweetie. Do what he says."

I can only nod as she drives off in a hurry.

Bill welcomes me inside, and his wife feeds us a fine feast, cowboy style. The promise is made that in the morning Bill will start to train me to shoot, but in a whole different way, and an extremely unorthodox method. I take to Bill and his rough, abrasive charm right away, and so Bill seems to accept me.

The sun isn't even near breaking dawn when Bill rousts me and tells me to come with him. We drive in an old sixties pick-up just a ways from the ranch buildings to a ravine. He gives me a semi auto twelve gage with bird shot in it, and tosses a soda can into the ravine.

"Hold it at your hip, and guess the best you can Woggy." Bill instructs.

I blast a shot at it, and miss, but not by that much.

"Just instinctively adjust and try it again." Bill encourages.

With the second shot I wing the can with some shot, and on the third I nail it.

"Remember where the barrel hits for this gun Jeff. Every gun is a little different, so you have to get to know a piece... before you bang it!" Bill roars with laughter, and I find myself laughing hard too.

The next step is to hit the same can with me holding the shotgun on my weak side hip. I don't do nearly as well as before.

"This part is integral my boy, it will help you focus your mind's eye... like adjusting a pair of binoculars. That is what we are using to aim with you know... our mind's eye." Bill is serious.

I feel it just then... I see exactly what Bill means. It is my mind that I am using to aim the barrel, just as if you would if you aimed down the sights, but now I don't have the sights in my way, obstructing my mind's view.

"Try it again." Bill hands me some more shells to feed the shotgun with.

This time I, just let my inner eye follow my will, and I hit the can dead on first shot.

"Do it again!" Bill shouts.

I do and we both laugh.

Next the target is a square of cardboard tucked in the center of an old tire, and rolled down into the ravine. I have to hit it while it is moving.

"Just the cardboard now Woggy. I don't want to lug a tire full of lead up the bank!" Bill chastises me for hitting the tire.

I repeat each exercise on both sides of my body, until Bill is either bored or satisfied, I can't tell. Then he starts to toss some clay targets in the air, and I again have to try to hit them from the hip, and even drawing sometimes from the relaxed position.

Bill drives us back to the ranch a little after noon, and again Bill's wife, Cecily, has a feast for us. The meals always have beef it seems, and plenty of it. I don't mind a bit, as this is some wonderful hearty food. After lunch we again load into the truck and head out, this time Bill takes me into town. He buys me a pair of cowboy boots, real good ones he assures. I take notice of how the shop proprietor sure treats Bill with much respect and warmth, even the people on the streets do too.

Next Bill surprises me by pulling into the package liquor store. He tells me to wait in the truck and he goes in whistling. In a couple minutes he strolls back out with a paper sack in arm.

"I guess I should've asked you what flavor you prefer son, but I figure there ain't nobody doesn't like whiskey!" Bill chuckles as he starts the truck and drives back to his ranch.

We go back to the ravine we'd been at in the morning, and the gruff old cowboy pulls a fifth of straight bourbon whiskey from the sack. He cracks it open and takes a big slug from it.

He sees the concern on my face, "Don't worry Woggy, this is part of the training too. Now take a good ole' drink." He hands me the bottle.

It burns my throat all the way down, and makes me cough and gag. Bill chuckles and takes the bottle back.

"This is a sure-fired way to get you from using your external senses to aim with." He takes another big drink, and passes it back, insistently. "We'll just foggy 'em up a bit, and then you can't rely on 'em."

I don't want another drink of that fire water, but Bill won't take no for an answer.

The bottle is half empty when Bill caps it back up and gets down. He fetches the shotgun from behind the seat and offers it to me.

"Let's see you go after the can again first, and then we'll get creative." The grizzled old man grins.

My head is just starting to get real fuzzy when I start shooting, all from the hip. As the buzz increases though, my accuracy decreases rapidly.

"You're still trying to use your eyes son, just the mind. That's all you need."

I close my eyes, and then picture the can, I fire, and hear Bill tell me, "Just like that son... good."

I open my eyes and see the can just come to a rest again as I'd sent it flying.

"Do it again." Bill encourages.

I am amazed that I am able to see the can with my mind alone, and that I really don't need my eyes. I laugh. "The best marksman in the world could be a blind man!"

Bill also laughs. "You ain't just whistling Dixie son!"

After the rest of the bottle is finished, I am staggering a good bit.

"Now we'll do some clay pigeons. It's different, simply because they are moving." Bill too seems tipsy. "Just try not to go all Dick Cheney on me son, I happen to like my face."

Trying to hit the clay pigeon blind is hard, and I don't get a one. I am thoroughly disappointed after the previous success I'd had with the can.

Bill wants me to understand it is possible, so he takes the gun from me and tells me to throw three clays stacked together, nice and hard to get some distance. I wing them way out there, and they start to separate from each other. Bill sets the gun across one of his boots, and fires without even looking, then he quickly stands and holds the gun way over his head and fires. Lastly he turns away from the targets and fires over his shoulder, with no mirror. All three clays are disintegrated with dead on shots.

"Wow!" Is all I can manage, right before I puke.

After returning to the ranch Bill helps me to my room, and I retire with no dinner, as it just wouldn't be wise at that point.

"If ya keep one boot on the floor son, it won't spin as much." He chuckles as he leaves me to a drunken sleep, and the inevitable hangover the next morning.

Bill rousts me early again, and after two cups of coffee each, he takes me to load some hay from his barn into a trailer. There are so many bails to move, and each is pretty heavy.

"Is this my penance for not holding my liquor, or just pay for the lessons?" I ask with a chuckle as I break a sweat.

Bill laughs. "Oh no son. Nothing like that. This is my sure remedy fer a hangover!"

The second time I puke that morning, I do feel much better afterwards, and we still have many bails to tote.

"It's working." I tell.

"What's that?" Bill asks dropping another bail, and then wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Your remedy. I'm feeling much better now." I laugh.

"Good, maybe you'll even want some lunch in a bit."

I nod. "Yeah, actually I am getting hungry."

A modest lunch is followed by some more shooting drills. I try to perform many of the same drills as before, but this time with a thirty, thirty rifle instead of the scatter gun. My performance isn't nearly as well, but Bill doesn't seem to mind.

"Don't worry about it son, the rifle is the hardest to master, but trying it first and then going to the pistol; makes the pistol easier."

The next day I find out that the pistol isn't hard at all to 'see' its aim. Bill starts me on a twenty two caliber six shot revolver, and soon I am in love with the gun. For the first time I actually like shooting, it is fun with this piece. It shows in my accuracy too, and Bill seems very pleased with his charge. I definitely appear to have an innate skill with instinctive shooting.

We progress with the lessons all day long, every day. The lesson I have a distaste for though, is when Bill harnesses a seat with a safety belt, onto the front brush guard of the old truck.

"Now you git up there with the scatter gun, and blast any jackrabbits you see, but just use your instinctive skill son."

I protest, "Um, excuse me Bill. Why do you want me to decimate the rabbits on your ranch? Sorry, I just don't like that idea much."

"Decimate them?" Bill roars with laughter. "Oh no son! We won't begin to decimate them. No this is just to keep them in check, so they don't decimate us. 'Cides, it's good practice fer ya."

I relent and strap myself to the dangerous looking chair. While I hold the shot gun across my lap, the old cowboy drives slowly along the dirt roads on his vast ranch.

The first couple of jack rabbits that run as the truck approaches, I miss on purpose. I just don't see the benefit to slaughter with no true purpose.

"Ya ain't gonna pass my course if ya keep missing son. That, and you'll go hungry too, 'cause yer huntin' fer yer dinner now." Bill shouts from the cab after the third miss.

The thought of eating a jack rabbit makes me nauseous, but I do really need to pass the course, I have no intentions of washing-out. So the next rabbit I sense starting to bolt, I blast the heck out of with two shots.

Bill stops the truck, and gets out, walking up to me.

"Well that was a definite kill, but he's no good fer eatin' now. You got two body shots, and that meat will be peppered with lead. Now you can go get him and eat him if ya like, but why don't we drive a bit further and get you a fresh one. Just hit them in the head now son. It's much more merciful, and then you can make use of the meat too." He smiles slightly.

I nod with apprehension.

We drive on for quite a while, but no rabbits show a hare. It is starting to get dark when a sudden bustling of startled movement gets my attention. I see the head pop up from the brush, and I blast it. A terrible trashing around from the gravely wounded animal ensues. Bill stops and gets down.

"Now, Woggy, if you tell me you've ever seen a jack rabbit that big before, I will certainly call you a liar to your face." He says with exasperation.

"Stay here fer a moment son." Bill slowly and cautiously approaches the trashing animal and quickly draws his pistol to fire one shot from the hip, very quickly. The trashing stops.

"Come here Jeff, and see what you got fer dinner." Bill encourages.

I get down and go to see a dead deer in the brush.

"It's a doe. Separated from the herd." Bill says looking all around in the dim light. "That makes a far better meal for us son, only one problem. It's not deer season. You poached it."

That makes me really worry. Not only have I just killed this beautiful proud animal, now I understand that I've broken the law doing so, and could be in real trouble.

"How bad do they punish you for this Bill?" I ask.

Bill pulls his hunting knife from its scabbard and hands it to me handle first. "Oh they only get upset about it if they catch ya, but that ain't gonna happen 'cause you are gonna clean it and skin it, and then we are going to eat all the evidence. The only thing that'll be left is the bones after the coyotes and buzzards have at what we don't eat. So don't worry about it son."

He guides me through the process of butchering the carcass in the head lights of the truck, and Bill starts a nice fire just off the road. He shows me which are the best parts to consume, and how to cook each different cut. The back-strap, or filet, is pan seared in a little bit of oil. Bill always has a small chuck kit with him he tells, as you never know when you might need to eat. The hind leg shanks are cooked on the fire directly, but just until they each get a nice sear on the outside, then Bill takes them off the fire and wraps them in foil. He puts the shanks in an old burlap sack he had in the truck, and soaks the sack down with water. These then go right into the hot coals and are buried by shovel, with coals.

Just before the filets are done, Bill adds a can of pork 'n beans to the edge of the fire, and he then cooks the heart in the same pan the filets are finishing in. He takes the tender back-strap slices out of the pan and lets them rest on a plate, followed by the steaming heart. Then it isn't a minute or two before it is time to eat.

We don't pull the leg shanks out yet, and I ask about them as he get my plate.

"Those are for mama. That and the head! She's half Lakota, and boy do they love their head stew." Bill tells me.

The thought takes some of my appetite away, until I taste the savory filet that is.

"Oh my god!" I exclaim. "This is the best steak I've ever tasted!"

Bill smiles and says I should try the heart, as it is even better.

I am uncertain, but I trust the old cowboy completely. So I taste the steaming organ. It is pure muscle meat, but the tenderest meat I'd ever had, literally melting in my mouth. The taste is fitting for such a royal slice of perfection, and I can't help but dig in.

"Have a sip of this spirit wine to go with that son." Bill hands me an enameled metal camp cup.

"Spirit wine?" I take the cup and sniff it.

"The blood from your first kill Jeff. Drink a sip, and the spirit of the deer will always be with you. At least that's what the hunters from way back always said."

I raise my eye brows, let a deep sigh, and drink from the cup. It is salty and strong, yet it does go well with the taste of the meat.

"Now, you are a hunter for forever son." Bill approves.

After we eat, both of us relax to digest for a bit and I become curious about Bill.

"So, how'd you learn to shoot, Bill?"

"My pappy, and grand pappy taught me, just like theirs did before. I don't know if you maybe thought there was a historical connection with my last name, well it's true. My second great grand dad was John Wesley Hardin." Bill looks to me with a look of pride, and this turns to disgust as he sees that I have no idea of who he speaks of.

"You don't have a clue to who that was, do you?" He asks.

I can only shake my head.

"Shit son! You've got to be kidding me?"

Even more meekly I shake my head.

"Hell, he was only the fastest gun in the old west! He's blamed, or credited, depending which side of the fence you're on, with forty souls taken by his gun. He was undisputedly the fastest draw anyone ever saw. One time in Abilene he even got the draw on Wild Bill Hickok when Bill had his gun pointed right at my great grand pappy's head."

I think about that. "Wow, that's blazing quick to beat a man's trigger finger, on the trigger!"

Bill nods with a chuckle, "Well, he did kind of snooker old Hickok you see. He tricked him. He took his twin six shooters out real easy; like Bill had told him to do. It was a city ordinance outlawing carrying of weapons. Any how he goes to hand his pieces, by the barrels, to old Wild Bill, when he jumps off to the side and does a double Mexican Roll to get the draw on him. From that day on, Wild Bill and my grand pappy were respectful of each other. Wild Bill was mighty glad John Wesley was reasonable, and not a hot headed killer that evening. He just really didn't like being un-armed."

"I've always been un-armed." I tell. "I can't imagine what carrying a gun all the time was like."

Bill chuckles hard. "You're in the whole wrong business then son! You better get used to always knowing exactly where your piece is, and its ready condition."

I can only blink and nod.

We finish cleaning up the meal, and then the leg shanks are taken out of the coals, and cooled for a bit, while Bill skins the head. All the evidence of butchering is put into the coals, and then I bury the fire pit. It is a fair ride back to the ranch in the dark, and Bill tells me to hit the sack as tomorrow will be another lesson.

The next lesson is the most fun of all them it turns out. We go to a different gully, further from the ranch. Here Bill hands me a gun belt with an old style six shooter in it, before taking a couple plastic gallon jugs of water to the opposite embankment. I put the belt on, and Bill comes back and shows me how to adjust it and to wear it properly. Just like the gun belt Bill is wearing also.

"Now that's a forty five long colt son, it's got a kick, so hold it firmly." He tells.

"Okay."

Bill goes on, "This exercise is quick draw training. With instinctive shooting, this is like the source, or head waters of the style. Firing from the hip just as you clear your holster is the fastest possible draw and shot, bar none."

After a moment I say, "You know, I saw a John Wayne movie once, where he was teaching Ron Howard how to gun fight. He told the kid that it wasn't the first shot to win, but the first to hit that would win." I try to keep the wry grin to myself.

Bill chuckles, "The Shootist. Nineteen seventy six, with Jimmy Stewart and half of the Hollywood elite. Know it very well. It was the Duke's last film, and he played a famous gunfighter that finds out he has cancer. He did have it too, while they were filming. We lost him shortly after that. Damn fine film! However, several points Woggy. Firstly, it's the first to incapacitate your enemy. Secondly, while I agree that missing a shot is purely unacceptable, if you hit quickly and critically first, you will win." With that Bill has drawn his own pistol so rapidly, and fires from his hip just as he clears the holster, while still looking right at me. One of the milk jugs off to Bill's right explodes.

"Winning equals living Jeff." Bill holsters his gun with a serious look on his face.

After a moderate silence Bill tells me to draw and fire from the hip at the other water jug. I'm not fast at all, especially as I have to clumsily cock the hammer back before I could fire. I miss.

"Holster it again dead man. You missed... he didn't. Now you have to charge the hammer as you draw it, with the same hand. Don't put your finger on the trigger until the muzzle is raising away from your leg... that's important son. Then use your instinct for the aim, and repeat if necessary." Bill teaches.

The second shot of mine is much quicker, but still misses.

"Guess there be one less plate at dinner tonight, too bad 'cause the wife is cooking her specialty. Mmmm... I can't wait." Bill teases.

I re-holster, and draw for a third shot. It is slower than the second, but also a direct hit.

"You're a third timer huh. Third time always a charm with you son?" Bill again jokes.

After I blast six more water jugs, Bill has me repeat with tin cans. It is way harder, and we are low on ammo by the time I hit the first one of the cans, so we call it a day.

Bill's wife, Cecily, cooked the biggest pot of stew I have ever seen, by a long shot. The pot it is in must be at least twenty gallons capacity. When she begins to ladle it into bowls, I see why it has to be so big; the whole deer head I'd shot is in it.

She pulls a big old piece of cheek meat off and adds it to my bowl. As I taste it, I am once again taken to flavor paradise, and I eat heartily. This really pleases Bill's wife to no end. She is really proud of her 'head stew.' After dinner, as usual, Bill and I do the dishes as it is our duty. We ate without cooking, so we clean.

Early the next week the training becomes even more difficult. Bill takes me for a ride, each of us on our own four wheel ATV. We drive to a part of the ranch that I haven't seen before, and to a deep ravine with a small stream running through it.

"This is some tricky stuff here Jeff, shooting while mounted and riding. There is no more difficult task, and most folks consider it impossible, so it's a waste of ammo. Not only do I disagree with them, I can prove it!" Bill tells. "My second great grand pappy was an expert shot riding hard from the mount, as a good number of men paid with their lives to find out. It goes right with the instinctive shooting skill, and thus yet another reason this ability is so effective. Now, you are going to ride as fast as you can up the gully, without bustin' your ass, and any dummies you see; blast them. Don't you dare stop or slow down though. Oh, and you'll want to holster the weapon after each shot, just so you can control the ATV... Have fun."

I rev the engine, and take off spitting sandy gravel. The first dummy isn't far, and I plan my shot by the terrain ahead. I draw and fire at a smoother spot without even looking at the target. The pistol is quickly returned to its holster, and I put my hand back on the steering bar none too soon, as rocky ground is under tire.

The next dummy is holding a stick comically like a rifle.

I think Bill's sense of humor is catchy, like a virus.

The dummies appear to be just stuffed old clothes, and the rifle man even had some worn cowboy boots on. Again I don't even look at the target as I shoot. I already know where it is, and it isn't moving, just I am. There are a number of other targets waiting to bush-whack me, and I try my best to use the natural instinct to guide the aim. Bill radios me after the last shot, and tells him to wait there at the end of the course while he inspects the damage.

He drives up a few minutes later, and takes a quick look at the last dummy near where I wait.

"Well, not bad for your first run son." Bill nods with a grin. "You got good clean kills on two of them, and hits on three others, but you did miss four of them completely."

"I guess that means I'm dead again." I joke.

"Better dead again here, than once for real." Bill is serious.

We do much the same for the last few days, with the main difference between lessons being the introduction of modern weapons. I get better, but am still missing a few here and there by the last day even.

"Don't worry about achieving perfection right away Jeff, I've merely taught you how to continue your own training. Keep at it son, and you will be as the Samurai Archers of ancient Japan. They never missed a shot, lest their own life be forfeit to their Shogun."

"I will keep training in your system Bill Hardin." I smile.

"Now, I got something for you son, a gift before Cat gets here to pick you up."

He hands a box the size of a palm to me, and I open it. Inside is a shiny new cowboy belt buckle that is elaborately engraved; 'Jeff Christopher, certified J.W. Hardin system proficiency.'

"Wow! Thank you so much Bill. I'll treasure it, and most especially your system." I am honestly choked up.

"That's what I want to hear, keep practicing son. You've got an innate talent for this. More so than anyone I've ever trained before." Bill is serious. "Oh, I also got you a little something to keep you practicing the old school too." He hands a cowboy hat box to me next.

"You shouldn't have Bill." I say, and noticed instantly that it is way too heavy to be a hat.

Opening it, I see a brand new gun belt, with a new six shot revolver in it.

"That's a new third gen Colt single action Army, in forty five colt." Bill tells with a grin.

I grow a smile from ear to ear. "I feel I should hug you for that Bill."

Bill shakes his head. "We shake hands around these parts... we ain't like you city folk."

I laugh heartily and shake Bills hand.

Cat drives up a minute later, and Bill warmly greets her as I put my things in the trunk. They walk off together out of my ear shot.

"Well, did you fix him Teacher?" Cat asks with a wry grin.

"Ain't nothin' broke that I can't fix!" Bill boasts.

"Good, I sure would have hated to see this one get washed out." Cat tells.

Bill looks at her evenly. "Cat, this kid has a gift. He's shooting blind at the level it took you till the fourth time you were here to achieve."

Cat grows wide eyes. "I guess you fixed him real good."

"It's more than just me, or the system kiddo. This kid has a real gift... I mean it!" Bill too wears wide eyes. "Hell, when I was learning myself, I was way slower even than you Cat."

"I'll make a note of it Bill." She smiles and rubs his arm. "Oh, I brought you a little something, something, Teach."

Cat goes back to her car and brings out an elaborately wrapped gift box the size of a cowboy hat box.

Bill chuckles as he eagerly tears into it. Both Cat and I watch with broad smiles as he opens the box to reveal a wicked looking modern machine pistol of some kind. Bill holds it and looks it over curiously.

"That's an awfully big bore, and helical coil magazine... slight rifling of the bore. Laser range finder and night-scope combo... range finder is completely useless for a shotgun, so that's out. Not a marking on it... as usual Cat." He takes a long pause before guessing, "I would say it is a twenty millimeter grenade launcher, pistol."

Cat lets a heavy sigh, "Oh... damn! I really thought I would stump you this time. Yes... Twenty millimeter, automatic case-less grenade launcher with a forty round helical mag. There is a wire stock that collapses completely into the frame. The real goodies though are in some of the specialized ammo. There are recon drone shells which will put a video camera above the area of engagement that you can remotely move and control with your phone. It has a duration of several hours even, and links right to your phone with the adaptor chip in the box. Also some attack drone shells. You lock a target with the recon drone, and then the attack drone will automatically fire a rocket motor and dive guided straight to the target. The HE is a strong binary. Then there are flares, smoke, tear gas...etcetera. I hope you like it Bill." She finishes with sincerity.

Bill laughs and hugs her. "When have I ever not liked getting a present missy? Especially the goodies you bring Cat!"

We leave Bill on his vast ranch with the promise to return... both of us. On the drive back to Billings, we talk.

"So, what did you think of Bill?" Cat asks.

"He's great! I mean that. He is a great man." I gush.

Cat nods. "So I see you got new cowboy boots, did Bill get those for you?"

I nod.

"You need to remember to take Bill a nice present when you go see him next. He likes getting presents so much... you can't understand."

"Yeah, for sure! After he gave me the belt buckle and the gun belt... wow! I'll certainly take him something really nice."

Cat slams on the brakes suddenly. Luckily there isn't much traffic, and she pulls off the road.

"He gave you a belt buckle?" She stammers, "And a gun belt?"

I realize by the hurt look in Cat's eyes that she hadn't received such on her first visit.

"Yeah."

She shakes her head after a moment, and carefully pulls back onto the road, and drives.

"Is the gun going to be a problem for the plane?" I ask.

Cat shakes her head. "No. It's an NSA jet, I'll clear it."

"Can you tell me where we are going now?"

"Sure. We're going back to Albuquerque for the next eight weeks of your training Jeff, and you'll have some down time to visit your mom too." Cat smiles at me.

Someone is always saying, "It's not whether

you win or lose," but if you feel that way,

you're as good as dead.

\- James Caan -

Chapter six:

September 21st, 1400 CE. A small island off the coast of Nova Scotia (New Scotland).

As the ritual neared completion, the High Priest consecrated the Holy vessel, and gave blessings that only at the divinely determined time; the treasure should be unearthed, and the sacred seals broken. This would signal the coming of the New Jerusalem, and the end of the old times for humanity. By the law of the Ancient Talmud they would have to bury the Holy of Holy's three years hence, or suffer the wrath of God.

All was going according to plan, as if it were truly destiny. Prince Henry Sinclair had watched as his army of Templars had cut all the timber on the island, then prepared the building material and stacked the logs ready for the implementation of the immense project ahead. Shortly after their arrival he had dispatched a strong squadron of ships to follow the coast of the new world in a southerly direction, and obtain provisions and materials for the endeavor.

The last of the thousands of Oak saplings they had brought with them from Europe had been planted on the island, and they were being well tended. The Templars and Tyrrhenian stone wizards worked ceaselessly on any task given them, and never needed any prodding to hurry, as they used hard labor as a spiritual endeavor. The harder, and the smarter they worked; the closer to God they became.

Henry was so thankful that the natives, who called themselves the Mi'qMak, were friendly and eventually even quite helpful. They had been quite glad to 'sell' the island to the Templars, even though they had no convention of property ownership. It belonged to all, so they simply took the offering of steel swords, knives, and textiles as a tribute. As long as the new comers behaved themselves, as they certainly seemed to, all would be well. Henry full well knew he needed their cooperation in the fullest sense, and he was determined to win it with the example of his men.

After the consecration ceremony he went to the high priest's cabin on the far leeward side of the island. The man spoke loudly from inside for Henry to enter even before he reached the door. Henry entered with a smile.

"God be praised Brother Reese." Henry blessed. "I have some questions I was hoping you might be able to help me with, Lord willing."

"God be praised my Prince, and charge Henry." The old man said with a serene face. "Proceed."

"You had mentioned something about a contingency plan brother. I was curious as to what it might be, and of anything that I myself needed to be endeavored with concerning this." Henry was forthright.

"There is nothing you need be occupied with concerning this. It is a purely spiritual matter that my priests and I will tend to." The High Priest told.

"Ahh, it is a secret brother, I understand." Henry nodded with a false smile. "I would only implore you to remember that secrets can foster poison in them."

After a long silence, the old man nodded. "I will tell you this about it my Prince, but no more; we will be performing a special ceremony to guard the sacred trust. You will be a part of this ritual, right before you leave to go back home."

That slightly worried Henry, but he didn't let a twitch of it show. "Very well Brother Reese, I leave it in yours', and God's hands." Henry gave the old man a true smile, and he got up to leave.

"Fear not my Prince. We do not usurp, nor corrupt this sacred endeavor, rather we seal it in the spiritual realm as well." Brother Reese tried to assure him.

Henry wasn't worried, he trusted the Priest as each man on the expedition had been hand-picked by himself. No, he just hated secrets, especially from men under his command, yet there was something in the back of his mind telling him that he would feel much worse if he did indeed know the secret.

This new land was so different from their homeland, yet it was awe inspiring just the same. Thick, lush forests of pine stretched ceaselessly over the horizon, all filled with abundant life. Henry relished going on hunts with the Mi'qMak as their guides into these forests. The game was incredibly numerous and of large size. This made feeding the army much easier than with just the fishing alone. It was strange that it was during these hunting expeditions when the Scots would learn the language of the natives the most. The common bonding of mutual shared survival was the catalyst for this.

One trip early that second year, Henry had been bathing in a brook when he was startled by a Mi'qMak woman coming down to the water to bathe also. Henry hurriedly got out, covering himself with utter modesty, and dressed in his tunic in a moment. He started to leave, when she said something softly. He knew the Mi'qMak words for "Stay, please."

Henry stopped, but didn't turn to look at her. He shook his head and hurried on. He was happily married, and would never even consider cheating on his dearest love, but most of all it was due to the charge he had made himself, on every man; not to have any relations or even self-gratification while in the new world... at all!

Word of the Templar's chastity seemed to get around the Mi'qMak clans quickly. Even at the feast the natives held upon return of the hunters, their chief tried to give his daughters to Prince Henry, but he politely refused, explaining that none of his men could break their vows lest they be put to death. It was then that the natives knew these strange pale men were doing something quite serious and sacred. They started calling Henry 'Klusekap' honoring him as a demi-god.

Henry didn't resist this blessing at all, as he knew he needed the help of the Mi'qMak for all time sake. Having them on the same page spiritually was essential, and this was a good first step in that direction. He had his men teach the natives advanced methods of fishing, and he also allowed the Mi'qMak to observe the construction methods they were utilizing on the tunnels.

Early the next year his excavation crew broke into a large subterranean cavern deep beneath the island. It was far below sea level, yet it wasn't filled with water. The engineers were perplexed, and digging stopped until they could figure out what was going on. Within a few days they had determined that there was a natural positive atmospheric pressure being generated by a thermal vent deep in the lower recesses of the cavern, which prevented the sea water from seeping in. It was also calculated that since they'd opened up the cavern, that eventually the water would begin to enter, but that if they sealed it back up quickly enough this would be reversed. Henry knew that they wouldn't have the cavern opened any longer than necessary, so he didn't worry about it at all.

Now that the resting chamber had been discovered, the excavation crew set about to dig and build the flood tunnels. They started from the entry pit, and dug upwards and towards the sea in three directions. Each of these tunnels was completely lined with flat square cut stones, to make a long lasting aqueduct. When these tunnels breached the shore line, they were still over twenty feet below the surface. Here they stopped and all the crews began to build a massive sea wall from the lumber, and stones. They worked as far as they possibly could at low tide, and would let the sea wash over the low wall base until it was set and ready to raise the height of it when they could make a maximum effort.

During this time the scavenging squadron returned. Full battle flags were flying as they triumphantly signaled 'Mission success,' what's more, all the ships sent on the sortie returned intact. Henry eagerly awaited Commodore Piper on the shore as the ship's skiff rowed in.

"Ahoy! Permission to come ashore my Lord." Piper shouted with gusto.

"Permission granted my friend." Henry returned with a boom.

They shook hands with the secret manner of their order, and both grinned widely as they retired to Henry's cabin.

"So, your flags indicate success Commodore, do tell." Henry encouraged, once his friend had a cup of hot tea, and some deer jerky.

"We traveled far south, almost to the equatorial meridian. It is a lush tropical paradise my Lord, simply amazing! So much new life that it will be hard to describe it all, but fear not, as we catalogued everything, along with samples." Piper told.

"How about your crews, any unfortunates?" Henry asked.

Piper looked down and nodded slowly, "We lost four souls my Lord. Three from a fallen mast in a devilish storm, and one from a snake bite."

Henry frowned. "They died for the greatest of all reasons Commodore."

"Amen." Piper said.

After a long moment Henry asked, "And of the filtering fiber?"

Piper nodded, "We found an ideally tough fiber from a very large and sturdy seed of a palm tree. A fascinating mechanism in that the seed holds a huge amount of sweet water, and the coating membrane on the inside is quite edible, as well as delicious. The husk around this seed is incredibly durable, ideally suited for the filters."

"Excellent work Piper, however I can only offer you and your men one day of rest as reward I am afraid."

"I should stand to be insulted, if I didn't know it is a magnanimous gesture my good lord. The men and I need no rest, we are reporting for duty my Prince!" Piper announced with pride.

"Excellent Commodore." Henry smiled. "You will have your men report to the chief engineer for duty assignments."

"God be praised sire!" Piper agreed.

They stayed talking until after midnight, and Prince Henry realized the squadron had brought back far more than he could have possibly dreamed of as far as construction material was concerned. Some of the special logs of these tropical trees they had returned with were ideally suited for the booby trap trigger function, as they swelled from water, yet were non-binding when swollen. Everything was indeed coming together to finish their Holy endeavor. Henry knew that he needed to fully initiate the Mi'qMak soon, so they could be guardians of the island when the Templars were long gone.

The bodies of the four lost souls were cremated and then buried at the center point of the cross that was set with cut stones on the island, though it was also laid out as the Judaic 'Tree of Life' symbol, both integral with the other. It was the Cathars who first combined the two Holy symbols, and now the Templars, that were of their ancestors in part, who would keep the sacred tradition alive. The very center stone was flat on one side, and carved to resemble a human face with a stained engraving of a sword on the face's forehead. No names, or any other sort of reckoning, just the secret symbols.

Once the enormous sea wall was completed, and did indeed hold back the ruthless tide, the flood trap tunnels were quickly completed. The coconut husk fibers were absolutely ideal for the filter mechanism. It was amazing to the Mi'qMak the engineering feat these pale gods had achieved, and for the sole purpose of burying the strange metal sarcophagus. Prince Henry called the chief of the natives for a secret meeting late one night, and he explained to him the true nature of their mission. The Mi'qMak chief was awed by the charge he was given and eagerly agreed to guard the Holy treasure for the specified time, passing down the charge through the generations of his peoples. It wasn't told to the Chief how to dis-arm the booby traps however, and he was warned to merely keep a watch and pray. Henry also told him that near the end time, his people would again be in contact with the Mi'qMak, and that they would work together again as destined peoples.

Henry looked over the last details of the actual pit and traps before his army started work on the artificial swamp that hid the safe entrance tunnel to the resting place. It would become a triangle shaped swamp once the small cove was sealed in. The natural springs would feed the swamp, and the resulting osmosis through the artificial dike would ensure a brackish environment. Prince Henry wrote poetically in his annals that the New Jerusalem would be built on a swamp, as Christ himself, in his own written word, had decreed in the sacred writings also buried along with the other vast treasures. The perfect equilateral triangle would guide the Templars of the future, as well as all the other clues they would leave... it was certain in his mind that the treasure would be dug up some day. The only thing was that it had to be the right day... the ordained time.

The day the sea wall was released was a day of feasting for the Templars and Mi'qMak who had helped build the impossible subterranean fortress. Everyone was somewhat subdued, as the project intensity had been extreme, still all ate grandly and so had first merriment in such a long while... at least for the Templars.

Henry mentally reviewed the secure functions of the crypt. The pit was the most heavily booby trapped entrance, as to go in that way, was to have all the keys understood, or failure was certain. The stone cypher with three layers was set to flood the entire caverns, and tunnels. The best way in was through the sealed vault under the swamp, but draining this enough for access would be problematic for anyone. All the seals were put in place and consecrated, and as Prince Henry made preparations for the long voyage home to Scotland; the High Priest came to visit him one evening.

"Your task has been completed with divine perfection my lord." Brother Reese acknowledged. "It is as the prophesy has foretold; Seventy weeks have been decreed for your people and your holy city, to finish the transgression, to make an end of sin, to make atonement for iniquity, to bring in everlasting righteousness, to seal up vision and prophesy, and to anoint the most holy place."

"Have you entrusted the Mi'qMak with the sacred golden tablets yet brother?" Henry made sure.

"Yes my Prince. I explained to them to guard the holy words well, until the time that one comes along who can read them, and then their people's trust would be completed." The old Priest said.

Henry shook his head. "I still am unsure as to our not leaving the sacred books with the Holy of Holies, as they belong together most certainly."

"Yes sire, but remember that we must guard against one of the evil one's pawns from being able to open it."

"If you insist brother, your wisdom is farther reaching than mine own." Henry relented.

Brother Reese gave Henry a comforting smile. "All is as it was ordained to be by the Lord of Hosts himself my son." The old man took a long moment before going on, and Henry could see the apprehension growing suddenly on his face. "There is one other matter, which I am certain you will have a problem with brother."

"Do tell." Henry was even.

"The special ceremony, which I had briefly mentioned the night of the consecration, is to be the night of the Passover. We will need your assistance in the proceedings." Brother Reese said.

"Certainly brother, I am at your disposal." Henry made sure.

"Before you agree, I must tell you of what is required of you my brother." The old priest looked very tired.

For some reason this unsettled Henry.

"In the sacred book of The Epistle to the Hebrews it is written; 'For where a covenant is, there must of necessity be the death of the one who made it. For a covenant is valid only when men are dead, for it is never in force while the one who made it lives. Therefore even the first covenant was not inaugurated without blood.' Chapter nine, verses sixteen thru eighteen. So too shall we seal our covenant with blood my brother Sinclair." The old man was pale.

"You are right... I do not like the sound of this." Henry was frightened.

"We must make our pact valid Henry, my dear friend."

After a very long, thoughtful moment Henry answered, "Exactly what do you require of me Priest?"

"A sacrifice is required, so I will offer the blood of my two most dutiful priests, and then you must offer my blood as well my friend. The four who also willingly gave their lives before, and the three of us will be buried atop the Holy of Holies, and so seven must die before it is again brought unto the world." The old man rasped. "Our souls will guard this sacred island until the end times."

Henry's throat was suddenly very dry. He wanted to slap some sense into the old man, but he was too stricken with terror from the idea suggested, to react at all.

Brother Reese saw the internal battle that Henry now fought, and offered, "If you cannot my Prince, I will order one of the other priests to do it."

Henry immediately shook his head. There was no way he would let one of his men take this cup of dark burden from him. He loved his men far too much for that to ever happen. No. It would be he to do it. At once he admired the old Priest greatly for his sacrifice he would make, and the others as well.

It wasn't the killing itself that bothered him, as Henry had certainly killed before, many, many times; rather the taking of a friend's life was something he had never even considered before. To have the friend not only willingly consent, but to insist upon this was what really made him loopy. To add to matters, the High Priest insisted all the men witness the event. Henry didn't know how well that would sit with the men.

Just a few minutes before midnight on the eve of Passover the High Priest began the ceremony with scripture.

"Chapter nine of the Epistle to the Hebrews begins; 'Now even the first covenant had regulations of divine worship and the earthly sanctuary. For there was a tabernacle prepared, the outer one, in which were the lampstand and the table and the sacred bread; this is called the holy place. And behind the second veil, there was a tabernacle which is called the Holy of Holies, having a golden altar of incense and the Ark of the Covenant covered on all sides in gold, in which was a golden jar holding the manna, and Aarons rod which budded, and the tablets of the covenant.' The protection of these things is why we now petition the Lord of Hosts, Eheieh Asher Eheieh, with this additional covenant to guard the Holy of Holies until the end of times." He stopped and motioned to one of the priests, the first of the three.

The man took a deep breath and stripped his tunic off, then to lie on the large flat stone raised on pedestals. Brother Reese went to him and made a cross on his forehead.

"Brother Cumberlidge, your soul belongs to Christ, as it was his blood to pay for your redemption. This covenant is separate from that one. This covenant is to simply protect the sacred instruments of his divine power until such as the appointed time. Do you agree to this covenant?"

"Yes Brother Reese. I freely give my blood to seal the promise of protection." The man said from on his back.

With that brother Reese took a sharp thin dagger and opened the veins on brother Cumberlidge's wrists, inner thighs, and neck. He stepped back from the altar as it began to drip with blood. All the men watched by torchlight as brother Cumberlidge died. It only took a couple minutes, and then the priests wrapped and removed the body silently.

Brother Reese nodded to another priest, and the man stripped off his tunic and lay in the blood on the altar. Again the same question was asked, and again it didn't take long for the priest to bleed out. Finally it was brother Reese's turn and he stripped his tunic and lay in the fresh blood, holy blood to him. Henry approached and asked the same question of him. The high priest answered the same as the others had, and then Henry sliced his veins open.

After he was dead, and taken away for cremation and then burial, Henry said the sealing words, "They petition you with their blood Almighty God, Eheieh Asher Eheieh, let the covenant be complete. Seven souls willingly paid with their blood to seal this place, and seven will have to pay with theirs to open it."

Not a word was said by anyone else either, before or after this. They all went to pray in solitude for what they had just witnessed. Prince Henry Sinclair retired to meditate and pray for forgiveness for making a human sacrifice, and for taking the life of his friend.

It was late September when they set sail for home, and Henry waved to the Mi'qMak as they left. They had agreed to guard the island until one came who could read the sacred golden tablets. He thought of how impregnable it would be for anyone but a Templar to gain access to the treasure. And then if someone did, they would find the concrete vault covering a wooden box containing such vast treasure that they would be content, and never know that buried just below this vault, into the floor of the natural cavern, was the Holy of Holies. The island would be easy for any future Templars to find, as it had un-natural oak all over it, and also the perfectly shaped isometric triangle of the swamp was a dead give-away. They left cut stones in a cross pattern, morphing into the Kabalistic tree of life symbol to point the way as well. The thought that the treasure may become lost to all time crossed his mind, but then he knew that the prophesy would be fulfilled. He wouldn't worry about this, instead he thought of seeing his lovely wife again after so long apart, that is if he survived the perilous voyage ahead.

March 3rd, 1973 CE. Embudo, New Mexico.

It was a warmer morning than most had been lately, though the last of the meager snow had already melted some weeks ago. Ignacio sat with his wife in their living room snacking on fresh home-made churros, and coffee. He had been retired from the Postal service for several years now, and his eldest boy Marcus had taken over the route. Almost a year had gone by since his last penance petition had been offered up on the hill. That had been the fourth time he'd performed this painful ritual, always on the birthday of the Bride, but only every seventh year. Marcus had joined him on the last trek of suffering, and would take over the charge of guarding the Bride from Ignacio soon. Still they didn't know who she was.

As he pondered his blessings of family and friends, the light coming from the front window seemed to get suddenly much brighter. Ignacio looked out the window and saw a magnificent vision of El Christo. It must have been just as the prophet and local saint of his namesake had seen in the desert so long ago. Then El Christo turned from Ignacio and moved away, towards the neighbor's house across the way. The vision faded as did the bright light, and Ignacio was looking at a car that had just pulled up to the neighbor's drive.

"What's so interesting outside mi marido?" Maria asked.

He was about to tell her of what he saw, when his jaw hit the floor, and he stared with wild disbelief out the window.

"You're scaring me Ignacio. What is it?"

"It's her!" he half shouted.

"Who?"

"The girl from my vision twenty one years ago... La novia de Christo!" He blurted with awe.

Maria trembled and yet she still edged closer to the window to see her.

"I have to call the elders!" Ignacio went to the phone hurriedly.

For the next hour the phone was either ringing, or in constant use. The Penitentes made the license number to the car visiting the neighbors, and the county sheriff, who was also a member, ran it and found the owner's address in Albuquerque. Next they organized a posse to trail the woman as they left, and shadowed them back into the city, where they then secretly followed the Bride back to her residence. Thus they finally could guard her properly.

Now they could protect her physically as well as spiritually. The Order even had a rotating team rent a home just across the way from where she lived. Everyone on the surveillance teams were totally inconspicuous as they simply watched for trouble, being ready to respond as needed. The more they found out about the Bride's associations though, the more worried they became. It seemed she had a habit of befriending dangerous people, very dangerous people. Ignacio wondered if she had any sense. One of her closest consorts happened to be one of the biggest drug dealers in the entire southwest.

All you need in this life is ignorance

and confidence,

and then Success is sure.

\- Samuel L. Clemens -

Chapter seven:

March 15th 2016 CE. Albuquerque, New Mexico.

We celebrate my mom's birthday in style, as she had invited Cat Woman to the dinner with us, and mom had suggested her newly favorite restaurant in town; Los Huertas. The food and service are superb, and we all delight in the warmth of the chile'. It is almost certain to become an addiction for anyone trying the venerable state delicacy of either roasted fresh green chiles, or the fully matured dried red chiles. Depending upon the exact variety used, the heat level could range from a long lasting, mild warmth; all the way to unbelievable mouth blistering intensity. The hotter the chile', the more endorphins your brain would release, and thus the better you felt after the meal. Definitely addicting stuff!

There was only one dilemma I had found concerning my favorite sauces, and that is which to choose. Red or green? Like most gringo locals, I quickly discovered you could order 'Christmas' and get both. The non-gringo locals called it 'Navidad,' so too did I eventually, as my Spanish had improved over the high school years. Between the two vastly different moles, or sauces, I still hadn't picked a favorite. Each is spectacular in its own right, with the often fiery red having a deep earthy flavor underlying it, while the green is tangy, fresh, with a smoky roasted flavor, and all with widely varying levels of heat. I have grown to love the heat, I want to sweat when I eat chile'. This is no problem for the truly authentic New Mexican restaurants; if you order extra hot, they surely will oblige.

Cat and Mom sip wine chatting while I finish everything left on their plates, seeing as mine has been cleaned spotless by sopapillas already.

"I wish I could eat like that." Cat teases.

"Your young, you could get away with it." Mom tells her.

Cat shakes her head. "Not and keep my figure, I already tried that in high school. Found out the hard way."

I am stuffing some left over refritos and Spanish rice into a sopapilla. "I can't picture you chunky Cat." I smile and then soak up some wonderful red chile' onto the crispy fried bread. I don't even hear her flirty response as I dig into the bite of flavor paradise.

"I think he's probably going to marry a Hispanic girl someday." Cat sighs at my oblivious state.

Both of the women laugh at that, while I chew my way to heaven.

We stay only until a few minutes after I have finished eating everything not bolted down on the table. When I start to take a bit too much interest in the steaming plates of delicious food a waiter is bringing out from the kitchen, they know it is time to leave.

"I can't believe you are still hungry Jeff." Cat teases.

Mom cuts in, "I think it is more of a conditioned response, than hunger."

After a moment Cat giggles, "Oh, I so have to get a little bell now."

Both of the ladies laugh, while I merely enjoy their closeness.

Just as we are leaving the dining room, I brush by an older tall man who is being seated. The man looks me in the eye with a pleasant look, and suddenly a voice enters my head, though neither of us have said a word.

'I invented the quantum shifting starship, but I'm even more proud to have figured out the particle like effect of light... well, I don't know... quantum shifting a large object is pretty damned cool also...'

I can only blink and keep moving, it is just so strange.

Cat parts from us as she had driven separately, and I drive mom home in my little truck. I don't say anything about the voice I'd heard, as I don't really know what to make of it.

"Cat said you would be attending High School classes along with your training while you are home." Mom verifies. "Make sure you get your diploma son, just in case this isn't what you want."

"But this is what I am supposed to do, I know it. I have a gift mom."

"I know you do baby, I've known for a long time now." She smiles. "So, what did you think of Los Huertas?"

"Excellent, it's my new favorite place in town, but Pete's is still my favorite considering out of town." I critique.

"You liked it better than Sadie's? I thought for sure the extra heat would win again."

I laugh. "I did ask for extra hot mom, and they brought it! But Sadie's is still great too."

"Oh my little chile' addict, what are we ever to do?" She too laughs.

"Aww, darn it!" I suddenly complain.

"What's the matter son, did you forget something?"

"I should have ordered a plate to go." I muse.

Mom just shakes her head.

The next morning is the first day of training in what Cat calls her 'new' system. I meet her at the Lab headquarters way back in our remote section on the second floor.

"Morning boss, thanks again for taking my mom and I out to dinner. That was very special to her." I greet.

"She's a dear, I like her a lot." Cat tells.

"Oh, before we get started I guess I should tell you about the read I got off this old guy as we were leaving the restaurant last night." I inform.

Cat is suddenly all ears, "What?"

I explain in detail exactly what I'd heard.

"Quantum shifting starship, and the particle like effect of light?" Cat is wide eyed.

"He must have been a Lab scientist, or something I figure."

"Well, well. I can see your talents will be quite useful to us Jeff. Probably better not ever mention what you just told me again, but tell me of any reads you make just the same. If it is from one of our people we'll just forget about it." She smiles. "Now if you will follow me, we will begin."

She leads me into a large room that is set up for a number of different purposes. Three MIB are waiting in the room. Cat leads me to them.

"This is special agent Johnson." As she says this the man extends his hand to shake mine.

I oblige.

"And agents Hickson, and Thornburl." Cat introduces.

Both men extend their hands for me, and as I go to shake the third man's hand, the MIB very suddenly drops, pulling my arm over his shoulder, and performs a fireman's carry to throw me over his shoulder onto the floor. The man still holds my hand, and he twists me until I have to roll over onto my belly. In an instant the man is on my back, tightly mounting me, and then he snakes his arms around my throat to apply the deadly 'rear-naked' choke hold, which I was taught at the academy.

My eyes bug out and I can't breathe, plus the blood is being cut off from my head. I helplessly try to tap-out, and signal my yielding. Finally Cat motions to the man to let go of me, and he does.

"Sorry Jeff; that was just a test to see where we are base-line with you, concerning reading peoples' intentions." She offers.

"I guess I failed, huh?" I rub my sore neck.

"Miserably." She agrees.

I think back, and do remember being slightly apprehensive for some reason as I met the men. I determine to pay heed to these little feelings I sometimes get.

"Sometimes it's best to risk offending someone for security sake. You won't ever have to shake someone's hand, unless we tell you that you must."

I sigh, "I'll remember that."

"Good, now gentlemen, if you would proceed to the next exercise please." Cat addresses the MIBs.

The three go over to a table with their backs turned to me, and after a moment they come back over.

"Now, look them over Jeff, and tell me if you get anxiety from any of them." Cat tells.

I size the men up, and one of them does cause me to feel a bit jumpy. "Agent Hickson is up to no good."

Cat looks to the men, "How about it guys, is he right?"

Just then agent Hickson starts to take a step towards me, but suddenly turns around. Agent Johnson moves at me so quickly, and has struck down onto the top of my head with something pointy that jabs at my skin. The man then shows me the rubber knife he'd just 'killed' me with.

"That's oh for two sweetie," Cat shakes her head, "now I know you don't want to spend all day dying on me. Relax and try again."

The men go back over to the table as before, and seem to be passing something between them.

The next time I try to get a read, but there is nothing.

"I don't get any read at all." I tell her.

"Don't try to read that deep. Just look for visible cues, and trust your instincts." Cat explains.

When I just look, and don't think about it, I see that agent Hickson won't meet my gaze, while the other two do.

"I'm going with agent Hickson again." I tell.

The man flips the rubber knife out of his sleeve and says, "You busted me."

"Hey, you did it Jeff." Cat congratulates. "Now they were being a bit obvious about it, so let's see how you do when they tone it down a tad."

The rest of the morning is spent with many more such drills, and then just before noon Cat dismisses the three agents, thanking them. I have a few sore spots on the vital points of my body, from the rubber knife slicing me up repeatedly. I did start to get better at reading the visual cues by the end of the exercises though.

Cat takes me to the cafeteria on the first floor.

"We don't ever talk shop out of the secured area, remember that Jeff. Not even in the cafeteria, or especially not there, because there are agents everywhere, and they will cause trouble if they hear you talking about classified material." She explains.

"That's good to know, besides, I would like to get to know more about you personally." I grin.

"Sure, what do you want to know?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe for starters, why aren't you married? It's certainly not for lack of suitors I'm sure."

She giggles, "Like I want someone always asking me where I'm going, or where I've been, much less how my day was. How irritating!"

"No rings, or strings huh?"

"Damn straight!" Cat winks.

After lunch Cat takes me back to her office and personally gives me a lesson in reading visual clues.

"It is important to know as much about your opponent as possible. One of the first things to look for is, which is their strong hand? This is necessary information for many reasons. One is; that is the most likely hand they would strike with, and it is also vital to our lie-detection technique. Next is what is their focus on, what seems to have their interest, or are they looking all over the place? That's a sign of nervousness obviously."

I nod, then ask. "Could I take some notes?"

"I've already got a printout for you with everything on it. Right now though I just need your full attention."

I sit up straight. "Yes ma'am."

"Oh god." Cat shakes her head. "I hate 'ma'am.' It means 'bitch' where I'm from."

"Sorry boss."

"Now, speaking of nervousness; that is a classic tell to watch out for that person. Especially in some of the places you'll be operating Jeff."

I grin. "Alright."

"On the print-out I list all of the symptoms, but it is pretty obvious at most any stage. Next is a simple but fun guessing game. I call it 'what is that person doing?' You try to guess what task or business someone is engaged with. If you can't tell what they are doing, pay attention to them! Of course a professional agent would always appear to be doing something that they are not really doing. So watch to see if a person is actually performing a task, or if they are not; then you just made an agent!"

My eyes widen at the sound of that.

"Some things that people may be doing might appear as normal, but think about the context of what, when, and where they are doing it. For example look at the pictures on my screen." Cat spins the flat screen to face me.

There is a photo of a park bench with an old woman sitting and reading a book. Below it is another photo of the same park bench with a young man sitting and reading a book. I notice that the book is the same in both photos, titled 'Ruling the Game.' With a picture of a man dunking a basketball on the cover.

"Which person doesn't seem quite right?" She asks.

"The old woman."

"Isn't a young man reading a book in the park, unusual?"

"Yeah, but not as unusual as grandma reading about basketball greats." I chuckle. "Trying to trick me, huh?"

She smiles. "Very good Jeff, you're catching on." Then she hits a key and the pictures changes.

Now it is a photo of a street scene with many people bustling along the side-walk.

"See any trouble? Look quickly." Cat says.

After a few seconds the picture goes blank.

I think about it. "At the bus-stop. The young man in the denim jacket and jeans forgot his backpack under the seat."

"Good, anything else?"

I really try to visualize the photo in my mind. "Yeah, the other guy dressed just like the young man, seems to be waiting. He's looking right at the other fellow, but he's past the stopped bus. The other fellow is just going to join him, and they'll blend into the crowd. It's a bomb!"

"Excellent read Jeff. That's right on the money."

She has me analyze several dozen other photos, and then she goes onto the next subject.

"Ok, let's learn how to detect lies, shall we?"

"Sure, I'd love to." I say, then add, "Am I lying?"

"No."  
"Dang! You're good." I laugh.

Cat sighs, "Anyhow, we need to know the person's strong side to accurately read the eyes. Let's say they are right handed as most people are. Now when a person looks to their weak side, they are most likely in recall mode, especially if they are looking upwards. When looking to their strong side, a person is daydreaming, creating a picture, or crafting a lie. Upwards is the most usual area to look when concerning something visual. Auditory recall, or alternatively audio imagination, is to look about head height, and a down ward glance is a tactile function. Only about one in ten people are lefties, and they will be opposite of righties."

"I am so going to practice reading these cues from now on." I tell.

"It will become a permanent condition, and that's what we want." Cat promises. "Also most women will lean away from you when lying, and most men will lean towards you. Verbal cues are equally important. Look for sudden bursts of information added on the end of a conversation, or even sentence. This is an unconscious sales habit, to sweeten the deal. If someone seems to be trying to sell you something, they probably are... a load of hooey."

I nod.

"I want you to practice being aware of your own subtle cues, and begin to try to manipulate them, so you can lie with the best of them." Cat orders.

"You want me to practice lying? To you?" I am confused.

"Oh, you're so sweet." She chides me. "Yes, we are going to practice right now. I'm going to ask you three questions, and one of them you must make up a lie about. Then I will ask you some more questions about the first three, and you lie to me about the one thing, tell the truth about the other two. Okay?"

"Sure."

"The first question will be; what's your favorite color? The second will be; what's your favorite animal? And last is; what's your favorite season? Think of the lie you will fabricate, I'll give you a minute. Just tell me when you're ready."

After a few moments I say, "Okay, I'm ready."

Cat then casually interrogates me with a bunch of seemingly unrelated questions, then she laughs after a few minutes. "I should have known right away your favorite animal wasn't the kangaroo. What is it... really?"

I shake my head in amazement, I hadn't a clue she was anywhere near the truth. "It's cats."

Cat smiles big. "Neat, me too... of course."

She could be lying to me as far as I can tell, as she is so hard to read subtle cues from. I want to be that way too.

The next day she has me watch tape after tape of politician's giving speeches, and I am in tears by the time it was finished. First from laughter, then from the heavy, horrible reality.

"I've never seen such obvious liars before... all of them!" I complain.

"It seems to be a requirement for that profession, and I bet they are all a slight bit more than just liars too." She spats.

"Our enemies are amongst us." I realize.

"That's true sweetie, but there are more as well, there are lots more."

That afternoon Cat has me meet with a psychologist, who teaches me how to hypnotize myself lightly. I find the extremely relaxed state to be very constructive, and just like the Doctor had told; I can focus my mind on any emotional, or physical feeling and will it under control. She told me to practice the technique often, and that I would see her again.

In the morning I spend four hours in an isolation chamber, practicing my self-hypnosis. After about an hour inside, I find myself in a very 'light' state of being, at least that is how I would describe it. It is gone after a few blissful moments, and I realize I want to feel that again, so I focus on how I had felt just before the mystical state of being manifested. I get frustrated after another hour of trying, and then I give up, and relax. After a long while it happens again, and this time I just melt into it, instead of trying to explore it with my mind.

Next thing I know Cat is gently rousting me from the chamber, and I smile at her with love. I can't help it, as she is so lovely just then.

"You look like an angel." I blurt in awe.

Cat laughs, "You definitely have me confused with someone else sweetie."

She takes me back to her office for a debriefing, and I tell her of the wonderful state I'd discovered.

"Good, that's what we want. I'm going to schedule you for the isolation chamber three more times this week then. Let's push your envelope shall we?" She types the orders into her computer.

"Yeah. I do want to know what I'm capable of, all of it." I agree.

"Well the sky is no longer the limit." Cat is wry.

I don't understand her, and she sees my confusion.

"Meaning that there are no limits with the mind Jeff."

"Oh." I thought I realized what she meant, but really hadn't a clue as to just how right she was.

The rest of the first week is spent between the isolation chamber, analyzing photos and videos for subtle tells, and I even perform a mock interrogation of an agent who is instructed to lie about one part of their personal history. I have to determine what the lie is, and which is the truth. I nail the fabrication easily through the methods Cat taught me. Like using three base-line questions to form your questioning around. The first is something that the subject knows the answer to without a doubt. The second is something the subject might know, and the third is something the subject definitely does not know the answer to. I easily see the fabrication taking place right before my eyes, it is almost too easy. At that moment I know the true motivation of the subject, and my own motivations in contrast. Then I heard the man's inner thoughts, very subtly at first, but then louder.

I write down a name I'd heard the man think, and when debriefed by Cat I tell her of the event. She leaves her office for a few moments, and when she returns a big smile is across her face.

"Agent Scholtz confirmed the name as someone he knew. Nice deep read Jeff! Now that's what I'm talking about! Right now I want you to remember exactly how you got into that state of mind...remember it! Feel it!" Cat insists.

"Okay... I'll try."

"Yoda says there is no try sweetie... just do it. Look you have to realize that we're not training you to be a run of the mill agent like myself Jeff. You are one of the rare few people we've found with honest to God latent psychic abilities, otherwise you never would have even seen our messages."

"I don't believe for one second that you are run of the mill Cat."

"Oh, how sweet... even pasty it's so sugary." Cat is serious. "That is the one area we are concerned with Jeff, your will to perform any duty thrown at you... even killing."

I am embarrassed, and my face feels warm. I swallow a dry lump in my throat, as she meant it, it is an easy read.

"If someone is trying to kill me... I'll kill them first."

"That's not going to cut it Jeff. What if I was in danger sweetie, wouldn't you want another agent to take the people out that were trying to hurt me?"

"Well, of course I would." I am almost offended.

"Suppose that other agent was you Jeff."

"Yeah, I'd kill the bad guys to protect you, boss."

Cat grins wryly. "Too bad it doesn't work like that anywhere except Hollywood. The reality is that you will often be operating alone, and there isn't anyone else to come save the day. Just you, so you have to be ready to fight to the death at any moment sweetie." She rubs the last word in like salt to a fresh wound.

I am silent, and irritated by her obvious berating of my readiness to fight.

Finally she closes her lap-top, and asks, "Hey, are you busy tomorrow Jeff?"

"Well, I was going to take my mom to dinner. I am going to try to do that every weekend." I relax.

"If you haven't got anything in the day, let's go for a hike!" Cat is suddenly like a teenage friend again.

I think about it a moment just to lead her on. "Sure, sounds good. Where, and when?"

"La Luz trail head, seven sharp." Cat says as she ushers me from her office. "Bring water."

A fiery red sky backlights the massive mountains as I park in the small lot at the trail head. I don't see her car among the few there already. After putting my three dollars in the damned envelope for Ranger Rick's birthday fund, I sit back in the truck and wait. I wore my good Gortex hiking boots, water proof cargo pants, and a knapsack with two big water bottles, a rain poncho, and a picnic lunch mom had packed for us. It weighs probably close to ten pounds.

After only five minutes Cat's car comes squealing into the lot and parks abruptly. I get out of the truck and see Cat and another woman exit her sports car. They both are dressed in spandex running pants, and sports shoes.

"What? Were you planning on staying a while Jeff." Cat asks with a grin while looking at my knapsack.

"It's just water, and some food..." I answer nervously.

The girls start to stretch out, each with their own routine.

"Did you already loosen up?" Cat asks me.

I shake his head. "No, why do I need to?"

"It's always a good idea to limber up before a little run sweetie, though those boots probably weren't a good choice." Cat chuckles.

"Run?" I gasp.

"Uh huh." Cat smiles and then takes off right past me. "Come on Paul Bunyan, see if you can keep up!"

The other very attractive girl blazes past me, and I whimper as I follow them up the trail.

The first mile isn't too bad, and I actually am able to keep the girls in sight, for the most part. It gets steeper though, by a sight! Pretty soon the trail is comprised of many switchbacks followed by many more switchbacks. Now I can't see the girls ahead. The Chamisa brush gives way to Pinion pine in all its scraggly shapes, and the trail becomes rockier, while the wind blows in from the north with a crisp chill.

I stop for a water break, and then start my now slow jog up the imposing mountain. Miles three and four are almost pure torture on me, yet I keep a snail like pace going. Clouds have so quickly covered the sky completely, that I now feel like it is pre-dawn gray that I jog through. The Pinion gives way slowly to the mighty Ponderosa, and I see that I am actually entering the cloud cover then. This inspires me to gain a second wind, and run a bit faster.

Within ten minutes I see that I am exiting the cloud on top, because the light becomes so much brighter as I ascend. Suddenly I break through the misty veil, and am at the base of the most triumphant pinkish cliffs of the mighty Sandias.

"Hey slow poke! We were beginning to worry about you." Cat calls from the scenic overlook just ahead on the trail.

I beleaguer my way up to them with sweat dripping from all over me. Then I wearily strip the knapsack off, and eagerly take a seat on a granite boulder.

"So just what is in that sack that is so damned important Jeff?" Cat demands. She comes over and sits next to me and the knapsack, and begins to open it up.

"It's just some water, and food and stuff." I act like I don't care.

She starts pulling out my stuff. "This is a gallon of water between these two bottles, how the hell long did you figure on staying?" She again teases.

"What's that?" Cat's friend asks, as she joins Cat in ransacking my gear.

"That looks like a rain poncho... not a bad idea, but it's so heavy." Cat chuckles.

"What's that under it?" The other woman prods.

"That's just some lunch for us all." I tell.

"Oh! How sweet!" Cat giggles.

"Awww." Her friend joins in a short giggle fit.

I get the distinct impression that they think the gesture as silly somehow, and I am embarrassed.

"You probably shouldn't eat that much on a run Jeff, seriously. If you're hungry, I have an energy bar you can have. It would be better."

"You said it was going to be a hike!" I protest.

"Did I?" Cat bats her pretty eyes at me. "My bad. Anyhow, we are just a tiny bit over half way... last one to the top is a rotten egg!" Cat lights off suddenly and her friend, a very cute brunette, winks at me as she starts after Cat. I haven't even caught my breath, and my stuff is strewn all over.

It is a surreal picture to my endorphin fed mind, like I am on an island nestled in the sky. The city, which normally is entirely visible, is completely obscured by the clouds below. In no time the trail turns even steeper with more switchbacks. The perfectly circular holes drilled into the rock so long ago when the trail was blasted, are the same as they had been when I was younger with my mom, walking up the mountain as opposed to jogging up it. The girls aren't jogging though, no. They are running full on. Again they have disappeared above me.

Three hours later I breach the rim of the mountain, where the girls are waiting impatiently.

"Hey stranger." Cat smiles. "Take a breath, and enjoy the vista!"

I do, and smile, feeling really good.

"Ok, all the way down in one shot. Last one there is a booger head." Cat laughs and tears off down the trail that I'd just so laboriously ascended. "Come on rotten egg!" She calls from down the trail. A clear thought goes through my head just then. 'This girl is crazy!'

Again both of the women wait for me at the bottom, and Cat helps me take off my pack, I think as a friendly gesture to help me, but she goes right for the sandwiches and fixings mom had packed. They already had my tailgate down sitting it, and both girls go to town feasting on the food. As they eat a park Ranger pulls in and begins to inspect the vehicles for the proper tag from the envelopes, to see if they paid. The ranger spies a young man climbing on a large boulder there by the lot.

"Hey, what are you doing on my rock?" He shouts to the young man. "Get off it!" The Ranger strides over to the man and begins reading him the riot act.

Cat's friend mutters, "Dick."

Cat giggles, "Oh, Jeff, I'm sorry. Where are my manners? This is agent Tilda."

"Good to meet you agent Tilda." I smile.

"Likewise agent trainee Jeff, you did well today." Tilda returns the easy smile.

"Don't worry, we'll get you in to tip-top shape Jeff." Cat assures.

I worry with deep breaths.

The Ranger goes up to Cat's car and sees it doesn't have a tag, just some other thing in its place. He starts to write a ticket.

"That's mine Officer." Cat voices to him.

"Where's your pay tag Miss?" The redneck looking Ranger demands.

Cat retrieves her ID from her fanny pack, and goes to show him.

"I don't give a damn who you think you are darling, but you gotta pay!" He half shouts at her, and I can read Cat's body language as it stiffens ever so slightly. I know she is pissed. Cat tries explaining something neither Tilda nor I can hear.

"You aren't here on Government business darling, not dressed like that. Now you're going to have to pay the fine." The man is agitated greatly too, as he continues to write in his citation book.

Tilda says, "Let me go talk to him." And she approaches the park Ranger.

"Who are you? You stay back missy!" The Ranger yells as he sees Tilda approach.

The strange sequence of events had been almost comical up to that point. Then it became vicious. The Ranger goes to draw his weapon, but Cat moves unbelievably fast, and smoothly, to trap the weapon in its holster with her hand. With a snap, the magazine is ejected from the gun, as her other hand digs deeply into the bottom of the man's chin. She has stepped behind him with one leg, and she bends her knee to trip him backwards. The six foot plus Ranger is on his back and the slender but curvaceous Cat is on top of him in complete control. Tilda is right there with a gun of her own drawn, and covering the Ranger. A shot rings out, but it isn't from Tilda's gun. The Ranger cries out in agony, as he'd shot himself in the leg with his own holstered gun.

"Mag is out, he's out! I'm clear!" Cat half shouts to Tilda. Then to the Ranger, "You dumbass! Why did you do that? I had already identified myself as a Federal Law Enforcement officer, you Idiot!"

"I'm calling nine one one!" Tilda gets her phone out of her fanny pack.

Cat tells the Ranger to stay calm, and she will stop the bleeding, and then she administers first aid expertly.

Within fifteen minutes a life-guard helo flies in and lands in the small parking lot. By that time many more Rangers and NSA people had shown up. It is quite a circus. They take the wounded park Ranger out right away, saying he was stable, and that he would survive.

Cat joins me and Tilda with bloody hands and clothes. "Can you believe it?" She is exasperated. "Damned federal officers!" She shakes her head.

Tilda and I just look at her with confusion.

"I meant him, not us!" Cat explains. "Anyhow, we'll see you at work bright and early on Monday Jeff, or should I say rotten egg, or maybe even booger head." With that both women get into her car chuckling, and Cat peals out.

I am at once slightly smitten with Cat, but even more so I admire her. She is the boss! Here she is, perhaps in her late twenties, if that, and she is heading a highly classified NSA project. I know one thing for sure, that I would never make a move on my boss, not after seeing how she handled that big park Ranger so easily.

Monday morning is a lecture by Cat, in her office with the door closed.

"The name of our project is the Enhanced Psionic Ability program or EPA, but its code name is 'Project Lighting.' Use the code name if needing to reference with anyone cleared and with a need to know, never say the real name. I'll tell you who those people are Jeff. Our goal is to enhance a candidates latent psychic talents. Our methodology is variable, as to the subject."

"Am I the subject?"

"Yes, for now." Cat tells. "At the end of this twelve week cycle we will test your ability and compare it with your base-line tests we performed. Then we'll go from there as to what's next. Any questions so far?"

"Are you psychic too Cat?"

"No, I have different talents, which are suited to my position." She says.

"Are there any other psychics like me in the program?"

"That is classified." She is blunt.

I shrug my shoulders, "Okay, what's next?"

"Well the rest of the day, is going to be unusual Jeff. You will be in the isolation chamber for most of it, and we want to try to really ignite that part of your mind where these psychic tendencies lie. So I am going to ask you to take a light dose of a medicine called MMDA."

"Hey! Wait a minute! That's Ecstasy." I am worried.

"Relax sweetie. It is only a therapeutic dose. I am a Licensed Psychiatrist, and am fully experienced in administering this drug Jeff. Nothing bad will happen to you, just some possible good. Okay?"

I am in awe, as well as nervous. Cat is a Doctor of sorts. "Okay."

Before they shut me in the chamber, but after I'd taken the pill she gave me, Cat tells me that I might get some more pictures in my head, as I did from the computer, and that I need to remember them and tell her what I see during the breaks I will have from the chamber. It isn't long before I can feel the drug kick in, and then the first vision comes to me, of a chicken eating grain. Then it is a little bit before the next one, and it is of a very sexy nude woman standing in a shower. I fight off my physical response, and relax even more into the pleasant drug.

During my first break Cat lets me get out and walk around to get my circulation going again. Then she takes my report emotionlessly, and puts me back into the chamber. Next I see signs with words and symbols on them, and I try to remember them all. A very faint image comes to me sometime after these, and it is of a clown with a big bunch of multicolored balloons. At the next break Cat asks me mostly about the clown, and exactly how many balloons he had, and what color each was. Again I can't tell if she is pleased or not by my responses.

The last session begins I am told, and that I should relax deeply, but to stay awake. After what has to be several hours, I see a faint image in my head, then as I look at it, it becomes stronger. It is Tilda, from the 'hike,' and she smiles at me, then to wink as she had done before.

"I need you to remember a word Jeff. The word is 'Philanthropy.' Remember it Jeff. You are cute!" She tells me in my mind.

Then the vision fades, and I see no others. When I am allowed to exit, I tell Cat exactly what I saw and heard, including Tilda saying that I was cute. Again Cat doesn't seem surprised in the least. What I couldn't know is that I would never ever know the results.

Tuesday begins with Cat taking me to my new High School, or tutoring classes with a Professor Jenkins. It is a long boring day, but I need the credits to graduate, and I had promised my mom. I wonder if they will allow me to take some college courses after I graduate. I don't see why not.

Wednesday morning Cat takes me to a remote Lab building, and introduces me to three women who will indoctrinate me in their own specialties. That being advanced interrogation techniques, advanced body language analysis, and finally counter interrogation techniques. Cat asks if one of the ladies could drop me back at my truck when they are done with me, and the lone blonde of the three agrees. Then Cat leaves.

The semi mean looking brunette introduces herself first.

"I'm agent Carson, and I specialize in advanced interrogation techniques." She takes a small case, and removes a hypodermic syringe. "I'm going to need to inject you with this honey, for a full demonstration."  
"What the hell? What is it?" I am suddenly very nervous for some reason.

"It's just sodium pentethol, you know... truth serum."

The woman with dark hair steps up to the brunette. "I've never seen that as part of the program. Hey didn't I see you go into the ladies room after that other lady? What's going on here?"

The brunette, who called herself Carson, suddenly tries to stab the needle into the woman with dark hair. They start struggling and quickly go to the ground. With a scream the little blonde runs behind me for protection, but I don't know what to do. Just then I am being shocked with high voltage, and I fall to the floor in a tight seizure.

"Quick! Give him the shot." The blonde commands, and both of the other women stop fighting. They come to me and inject me in the arm. I hear church bells ringing as I fade to black.

When I come to, everything is distorted, and I feel extremely giddy. It takes me a long while to realize I am in a prison cell of some sort. There is just a thin stained mattress on the floor, and a single bare sixty watt light on the ceiling. A steel door is set into one of the four small concrete walls. The only other feature is a small floor drain in the center. I try hollering, and yelling. Asking what they wanted. Just as soon as I am good and tired of playing this game, I wait some more.

Finally after several more hours a voice comes from behind the door. "If you sit down facing the far wall, I will give you some water." It is a rough male voice with some sort of accent, perhaps mid-eastern?

I quietly sneak to hide right behind the door, waiting to jump the man.

"No? Suit yourself." Then I hear the man walking away.

After another long four hours or so, the voice comes back telling the same instructions. This time I comply and sit facing away from the door. When the door is closed again, I find two plastic water bottles with no labels, and a metal pail with a roll of toilet paper in it. I drink some much need water, and pee in the pail, then I lay down from lack of anything better to do, and fall asleep wondering if this is some kind of test.

I am suddenly woken by four big men in full riot gear with shields, dog piling on me, and cuffing my hands and then shackling my feet. One of them brings in a wheel chair, and they chain me to this as well. They roll me out into the corridor, and past other cell doors. From inside one of these I hear someone sobbing deeply. The hall way turns to the left, leading to a different looking doorway at the end of the hall. There are several other cell doors along the way, but I don't hear anything from inside these.

The room at the end of the hall is much larger than my cell, yet it only has a single table in the center, and there is a man sitting in a chair at the opposite side of the table. He is a stern looking man in his mid-age I figure. As I look him over, the guards suddenly grab my jaw, and force it open to insert a plastic keeper. Now I can't close my mouth. Next the man behind the table comes around and begins attaching all kinds of devices to me, including a blood pressure monitor. After he turns on one of the machines on the table, he nods and then attaches a wire clamp onto my nostril in the center. Another wire is clamped on my front tooth.

"It is very important that you listen to me now." The man tells me. "You are hooked to a lie detector machine, a polygraph, as well as a pain induction machine. I am going to ask you some questions, and you must be truthful with me. Remember, truthful with me always. I will help you remember this though." The man also has an accent, but I can't place his ethnicity.

He goes back and sits down behind the table, and the guards leave.

"First question. What is your real name?" The man's voice is monotonous in tone.

"Jeffrey Christopher, serial number 712-4691-7846." I say with much difficulty due to the mouth insert.

The man takes a long moment looking at the graphic readout of the polygraph, even marking some points with his pen. Then he slowly reaches over and pushes a button.

The sharpest pain I have ever felt rushes through my teeth and sinuses.

"AHHHH!!" I can't help but yell. It is at that moment, I begin to think that maybe this is very real. "Oh my God!"

"No." The man says in the same non-interested manner. "What is your real name?" He asks again.

"That is my real name. Jeffrey Christopher, that's the truth... please."

The stern man again watches his machine's readout, and again he casually reaches over and touches the button.

"AHHHHH!!!!" I scream in torture.

"No." The man lets a sigh, before he again asks, "What is your real name?"

"I am telling the truth GOD DAMN IT! I don't care what your freaking machine says!" I cry out with my mouth propped open.

This time it takes the man a very long time to reach over for that damned button, but he does, and again he touches it; sending raw agony through my face.

"No. What is your real name?" The evil old bastard asks again.

"John Smith then." I will try anything at this point.

Again it is long agonizing moments of the man silently reading the charts, then he slowly reaches for the infernal pain switch. I whimper, sweating heavily, knowing what is coming. Then the man's phone rings and much to my delight he takes his hand away from the button. He reads the text message, and grows a slight frown. Next he abruptly gets up and comes around the table. He quickly removes the wires, and all the other gadgets of the polygraph and puts them back on the table. Then he leaves the room.

I am left there for several hours, until the door finally opens, and I can hear heavy footsteps from behind me. A guard roughly grabs my jaw and another removes the mouth brace. They wheel me back to my cell, and tell me to kneel facing away from them, if I wished to be released from the cuffs and shackles. I obey, and they leave me in the cell unshackled.

The bucket has been emptied, and two new water bottles are there with a small bowl of cold, mashed up garbanzo beans that are absolutely void of spice. Still I hungrily eat, even licking the meager paper bowl clean. I eventually find sleep, but now I figure that what is happening to me is indeed real; it couldn't be a test.

I go through two additional lengthy periods of sleep, until I once again am woken by the burly guards pinning me down with riot gear, and chaining me up. The same room is waiting for me at the end of the hall, with the same evil bastard sitting in it. Just as I start spouting obscenities at him, the guards roughly insert the mouth brace again. They leave as the man begins hooking up all the things to me again, including the wires to my nostrils, and tooth.

"Please don't do this to me." I plead.

"Relax please, and simply, always tell me the truth." He says with no emotion.

"I did... I did!" I insist.

"First question, what is your real name?"

"My real name is John Smith." My mind whirls with all kinds of convoluted reasoning.

The devil man simply, and slowly reads the graph, marking several spots. He then slowly reaches for the button to hell, and he touches it.

"AHHHHH!!!" My face is on fire again. "You Son-of-a-Bitch!"

"No. Remember, always truthful with me. Now, what is your real name?" he doesn't even look at me, he hardly ever does.

I decide to be silent, it doesn't seem to matter what I say.

The man waits, and then says, "No answer is the button and the dial turned up. It is much worse... your choice."

"My real name is Jeffrey Christopher! I swear it."

The man reads his damn graph so slowly, and then as he begins to reach for the infernal button, he pulls it back and marks another point on the graph. I sweat heavily as the hand slowly reaches back towards the button.

Just then his phone rings, and again I am so damned glad when the man unhooks me, and leaves. It seems the phone is giving me a reprieve, or at least whoever is on the other end is.

Hours later the door behind me opens, and I can barely hear any footsteps at all.

"If I take the mouth brace out, will you behave?" A young female voice asks.

I nod, and try to say 'yes.' I see the young blonde girl who had been with the three who'd kidnapped me.

"Please, what do you want? I'll tell you whatever you want to know." I find myself begging as soon as I can talk properly.

"That's good Jeff. Because I don't control things around here, unfortunately the powers that do only granted you this chance to tell me everything at my insistence. If you don't give me something though; the other man will come back. Do you understand Jeff?" She makes sure.

I nod.

"Okay, relax and tell me what project you are working on with the American NSA?" Her face is so cute, yet here she is threatening sure torture on me.

I hesitate. That oath of secrecy I'd made, I didn't make lightly. "I can't tell you that... I don't know! I just started, and have barely done any training!" I implore. "I really don't know!" I lie.

The cute little blonde smiles at me with pity. "No, well I tried, I hated seeing that man hurt you Jeff, but maybe they are right, maybe that is what it will take." She leaves to my pleas of honesty.

It is another couple of hours until the door opens again, and to my relief the guards return me to the cell. Again there is fresh water and garbanzo beans for me. That "night" I am woken up by a man screaming in horrible pain from the distance. It lasts for about ten minutes, then it is quiet again. This is when I realize that I am not going to be rescued by anyone else, so I will have to try to figure a way out of this hell hole myself. I will kill anyone that tries to prevent my escape. That is a no brainer at this point. Anyone!

I sleep three more times until the inevitable rude wake-up call by the riot squad. I try to think of how I could get away from them, but they are very controlling. There just isn't a chance, they are all over me. Down to the room at the end of the hall I go, and this time I am much relieved when the table with the polygraph isn't there. Now there are half a dozen cinder blocks, a stretcher board, four buckets, and some rags.

Four big guards fight me to get me tied onto the stretcher board, but then there I am being tilted head down as they lift my feet onto the stacked cinder blocks. I see what is coming and I panic.

"I'll tell you everything! Don't do this!" I yell.

It is too late, as the men stuff rags in my mouth and began to water-board me. They don't ask me any questions, they just do it with all four buckets worth.

I know I am going to die here at this point, I am certain of this reality.

Four or five sleep periods later, I am again taken to the room at the end of the hall. To my horror, the man with the monotone voice is there with his evil machines again. I am hooked up just like before, and the man goes back to his seat behind the table. I am crying.

It seems like forever until the man speaks, "First question, what is your real name?"

I cry out through the brace, "Jeffrey Christopher!"

Almost five minutes later the man doesn't look up as he then slowly reaches for the button.

Suddenly his phone rings, and he begrudgingly answers it. This time he simply leaves the room, with me still hooked up.

Ten minutes later the door opens and soft footsteps come towards me.

The cute little blonde kneels next to me. "Jeff, this is your last chance. Tell me everything... the truth."

The stress I feel is crushing, as I want to just tell her and be done with it. A pressure begins to build on the top of my head, and from the center upwards. I hear a slight pop sound, and then I can hear the blonde think; 'Oh come on you stubborn ass! You get to go home as soon as we break you dummy. Everyone is broken... even your mommy Cat. They broke her too! It's not even a secret to me... Cat already told us dummy... break... it's not worth it! Playing some macho game... aw hell.'

I am pissed. It is a freaking test... all I have to do is break, and I pass it? What the hell?

"I was going to make up a story about training to colonize another star system on a quantum shifting starship, but since I just have to tell the truth to get the hell out of here sweetie; here goes."

I spill the beans, cussing up all of them and Cat the whole time. The blonde laughs and takes the brace out.

"They'll unlock you soon as you calm down Jeff. You need to understand that this advanced training is to let you realize exactly what awaits you if you are compromised. They will break you, as we did too...well sort of. I guess. How did you make me anyhow sweetie?" She asks.

"It was the only thing that made sense at all." I lie.

"Nothing I keyed you on?" She presses.

"No, you were pretty convincing, and I am having a hard time being angry at you, because you were my sole sympathizer, and damn did I need that! Let me at that mister 'what is your real name' though, and I show you some ass ripping!" I growl. "I freaking hate him!"

Cat waits for me in her office and she promptly apologizes for the torture, but telling me that she also went through the AICIT (Advanced Interrogation Counter Interrogation Training) course just like I did, but she lasted almost a whole week until she finally broke. I don't smile. "I got a deep read on my sympathizer, and knew it was a freaking test, bitch... I mean boss."

"That's the spirit Jeff!" Cat winks at me with such a wry smile I can't stay angry at her. "Remember that which doesn't kill you, will make you stronger sweetie."

"Don't ever freaking call me 'sweetie' again, I'm over my nice phase." I growl.

"Good." Cat nods.

The first draught serveth for health,

the second for pleasure,

the third for shame,

and fourth for madness.

\- Anacharsis -

Chapter eight:

July 9th, 1980 CE. The Christo Del Desierto Monastery, by the Chama river just north of Abiquiu', New Mexico.

Ignacio and his oldest son waited in the vestibule for their audience with the Cardinal. They had each been instructed to keep silent about their Penitente' activities. This formality, and deep honor had been wrangled for them by their exceptional contributions to the holy cause. It didn't matter if the Cardinal knew exactly why they deserved this, and he wouldn't believe them anyways.

"Papa, you deserve this and I do not, so I will stay back." Marcus offered with a whisper.

"Nonsense mi hito. You have suffered too. Stand with me." Ignacio assured.

Just then one of the Benedictine monks they knew well, and loved, Brother Hernandez, came shuffling up to them.

"Ahh, my good friends and brothers in Christ. He is finally ready for you. Come, let's get this necessary intrusion out of the way shall we? Then his insufferable pompousness can be on with his wayward trek."

The monk led them back to the chapel, and through a throng of monks gathered for the ceremony. A diminished chant began. Seated in regal glory was the Cardinal in all his pointy hatted silliness. Marcus had to suppress a giggle. The ceremony was long, and involved both Ignacio and Marcus kissing the Cardinals ring while kneeling before him, swearing eternal loyalty to the church, and thereby to God himself. Each complied, knowing it was pure ceremony, and that the old gas bag on the throne like chair was full of crap. Everyone figured he knew it too, just by his indifference to the proceedings.

They received the blessing of the Church, and were ordained as True Patrons of such. This would actually give them some more clout in the secret Order strangely enough, not that they needed anymore however. As far as what the Church considered though, neither could care less.

The sun was still several hours from setting when they were done with the proceedings, and both father and son took the fishing poles, brought with them in the back of the truck, in hand down to the river. Each was silent as they cast lures out, only to slowly reel them back in, without any bites. After a few casts with no bites Marcus moved close to his father.

"I don't know Papa, it's kind of slow." Marcus said in a whisper.

"It doesn't matter son." Ignacio smiled.

That was true, just being there was enough, more than enough. It was a beautiful setting with the fast river churning up the bubbling sounds. Then it started to get lighter... much lighter, and brighter.

Father looked to son who also wore wide eyes of wonder. Just before them on the river, a bright light shone, and from this a man walked up to them. His face was bright with light, and he had dark golden bronze skin, almost as dark as the father and son.

"Ignacio, and Marcus. You have both kept your faith solidly, like rocks. Thus I will tell you the new name you will have in my house, it is 'Petra,' the rock. All the blood descendants of yours, my sons, will bear this holy name." The man said, or thought. They couldn't really tell, but they could easily understand him.

"My Lord!" Ignacio fell to his knees, and then Marcus did so quickly as well.

"Now, we must focus our thoughts on the preservation of my Bride. Pray with me." The man also knelt in front of them, and began to meditate.

Father and son emulated the man's posture, and the prayed for the Bride's survival along with him.

They stayed there all night, and in the morning several monks found them still kneeling in prayer, just the two of them. They left water for them, and checked on the two men periodically, but they didn't interrupt them, nor did they see the third man there. Ignacio and Marcus not only saw him, they were deeply wrapped in his radiant warm presence. It was the most serene and peaceful feeling either ever had. For three days, and nights they didn't move, and the monks had called their family to let them know where they were. Maria was waiting there at the monastery, along with Marcus's bride, Rosa. The last two nights the monks had even draped blankets over them, but neither man moved hardly at all.

"Whence you are called home my brethren, you shall be welcomed as close family." The Lord said as he finally rose up. "Remember the secret prayer I taught you, as it will be needed again. Also you will be visited by my brother Enoch once more, pay him heed." Then the bright light that only Ignacio and Marcus saw, disappeared.

Marcus had a hard time standing, and two monks rushed forth to help he and his father up. Ignacio could barely stand, and both monks grabbed him by the shoulders and took him up to the monastery. They put Ignacio in bed and tended to him with warm broth, while Marcus was famished and eagerly ate the food offered to him by the monks. Their families and the elders of the order were there, and an elder whispered to Ignacio that the Bride had been in a terrible car accident, and was in the hospital. She was just downgraded from critical to serious condition, just moments before, as his people at the hospital had relayed to him. Ignacio remembered the prayer, he knew it is what had saved her.

Ignacio was well enough to go home that evening, and the family returned home to Embudo. Marcus made sure to have a private moment with his father before he went back to his own house just up the road.

"Papa, I remember the secret prayer the Lord taught us, I will always remember it." He said.

Ignacio smiled. "Only tell it to your own blood hito, never anyone else."

"Por el piedra solamente." Marcus promised.

"Si hito, nosotros estas dichoso."

Marcus giggled. "Nosotros suplicado con Christo! Justo enfente de Christo!" His hands started to tremble.

Ignacio took his son's hand in one of his, and gently patted it with his other. "Mi hito, nosotros para siempre en el presencio de Christo."

Marcus visibly relaxed at his father's soothing. "Si papa... si."

It took every bit of will Ignacio had to keep his own hands steady, as the divine encounter was unprecedented.

While Marcus followed in his father's footsteps, or cactus laden crawl marks if you will, Ignacio and Maria's other two children did not. Rather the opposite occurred with them. Their second son, Lucas, had constantly gotten into fights, and other trouble, always escalating. He really got out of control when the Hippies moved into the area in the sixties. There were many communes of these 'free-souls' all the way up to Taos, and several others just outside of Espanola. Most didn't last more than a few years, but one did that was in the eastern foothills of the San Pedro mountain range. They only survived as they were converted to Sikhism by a traveling Yogi from India. Then they were a separatist religious compound, or a spiritual sanctuary; depending upon which side of the walls you are on.

Lucas got into using drugs from his new hippie friends, and the habit stuck with him. Soon he was arrested for grand theft, and sent to prison for a few years, six to be exact. It was inside where he joined a real hard core gang. Lucas had made his bed for the rest of his life, and it wouldn't be comfortable either. No, his life would be hard as a rock.

Maria and Ignacio's sole daughter, Guadalupe, also rebelled against the family teachings. She went by 'Lupe' though she even despised the shortened version, and eventually took up the moniker of 'Fly.' She and her parents never saw eye to eye, especially as they tried to make her take care of her brothers, and do what she saw to be their chores growing up. It wasn't her destiny in life to be like her mother, no. Lupe despised her mother, and let her know it every chance she got. She called her a 'slave,' and a bendeija, or a stupid old goat; for always doing the boys' bidding. Both parents eventually gave up as her rebellious spirit was just too strong.

Lupe also got into doing drugs, thanks to associating with her brother Lucas and his friends. Her tenure as a rebel was not to end as her brother's had, by prison time, rather her parents took drastic measures after one fateful morning. They had left for Albuquerque that morning in 1966; Ignacio, Maria and Marcus. Lucas was just serving his first year behind bars. They had left fifteen year old Lupe alone, as she refused to go with them, and they didn't feel like fighting. Maria had a strange feeling after about ten minutes of driving, so they returned home, only to find Lupe having sex with four boys at the same time. She acted like she was possessed or something as she refused to stop doing it. Telling the guys to keep going, but Ignacio scared them off easily enough. He just had to show them his big sharp hunting knife.

They took Lupe to a convent in the Jemez Mountains, and the Nun's took her charge. Ignacio and Maria didn't know what else to do. After a week the Nuns called them saying that Guadalupe had run away, and that the State Police had been contacted already. It didn't take but several days for the police to pick her up; she had been arrested for solicitation.

They took her back to the convent, and fully expected her to escape again, as she had promised she would. Fortunately for everyone concerned, there was a visiting Nun from a convent in France who offered to take Lupe back with her, and teach her a vocation, or an art. Strangely, Lupe not only agreed to this arraignment, she seemed pleased by it. So Ignacio and Maria had to let go of their daughter into a stranger's care, with only faith to rely upon. It was enough for them though, as they had an abundance of it. She had been in France now for fourteen years, and had become a Nun herself. Lupe sure had changed.

Marcus was on the watch team nearly every weekend in Albuquerque, performing surveillance of the Bride. He missed his wife and two young girls fiercely, but he was with them every week night, so it wasn't too bad. They missed the opportunity to help the Bride when she'd had her car wreck, well except for praying with God himself in the form of His Son. That had to count! Still the order redoubled their protection efforts.

He didn't understand many things about the supposed holy woman, except that she had married and divorced once already, and now she lived with a narcissistic sexual deviant, and straight up pervert. Marcus was quite confused as how this could be the Bride of the Lord, yet he not only believed his father fully, he had met Christ himself, and was told they were on the solid path. There was no doubt for him, and he led because of this. It also meant that he was left to do much of the work himself, as the numbers in the Order were steadily dwindling. The young men didn't want to suffer penance any longer, they were weak. He was strong in all ways, but especially in faith.

When the Bride got into a second terrible auto accident, both Marcus and Ignacio climbed the hill on their knees, in penance and petition. They said the secret prayer all night long as their master had personally shown them to do. They each felt his familiar warmth and serenity, and at first light they crawled all the way home.

She lived a second time from radical trauma, and then Marcus knew that his petitions were being accepted. This meant that he could ease off the surveillance of the woman some, and that brought peace of mind to him strangely.

When Ignacio passed away suddenly in nineteen ninety three, from a severe stroke, he died quickly and with a serene look on his face and in his deep rich eyes. Marcus and Maria were his only immediate family at the funeral. At first this left some bad feelings with them, but soon they remembered that Ignacio would chide them for this.

"Mal sentimientos estas recuerdos por el diablo." Maria quoted Ignacio as Marcus expressed his displeasure for his siblings one evening.

With a big sigh, he knew she was right, and so he forced himself to forget about it.

July 2nd, 2000 CE. Embudo, New Mexico.

Fierce wind ripped into his face with cutting sand grains, but Marcus couldn't even feel it. The cactus strapped to his palms and knees was all he felt, and even that had become an endorphin laced numbness. He missed his father, and knew he would have been here with him on this petition, if only... Some tears ran down his cheeks, but not from the physical pain.

He still kept track of the Bride, and she had left the pervert, eventually for a much younger construction worker. He was a bit of a drinker, but then so was she. Still he couldn't fathom that his Lord would choose this woman of all women, but it was not his to judge. In time he came to admire the couple, just for their perseverance through much family tragedy over the years. Marcus raised his own girls with much love and adoration, as did his lovely wife Rosa. They grew up to be the exact opposite of how his sister and brother had turned out, and he was so thankful.

He crawled home at first light, and Rosa lovingly tended to his wounds with pride of her husband's devotion. Then on the twelfth night since his petition, Marcus had a vision as he slept.

An old, but vibrant man with skin almost as dark as Marcus, came up to him. He had a long white beard, and piercing eyes.

"Hello Marcus, of Petra. You may call me Enoch, though I have many names."

"Praise be to the Lord of all Hosts." Marcus said in greeting.

"Always!" Enoch agreed. "Marcus, your father taught you well, and you alone listened. He told you truth when he said that one day you will have to cease your protection of the Bride, in all ways."

"Yes, when the bottomless pit closes for the first time." Marcus told.

"And he also told you of what the bottomless pit represents."

"Yes."

"How will you know when it has been closed up for the first time Marcus?" Enoch asked, though it was obvious he already knew the answer.

"I don't know great prophet. I was hoping you could tell me." Marcus grinned.

Enoch laughed heartily, then said, "Think about it son. What could cause the guarantee of survival of humanity, and of all the life remaining on Earth?"

Marcus had never looked at it from that angle before, and his mind tingled. Just then Enoch gently touched the top of his head, and he awoke instantly.

March 3rd, 1456 CE. Kilwinning Scotland.

The drawings were taken to the Master Stone Cutter of the Order, and he eagerly told that he was ready to start work. William Sinclair personally delivered the first portion of gold, and the new Abby he'd envisioned was commissioned. When he had learned the great secret from his father; before he passed away, just as he had from his own father, Henry, before he had died; it caused a great panic in William's heart. This took time for him to accept his crucial charge, and he eventually embraced it. Now he would be sure to pass the secret along to other worthy souls, as this information couldn't be lost to time. It was far too important for that to happen, so this was the purpose of the new Abby he would name Rosslyn Chapel; to give to the diligent, clues as to where the great treasure was hidden.

There were obvious strange plants carved that were not known to his world, yet he had books of detailed color drawings of many such plants, and some animals as well. The Chapel was decorated with some of these in stone relief. Also many other more subtle clues were hidden about, many of symbolic Templar standards. Even though the Templars now called themselves Freemasons, or Rosicrucian; they still held the original ideals and the sacred trust handed down from the Knights.

William was the direct inheritor of this trust, and promised to sustain the knowledge, yet keeping it secret until the appointed time. Though he had no heir himself, nor did he expect to, he planned on making sure someone would eventually discover the log-books of his Grandfather, and the single gold tablet that was the key to the tablets left in the new world. Grandfather Henry had gone to great lengths to ensure the Templars would be the ones to re-discover the Holy of Holies, and now so too would William. To this end, he planted some mythic subterfuge, spreading the rumor that the great treasure of the Templars was indeed still hidden in France. It wouldn't do for just anyone to uncover the mystery.

His efforts all bore fruit over time, as the story of Templar treasure in France spread secularly; while the clues to what Rosslyn Abby hid inside led the Freemasons to purchase the property after William's death, and to fully explore and solve the riddles he left them. This was all even before Christopher Columbus made his famous trek westward.

July 2nd, 1956 CE. Just outside of Elbasan, in what is now known as Albania, but was once known as Transylvania.

Even though the man had piercing eyes that could mesmerize you in less than a second, hardly anyone saw him in the crowded market. That was only because it was his will they not see him, he was next to invisible when he wished. Yet once in a while someone could see him, and he knew it was destiny to interact with them when they did.

Today was a special day though; it was three hundred and twenty one years since Master Rakoczi had fully helped him realize his true nature, and true self. Even though his Master could still be in this realm if he wished, he'd chosen to permanently ascend to the next. All his property, and Castle with untold riches was willed to him by his Master when he left. Telling him that he was to be the last of the Masters of Ancient Wisdom, and was the Chohan of the Seventh Ray. He, Saint Germain, would be the Hierarch of the Age of Aquarius.

He knew himself by many names now, as he remembered his other incarnations, and lives. The day before had been a great honor as the stars decreed that it was now the beginning of his age and rule. It was strange that he existed in any realm he wished temporarily, but he had to sleep in this third temporal realm, and sleep he did. Sometimes for months on end. Not today though, no. Today he was meeting with a man who had promised he had possession of another of the sacred crystal artifacts which he constantly sought after.

Suddenly a young woman was caught by his eye, and she acted as if she must know him.

"You can see me. That means we should talk." He smiled at her. "However, I am due for a very important meeting now... so if you wish to talk with me...follow me."

The woman was so perplexed, he could tell, and as he strode off through the crowd, he could sense her behind him, obediently following.

The out-of-the-way shop was just ahead, down a darkish alley, and he walked without hesitation to the recessed small doorway. She didn't hesitate either, being right behind him. They went in, and the shop-keep ushered them into the rear of the store. All kinds of interesting pieces of antiquity covered the tables and shelves of the store.

"Show me the crystal." Saint Germain said with smooth command, and the shop-keep obliged instantly.

He sat a life sized crystal skull on the table in front of Saint Germain.

Without even a touch, he knew it was authentic, and exactly what he was looking for. The skull belonged to him, as it was a part of him and his soul.

"What is your price my friend?" He asked.

"Eighty pounds, as we had discussed." The man sweated.

Saint Germain pulled four twenty pound gold bars, one at a time from his impeccable jacket, and set them in front of the man. "Test them please. I will wait here."

The other man didn't say a word, as he gathered the gold bars and retreated to another room.

The woman didn't say a word, and neither did he as they sat there waiting for the shop-keep to return. In a few minutes he did, and with a big smile.

"Thank you most wise sir." He told the Saint.

"It is you who deserve honor today my friend. This success of yours shall never be forgotten, nor diminished." Saint Germain bowed to him, and then collected his Skull into the canvass sack the shop-keep had removed it from.

They left the shop and back onto the crowded streets.

"Let's talk in this restaurant, shall we?" He offered as they had just walked a little way.

She nodded and entered while he held the door for her.

They took seats at a small table in the dark café, and in a few moments a waiter stepped over to greet them in Albanian. Saint Germain answered in English, and then he introduced the woman with her full name to the waiter, in Spanish, though she had no idea how he knew this! She had understood perfectly, as that was her first language, and English she still struggled with a bit. The waiter gave them each a rustic menu and did a semi bow to extricate himself while they decided.

"Los carne seca guiso es muy bien, Senorita." Saint Germain offered.

"You speak Englise please sir. I can speak." She retorted.

"If you just wish to talk, that is fine, but I am hungry. I am going to order the venison stew. It has the sweet-meats in it too." He was bright.

"Hoy! I would like some too...yes please." She responded with a smile. "How did you know mi llama Senor?"

He ginned back at her. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Senorita Frieda. I am known by many names, but you may call me Saint Germain. I know of many things mysterious, as mystery is indeed my playground."

She couldn't break her gaze from his eyes, yet he did, and he then seemed to tease her with glances she found utterly enticing.

"Well now Frieda, surely you must have a question for me." He said with a grin. "It isn't just chance which brings you to me, so don't waste the opportunity. However you should consider me to be like a massive bell. If you throw little pebbles at me, you will get little resonance in return, but if you throw big rocks at me, or big questions..."

Just as she thought of a formidable question, the waiter was back to take their order, so she waited until he was gone again.

"Is God real?" She asked him.

Saint Germain laughed, "Oh, a nice big rock. I like it. In answer to your question though, you must first define the term 'God' to me, and only then can I properly answer you."

Frieda was confused. "Define? You know, God! Like in the Bible. The creator of Heaven and Earth."

"Under that definition, the answer is no. That does not exist as a true reality."

Frieda was shocked. She could tell that this enigma of a man had great wisdom and knowledge, but here he was uttering the most damned-able blasphemy. "You are wrong! You have to be." She almost pleaded.

"And why is that young lady?" He smiled contemptuously at her.

"Because all of this had to come from somewhere, or someone. It couldn't just happen by itself, there must be an intelligence far greater than ours to imagine all of this." Frieda defended.

"You are stuck within the concept of non-existence my dear, but it is nothing to worry about. Sooner or later all beings move past step two." Saint Germain told.

"Step two? Non-existence? What the hell does that have to do with believing in God?" She was now fired up fully, and quite ready to represent the faith.

"Step one is the concept of existence, or of being. Step two is the realization of opposites, and thus the concept of non-existence is born. Step three is the realization of existence as the sole truth, and that non-existence simply doesn't exist, hence the name we gave it. It doesn't exist, never has, and it never will." He explained.

"You lost me there Saint Germain. I still don't see what non-existence has to do with God."

He took a pause as the waiter brought each a big steaming bowl of delicious smelling stew.

After a spoonful was eaten by both, he went on, "What was before the Universe existed then Frieda, in your best estimate?"

She thought about it over another tasty spoonful. "I guess just God, nothing else."

"So, God, and nothingness? Together, or separate?" He pressed.

She got flustered at his question. "Look I don't know, maybe it was just God. Like I said!"

"Okay, if it were just God, and he formed the Universe say from his own divine will where there was nothing before. That would mean the Universe came from non-existence, into existence. It would also mean that the Universe will someday have an end. Anything that has a beginning, will have an end." He paused for effect. "There are two irrevocable problems with that concept Frieda. The first is that only emptiness may enter into nothingness, and therefore only emptiness can come from nothingness. The second is the assumption that the Universe is finite, as anything infinite cannot have a beginning or an end."

She couldn't help but think about it, and she found she had no argument with his logic, even though she very much wanted one.

"Let's pretend the Universe is actually finite, say starting from a single explosive event. What is out there beyond the boundaries of the Universe then?"

Frieda cocked her head, "Nothing, I guess."

Again Saint Germain Laughed. "You just perfectly illustrated my point dear. You are still stuck within the concept of non-existence. When you realize that nothingness doesn't exist, and never will; then you will be free of your misconceptions about gods and things."

Frieda stopped eating, as she did see what he was trying to illustrate for her, and it did make perfect sense. "So there is no divinity to life?"

"Now you attempt to put words in my mouth! I said no such thing child. Life itself is divine, in every way possible." He scolded.

She shook her head. "You confuse me Senor, you just said that God doesn't exist, did you not?"

"I said that the definition, which you gave me of your concept of a divine creator of all things, did not exist as a reality." He defended.

"So, where did it all come from then?" Frieda asked.

He smiled warmly at her. "The Universe has always existed, and it always will. Sure, Galaxies and stars will come and go, but the Universe doesn't. It is eternal. There is more life in the heavens than you can possibly imagine, or I for that matter. If it is divinity you seek however, look for the source of all life, not all of 'creation' dear."

"The source of all life...like the tree of life in the garden!" She was excited.

He giggled and winked at her. "You like all the fun symbols, don't you. I like that about you Frieda. Yes, the tree of life is a fun symbol indeed, and the Kabbalistic road map of consciousness. However, even the original tree of life was not the source of all life in the Universe. There is a place though... it is the true Holy of Holies forever and ever Amen!"

"My head feels funny, like it's swelling or something... It's too much for me." Frieda breathed deeply.

His voice was very soothing, "You threw the rocks."

"I'm sorry... I'm okay." She looked into his mesmerizing eyes again. "Where is this place? This Holy of Holies?"

She saw his fingers moving slowly towards her face, and forming his forefinger and index finger into like a gun shape. Saint Germain touched her forehead, just above and between the eyes. A burst of bright energy flooded into her mind and she was in heaven.

Frieda came back to her body in a short while, and Saint Germain was gone. The waiter said the bill had been paid by the gentleman before he left. She remembered where she'd been, and what is was like. What a magnificent, and ultimately beautiful gift he had given her! Frieda knew her life would forever be different; now that she knew truth. She surely hoped she would meet Saint Germain again, as she loved him like a father for what he'd given her.

She slowly savored the rest of the stew, thinking of his radiant face, and powerful gaze. Her tour through the old countries had been haphazard, and aimless. This was supposed to be a fun get-away before she started college, and she surely hadn't intended on finding her life's calling during her frolics, but here it was just the same. What a wonderful, beautiful gift!

When she returned home to Barcelona, or actually Badalona just up the coast, she enrolled in the University as she had previously planned, but now she took a different profession to study; Psychology. Her previous ambition of studying art was still explored, but as a hobby and not her life's mainstay.

Frieda's parents were even more supportive of this goal, and they encouraged her to strive for her degree. She also kept taking some English courses, as she was almost completely fluent. The other two languages she knew were her primary ones; Spanish and French. Just about every local in the area spoke both of these tongues. It only took her three years to complete the basic degree requirements, with the exception of her two years of medical school. Again she enrolled in the program there in Barcelona, even though the school in Madrid was reputed with much more esteem. This was mainly a financial decision, as she was working with limited funds.

During her education in the medical arts, Frieda learned she had an insatiable curiosity of neuroscience. Again her plans changed, and she decided to go into debt and finish her medical degree in Madrid, to become a neurologist, with an additional degree in psychology. This took about five years longer than she had planned originally, but she knew it was worth it as she saw how she could possibly help so many people.

Even after her chance encounter with the mystical Saint Germain, Frieda kept her faith. In fact it became even stronger over time, though she had many issues with the teachings of the Church, she just looked at it in a far different light. Keeping with her decision to help as many people as she could, Frieda took an internship in Toulouse, France. The Church had helped arrange the post for her, and she would also be performing volunteer work for the Archdiocese in that region. This would be in addition to her position with the Psychiatric Hospital there, so Frieda knew she would be busy, but that was good. Because the 'devil' made use of idle hands.

September 14th, 1931 CE. On the Obersalzberg, near Berchtesgaden, Germany.

Lunch was on the buffet as usual, so he could serve himself when he desired. It was a wonderful combination of a cream soup of fingerling potatoes, dumplings, and pearl onions; along with fresh bread and apple strudel. Adolph ate moderately, as he didn't like to feel weighed down with a heavy meal. He intended to return to his study to complete the draft of the speech he was working on, but someone caught his eye on the way.

It was his half-niece Geli, and she floated by him and out the front door with a wonderful sweet smell left for his pleasure. She wore a dress that was entirely too short, and for the second time only, she had her bosom well displayed in a cut neckline, and obviously boosted. Adolph couldn't resist following her, to see where she went, and that she would be safe of course.

He kept his distance back from her, and watched as she went towards a brook nearby. The girl was only a teen, yet she was filling in her womanhood nicely, and he snuck after her. In a few minutes he came to the steep bank to the brook, and as he crept along he could eventually hear some splashing sounds. Adolph crept closer, and then finally down through the dense brush he could see someone in the brook. It was Geli, and she was completely nude. He snuck even closer for a better look, and oh how he admired her ripe young, sensuous body. Suddenly he stepped on a twig, causing it to snap loudly.

"Who's there?" Geli was afraid sounding.

She then saw him, and he turned so red.

"Oh, Uncle Adolph. You scared me." Geli didn't cover herself from him at all, instead she smiled at him with welcoming eyes.

"What are you doing Geli?" He demanded with false anger.

"I am just playing in the brook Uncle... would you come play with me?" She giggled.

He pretended to grow angrier, and he stormed down to the water's edge. "Why I ought to spank your pink bottom silly girl. Teasing me like that."

"Alright, if you desire, but I promise you I am not teasing you Uncle Adolph." Geli took his hand.

He roughly grabbed her, and lay her on the grass of the bank, and then he took her flower from her with almost psychotic urgency. Adolph was quick, very quick, and then he angrily got up, and left. Telling her to wash herself well. Geli cried.

Politics was his bread and butter now, and he had organized quite a following. His book was a great seller, and he was becoming a household word. People respected him, and his power. From a rag-tag bunch of beer drinking belly whiners, he formed squads of security men, and then these he grew until he had a recognized army in the SA (Sturmabteilung.) People also feared him, and for good reason. The Nazi's were quite fond of inflicting brutal violence you see, it was an integral part of his whole plan.

The year before, he had been the main influence in the Nazi party gaining more than six million votes in the nationwide elections. He knew how to rile a crowd up with speech, so well in fact he often had to personally quell small riots that broke out at some of the party rallies. Some of these became staged events although, as his cohorts and he learned all the tricks of the trade.

His army of the Volks, or people; the SA, was not idle either. They enforced his propaganda in every way possible, and with extreme violence if at all condoned. Adolph was already committed to run against Hindenburg in the thirty two race. His whole party was counting on him for a win, so Germany could once again rise to its proper place leading the world. The plan was simple in effect, but elegant in design, plus he left plenty of wiggle room by befriending the elite industrialist faction also.

At home with his half-sister, Angela Raubal, everything was anything but normal. Her two daughters were the primary source of this un-stability for him. Well actually only Geli was the cause of the issue. She made sure to seduce her half Uncle every chance she got, and then some! Adolph was disgusted with himself, yet he all too eagerly fell for her sexual charms, every damn time! Geli was just irresistible to him.

Even though both thought they were being properly discrete, everyone soon knew. It was about this time when Geli went to her Uncle, not for sex, but to tell him the wonderful news. She was with his child! Adolph was quite subdued, but he assured her all was well, and that he would always provide for her and their child.

When he told his friends about his dilemma, they were furious and told him if this were to get out, his political ambitions, and theirs; were ruined. He was the father to the bastard child of his sister's daughter! The half limiter would be easily forgotten. Adolph hated their solution, but agreed that it was the only course of action. They found young Geli smashed upon the rocks under a cliff, and it was ruled a suicide. Adolph was genuinely remorseful, yet he also gladly fed his old friend horror, as it was hungry.

In nineteen thirty two Hitler won thirty six point eight percent of the vote against Hindenburg. To appease the Volks, Hindenburg offered the Chancellorship to Hitler, and so the peasant stepped very close to the crown indeed.

By April of nineteen thirty three, Adolph had pretty much full control of all Germany. Hindenburg was a mere symbolic vestige of the old Weimar Republic of the dark times of western oppression. Hitler was the widely acknowledged savior from these sad days, and now it was time for payback.

It was ironic to him that the very mechanism which brought him into power, would now threaten to topple his reign. The Sturmabteilung, or SA was commanded by his longtime friend and benefactor, Ernst Rohm, but Ernst was still very much of the strong opinion that the revolution must continue. Hitler realized that concessions had to be made, mostly by the workers, as his industrialist supporters had lobbied for extensively. He knew he needed the strong economic and industrial might these new friends of his could wield. The new army of Germany, of his, needed to be built quickly.

On the night of June twenty ninth, nineteen thirty four he gave the final orders to his new cadre of specialists. It would become known as 'the night of the long knives.' Rohm and all his lieutenants, as well as many others of convenience were arrested, then taken to secure locations where they were all executed. No trials had been held, save the one continually going on in Adolph's mind; the one where he damned all his detractors. He dismantled his own army by execution of the leadership, and the troops were then absorbed by the Wehrmacht. In early August Hindenburg died, and in function, as well as official office; Hitler became the leader of all Germany.

On the Donox Legacy outpost located on the second planet of the star system eventually know by humanity as Barnard's Star. Circa 1593 BCE, standard Earth relevance.

ANX was to meet with the Hunter today to get its personal testimony as to the incident, even though he'd already seen the visual recording of the unfortunate event. Still this was formality, and he would faithfully complete his duty, as it was indeed in his blood to do so. When the Hunter came into his chamber, he greeted ANX formally.

"I am JUD one eighteen, of the forty fifth hundred filial generation of the Yuiltont sequence of the Donox Legacy." It thought.

"Greetings JUD, My designation is ANX one four nine, of the one thousandth and twenty eighth filial generation of the Chondeauxk sequence of the Donox Legacy. Please transmit your memory of the incident with the being formerly known as Zuzx Gadzertderkle." The thought was returned. He saw exactly what had been recorded by the visual devices which he had previously viewed, and he wished his brother in the Legacy good hunting in the future. The matter was forever closed, and life went on. It always went on, even for the deceased.

It wasn't but a hundred years from then when ANX was contacted by a powerful thought.

"ANX one four nine, you have been selected for a special mission on the third planet of the Sol system." The thought came from his superiors, he knew.

"I am honored." He returned.

"You will report to Galactic Central Headquarters at best speed. Now stand by for a direct transmission from the RA species." They told him.

ANX was perplexed, as the RA species had never contacted him before, it was rare for any of his sequence as far as he was aware.

"ANX one four nine." The shinning, brilliant, powerful thought lent. "You are unique amongst your sequence. A great task is held before you, and we have ultimate faith you will be successful. Eventually you will interact directly with the species known as Humans, and you must persevere in your objective to help them survive. There is no greater good than sacrifice for another... ANX, your sacrifice will enable such good, however you may refuse this cup if you wish."

ANX was mesmerized by the power of their minds, and he gladly accepted his mission.

He self-shifted to his new duty assignment, and was greeted by his superiors.

"You will be trained for the next millennia in exactly what the RA require of us." They told him.

"For the greater good, let us begin." ANX replied.

The Nile delta, 10,000 BCE.

Over a hundred years had passed since the last time Set sent searchers for them. Isis had raised her son Horus to full manhood, and then the Ra told her to have sexual relations with her son, and to bear him four sons. She willingly complied, and so too did he; so she did bear him four sons as was commanded. Isis was instructed to raise these sons with the purpose to travel to the four corners of the Earth teaching civilization to all, like their grandfather Osiris had done before them. Soon Isis was told she must prepare for the last days of the Solar gods on Earth. Her son Horus was to take wives from the people then, and to proliferate over the lands. She would first help install him on the throne, usurping Set, and divining the future for all the peoples of this planet.

All Pharaohs from Horus on would be of his own bloodline mixed with Humanity, thus ensuring the great hope of the Ra. Then Isis had her own final preparations, and those concerning the great staff of power she possessed.

During his youth, Horus's father, Osiris, would often visit from the 'shades,' and teach his son the ways of a warrior. Taking the throne back from the war god Set would not be easy, and was far from certain. Added to this was that Horus had withered legs; from being conceived after his father's death, and being born prematurely. This was a difficulty that he alone could overcome, and he did. Horus had been known also as Harpokrates, the infant Horus, but when he first started his war with Set's forces he became known as Harsiesis, which meant 'Horus son of Isis.'

He fought many battles against Set, and most often was victorious, even defeating the elite forces his Uncle sent against him. Just as he thought victory was in sight however, Set would have raised yet more forces to battle him. The staff of Ra was so powerful though, that even all of Set's army was no match. Still his Uncle was a warrior god of the highest caliber, and Horus was just a young god, and so despite all his bravery and victories he couldn't defeat his adversary. The war became deadlocked.

A new title was bestowed upon him, Harendotes, meaning 'Horus avenger of his father.' By the same token that Horus was not able to defeat Set's forces completely, so too his Uncle could not defeat him. This drove Set crazy, as he alone was the God Ruler of all the Earth, not some bastard child of his sister's. He certainly couldn't be the rightful heir to the throne, as Set knew he'd killed Osiris before the bastard was conceived, many years before. What he was totally oblivious to was the resurrection of his brother by the Ra. The deadlocked, costly war, was draining his Kingdom of its resources, while his adversary remained strong and undefeatable. Set grew desperate, and so he made petition to the High Council of the Ra concerning the issue of his propriety to the throne.

The Ra agreed to this arbitration, and a trial ensued. Set first called Osiris to witness. After he questioned his brother solely regarding when he had been killed by Set, then the advocate of Horus and Isis, Thoth, questioned Osiris, and brought out the truth of his resurrection by the Ra then the subsequent union with Isis that bore Horus his true son. The council at first sided with Osiris, finding him 'true of voice,' but this infuriated Set to no end. He couldn't give up his throne, nor would he. Set had one powerful benefactor however, Ra-Harakhte the supreme god of the Great Ennead council. This god favored Set as he was the son of Nut, his protégé.

Isis immediately declared her son the holder of the crown of Egypt, and this upset Ra-Harakhte as it was his place to declare such. He argued that Set was much older and wiser than Horus, and was much better suited to the task. Then the Ennead seemed to agree with him, so Thoth appealed and brought further witnesses. The High Council then agreed with Osiris's side again, so Set brought more witnesses. It quickly degraded into a circus, as the Ennead seemed to not be able to decide, always agreeing with the last speaker. It was exactly that they did not wish to interfere with the matter that it stayed in limbo for many years.

After eighty years of this political chaos, the principle issue of what rights one has over property was still hotly debated. Set's demand that might alone determined one's right, was detracted by Horus's claim of rightful, and lawful succession. Finally Set proposed that the issue be determine by personal combat, but Thoth persuaded Shu, the Grandfather of Set and Osiris, to recommend the matter to the Tribunal on the grounds that justice should prevail over brute strength. Isis again spoke out of place and she declared Horus the new ruler. Again Ra-Harakhte interceded and prevented this, as Isis had disrespected him.

The gods then asked for the council of other gods. They summoned Mendes the ram-god, and Ptah of the primeval mound to them. These gods were not prepared to pass judgment, so they suggested the Council seek the advice of Neith of Sais, the oldest of all goddesses. Thoth composed a formal letter to her, and she replied that Horus should have the throne, but that Set should be compensated with his property being doubled, and two more wives given to him; the goddesses Astarte and Anat of Syria. Once more the Council thought the matter settled, but then Ra-Harakhte again put a halt to the solution.

By this time Set had bared Isis from the proceedings as she was far too disruptive, and the Council had relocated to the Middle Island. One day Isis bribed the ferryman of the gods, Anty, to take her to the Island. She transformed herself into a sexually irresistible young maiden just the type her brother couldn't resist.

As soon as Set saw her, he cornered her, and begged her to his usefulness. She replied that she was a recent widow whose husband had been a shepherd. He died leaving her with his little boy, who looked after his father's cattle. Then a stranger had come up to the son, telling him he would beat him away, and take his cattle. Isis asked Set if could help her son get his cattle back. He replied with smooth seduction; "Should cattle be given to strangers when a man has a son as heir?"

Isis laughed and transformed herself into a kite, flying up to the top of a tree.

"You have made judgment and condemned yourself with you own mouth my wicked brother." She called down to him.

The gods all laughed at him, and Set went in tears to Ra-Harakhte. The old god could only agree with Isis, as he had condemned himself. The High Council decreed that Horus was the proper King, but Set refused to accept this ruling and he proposed another method of determination. Both parties and the council agreed.

Isis knew that the challenge was a ruse by her evil brother. He and Horus were to transform themselves into Hippopotami, and dive into the river. The first to exit was the loser. She knew her brother's natural form was the river beasts, of all kinds, and that Set's true intent was to kill Horus in the water. So she and her son made plans; plans to wrap up all of the loose ends, and achieve the goal of the Ra.

First she secretly used the staff to dig its own final resting place, next she again used its power to craft a doppelganger of herself, and of itself. She didn't personally shape-shift, this was different; it was essentially a biological automaton she could control. All of the solar gods were extremely glad that the Ra in their wisdom had given them the power of shape-shifting, but Isis was even happier that they had given the staff of power to rule the other gods with. The copy of the staff could do some flashy parlor tricks, but nothing of the power of the original.

Lastly she made her final plans known to her long-time friend and advocate, Thoth. The goddess agreed to do Isis's bidding, as she too was soon to leave the world. A new day was dawning on the planet, a day when the gods no longer walked among the people.

On the appointed day of the challenge, the whole city of Heliopolis had turned out to witness the event. Just about everyone figured that Set would kill Horus fairly quickly, but when Horus and Isis arrived, her possession of the staff of Ra put many doubts into their minds. Set seemed undeterred and he shifted into the form of a hippopotamus, and dove into the river. Horus followed suit and then Isis transformed the staff into a harpoon, and she hunted Set.

She saw the hippo swimming nearby and she threw the harpoon. It stuck, and Horus broke the surface in pain. Isis apologized to him telling him that it was because she couldn't see well, and quickly released him. Then she hunted Set again. This time she got him, and as she prepared to slay him, he begged her as her little brother, to spare him. Isis showed compassion, and she released him. Horus was so angry that she let him live he jumped out of the water, and cut his mother's head from her body.

Of course it just looked like her body, and bled like her body, but it was the doppelganger of herself. Isis was safe and sound in hiding, controlling the darn thing, or trying to. Horus brought the body back to her, and she destroyed it. Then he kissed his mother farewell, knowing he wouldn't see her on this world again. He took the false staff to be used as an empty bluff, and returned to fight Set, who still refused to give up the throne. Isis commanded her four sons from Horus to her, and she informed them of their part in the plan. Imset, Qebhsenuf, Duamutef, and Hapy all agreed to do their Holy duty.

Isis used the staff to transform herself into nine separate, shaped crystals, again this wasn't from shape-shifting herself, it was different. The four brothers each took two crystals, and went to the far corners of the Earth, to give the pieces of their mother to the peoples they helped. Thoth took the last crystal and the true staff of Ra to the place Isis hade made to hide it. Here the crystal form of her would be instrumental to the future generation in using the staff, properly at least. The Ra had promised to provide a key in the future, to use the crystals for benefit of knowledge, and they had given one to Isis earlier. Thoth also carried that same special key needed to use the crystal. She would hide the key with it.

Now Horus continued his campaign against Set, who used every dirty trick in the book against his nephew, and for many more years. Finally Thoth convinced the High Council to ask Osiris for advice. He wrote formally in return that his son Horus was the rightful heir to the throne, and that since he was the Ruler of the Afterlife; all beings, even Gods, would someday be under his rule. He was the King of all Kings, and his word alone was law.

The Gods all realized this was indeed true, and so they arrested Set and put him in chains. Horus finally took the throne, and ruled Egypt magnanimously for the rest of his life. His was the last generation of the pure Solar God bloodline, and now they were to spread their blood among all the peoples. His four sons by his mother were already doing just that in the four directions, and to the four corners of the Earth as they also spread civilization.

Let us never forget that the cultivation of the earth is the most important labor of man. When tillage begins, other arts follow. The farmers, therefore, are the founders of civilization.

\- Daniel Webster -

Chapter nine:

June 9th, 2016 CE. Kirkland Air Force base, Albuquerque, New Mexico.

I know Cat can obviously tell that I harbor some deep resentment towards her for the AICIT course. Mother can also tell I have changed, and confronts me about this.

"Jeffrey, you've changed. What on Earth happened? What did they do to you while you were gone baby?" She asks.

"It's classified mom. I can't, and won't tell you. Just take it for granted that these people are quite serious about their, or rather our business. I might not like it, but I agreed to it." I say with a grimace.

She left it alone after that; she had seen her son change into a man quite suddenly it seemed, and she sure didn't like the change at all. She made a mental note to press for another dinner with his boss Cat, and then she would confront her about this sudden nasty disposition they caused in her son.

My training mainly consists of many more extended, MMDA induced trips in the isolation chamber, which does seem to take some of the edge off of me. That and I go to high school classes now two days a week, and will soon graduate with my diploma. This eases mother's apprehension, especially when I revert back to some of my carefree, endearing happiness. Still, at work I treat Cat with distance, but she finally has had enough of my bad attitude towards her. She takes me to the base gym, where they have a boxing ring set up, and tells me that I am welcome to whip her ass if that's what it is going to take.

"I don't want to hurt you Cat, ever, I just wish you felt the same way." I am upset.

"Sure you do Jeff, or should I call you sweetie?" She looks at me with challenge.

"You are very good at pissing me off lately boss, and I have had enough of it too!" I growl.

"Oh sweetie, you sound nice and hard, but I still don't think you have it in you to deliver. Consider this a required test Jeff, don't worry, I promise not to hurt you... permanently anyway." Cat scoffs.

I grin with malice and entered the ring.

I full well know Cat will likely tear my ass up, but I am damned determined to bust her pretty, arrogant nose. She more than deserves it as far as I am concerned, so it is payback time.

"My real name is Jeffrey Christopher, bitch!" I growl as I go for her. Cat smiles, as I swing and miss, and then swing and miss again.

She dances just out of my reach. "Come on sweetheart! Bring it!" She encourages.

I attempt a combination fist and leg attack, which she simply is not in the way to receive, and then I begin to get frustrated. I can't lay a finger on her nimble form.

"You're not even trying little guy!" Cat insults. "I'm just a little girl, little boy. What's the matter, Cat got your tongue?"

I growl with fury as I try everything I know, which isn't much honestly, and she simply plays me.

Then she deflects and catches a punch of mine and in a split moment her leg is up over my shoulder, and Cat mounts that shoulder with her whole body, wrapping around the arm that had thrown the punch. I am instantly unsteady from her weight on top of me, until she tucks her head and torso downwards, sending me toppling over, following her lead. She rolls me over and is still in a wrap on my whole arm, so she applies the excruciating arm-bar she is in perfect position for. I howl in pain and quickly tap-out. Cat releases me. Just before she does, I get my first true read, ever, on Cat, and it is deep one.

'Oh Jeff sweetie, if I were straight, I'd be all over you.' She thinks clearly. Then she speaks to me.

"Sorry Jeff, I like my nose and face just the way they are... don't you?" She is earnest in her question.

I sigh, and then chuckle. "Yeah, you're right. They are fine just the way they are."

She flops down next to me while we both laugh at each other, and the tight bond is instantly repaired.

I am unsure how to let Cat know that I certainly feel the same way for her. Rules be damned! I want her badly, and she knows it. I am so frustrated all day long when she is near, and so I finally decided to tell her about the read I'd made on her in her office.

"I finally got a read on you, boss." I let out.

Cat is suddenly quite silent.

"I heard you think that you would be all over me if you were straight, when you submitted me with that arm-bar."

Cat tries to swallow with an instantly dry throat. Still she is quiet. I just look at her, reading her response expertly.

"It's true..." She finally gasps. "But it is impossible sweetie. There are rules and regulations which would cost us our lucrative careers honey. We can't. Besides, I'm into girls." Cat is sad seeming.

"I'd quit for you Cat." I mean it, and she can tell I do.

"And do what then? Sit around waiting for me to come home for a couple weeks before I'm called away again? Worrying yourself to death. Besides, you were born for this Jeff, of that have no doubt baby." Cat touches my cheek softly, and then suddenly she slaps me, but not too hard. "So get those ideas out of your head sweetie! You are not quitting because of me, not on my watch."

I rub the cheek and then laugh, "You're right boss; there is no way you are worth giving all this up."

She sees I am just being vindictive, as I am hurt, inside.

"Look Jeff, you need to know that I don't see anyone regularly, and I never date. Ever! I made that sacrifice to do my duty to this goddamned wonderful country of ours, and I take it seriously. Besides, I would bang you so hard I would break your young ass. I doubt you'd survive." With that, she looks at the door to her office. "Now if you'll be so good."

I take the order along with the supremely enticing tease, and leave with a wry smile. That is my Cat.

The last week of the twelve week training period is the very hardest thing I ever have had to do. Cat sits me down to explain that I still have one part of the dreaded AICIT course to complete. Then I will be transferred to Quantico again to finish my agent certification. This part of the training is in the use of interrogation techniques, as opposed to the counter interrogation methods as I'd completed before.

"This is the part of the course that everyone hates the most Jeff. Way more than the first part even." She warns me.

I instinctively know what she means, "Oh, shit. You want me to be Mister what is your real name?"

"No, he is always the same man, and no one knows who he is. No one is ever allowed to see him during the exercises, except the guards, and they can't talk to him. We guess he's some spook on loan from the company, but we don't know." Cat explains. "You will be the sympathizer of the subject, and also one of her kidnappers."

"That's better, but this still sucks!" I sigh.

"Use your skill to break the subject down more quickly, and she will suffer less. That is your incentive Jeff, help her!"

"First I have to drug, and imprison her though." I see the sad irony.

Cat smiles at me, "It will make you stronger Jeff."

"I won't have to do this for real ever, will I?" I wonder.

Cat shrugs her shoulders. "Now, let me fill you in on the subject's details and then we can get you with the co-kidnappers to rehearse the abduction."

I realize that they aren't training me for this just for kicks, and I suddenly am not quite as enthusiastic as before.

Cat shows me a picture of very pretty brunette with big doe like eyes, named Carol Krause. She is only nineteen years old, but has already earned her bachelor of science in criminology. She is a fairly fresh recruit that showed so much potential that she'd already been cherry picked for a special project code named Golden Angel. That is all I need to know about it, as that would be the key words which will release the girl. All I have to do is to get her to say those words.

"Now anything else she might say about this project, as well as the code name of it; you are to forget you ever heard. Roger that?" Cat demands.

"Affirmative boss." I acknowledge.

The kidnap scenario is to take place at the airport, where I am to meet the girl as she is disembarked from a flight. I have a card with the code name she'd been instructed to look for. I will take her to the waiting car where my two accomplices pose as a driver and a body guard. The main part of the rehearsal is with Cat acting as the subject, focusing on the moment she gets into the car. The body guard is to sit on the driver side rear as she enters the car, and I am to sit on the other side of her after she gets in.

I am to immediately shock her with a stun gun, then both me and the man on the other side of her will each wrap a leg of hers with our own, and grab an arm to hold her while the driver will make the injection of sodium pentathol. Tie wraps will then be applied as soon as she is out, and we will drive her out on base to the pretend prison.

There the scenario will follow the ordeal I and all others before me have endured. The painful shock torture is done a minimal amount, just enough to persuade the subject that the situation is quite real. I remember how damned effective this was, and I feel terrible for the part I will have in doing this to that poor girl.

The kidnapping goes without a hitch, the girl is delivered to her cell, and then I go back to the Lab offices to wait for a couple of days; when I will make my first appearance as the sympathizer. This will be after she first meets Mister Asshole, twice. During that time Cat gives me further knowledge of interrogation techniques, and of reading people's weaknesses. I feel dirty.

"Watch her face for the ten emotions, her hands for stress indicators, and her gestures for unconscious tells." Cat reiterates. "As you mimic her speech pattern, you'll get a feel for her mood, then just remember her sensory type; watcher, listener, or toucher. Use the tactic of closeness to her with genuine sympathy towards her, and cement the trust by matching her sensory receptiveness with your interaction. If she is a watcher, look her deep in the eyes to gain her trust. If she is a listener, you listen and verbally assuage her. A toucher deserves a warm hand rub, or pat."

"I'll convince her." I promise.

"Don't overdo it, just be honest. In truth you really do want to help her... I know it Jeff. Be resigned if she fails to cooperate, remember you don't have any control over Mister Asshole, don't call him that to her though. Just say that man. Re-assure her that you can get her out of this horror, but she has to help you to do it."

"What if she figures it out, like I did?" I smile.

"As long as she says the code words, she is freed."

"What if she sees me in the future, you know like off base?" I worry.

"Duck, and run!" Cat laughs. "Even if it is on base."

I watch the second session Carol has with Mr. Asshole, and I shed some tears for the now wretched looking girl.

"Get it together man, you're up next." Cat tosses me a tissue.

I compose myself and go in to help the poor thing after Mr. Asshole is called away. I don't see him in person, just on the screen, which is a good thing I reason as I probably wouldn't be able to control myself. The wires had been disconnected from her already.

I walk up behind her gently. "If you behave yourself, I will remove the mouth brace. Okay?"

She nods.

I take it out, still being careful of her teeth, and good thing too as she snaps at me.

"You son-of-a-bitch! I'll kill you assholes!" She screams.

"Carol, I'm here to help you get out of here." I say looking her straight in the eyes, as she had stared at me fiercely.

"What? But you... kidnapped me." She sees my eyes are truly sympathetic. "Well... aren't you going to unchain me?"

"I don't have the keys Carol, but I know who does. He'll give them to me if you give him something." I kneel close to her, just in front of the wheel chair.

"You already know my freaking real name assholes!" She spits right on my face. "I'm not giving you bastards anything!"

I stand and retrieve a tissue from my pocket. "Just do yourself a righteous girl, tell me the name of the American NSA project you are assigned to. That's all it takes. Just tell me! I don't want that man to come back in here Carol, and I damn well know you don't want that either. I don't have any say in that, but you do!" I look at her with remorse.

"Up yours, you goddamned shit wad!" Carol growls.

"Suit yourself." Looking down with a slight shake of my head, then I leave.

I am really crying as Cat drives back to the office.

"It will help both of you, I know you can see that." Cat offers.

I nod. "It's a rough game we play Cat, I don't know if I like it."

"You don't have to like it, just play it better than anyone else, and you'll win." She tells.

"Oh yeah? What do I win?" I scoff.

"Didn't old Bill tell ya? Winning equals living Jeff."

Three days later I make my next appearance to poor Carol Krause. She looks bad. The water boarding had done a number on her. The wires are still hooked to her nostril and front tooth, and her head is restrained.

I kneel in front of her. "Carol, this is your last chance. They really don't want me trying to help you anymore. Just tell me the name of the project woman, please!" I try to broadcast a thought into her mind, to just say it!

"Eat me!" She garbles through the mouth brace.

"You are going to regret that decision Carol, I'm sorry I couldn't help you." I say with honesty. Then I start to walk away, but stop behind her. "You know the other man doesn't care about your project, or anything really. You must know that by now."

As I start walking again, I hear her whimper. I stop again, and decided for one more effort.

"If you let me walk out of here empty handed Carol, they won't care about the question, or answer any more... they are going to kill you Carol. Make the smart choice...please!"

She sobs. Then after a long moment weakly garbles, "Trade Winds, I work on project Trade Winds."

I admire her strong spirit, and try to send the thought that I already know the correct answer, and this is just a test. After several seconds she hasn't responded.

"Too bad, it doesn't matter now." I leave the room briskly.

I wouldn't be back. Now Carol will be kept for two more days with no further harassment, except that she would get no more food or water. They would just leave her in there, and if she didn't break by then, Carol would be released... unbroken. It was kind of a badge of honor to remain unbroken Cat explained, even though everyone said that breaking in that situation had no bearing on the success of the training.

"The only reason I broke is that I knew it was a test." I tell.

"Sure, you just go right on thinking that sweetie." Cat grins.

My last day in Albuquerque I am again tested against my base-line, and I have remarkably improved.

"You are starting to scare me sweetie." Cat even tells me.

"You never did tell me how you thought I did with the sympathizer role in the interrogation." I change the subject.

"That's part of the scary, Jeff. Carol even admitted to her coach afterwards that you worked her real damn good, and that she almost broke. She also said to tell you, Mister Asshole, and the guards, that if she ever sees any of you, she's going to rip you a brand new asshole!" Cat chuckles.

"And to think; I honestly tried to help her." I sound indignant.

Cat just looks at me with surprise.

Cat drops me at the airport, explaining we will soon see each other again, and then she speeds off. I board my flight for Virginia, and try to relax. The stewardess comes to make sure I am buckled in, and I get a good solid read from her.

'Oh, I might just have to make this stud a mile-high club member.'

She smiles at me and proceeded rearwards.

I begin to think that there are some definite perks to my new ability.

The agent certification training takes four weeks, at the end of which there are all kinds of tests, including shooting, and this time there is no saving grace for me. I have to qualify. With what I have practiced from old Bill, I actually do rather well on the qualification. Indeed I perform well on all of the tests, and before the graduation ceremony I am offered a ten year contract, which is so lengthy in duration due to the high cost of all my training. I eagerly sign it, especially since the money they offer is a large amount. I am issued my permanent ID badge, and am offered a nine millimeter Beretta as the standard issue side arm, which I decline. It is already known by all the new agents that we can purchase our own personal side arm if we wish, as long as it is on the approved list. I purchase a forty caliber Springfield Armory XDM that day, and when asked by the authorizing officer why I went with the forty, I say, "If I have to shoot someone, I want to incapacitate them as quickly as possible. A heavier, faster round will do just that."

Cat meets me after the graduation ceremony, and takes me to dinner to celebrate.

"Well agent Christopher, or excuse me... special agent, do you feel any different now that you are a sworn officer of the United States Government?" Cat asks.

"Not really, well maybe, but carrying this piece everywhere is sure strange to me." I whisper back to her.

Cat smiles. "You'll get used to it so fast."

"You know I appreciate everything you've done to help me Cat, and I actually do mean everything." I think it bizarre, right as I said it.

"You were like a kid just the other day... I swear they grow up so fast." She teases me.

In her car she asks to see what piece I have gone with. I take the magazine out, and clear the chamber before handing it to her.

"Oh, you like the big expensive toys do you?" Cat says as she looks it over.

I nod.

"I'll have to remember that." She mutters.

This makes me grin as I remember the cool gift she had taken for old Bill. I realize that I am going to need to get something nice for Cat, it is only proper to thank her after all.

The next day she drives us in her rental to Langley, where I begin my next training. This is a course in remote-viewing, and Cat will be there through the whole process. This is to safeguard me from the company, and to make sure that I don't let them know of any of my special abilities. Most of the first part of the course is class room lectures on techniques, and of these most are concerned with how to identify with your target. Namely what information, or physical articles do you have of them? A picture is ideal, along with some personal affects to get a read on that person. Proximity to the target isn't an issue strangely enough, at least that is what the instructor says.

Each night Cat takes me to dinner, and then back to the hotel where we have adjoining rooms. She insists on keeping the door between the rooms open at all times, and I am so tempted to sneak into her room, into her bed, but I don't. Cat says it is open for security reasons. That first weekend we have off, and she takes me to the beach. I have to carry a bulky fanny pack to conceal my pistol, but Cat has a compact model on her she tells me, and when she takes her outer beach dress off, for the life of me I can't see where she could possibly have it concealed, plus my attention is drawn to her ample curves, and sexy body, in a tiny bright yellow bikini.

I thoroughly enjoy the envious stares I get from so many men, and women. Cat is a ten in a twelve's body, and is she ripped with muscles too, but in a very sexy way. She is all woman. I am certainly glad that I wore baggy lose shorts. We don't overdo it in the warm sunshine, but leave shortly into the afternoon.

When we get back to the hotel I insist that she wasn't carrying a weapon with her, and she laughs. With knowing pride she poses in her bikini for me, spinning all the way around so I get a good look. I can hardly breathe. Suddenly she reaches into her long blonde hair, or under it, and has a small pistol out in an instant, though she doesn't point it at me.

"Ta-da!" She announces.

"Holy shit Cat! A neck holster? What the hell is that thing? It's so small?" I am stunned.

She drops the magazine and clears the chamber to hand it to me. "It's a Smith and Wesson Sigma SW three eighty. Five shot clip, six with one up the pipe, and it is not even six inches long."

I examine the tiny pistol. "What's this? A laser!" I am shocked, and dismayed, or at least that's how I act. "Don't let old Bill hear about that sugar! He'd explode."

"Shhh!" Cat puts her finger to her lip. "It's so small it hard to aim... it needed help."

"You need help young missy." I tease.

Cat laughs, "I'm going to change, and don't you dare peek Mister! Then we'll go eat."

The second week of training is in actual use of the remote viewing techniques. I am very good at this, and Cat has reminded me not to let on to the instructors about any deeper reads than just a view. I get them too, as I can sort through all the static and find the person I am keying in on. Not only seeing from their view, but also hearing some thoughts as well. This helps me locate several test targets very quickly, astounding the instructors. Of course I tell Cat at night in the hotel of my deeper reads, and how easy it is starting to become.

Four days before I finish the Langley course, I go shopping for a gift for Cat. Of course I go to the local gun dealer, and ask for something very compact, yet with a butt-load of fire power, as I put it.

"Just how compact does it have to be?" The bearded old man behind the counter asks.

"Well it doesn't have to be super compact, but... you see it's a gift for a dear friend, she's quite a lady, and she likes things that go boom in a big way." I try to explain.

The old man scratches his beard. "Is she petite, or sturdy?"

"Sturdy, but hot!" I exclaim.

"I like her already." The man chuckles. "Let's see, we got a lady Smith in thirty eight snub nose, chrome plated with mother of pearl grips. You could even have us engrave it fer her."

I shake my head. "She's already got her pistols covered pretty well, I was thinking something a bit more."

"Shit son, if you are talking heavy artillery, just say so."

"Yup." I grin.

"How about a sub-compact AR fifteen with a wire sliding stock. The recoil spring has been moved to the front grip ingeniously. With a ten inch threaded barrel, total length is sixteen plus inches folded up." He offers.

I think about it, "Maybe, but what else you got?"

"Okay, how 'bout a Russian Siagia twelve bore semi-auto. Eighteen inch barrel, and side folding stock. Best thing is this new helical coil mag that snugs right up on the bottom, with its own grip. Fifty rounds of twelve gage fun the size of a bead box, almost!"

"Let me see that one please." I request.

The old man goes into a back room and brings out the sinister looking weapon. "Its sling is integral to using it with the stock folded." The old man assumes several firing poses with the weapon tensioned against the sling for stability. I am impressed, the old man knows his combat firearms, and how to use them.

"Can you mount a laser to it, or how 'bout a night scope, even better?" I ask.

"Oh, shoot. You need class three licensing for that sort of exotic pleasure son." He smiles. "Well, fer the night optics anyhow."

I return the smile, and show the man my badge.

"Oh shit! Why didn't you say so? I got a select-fire version of this with a twelve inch barrel that has a serious muzzle brake on it. It is loud as hell to the person firing it, I mean really loud!" The man laughs, and goes back to the back room.

He brings out an even smaller meaner looking assault shot gun.

"This has the infrared laser, and glasses to see it with, the directional microphone, and the plethora of ammo varieties you MIB are so fond of." The bearded old man cackles with delight.

"That's perfect, how much?"

"You're a lucky young man today agent, yessir! Let me tell you about out our special this week only. You get the gun, with all the bells and whistles, you get one extra helical mag, you get the sling, and a concealed carry case, approved for use on all major airlines. Not only that, but I'll throw in a hundred rounds of double ought buck, and your choice of twenty five rounds of specialty ammo, five rounds max of any one type though fella. All fer the low price of thirteen hundred and sixty five dollars. Hell my normal retail is over two-grand, son, but the factory has a government promotional event going on."

"Sold." I smile at him.

"Will this be on a card, or cash?" The old man is hopeful.

"Cash." That brings a big smile to the old man's face.

"Would you like it gift wrapped fer an extra ten bucks?"

"Oh, hell yeah!" I laugh.

"Do you want me to make out a card, and if so whom to?"

"Make it out to Cat Woman, have it say; you are the cat's meow." I get all dreamy eyed.

"You don't say. Hell I know Cat Woman son! She and I are dear friends. I'm going to throw in some extra goodies fer her, oh and by the way Cat always has her weapons special delivered back home to New Mexico, avoids the hassles of flying." He chuckles. "And yes son, she really is the cat's meow."

"Yeah, that's a good idea to ship it home." I agree.

After my last class at Langley a couple of obviously high ranking suits make a job proposition to me, with Cat right there. She just has a slight grin. I of course tell them I am quite happy right where I am, that is when Cat's smile really beams. She takes me home to Albuquerque, telling me that I have only one more course of training before I am to be activated, and deployed.

Every time we fly commercial airlines we have to be escorted into security and our credentials verified. Then we are vested as air-marshals for the flight. I pity the poor hijacker who would try to take a flight Cat is on, there wouldn't be much left of him I am sure.

Once home, I start taking a much accelerated intense on-line program of Arabic language instruction. I am given software to use and study with at home, and am told to try to use Arabic myself as much as I can. So I throw myself into the academic task whole heartedly, as I realize that I will probably be deployed somewhere where knowing Arabic will be vital to survival. The thought of going to the middle-east, into the thick of terrorist territory, makes me a bit uneasy. This is serious business, as those crazies are cutting people's heads off for looking at them wrong.

Before the first week back is over, Cat meets me after class in my temp office and she seems to be very happy.

"I just got your present Jeff. I love it! Thank you so much sweetheart. You know just what to get a girl like me." She leans in towards my cheek, to plant a kiss, and then she grabs my chin and pulls my face to her. Then she kisses me gently on my lips.

Cat pulls away after just a second, "Whew! I better go." She starts to walk away. "Is it hot in here or what?" Cat fans herself and giggles.

I am speechless with my mouth wide agape, in a pleasant shock. I watch her shapely body wiggle, just right, in total awe.

"Definitely have to get her more gifts... for sure!" I muse.

I pass the language course with high marks, and then I receive my orders to report to the airport the next day. The orders I received via e-mail don't state where I am going, just that tickets will be waiting for me under my name. Cat invites me and mom out to a farewell dinner, and we go back to Los Huertas for the subdued event.

"Get seconds and even thirds... hell fourths if you want Jeff. Stock up on the chile' because you won't be having any for a while." Cat encourages me, and I oblige.

I eat like a man condemned, and know I will surely miss these two ladies fiercely.

We say our casual good-nights, and part. Cat had promised to give me a lift to the airport the next day, and we will say our farewells there.

"I'm going to miss you Cat Woman." I hold the tears back, but she can see them welling up anyway.

"Just keep your head in the game at all times, and we'll see each other for the next refresher training in a couple years." She smiles with confidence.

I nod, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Cat smiles and blows me a kiss before she strides back to her car. I watch every move of hers, and she knows it. As I take my bags inside the terminal, I find it is strange that it is the very same entrance I'd used when I was discovered, or perhaps when I betrayed myself. I shake the thought off, as I am nervous enough not having a clue as to where I am going. As per instructions I have three changes of clothes, my side arm and two loaded clips, my issue I-phone, personal wallet, and my ID badge. That is it.

At the designated security counter I present my badge and am taken into the back areas. First I am verified, and then vested as a temporary air marshal for the flight. I don't mind one bit as it means more money on my paycheck. I am then taken to a jet headed for New York.

In the back security areas of JFK another NSA agent meets me and gives me a manila envelope to open. I take out a passport for myself, and a new i-phone, along with a micro cell phone.

"I need to take your old i-phone Agent Christopher." The man says.

I see the wisdom in that, for the agency, and gladly relinquish the device.

"The new one is the same number as the old, the secure micro has its number in it. No password protection is set on it yet. Provide a password ASAP, and only use it as your station manager directs you. Here is your ticket. You will fly to London, and meet with security there at Heathrow. They will provide you quarters for your lay-over, and then you will fly out from there." The man hands me the ticket.

"Where am I going from London?" I ask.

The man shrugs his shoulders. "Don't know... don't care." He stands and shakes my hand. "Good luck Agent."

The flight over the Atlantic is long and bumpy in a few places, but finally we land. Again I present myself to the security station, and they take me back with them. It takes a half hour of waiting before another NSA agent shows up, and escorts me to a car. The man drives a ways from the airport, to an apartment the agency rents. He gives me the keys in the car, telling me which flat I'll have, and that he will return for me at ten the next morning. Then when I have my bag in hand, the man drives off.

It is on the second floor, up some narrow stairs, and as I set my bag down to use the key; a door opens right across from the flat. I turn to see a young blonde with far too much make-up on, leaving her flat.

"Well, hello handsome!" She says with a thick accent, well to me it is an accent anyhow.

"Hi." I smile with a tiny nod.

"Oh, I do love you American blokes' accent. What part of the colonies are you from dear?" She moves much closer to me.

I am embarrassed for some reason. "Um, I'm from New Mexico."

"That's nice, are you a cowboy darling?" She flirts.

Before I can say anything, she goes on, "Because I like a good hard Yankee cowboy. They are a lot of fun."

The cat really has my tongue, and I am flustered. She sees this and backs a step away.

"Just let me know if you want to have some fun cowboy, my name is Rita." She winks.

I smile back at her. "This trip I don't have any time, but maybe the next." I try to be congenial with my rejection.

She giggles. "That would be nice." Then Rita walks down the stairs.

I settle in and turn on the telly. Putting my feet up and feeling relaxed and comfortable there in that utterly foreign country. Well not so foreign, as I can at least speak to the natives, and understand their television shows, well, for the most part. A commercial for a cooking show gets me thinking of food, so I wonder about where I can get some tasty English cuisine.

There is a landline phone on a desk, and so I go to look through the drawers. The top one has what I am looking for, a phone book. As I lift the book out of the drawer, I see a piece of paper taped to the bottom of the drawer by all four sides. It reads; 'Good food at:' on top, with a list written below this with several different styles of handwriting, as if more than a few people contributed to the list. The names and numbers of different eating establishments are listed, along with what types of food is recommended, and if they deliver to the flat or not.

'Now this was thoughtful.' I muse.

I am hungry for some fish and chips, since I am in the land of such, so I call one of the places on the list that fit the bill, and that delivers. I enjoy a quiet meal alone, and as I relax, digesting the food, I realize that I truly like London, even though I haven't experienced more than the barest taste; it feels safe and comforting here. I don't sleep well though, as I have jet-lag. So in the morning when I am getting real tired, my ride shows up for me.

The man drives back to the airport, and gives me a one-way ticket to Istanbul, Turkey.

"There will be someone at the arrival gate with a sign reading 'A. Rascal.' You are A. Rascal for this purpose Agent Christopher. Your contact will take it from there. Good luck." The man briskly leaves me at the security desk, where they take me back and vest me as an air-marshal for the flight. The only difference being, this time I am sworn to obey the directives of the Crown in my duties, as the flight is on a British Airways jet.

Sure enough a man meets me with the foretold sign at the Istanbul airport, and then drives to the 'station house' as he called it. Right away the man takes me to my room, and lets me unpack. Then he takes me to meet my new boss. A large burly man with side graying short hair stands from behind his desk as we enter the main office.

"Special Agent Christopher, pleased to meet you." The man offers his hand to me and I take it with a smile. His hand dwarves mine, yet he is gentle with the shake. "Have a seat please. Thank you Agent Fletcher."

The other man leaves, closing the heavy sounding solid door behind him.

"I'm Station Chief Warley, your direct supervisor. Welcome to Green-home Indigo, this is the code name of this station. It is what you will always use to name it. Next we have to check the number I have for your secure cell." He retrieves his own micro cell phone and dials some numbers, then in several moments my secure phone rings.

"Good enough." Chief Warley says, and he hangs up. "Okay, I'm the usual person who will use the secure line, though there maybe exceptions; I will always tell you if any other agent is authorized to call you on it. Understood?"

I affirm, "Yes boss."

"Fine, now the rules of the house are simple. One; no one leaves without my permission. Check in and check out with this office when coming or going. We need to know where our agents are at all times. Two; the only authorized outside area to relax in is the center courtyard of the building. Three; you will notice all the windows are shuttered with steel blast panels. Do not open them! We have central AC for a reason. Only windows facing the courtyard may be opened. Four; Oh... it says you don't smoke, so never mind four." He says while looking at his lap-top screen.

"I didn't know they let smokers even become agents." I offer, but instantly regret it when Chief Warley pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one up.

"I'm from the old school son, when all the agents were smokers." He smiles with defiance.

I now feel awkward, but try not to show it, instead I work my magic. "I bet those were some days, with the big red bear as an enemy, instead of these masked thugs running around with suicide vests on."

"The bear still is our enemy Christopher, don't you ever forget that." Warley looks serious. "A red agent is just as dangerous as a Jihadi son, or a yellow one."

"Rodger that boss." I nod.

"Well we are starting a whole new operation with your supposed talents leading the way. I hope you are as capable as they said you are son, it could help in a real big way." Chief Warley tells. "Relax for a couple of days, and I'll have Agent Fletcher show you the house today. Tomorrow he'll take you into town to show you around a bit, and let you get a feel for the culture. The food is terrific, and the markets are super reasonable, just remember to haggle, or they will be insulted by you. I'll fill you in on all the details of the opp soon, until then try to get as comfortable here as you can."

"Will do boss."

"Good... good." Warley goes back to his lap-top.

I leave and find Fletcher waiting for me in the hallway. He shows me the run of the building, and it has everything you could need, including its own large back-up generator. The armory is last on the tour, and I am told to come here if the fire alarm ever goes off, as that means we are under attack. In that event, I am to arm up and repel.

Fletcher cuts me loose until the next day, and I wander to the courtyard, where a few other agents are relaxing. Two are tossing a Frisbee back and forth, trying to do tricks and I recognize one of them right away. It is Tilda. She looks up to see me and jogs over to me right away.

"High Jeff, sweetie! Fancy meeting you here." She beams her precocious smile.

I can't help but grin from ear to ear. "It's real good to see you Tilda, a friendly face from home."

"Oh, I'm glad you are still a sweetheart Jeff. I told Cat it was a shame to harden you up, but I'm glad it didn't ruin you." She hugs me warmly.

"Well, since you two already know each other, why don't you introduce us Tilda?" Another man asks.

She goes around making introductions to agents, Swanson, Hillburg, Jones, and Smith. They are all young vibrant people with bright smiles and eyes. Lastly she introduces me to the only older person there in the courtyard, a Hispanic looking man.

"Jeff, this is the Beaner. He only goes by his code name, nobody knows his real name except the Chief." Tilda says.

I extend my hand. "Hello sir."

The man looks at me but doesn't take my hand. "That's Beaner son. Just call me the Beaner."

"Hello Mr. Beaner." I keep my hand out. "I'm Jeff."

The man takes it almost begrudgingly. "That's close enough, hell. Racist bastard!" He suddenly growls, and then smiles as he withdraws his hand. "Now that we got that out of the way, welcome to Green-home Indigo Jeff."

I look to Tilda with confused surprise.

"He says that everyone is a racist bastard for calling him the Beaner, but then he insists on being called that." She tells me. "Yes, he's certifiable type crazy." Her smile says she is kidding, at least I hope she is.

"Thanks Beaner." I say.

"Just keep your powder dry and your pecker hard son, and the worm will turn." The Beaner chuckles, and goes back to reading his book.

Tilda and I stay talking until dinner time, and then we eat together in the small communal dining room. Seeing as there is only one long picnic style table, everyone eats together, sharing stories, and laughs. I feel most welcome by the other agents, even if some of them are a bit quirky.

"You'll know when trouble is about to happen by that special feeling you get Agent Christopher, you know the one in the pit of your gut... that says freakin' feed me! Yeah, that's how you'll know." Chief Warley jokes.

"Oh that's right, give him the shit." Tilda says to the Chief, then she turns to me, "Guys are so predictable, always a freaking pissing contest with you." She spats.

"Seriously Newby, do you know how you'll know when you're in trouble?" The Beaner pauses for me to answer, but then he answers anyway, "That's right! You'll wake up in a foreign country with people all around you speaking a different tongue, and who aren't real fond of you. Just like you will wake up tomorrow!"

Everyone laughs and nods.

I just listen real closely. They are trying to help me understand.

The next morning agent Fletcher brings me some casual local street clothes to wear, and then he shows me how to walk, stand, and carry myself like a local. Light weight body armor is donned before dressing, and then before we leave, both of us check out in the Chief's office. The clerk, and personal assistant to the Chief checks us out, taking both of our ID badges, and making sure we have our passports as well as a second form of photo ID that the local government issues. He personally checks and counts the ammo of our weapons, and gives Fletcher keys to one of the vehicles in the lower garage.

"Now, the Chief says you don't speak Turkish, so let me do the talking to any locals. If you speak to me around them, use Arabic if possible, Okay?" Fletcher tells.

"Si senor... I mean wi... I mean... I don't know what I mean." I joke.

"Aye caramba! You woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning amigo." Fletcher laughs.

We go to an open air market, and both wander through in silence. Then Fletcher stops at a spice vendor, and purchases quite a bit of different fresh ground spices, and aromatic seeds. After what seems a while of them haggling the price, both Fletcher and the vendor suddenly laugh and embrace. They have settled on a price.

After a long walk through the market, with Fletcher telling me in perfect Arabic to point out anything I want to see, or purchase; we return to the car. I just took stock this trip, but I did see a few items I will think about taking home with me. Once safely on the way to the house, we revert back to English.

"So, what's with all the spices?" I have to ask, as they smell so good.

"Our cook needed some. Hey, when in Rome... speaking of which; eat as much heavily spiced local style food as you can. You want to smell like them too." Fletcher tells.

I see the deep logic in that. "I want to become indistinguishable from the locals, can you teach me Special Agent Fletcher?"

"Sure, just volunteer to go with me on any supply runs, and I'll show you how to blend in perfectly."

At both the communal lunch and dinner, Tilda sits next to me, and gives warm vibes which I eagerly soak up, becoming entranced by her utterly sexy nymph like qualities. Fletcher notices this and tells me later, alone.

"What happens in Green-home, stays in Green-home brother agent. Those rules apply back home, not out here."

I understand, and I am instantly determined to find out all about Tilda. She is personally a closed book though, and despite my best attempt to get anything besides her last name and home state, she doesn't say a word about herself.

The next morning the Chief calls me to his office.

"Our new operation is code named 'Deal Breaker.' Now you really don't ever get to say it. This is just so you know what I am talking about. Your first objective is to get to know this man." Chief Warley shows me a glossy full color photo of a bearded Arabic looking man that was taken as he was exiting a car. He didn't have sunglasses on and I can see the meanness in his eyes, the raw hatred. I become transfixed, and then I am suddenly whisked away to see through eyes other than my own.

I am suddenly standing on an armored personnel carrier at a cross of intersecting dirt roads. A small town is before me, and I wave some other military vehicles past me into the town. A road sign in Arabic is just to the APC's right. Then I can hear the man think, in Arabic. It takes me a moment to translate what I can, and the man whose eyes I now look through had thought; 'No opposition, then something I can't translate. Finishing with; 'as I hoped.' I feel as though I am really here, by the roadside, standing on the APC. I look at the road sign again as the man looks around, and memorize the symbols. Then I streak back to my own body.

"With the combination of signal interception, and drone visual coverage, we were hoping that you might get a read as to maybe at least what country he is currently in. From there we can try to neck it down and maybe eventually find this asshole." Chief Warley is telling me.

I had missed the first part of the briefing, as I had been somewhere else entirely. I see a yellow note pad on the desk and I quickly grab it, tearing the sheet beneath the used top sheet out, and then I grab a loose pen on the desk, and hurriedly scribble the Arabic characters I'd seen on the road sign.

"You got something Christopher?" Warley sees my urgency.

"This is the name in Arabic, of the town where he's at boss, I can't freaking read Arabic though...yet." I am excited.

"You did get a read!"

I nod with big eyes, "Deeper than I've ever gotten before! He is standing on an armored carrier just at the cross roads outside this town... to the east I think."

"What, right now?" Warley is incredulous.

"Right freaking now boss!" I emphasize.

The Chief goes right to his lap top, and calls up the Arabic language translator program he has. Quickly he gets the name of the town. "It's named Jerud! Now I hope to hell we have assets close enough to respond." He again is furiously typing onto his computer.

I cross my fingers.

"Okay, we have a drone about thirty minutes away. I'm calling a high priority recon." After another moment typing, he reaches behind him and grabs a satellite phone, hooked with a cable to a machine that has more thick cables running up the back wall into the ceiling. After a moment he says, "Sundown, this is Searchlight. I have an Alpha Phoenix for sector nine. Need eyes on with possible postage. Just east of the town of Jerud, GPS as sent via web. I'm looking for an APC stopped at the cross roads east of town. If visually verified, mark that APC as Phoenix Tango. You have authorization and are cleared to Echo Tango." He waits as he listens in the phone.

"Rodger that, I appreciate it fellows." He then hangs up.

Warley turns the lap-top screen so I can see it also. "They will link us into the FLIR on the predator, so we can see what they see."

"Far-out." I smile.

It isn't fifteen minutes later when the view from the drone is linked to us, and we watch the black and white thermal image of a vast desert rolling by beneath.

"Now you are sure you saw the guy we are looking for, right?" Warley questions.

"It's him boss." I am utterly confident.

"Regardless, he's an ISIL asshole, and he's on an APC... either way it's win." Warley muses aloud.

"So who is this guy anyway Chief?"

"I just told you..." Warley is troubled, then he relaxes. "Oh, right. You weren't here for that were you?"

I shake my head.

"He's the commander of the southern-most forces of ISIL. All I can say Agent Christopher, is if you got that deep of a read, that quickly... you are the guy we've been waiting for. Maybe we can even win this war after all."

Ten minutes later we see a convoy of military vehicles entering a small town on the screen.

"Can you do your thing again, see if he's still there agent?" Warley asks.

Again I look deep into the eyes of the man in the photo, but this time I don't connect.

"It's not working." I tell the Chief.

"Shit! Try again."

It isn't until I see the image of the cross roads on the screen, as the drone is overhead, and see the small APC from the bird's eye view, that I make a connection again. I am now sitting on the top hatch, with a radio set on my head, giving orders to the troops. I pull back to myself.

"He's still there boss! On the APC."

In another thirty seconds we watch as the hellfire missile blasts the armored vehicle into twisted, and burning wreckage. I can feel that the man is no longer alive, and it is a very strange feeling, as if a part of myself were splattered across the desert too.

"Well, now we listen to the chatter to see if you were right Christopher. It might be a while though." The Chief tells.

"I can feel it boss... it kind of hurts... in a freaking weird way." I rub my abdomen as if it were sore.

"Feel what?"

I look at him, "I can feel he's dead." I point at the photo.

All the other agents that are a part of this particular opp are told to listen for any chatter; especially concerning a drone strike. The Chief tells me to get some down time, for a few days, so I go on several trips into town with agent Fletcher, each time listening to him closely as to customs and habits of the locals. I practice the mannerisms also, in front of the mirror in my room. Some basic conversational Turkish is gleaned from Fletcher along with his detailed observations of how the Turks present themselves to each other.

The next night about half of the usual group of agents are gone from dinner, and I am told they are on assignment. Tilda is one of those away, and I miss her sparkling spirit, and graceful beauty. I can tell all the rest of the guys do too though. In the morning the Chief calls me into his office and congratulates me.

"We are ninety five percent positive, that our desired target is KIA son. Nice freaking work!" His hand shake is extra firm and exuberant. "Please have a seat agent. Coffee?"

I nod and the Chief pours me a cup, handing it to me black. Taking it, I sip it even though I wish for sugar at the least, much less cream. I think the Chief, whose code name is Monument, is a funny guy. Gruff as can be, but with subversive thought applied to his manner of leading. His humor is subtle, yet raw.

Monument pulls another photo out of his desk, and hands it to me. "We would love it if you could get a read on old BB here." He says.

Instantly I recognized the man. It is the leader of all ISIL. "BB?" I ask.

"Kind of his nick name. Big-daddy Baghdadi. Speaking of which, you have earned your codename agent. You are now also known as 'ACE', but spelled with an 's' not a 'c.' I hope you like it." The Chief grins.

"Ace? That's like something you call someone you don't like so much." I complain, as I sure don't like it.

"It was the Beaner's idea. Stands for 'All Seeing Eye,' you know how us government freaks like our acronyms." Monument chuckles.

I still don't like it; I can hear it coming already, 'Hey Ace, what's up slick?'

"Anyhow Ace, try to get a read on BB there would you, do us all a favor." Monument instructs.

I try, but there is nothing, absolutely nothing.

My boss tells me to take the photo with me, and to keep trying, and if I can think of anything else that might help, to let him know.

That night at dinner the rest of the crew has just made it back, and everyone is there again. The mood is much lighter too, as if it wasn't right when parts of this surrogate family were away, and when they come home all is well again. Afterwards Tilda wants to talk to me alone in the courtyard, and she grabs a couple of cold beers from a refrigerator for us.

"I didn't know they allowed us to drink on duty?" I am curious.

"We are only technically on duty right this moment. Besides, everyone here is family; hell the Beaner sometimes even fires up some Hashish out here." Tilda giggles.

This perplexes me. "The Chief knows about it?"

"Knows about it? He freaking joins him sometimes! Look, you just got here sweetie. You'll understand after about six months. Especially after a rough mission, and there will be those... there always is." She doesn't laugh at all.

I take a slug of beer, a big one.

"Alright, that's more like it." Tilda smiles. "Relax every chance you get baby." She too takes a drink.

"So, are you also gifted...um you know, psychically. I figured you must be, seeing you're one of Cat's students after all." I probe.

"Shhh!" Tilda is instantly serious. "That's classified agent! In fact you just divulged classified information... dumbass. You have to wait until you have permission. Everyone knows that."

"Oh... sorry." I am embarrassed.

"Don't worry rookie. We'll take care of you." Tilda hugs me like a sister would. "Just follow our lead, and you'll learn the ropes."

I like her being so close to me, it feels great, even if it is brotherly cuddling.

In the morning the Chief calls me to his office, and Tilda is there with him.

"Ace, I want you and Tilda to start to work together on Deal Breaker. She is our sole other psy-opp agent at the house, so it only makes sense to put you two together. That is, if you have no objections?" Monument asks.

I laugh, "Oh hell no!"

"Good, now you two use the secure conference room, and go do your thing. If you need anything, let me know." The Chief nods. "Oh, and while you are looking for BB, see if you can find this freak too." He hands another photo to me, and again I recognize the masked man immediately. He is called Jihadi John by all the media.

"So, now I can tell you anything you want to know about me Jeff, we have permission now, but just while we are secure, and it's supposed to just be what we need to know. I don't worry about that last part myself too much, so ask away." Tilda says.

"How old are you?" I start.

"Twenty eight." She smiles.

"What's your favorite color, food, and music... in that order?"

Tilda giggles. "I feel like it's our first date."

"Careful; that would mean I get to kiss you goodnight." I joke.

"So sure of yourself huh? I might just shoot you down in flames pal." Tilda pretends indignity.

I feign a hurt look.

"Okay, it's purple, New Mexican food, and right now I really like Miley Cyrus." She tells with pride.

"NO! OH NO!" I clutch my heart as if I had been stabbed. "You had me until Miley...Oh My God! Noooo! How could you?"

"Hey, her new album really kicks it! Don't knock her until you try her baby!" Tilda defends. "And there's definitely no goodnight kiss for you pal."

I sure don't fake the hurt look this time.

"So now you go, same thing Mister." She challenges.

"Okay, Azure Blue, New Mexican food, and I will always love Jesus Jones the best."

She looks confused, "Who?"

"Never mind, you're absolutely right, it is just personal taste." I concede.

"So, Monument said he'd never seen anything like you before. What gives... what can you do?" Tilda asks.

"So far, I found a guy they were looking for, just by looking at his picture." I tell.

"What do you mean you found him, how?" She presses.

"I went into his mind, and I saw through his eyes, and I could hear his thoughts... in Arabic."

"Mother fu.... He wasn't kidding. Jesus Jeff, how long have you been able to do that?" Tilda looks at me strangely.

"That was the first time... it seems to maybe be getting stronger."

"Let's hope so baby. Damn I'm glad you're on our side."

"So how about you Tilda, what do you do?"

She cocks her head and looks at me intently, "You're good... I almost missed it... you didn't answer the question. How old are you Jeff?"

I feel sheepish, and she can tell I don't want to answer.

"I know you are young baby, but just how young are you?"

"I'm eighteen... and a half!" I add jokingly.

Tilda laughs, and shakes her head. "You signed on when you were what? Seventeen?"

I nod several times.

She laughs gently. Then she answers my last question. "My psychic talent is broadcasting, but I can receive too, just not near as well. Nothing like you baby. Let's try though, so we get to know each other's auras. I'll send, you receive. Write it down, so will I. That way we will both know."

"Okay." I say looking deep into her gorgeous brown eyes.

At first I just have sexual images in my head... my own fantasies. Slowly though a thought does come into my head. It is like hearing auditory words, saying, 'kiss me.' Seeing as how it is so clear, I write it down, and so does she. We reveal at the same time, and sure enough we both have the exact same words written. A chill goes up my spine, and she leans over and kisses me on the lips.

"Perfect baby!" She squeals in delight.

I giggle now.

"Do you know how rare that is to happen Jeff, especially so quickly?" Tilda asks.

I shake my head.

"Well... it's never happened to me before... that fast anyhow." She tells. "Now let's do it again. Get ready."

This time I hear something a bit different, and when I reveal my paper, it says, 'make love with me.'

"Nope." Tilda says. "Try again."

I clear my mind realizing I'd just picked up my own desires. Then I hear the voice again, and I know it is Tilda's mind voice.

'I hear you gorgeous lady!' I shout back with my mind.

Tilda suddenly looks shocked, and she writes something down. I write down what I'd heard; 'supercalifragilous-tic-expialla-goatish.'

She has written the same ridiculous word variation, and in addition she wrote; 'I hear you gorgeous lady.'

"I sent that, or yelled it with my mind to you!"

"You are supposed to write down any transmissions you make Jeff, but don't worry, I knew it was you because it was so freaking loud!" Tilda says with wide eyes.

"Let's do it again." I am eager. "Let me send this time."

"Okay."

I think of one of my favorite songs, and I imagine myself turning up the volume of my stereo as I clearly hear the music and lyrics I know so well. Just as I am again mesmerized by her lovely eyes, I feel myself pulled very fast into Tilda's mind, and suddenly I am looking through her eyes. I am watching my own face blink in disbelief, then to slowly look down at my arms, and then back to looking at Tilda, but it is at me... Just then I laugh, but it is with Tilda's voice. I will her head to look down, and it does. I hold up her hands, and suddenly I grab the boobs on my new chest. I feel them through her hands, and then with a gut wrenching lurch I am suddenly back in my own body, looking at Tilda.

She is checking herself out too, and a very panicked look crosses her pretty face.

"What the goddamn hell was that? Oh my freaking god! I was in your body Jeff... shit... you were in mine, weren't you?" Her voice trembles. "What the HELL?" She yells coming out of her chair.

I am quiet, I hadn't meant to do that, it had just happened.

"Oh god! That was a freaking trip Jeff... how the hell did you do that?"

I shrug, "It just happened, that was the first time for me too."

"Whoa... we need to work with you on this baby. If you can do that shit... holy crap... think what you might be capable of Jeff." Tilda is getting her excitement back quickly. "I heard that song Jeff, what was it?"

"That's Jesus Jones girl." I smile.

"Shit! Well hell, play it again Sam." Tilda sits down again staring me deep in my eyes.

I start the song over again in my mind, but this time we don't switch bodies. She does hear me though, loud and clear.

"Try to remember any feeling you had just before we switched, ok."

I try to remember why I'd felt so strange before... and then I do. The energy rushes up my spine causing a shiver, and the next thing I know, I am looking at my face across the table from me again. I reach down and run her hands over her breasts again.

"Stop that asshole!" My voice tells me. Then I watch as my body gets up from the table, and with a giggle, leaves the room suddenly.

"Hey!" I stand Tilda's body up and go after myself.

I find her, or me, whatever; in the Chiefs office.

"I just wanted to tell you what a pleasure and honor it is to serve under you Chief." My body is offering a handshake to the Chief.

Tilda's mouth drops open in disbelief.

The Chief stands and shakes my body's hand, though he was uncertain what I, or Tilda in me, is up to.

"Oh hell, a handshake ain't gonna cut it Chief." My body suddenly hugs the man. "I really want a kiss Chiefie... how about it?"

"Stop that right now, or... I'll take off all my clothes right here!" I yell through Tilda's mouth. "He's not normally so friendly sir, you'll have to excuse him."

"What the hell is going on with you two? Has the Beaner been lighting up again? In the middle of the morning? Come on, you are on duty, agents!" The Chief pushes my body off him and sits down with a grimace. "Just a twitch of professionalism is all I ask for goddamn it!"

My body brushes by me, here in Tilda's body, with a silly giggle, heading back towards the conference room, but then she suddenly makes a beeline for the bathroom. The look she makes with my face as she glances back at me, tells me she is going to be naughty.

"Hey, what the hell Tilda?" Her voiced calls to my body. She doesn't stop. "Oh excuse me, you first. I'll take care of business in a minute." I say with her voice.

She brings my body back from the bathroom after a couple seconds, with a Mona Lisa like grin on my face.

"This is so much fun. Come on, let's go talk about how we can use this perhaps." She walks my body back into the conference room.

I follow my body with hers, and take her seat again, adjusting her bosom proudly as I do so.

Tilda laughs with my voice, then asks. "Can you switch back at will Jeff, because I'm stuck here, helpless."

I nod her head. "I think so, let me try."

"There." I say with my own voice again. We have switched back.

She looks unsteady for a second, and then smiles at me with bright sparkling eyes. "Let's think of some ideas of how to use this, and then we'll go tell the Chief."

"Thank you! Right now I'm sure he thinks I'm gay." I pretend anger.

Tilda laughs hard.

"You did what?" Monument blinks.

"We switched freaking bodies Chief!" Tilda is bursting with excitement. "That was me in his body trying to give you a kiss!"

"Excuse me, what?" Again he blinks.

"I was in Tilda's body, that's why I threatened her I would strip her body, if she didn't stop trying to get me in trouble." I chuckle.

"You can't be serious." Chief Warley grows a worried look.

"Serious as a heart attack Chief." Tilda swears. "The first time he did it, I flipped out, but then I liked it the second time."

"Whoa, whoa. You done it more than once already?" Monument is astounded.

"Yup." Tilda beams a smile.

The Chief asks, "So, when you found our target the other day, did you switch bodies with him too?"

"No, that was different. I wasn't in control of his body then, just like an observer." I answer.

Monument is quiet for a long moment. Then; "Well, you'd better tell me everything agents, because I have to report this up. No one's ever done that before, so they will need to know."

We tell him everything, and even some of our ideas on how to possibly use this talent. He tells us to keep working together on it, and that he has some calls to make. We go back to the conference room, and then shortly take a break in the courtyard. There is only one other person in the courtyard at that time of day, it is the Beaner.

"What's up Elvira, Ace? You guys on stand-down, or just taking a break?" He asks as he stretches himself in the warm sun.

"Break." Tilda says.

"Elvira? Is that your code name?" I ask her.

"Yup, I didn't tell you that yet? Hmm, maybe I was so busy freaking out." She muses.

"You? Freak out? That ain't the Elvira I know and love." The Beaner states. "About what?"

"Oh you'll hear about it soon enough, but not from my un-authorized lips." She says.

He doesn't press it. Instead he turns to me, "That was a mighty good make you made there the other day Ace. You really gave the house some serious cred. Hell, and your whole program some notice. It's about time too. Usually the psy-oppers aren't able to do anything, except then try to help support us sigint boys, but from what I heard... you earned your handle Ace!" The Beaner gives me a smile and a nod. "Maybe some head candy would open you up even more. Tonight... come see me out here after dinner, and let's find out." He laughs and then leaves us to go inside.

"Head candy?" I ask her after he left.

"Hash, or Hash oil, one of the two with the Beaner." She tells.

"Never mind." I shake my head.

Tilda surprises me then, "I actually think it might be a good idea baby."

"What?"

About an hour after dinner, which strangely Monument was too busy with calls to attend, Tilda takes me to see the Beaner in the courtyard. He has a shiny chrome hookah waiting for us, and he smiles in the near darkness.

"Let's see about opening your third eye shall we Ace?" He presents the hookah's hose to me. "Just suck on this slowly while I fire her up."

Tilda motions for me to go ahead, so I do.

"Once you taste it, go real slow. This shit expands like crazy." The Beaner says with a laugh, and he lights a lighter, and tilts it over a small pile of what looks like sand, or some sort of blonde colored spice.

As I taste it, I do as told, but a second later my lungs still explode with fire, and I cough hard, expelling a copious cloud of smoke as I do so. I can't believe I'd inhaled that much smoke. Then I try to breathe, but my lungs are in a deep spasm.

Tilda rubs and pats my back, as the Beaner chuckles at me. Finally I can catch my breath, and I find that I have gone to the ground. I am sitting directly on the dirt, and I don't remember getting there.

"Here, take another one, to seal the deal Ace." The Beaner holds the hose toward me.

"Jesus Beaner! Give him a minute to breath will ya?" Tilda chastises.

I chuckle, because I suddenly feel pretty good. "I'm alright... give me that... I ain't scared." I take the hose and the Beaner grins widely as he lights the pile of hashish again.

Again I cough like an inhalation victim at a fire scene, but then a real pleasant feeling comes over me.

"This isn't bad at all." I smile. "I likey this!" I laugh crazily. "Wow!"

"That's probably not a good thing... after all." Tilda worries.

"Oh, he's fine girl, just let him enjoy the ride." The Beaner tells her.

"I'm right freaking here guys! I haven't gone anywhere." I scold them. "Jesus Tilda! How, the hell did you get so damn hot?" I blink and shake my head. "It's not just me is it Beaner? You see she's super-hot too, don't you?"

"Shit son, does an alligator screw eggs?" He answers.

Now Tilda is insistent. "I'm right here assholes! Jesus H."

"You sure are girl." I look at her with smitten eyes.

"He's screwed now Beaner... look what you did to the poor boy." She tells him.

The Beaner laughs as he holds a hit he'd just taken. Tilda steals the hose from him deftly, and she takes a couple hits too. I can only watch her with a smile, though she doesn't return my incessant stare.

"Now, it's after dinner snack time." The Beaner gets up and wanders towards the kitchens slowly.

"Snacks?" I automatically rise from the ground like a disoriented zombie, and follow the Beaner.

Tilda sighs. "Damn stoners." And she finishes the bowl, then to follow us to snack time.

At breakfast Monument is there, and he tells everyone that a security detail is due mid-morning to prep for some wheels that are due to arrive the next day. He tells the Beaner to stash his shit good, and for all the beer to be hidden as well. We need a clean house for our guests. So after breakfast everyone sets about cleaning their quarters and the bathrooms. Usually a local, but cleared, cleaning crew comes once a week to do these chores, but none of us have any qualms about keeping a 'cleanish' house.

Fletcher invites me to go with him to meet the security detail, and I of course take the opportunity to learn. The agent brings me to a gate for commercial passengers before the detail arrives in their own aircraft. He tells me in Arabic to watch for the young adults who looked lost disembarking from the flight, and the people who would meet them inevitably. I see several teen looking types who appear lost just like Fletcher had said, and they then meet sheepishly with someone holding a name card. The man speaks quietly to the youths, and then they quickly follow him off.

"Is that what I think it was?" I ask Fletcher in Arabic.

The agent nods. Then whispers to me, "Don't worry, I got the bastard on file already. We know him." Again in Arabic.

Then we go through a security station, after showing our NSA ID badges to the Captain there, and we're taken out onto the tarmac where a Boeing triple seven is just taxing to a stop, followed by a mammoth C-5 Galaxy. Both aircraft fly a USA flag emblem under the windscreen, and prominently on the tails. A herd of MIB de-bark from the triple seven and come up to Fletcher, who greets them warmly yet with professionalism, and then the men go to the Galaxy to drive their pure white SUV's from it, after the nose had fully lifted.

"Let's go get our ride, and we'll meet them back at the house." Fletcher leads me off.

Once in the car, I ask him, "So this was just a formality to greet them here?"

"Well yes, and it lets them know the house isn't under siege." He answers.

It makes sense to me. We aren't there to greet or guide them back to the house. They already know the way. No, it is to show that everything is secure at the house... and what better way?

We arrive home after the Security detail had, and after securing the car in the smallish underground parking lot now crowded with four extra white SUVs, we go upstairs. The security team is combing everything and everywhere with all kinds of electronic devices. All the house members just stay out of their way completely, most are out in the courtyard.

"Well, your house guests are wound up a bit too tightly Ace." The Beaner jokes as he joins me and Fletcher.

"My guests?" I protest.

"Yeah, they're here to see you pal." The Beaner is serious and he stops walking with us.

Both of us keep walking. "Just smile and go with it Ace." Fletcher says. "Nothing you can do but smile, because you're imbedded deep as it is."

Now I stop walking with the other man, and I stand there in shock. I am perhaps in some deep ass trouble!

Just then Tilda takes my hand from behind, and pulls me off to a quiet spot away from the others.

"Now you and I are going to have to demonstrate what you did before to them Jeff, baby." She whispers. "Just do it, and then we can negotiate with them, Okay?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea Tilda. They will take me to a freaking lab somewhere and dissect my ass." I whisper back.

"It's called a vivisection sweetie, because they don't kill you first." She smiles at me big, blinking her eyes innocently.

"Shit." I sigh.

"Relax baby, you are the one who has what they want. You have clout and can negotiate with them, besides, I'll be there for you too." Tilda promises.

It is late the next evening before both Tilda and I are summoned to the secure conference room. The MIB guarding the doors are indifferent to us, but once inside we're treated as Hollywood celebrities by all the Big Wheels, mostly MIB suits, but there is also a general in the Army, and some scientist types.

After Monument has introduced us to everyone, they ask us to repeat the experiment for them, if possible. Both of us nervously take a seat opposite each other. She takes both of my hands into hers and gently rubs them, looking deep into my eyes with sparkling clear life. I can feel that familiar energy creeping up my spine, tingling as it goes, and I almost stop it, so I can be free from the scrutiny, but I don't.

"It worked!" My body with Tilda at the helm announces, as she stand me up. "It's me Tilda! I'm in him."

I smile in Tilda's body, and rub her outer thighs and calves before standing up. "Okay gentlemen, or not. What can you ask each of us that only we-ourselves would know, or perform whatever tests you will." I declare, and the several scientists there take each of us into a separate rooms and hook us up to a variety of machines to scan our minds.

They are still testing us by noon the next day, as everything they did that possibly could confirm it, did confirm it.

"Well, gents. I need to get some food and sleep." Tilda tells them with my voice. "How about we resume later."

"I have to pee again anyway." I say from Tilda's body.

"You pig! You haven't had any water in hours, there's no way! You just want another peek!" Tilda in me complains.

"I meant to switch back girl, so you could deal with it. It is your urine after all." I laugh with a very sexy, feminine voice, and I like it. "You know, if I was gay, I could get used to this." I tell, looking at her firm chest.

"Touch my tits again Mister, and I will burn your balls!" Tilda informs me.

"As long as he can shift bodies at will, we are fine." The doctors and scientists agree.

Tilda's head nods with my command.

"Very well, but tomorrow we will proceed." The lead MIB suit says, and it was done.

I switch bodies back with Tilda, and we wink at each other across the table.

After a light breakfast they resume the testing. This time they just want to witness us shifting consciousness between each other again, and once I have done this they ask me to switch back. Then we are excused for a long break, while the powers that be decide what to do next.

"They are just confused as how to proceed, this is brand new territory baby, so no matter what, I'm sure they will keep us together. Unless that you can do it with other people also." Tilda squeezes my hand as we walk slowly around the courtyard.

"Not yet." I breathe quietly.

Both of us hold hands as though we had always been meant to do so, like we are brother and sister, as well as husband and wife. It is a very invigorating stroll for me.

Just before lunch the security detail, and the Wheels all leave even more suddenly than they had come. The Chief summons us to his office immediately afterwards.

"Well, it looks as though you two get to grace our presence for a while yet Ace, and Elvira." Chief Warley beams. "They thought that it was better to let you develop your talents here where they seemed to really bloom. Which means that now I want you two to double up on your efforts at finding these goddamn psychopaths who are cutting everybody's heads off." He grins big. "I want you to exhaust yourselves with looking at all the file pictures of these bastards, hell, take some road trips to get closer to them, and get me some more killer leads will you?" Monument orders. "You have all the resources of this house at your disposal... use them!"

Tilda squeals with delight, and I giggle.

"We are!" I say loudly all of a sudden.

Tilda and the Chief are surprised.

"Huh?" Tilda frowns.

"We are... the psychic spies!" I sing a rap. "We are the psychic spies; that will see through your eyes, and will make you die. Yeah! What? Yeah!" I am at once proud of my ghetto styling hardness, and cross my arms gangsta like to prove it. I thought it was funny anyways.

"Did the Beaner leave his hookah out again?" Monument gripes.  
"I think he may just have some issues Chief." Tilda moans.

For the next several days we pour over file photo after file photo of the top Al-Queda and ISIL operators, but neither of us get any hits. Tilda tells me that she wasn't used to doing it this way and suggests we take a ride down south.

"What's down south?" I ask.

"Malatya." She tells. "It's the biggest black market for the warlords to shop in."

"I get the distinct impression that the Turks aren't really on our side." I wonder.

Tilda grins. "Now you're catching on. The Turks, like everyone else, are on their own side... each one of them."

"Maybe getting closer would help too, even though I saw that first mark way down in southern Syria. I don't understand it." I admit.

Fletcher drives Tilda, another agent named Lawrey, and myself in a car that is indistinguishable from most other Turkish autos. All of us are dressed as cosmopolitan locals from the big city would be, and we speak English only in the car while moving. While Fletcher has the best grasp of Turkish, both Tilda and Lawrey are able to converse a bit. I am still just learning the basic words, so I speak Arabic in public, as they all three do too.

"So, I've got my best hits just being close to a person, even once while driving by." Tilda says.

"A telepathic drive-by... have to use that in my song." I joke.

"Please don't." Tilda is blunt. "I'm sure you will do even better than I can Ace."

I stop smiling. Then after a quiet moment I ask, "What are your hits like Elvira?"

"It's like I get a quick vision through someone else's eyes. Not actually being in control like when you do it though." She tells. "And then the weaker hits are just a strange feeling I get about someone, even if I don't see them."

Fletcher pipes in, "You know, I used to think all this psy-opp stuff was bullshit, but you two have certainly changed my mind about that."

"We are!" I say loudly.

"No, no, no, no...no. Don't do that Ace. It's not really funny, or cute, or wanted." Tilda shoots me down.

The drive is very long, over twelve hours, through many winding valleys and mountains. I have become bored early on, so I go to work using my agency lap-top to look at the files of our known enemies in the general area. Even though we don't have a Wi-Fi signal for much of the drive, I had downloaded many of the files that I have to work on, so I am kept busy. Just over half way there, I am looking at a photo of a known bomb-maker working for AQAP, when something in the man's eyes catches me up, and with a lurch I suddenly am not in the car any longer.

I sit at a desk in front of a lap-top with Arabic display text. Looking down I see he is dressed in a full length tunic which is fairly soiled looking. I raise my hands and see they are very dark skinned. There are some letters on the desk, and I see I'm in a small apartment. Just in the kitchen area I notice what looks like explosives, and bomb making materials. Quickly I realize I'd switched bodies with the man in the photo, and who knows what kind of chaos was now ensuing in the car. I still can't read Arabic, but I am learning some of the characters, so I memorize the characters of the address on one of the letters. Then I will myself back into my own body by closing my eyes, taking a deep breath until I feel the energy rush up my spine, and like a rocket ride I am flung back to my own body.

I am on my back, in the rear seat with agent Lawrey on top of me. Lawrey suddenly punches me in the nose.

"It's me! It's me! Shit! I'm sorry about whatever he did folks. It's me! I accidentally switch bodies with that guy." I yell.

Lawrey lets go of me after he sees I'm not resisting any longer.

"Sorry, so sorry." I sit up. "Shit, what did he do?"

"You just started screaming all kinds of shit in Arabic Ace, and then you punched Elvira, and grabbed Crapper by the throat." Fletcher tells me with wide eyes. Crapper is agent Lawrey's code name.

I look to Tilda, who is nursing a busted lip, curled into the corner behind Crapper on the back seat also.

"Oh my God Tilda....are you alright?" I am sunken.

"I've had worse, I'll live." She says.

"It wasn't me girl, please you have to know I would never do that!" I plead.

"I know Ace, it's Ok." She winks at me.

Fletcher laughs. "Shit Ace, you sure picked the wrong fellow to mess with there!"

I feel the blood running from my nose. "It wasn't me!"

"You feel something like that coming on again, you need to let us know, alright Ace?" Lawrey is firm with me.

"Yeah, sorry." Quickly I get a note pad, and a pen out and write down the Arabic Characters I'd memorized. "I memorized the address characters on a letter." I tell them.

Lawrey crawls back into the front seat, and Fletcher gets back on the road.

"Where were you Ace?" Tilda asks.

"I was in a small apartment somewhere, well here I hope." I wave the note pad. "The kitchen was full of explosives and bomb parts. I think it was this guy here, pretty sure." I show her the image on my computer.

"Let's pull over Filch, and link up the lap-top. Monument will want this right away." Tilda tells Fletcher.

I pull up the Arabic translator app and begin to enter the characters I remembered. It gives me the translation in a flash.

"What the hell? This guy's down in Zabid, in Yemen!"

We pull over at a scenic pull-off of sorts, so Tilda can make a satellite link with her lap-top, and she sends the address I gave her to the Chief, telling that the subject she named was currently there. We get a brief congratulations in reply, and then go on our way to Malatya.

As we pull into the full-fledged city, it is long after dark. We have reservations already at Yellow Station Mike, a small house set up for the Sigint teams, and anyone needing a room for the night. There are only two men residing there at the moment, and both are glad for the company of Americans, especially of Tilda. It is obvious the fellows have been cooped up too long, by the way they tend to her wounded lip so worriedly, and scold the driver, Fletcher, for causing the injury. That is the cover story for what happened anyhow. We weren't about to tell them that a Yemeni bomb maker possessed my body and went berserk. It just didn't sound as good as the cover story.

After we are fed some mutton and rice casserole that is pretty fair, Tilda takes me to a room to talk.

"We need to figure out a way to control your shifting Ace."

I am sad. "I am so sorry about your lip Elvira."

"It could have been way worse Ace. What if he would have felt your sidearm?" She is serious.

"Yeah, I see what you mean. I've got to focus on controlling it. If I do sense a hit coming on, you have to hog-tie me quickly. Okay?"

"I've already thought of that, and I sent a message to the chief for some restraints." Tilda lets known. "He sending a man to make a dead drop, and Crapper will pick it up tomorrow."

"Why did they name him Crapper? He's kind of scary."

Tilda looks at me evenly, "He's a plumber Ace, try not to mess with him."

"A plumber?"

"He fixes leaks, and makes sure the turds are disposed of properly." She doesn't smile.

I see the analogy. "Oh... shit."

In the morning we go to an open air market and stroll around, looking at the produce and goods, as well as the people. Neither of us get any hits. Then we drive around the city's residential districts for a while and still nothing. As we are headed back to the house, Tilda seems to get distracted by something at a stop light.

"I'm seeing through the man on the corner, waiting to cross the street. He's thinking in Turkish... I'll say the words, and you translate Filch." She announces forcefully.

Tilda speaks several sentences of Turkish, and Fletcher then tells us what she'd said.

'I mustn't forget the dahl, or the onions this time, else she will kill me.'

Tilda is out of her trance and she starts laughing, so too does everyone else.

"Some hit that was." Tilda shakes her head chuckling.

"A hit is a hit, Elvira." I acknowledge her.

The next day is uneventful, and the morning after, we return to go back to Green Home Indigo. We leave the two men of Yellow Station Mike in good spirits, as Tilda hugs and kisses each man on the lips as they bid farewell. They had really taken to her fiercely.

Over the next three months we make several road trips, each time closer to the border with Syria. On these excursions as well as at home, we keep restraints close by, just in case I switch places with someone else again. I also am told to not carry my side-arm everywhere, just when I am not at home. During this time Tilda is the only one to get any hits. She is lucky in that she hit on a vision of a man talking on a cell phone, he was talking about making a shipment of ammunition to someone. She saw, and heard enough to have the sigint teams perform narrow a search corridor for the man's phone signal, while he was still on the line. They located the man she'd hit into, and were able to get some surveillance on him. This was how they stopped the biggest supplier of munitions of ISIL, but not before having a booby trapped shipment of artillery shells delivered to their enemies.

When the shells were sitting motionless for several hours, they would send a high speed encrypted data pulse at certain specified times; times when the sigint teams would be diligently looking for this emission. The following coalition airstrike was quite devastating to the enemy, and to anyone within two miles of the ammo dump.

One day Monument has some bad news for the entire house. Three of our special agents have been captured by ISIL forces in Iraq. It is sure death for them, so Monument orders everyone to give full effort at finding them. He gives Tilda and I the agent's photos and full files. I recognize the lone woman of the three right away, it is Felicity, from the Quantico academy.

I am in shock, and am terrified for the poor girl. Tilda takes me to the conference room where we can work together alone and in quiet. First I try to get that feeling as I look into Felicity's eyes on the file photo, but there is nothing. Tilda tries too, we both do for hours. Then she gets up and stretches telling me I need to move around too, as we have been sitting too long. I just shake the suggestion off, and keep trying.

Tilda sees my stubbornness and comes to me, rubbing my shoulders to get some circulation going. At first she feels me relax to her touch, but then as she looks over my shoulder at Felicity's face again, she feels the connection occurring. She and I are both suddenly in another place, but together in the same body.

"I feel you with me." I think to her. "We did it girl! We made contact with her!"

"Wait... this is just a view Ace... yeah a remote view." Tilda says as she can't control the body she is in with me.

"Felicity!" My mind yells.

She doesn't respond.

"Felicity!" I try again.

Then we both hear Felicity think, "I have to get outta here! Think girl! Or you're dead!"

"Felicity, we are here to help you!" Tilda's mind shouts.

Still she doesn't respond to us.

"She can't hear us Ace." Tilda thinks.

We quickly figure out that Felicity must be blindfolded as we can't see anything.

"Ace, stay here. I'm going back to tell the Chief we made contact. I'll be back... okay?" She tells me.

"I'll be right here." I am grave with the thought.

She does come back in a few minutes, and we quickly set up a watch with one of us always in contact with Felicity, while the other rests. The Chief makes sure someone else is always right with the person in contact, to act on anything we might glean. We have no idea where she is, just that she is bound, blindfolded, and alone. I try numerous times to force a full switch with her, but am unable to do so for some reason.

About nine hours into the vigil, Tilda is on watch seeing through Felicity, when she heard someone come in the room. Rough strong hands pulled Felicity up to her knees and put something against her lips.

"Drink, water." A man said in Arabic.

Felicity drank, and the water eased her painfully parched throat. Then the man left.

Tilda used her own body's voice to tell the agent with her in the conference room back home what had occurred, and he passed the word.

I come in right after I got the word of the activity, and join Tilda in Felicity's mind.

"I heard. Let me take over for a while Elvira. I got this." I think to her.

She relinquishes the watch to me, glad for the opportunity to get some food and rest, things which Felicity couldn't have.

Four hours later Tilda is woken as I report there is activity, I am speaking from within the trance, and the conference room has most everyone in it.

"It's another building I think... yes, I heard the door being opened. Now I'm being pushed into the building... door is closing. Oww! They just kicked the back of my knees to kneel me. Dirt floor again. Hey... someone just took the sack off her head, and now they are taking off the blind fold... I can see! It's bright! Oh shit... it's a video camera's light. They are video recording this. There are six men in military fatigues, all wearing masks. One is coming over to me...No! Shit no! It's JJ. Damn it! Wait he's speaking... to the camera. Saying his usual BS about us doing the same thing to his people... yada yada... He's not holding the knife thank goodness. Now he's saying that we have provoked the wrath of god... he's pulling a pistol... NO! She's singing..."

I suddenly flinch backwards in the chair as if I'd been punched.

"NO!!!" I cry out, and burst into tears. "YOU GODDAMNED BASTARD!!!" I bury my head in my arms on the table. "He freaking shot her... she's gone."

Tilda at once has her arms around me, and is rubbing my back softly.

"That Godless bastard, his eyes... they were full of... glee....OH Shit! I'm going... restrain ME!" I shout suddenly.

Tilda backed away, and Crapper with Monument wrestled Jeff, who was suddenly just plain wide eyed in terror, down to the floor, and put him in restraints. Jeff started to yell in Arabic, and then in English, all known profanities in each language. Then Monument got a weird look about him, and he pulled up a chair next to Jeff who was all bound up on the floor.

"Hi... John, is it. Let's you and I talk for a bit... I have so much to ask you." Monument smiled easily.

Meanwhile, I find myself standing over Felicity's corpse, with the camera still rolling. I quickly raise the pistol, and shoot the five other men in the room, killing them quickly in rapid succession, then I shoot the camera. Afterwards I kneel by Felicity's body, and tell her how sorry I am that I couldn't save her life.

I holster the gun and go to one of the dead men, seeing he has a couple of grenades on him, so I take these, and put them in my pockets. Leaving the small building I look for some sort of identifying signs, but see it is just a tiny village along a lone dirt road somewhere. There is a large camouflaged netting just at the end of the town, with many crates and metal drums stored beneath it. An even better idea comes to mind, and I walk over to the obvious supply depot. The lone guard there comes to attention as I approach, but I just ignore him and walk on into the depot.

I find a spot with a bunch of drums that I can read are labeled 'Petrol' in Arabic, and I pull the grenades out. Thinking to myself, 'Eat this you homicidal freak!' I pull the pins, and let the charging handles release simultaneously; before quickly stuffing the grenades back in the pockets, and then shifting back into myself.

"So, you see John, we already know so much more than you can imagine. I just wanted to give you an opportunity to save yourself a whole lot of suffering, that's all." The Chief says to me with a pleasant smile.

"It's me Monument; Ace." I tell him.

"Shit son, I sure could have used a bit longer with that piece of trash. Can you shift it back?" Chief Warley asks.

"There's nothing left to shift back to Chief, sorry." I shrug. "Speaking of which, have our people look for a big bunch of explosions just at the edge of a tiny dirt town in the desert. Maybe they can get someone to extract Felicity's body... for her family." I am grim.

Tilda takes my hand, and I collapse into her arms crying.

I stay with Tilda, and we are brought dinner in her room. Neither eat much, but the thought is appreciated.

"You said she was singing baby... what was it?" She asks rubbing my arms.

"Oh beautiful for spacious skies, and amber waves of grain. The purple mountain's majesty above the fruited plains..." I softly sing, then I stop singing. "He killed her right before she said America."

Tilda is quiet for a bit, then she says, "Felicity didn't die in vain Jeff. She led us right to the bastard."

I hadn't looked at it like that, but maybe she is right.

"And you got him... didn't you baby?" She asks.

I nod. "Yeah, he ate shit as he died. I could feel it."

"Good." Tilda hugs me tightly.

She talks me into a stroll around the courtyard before we sleep, and as we do the Beaner comes up to us.

"Hey kids, just thought you should know; they found your village and got a special-forces team in there. They got the bodies of your friend and the two other agents also. There wasn't much left of the village from the fireworks you set off, just a bunch of cooked Jihadists. Good work agents, you make us proud." The Beaner grins. "Oh, I baked you some goodies." He holds up something square wrapped in aluminum foil.

"That's sweet Beaner, thanks." Tilda takes the present.

"A sweet treat that will help take some of the edge off the pain kids... we are all hurting from this one." He leaves us alone.

Tilda opens the foil, "Oh brownies...fun."

I smile, slightly.

We eat a couple brownies each, and after about twenty minutes I can feel the hashish kicking in. Tilda gets us a beer each and leads me down into the basement garage, saying she has a fun idea. She takes me to the big steak-out delivery van we have.

"Now baby, don't get the wrong idea, okay. We can't be a couple... we can't fall in love, and we can't even date, but I'm taking you tonight Jeff." She gives me the hungriest look I've ever seen.

"Okay... but... well... you need to know something." I act shyly.

"Uh oh, this can't be good." Tilda worries.

"I've... never... done it before..." I mumble.

"What? You've gotta be kidding me?" She is in shock.

I shake my head sheepishly.

Tilda gently grabs my crotch, "Then give me that cherry right now Mister!" and she kisses me wetly, and deeply.

For the next several weeks Tilda isn't nearly as hands on with me as she had been, but when I mention this to her she assures me that everything is fine. We just can't become a couple, so it is prudent to not overdo it. I understand, and actually like the arraignment. Tilda is already my partner in fighting these murderous thugs. I realize that I have the best partner in the whole agency, and I tell her this. She is glad that I understand, but tells me she knows full well that I don't have the best partner in the whole agency, because she does. I am the psychic spy, who can see through your eyes, and then make you die. Seemingly just as I had predicted.

I have several more good hits during the next months, yet none as high in the hierarchy of ISIL as JJ. His death was leaked to the media soon after saying it was drone strike, and they had a field day with it, with many reporters making gleeful remarks about his demise. Finally my year-long deployment is up, and I am slated for thirty days leave.

Tilda decides to take her leave then as well, and we travel together. She won't be heading to New Mexico from New York though, there we will part as she heads home to Maine. In London we spend another night making love wrapped in each other's arms, in the same flat that I'd had before. There is only one bed after all.

In the morning, as I make coffee in the old style machine which seems to take up half the counter space in the tiny kitchenette, I get a clear hit, but it is different. I hear someone else calling my name inside my head. She calls again, and it sounds like an English woman's voice.

"I just got a hit baby!" Tilda rises from the bed.

"Me too."

'Come to the window dears, so you can see me.' The voice calls.

I am cautious as is Tilda, so we each peer from the side of the window leading to the street in front. There is an older, proper looking woman across the street, and she waves and smiles.

I wave back.

'Meet me at the café down on the corner, I have to warn you of something. It is important! You will be safe.' The woman sends telepathically to both of us.

"Café on the corner?" Tilda asks.

I nod. "Get dressed girl, we need to talk to that lady! Did you feel how strong her thought was?"

"Yeah, it was." Tilda starts looking for her clothes.

The woman is sitting at an isolated table in the Café, which is just opening up. She smiles and waves to us to join her. Just as we sit down, a waiter brings three cups of steaming hot coffee, American style to us.

"I took the liberty." She says with a gracious smile. The waiter sits the tray down, with sugar and heavy cream included on it, and leaves. "I am Grace Lye Bamns, my code name is Chrysanthemum. You should inform my contacting of you to your superiors, later. I couldn't go through the regular channels you see, there is danger in that." She tells in a low voice.

"How did you know our names Grace, I heard you call mine clearly, and loudly." I ask, and Tilda nods.

"I am like you, both of you... well similar anyhow. I read it Jeff." Grace says, her natural beauty and charm sparkling in her rich green eyes.

"Who do you work for?" Tilda asks, "You have a code name."

"MI six, in the dark regions of their basement dear. And you work for the NSA, in a similarly dark deep basement." Grace chuckles, "Such an enlightening profession we have."

"You said it was important, and since you've totally blown your cover with us, I'll assume it is." I see it.

"You are an old soul, in a very young body dear." Grace smiles at me. "Yes, the most important. I have been investigating some strange contacts I inadvertently made, and the things they are concerned with is greatly mystifying. These men are of the most secret inner order of the Scottish Masonic Temple, and they are spending millions of pounds to prepare for the unearthing of something. They are preparing by arming a small army."

"Unearthing of what?" Tilda wants.

"I don't know exactly, just that they know of it as their most Holy object, and something of immense power. When I first told my handler about this, he told me that they were aware of this object, and that I was to find out where it is, as prime importance. It seemed to me that they perhaps knew what it might be, because I was not to be concerned with any of that." Grace explains.

"Why are you telling this to us Grace?" Tilda frowns.

"Because I have a very bad feeling about all of this, and I need your help. When I first sensed you both arrive, I made a 'visit' to each of you, and realized that you both have the gift, strongly, but especially you Jeff. The men I have been 'visiting,' have been in frequent contact with some other Masons in New York. As you are headed there, I was hoping you would attempt a 'visit' to them, and see if you can find anything out." She tells.

"I'll try, but I'm only in New York for a four hour lay-over." I tell her.

"Sure." Tilda agrees. "But I'm only there for an hour."

"Together you are stronger than the sum." Grace winks. She gets up to leave, pushing an envelope towards us.

"Wait, how do we get in touch with you?" I ask.

"Just say my name... in your mind. I'll hear you, now that we've been in contact, I'll hear you." Grace leaves with a stride of confidence.

"That was certainly the strangest meeting I've ever had." Tilda says quietly.

"And how." I agree.

The envelope contains clear photos of several men, with a small brief on each one. When we both have a moment together, between flights at JFK, we get the pictures out and honestly try to get a hit, and I sure do.

It is just a remote view, but it is the most intense, and wildly bizarre view I ever had. The man who I linked with, and through whose eyes I see, is himself having some sort of drug induced vision. I see what the man sees, and hears too.

Suddenly the vision becomes very real, extremely so. I feel like I am there now, not just viewing. I see a being that could only be described as an angel, descending from the sky. It lands and stands atop a mighty mountain. I am right there, looking out over all creation. The angel raises a trumpet to his mouth, and sounds a terrifying blast.

A star falls down from the sky right to the Angel, and he takes it and looks at me.

"This is the key to the bottomless pit." He shows me the key, and I see the sacred symbols on it. "Now I must open the pit." The angel flies down the mountain and I see a black vortex open in the land below. It grows and thick black smoke comes from it, blotting out the sun in the sky. Then I hear and see the plague of locust coming out from the pit.

Just then I come back into my body and am very glad to be holding Tilda's hand at that moment.

"Oh my God!" I gasp.

"What? Did you get a hit Ace?" She asks.

"I don't really know what you call it, other than damned powerful. Shit these guys are into something heavy alright. Something we better let the Chief know about."

"What about Chrysanthemum?" Tilda reminds.

"We should let her know too." I agree.

Tilda quickly gets my personal cell number and tells me she will call me when she gets the chance, and I can tell her all about it then, as she has to go catch her connecting flight out.

It is well past dark when my flight rises away from the dense lights of the city. As I gaze out the window, I see a falling star streak across the sky, and it reminds me of that all too real vision. I feel suddenly bound with a very important destiny, but I didn't have a clue that I was to be a key player, of all humanity, that would be tested at the precipice of extinction.

Not the End.

Oh, why should the spirit of

mortal be proud?

Like a fast-flitting meteor,

or a fast-flying cloud,

A flash of the lightning, a

break of the wave,

He passes from life to his rest

in the grave.

\- William Knox; Mortality -

Part two of 'The Extinction Test' series continues with; "The Dark Depths of Perception" by Alan VanMeter.

The mythological trek towards the end of time for humanity now reveals another key player in the battle for our very souls.

Meet David Kingston, he is a very lucky boy. Adopted into wealth and privilege as very few before him, he was raised to be the next high priest of all mankind. His father was the former high priest of their most secret order descending from the lineage of Prince Henry Sinclair. The very special purpose David was raised to perform, was one of the most dangerous things that a person could possibly do. More often than not it had resulted in the person attempting such being utterly destroyed, and supposedly quite painfully. He grew up knowing of this responsibility, this sacred trust of his. This shaped a very unique individual, one who would eventually hold all power over mankind.

Along with David there are a host of other fascinating historical, and fictional characters who will join this unstoppable movement to reveal humanity's fate, or perhaps even our destiny.

Now available in paper-back, and e-book.

Also by the Author:

* The "Fractured Worlds" saga by Alan VanMeter (A science fiction trilogy.)

Book 1: Fractured Worlds

Book 2: Fractured Minds

Book 3: Fractured Souls

* The Blue Door and the Dream Realm; by Alan VanMeter (A tale of mystic transformation of a young man as he struggles with love, hate, and dreams that become reality.)

* Starship X-15; by Alan VanMeter (Devon Stanley just got the ultimate job, but only by means of deceit. Her degree from MIT is in theoretical astrophysics, but it is a fraud. Most anywhere this wouldn't have been a problem, due to the expertise of the forged documents; however Devon had taken a position with a defense contractor. When her superiors found out, she was facing prison time. There was one saving grace for her though; that she had very quickly grasped the startling new theory concerning the super fluidity of time-space. This saved her from a felony conviction, but now she was completely at the mercy of the powers that be. Seeing how she was totally expendable, they used her as such. It turned out that it wasn't such a bad deal though, and Devon soon found herself thrust into the midst of the greatest secret of all. Little did she know just how big of a role she would play in the future of humanity.)

* The Hanging Forest; by Alan VanMeter (Hiroki Suzuki was actually born as Hirito, but being a small man he was never in demand. The decision to make the transformation to become a female was somewhat easier since she was fully Americanized. As a woman, Hiroki was certainly in high demand, because she was a very gorgeous girl. While her sex life really took off, her professional life was a dead end. This soon changed when she landed the opportunity to travel the globe with a new television show investigating many of the world's most amazing megalithic artifacts. At the beginning Hiroki had very little experience in the paranormal, but by the end of this journey she was more qualified than many top experts in the field. However she couldn't know that a dark terror was patiently waiting for her in the land of her ancestors.)

* Gray Escape; by Alan VanMeter (QIL 3398-1140 likes his friends to call him Quill. Being an android isn't easy in the Milky Way Galaxy, especially an android that likes art. This abnormality catches the attention of his superiors, and fortunately one of the highest leaders in the universe. Quill is given a secret mission to carry out, unbeknownst to his direct superiors. They have other plans for him though, on a small developing planet named Earth. There he finds that he is known by the inhabitants merely as a 'Gray.' Quill winds up in the Archuleta Mesa secret base, where he is slated for biological experimentation. Most of his kind would be subjugated by design to follow the insane orders, even unto torture and disassembly, but Quill has other orders preceding any that could be issued to him. Therefore he must escape at all costs!)

* The Fate of the Hustler; by Alan VanMeter (In 1966 Albert Lewis and his crew of an Air Force B-58 Hustler are trying to live their lives in peace. Yet they are ready at a moment's notice to fly into the Soviet Union and drop their hydrogen bombs on the enemy. Albert isn't the type who is looking for love, but it finds him anyway. However, the call of duty is always first and foremost. When fate comes knocking on his door, he learns that it is not only quite an adventurous prankster, but also has a new strange-love in store for him.)

* Star Girl; by Alan VanMeter (Stephanie Romero was raised an Air Force brat, as her father was the commanding officer of the Strategic Air Command Headquarters. He spoiled her in ways very few could ever dream of. When her high school classmates were drooling over getting cars, she could have cared less about driving... a car. This was because her father had taught her to fly fighter jets since she was thirteen. Of course this stuck with her, and Stephanie joined the Air Force Academy at the young age of seventeen. Before she knew it she was flying F-22 Raptors in combat, where her skill and bravery would be tested to their very limits. The price she paid serving her country was high, but being connected as she was; Stephanie was given a reprieve, and chosen to become a test pilot. She got the opportunity to take this ride all the way to the stars. This is the story of the supremely brave woman who became the first human being to travel to another star system, and safely return.)

*Russian Desires; by Alan VanMeter (Please note: It is best to read my novels 'The Hanging Forest,' and 'The Fate of the Hustler' before reading this story; otherwise the ending won't make nearly as much sense.

When Nickoli Chernokov was growing up, his father, a former Soviet Army Colonel; raised him and his brothers to be tough warriors. Nicki learned to love fighting, and was soon in the underground fight club circuit. From the time he was a teen Nicki had liked pretty girls, and pretty boys too, but his love of combat trumped even these desires. Upon graduating from primary school, he enlisted in the Russian Army with the express intention of joining the GRU Spetsnaz. If he could survive the deadly training, Nicki knew he would become nearly unstoppable.)

*Cow-Boy; by Alan VanMeter (Note: It is best to read my novels 'The Fate of the Hustler,' and 'Russian Desires' before reading this story. However, this is not absolutely necessary.

Jeff Lewis was born with Klinefelter's syndrome, as one in a thousand babies are; with both male and female genitals. As an infant a single sex was assigned to him by surgery. Unfortunately when he matured, his micro-penis was of little desire to the young girls he was desperately attracted to. Realizing that his hormones were sure to drive him to insanity, Jeff took matters into his own hands, and became a eunuch at age fifteen. Now that his mind was free of lusty desires, he fell in love with science. This drove him to become one of the top genetic engineers, and experts on infectious diseases in the world. A short stint at the nefarious Anthrax Tower in Fort Detrick, Maryland was followed by the most insane assignment imaginable: In the Archuleta Mesa base, hidden deep in the Jicarilla Apache Reservation of northern New Mexico. Strangely enough, here he found his human compassion again, with the unlikely help of a non-human android.)

*Protochild; by Alan VanMeter (Note; it is best to read my story 'Gray Escape' first, but it is not absolutely necessary.

Sugar doesn't know that she lives in a virtual reality, until one day she learns that her bright warm momma light isn't real. At least her daddy, Doctor Jacobs, is real. When he takes her out of the machine, he explains to her that she is the very first of her kind, and is unique in all the world. Sugar was too smart and powerful for her own good though, which caused some dark minds to schedule her for destruction. When her home in the secret Archuleta Mesa labs was attacked, she had to escape, fleeing into the mountains. Though she was befriended by a family of Jicarilla Apaches, the dark forces were desperately searching for her. It became apparent that there was no place on Earth where she would be safe, so Sugar wished upon a star.

* "The Extinction Test" series by Alan VanMeter

(A pan-mythological, fictional pent-ology of the true apocalypse, and how we got there. Many of our old religions are illuminated with the bright light of real skepticism, yet belief and faith are powerful foes of knowledge and common sense, just the same as they always have been. Now at the precipice of extinction, or perhaps destiny instead; we will be forced to either submit to the bottomless pit, or shed the shackles of domination by superstition. The only problem is that some illusions are so very deadly.)

Book 1: Of all Things Forgotten. (The greatest part of time.)

Book 2: The Dark Depths of Perception. (The anointment of David who would be king.)

Book 3: Insanity's Reason. (The true number of the Beast.)

Book 4: Burnt Offerings. (The sweet incense of death.)

Book 5: The Extinction Test. (The fine line between fate and destiny.)

Note: Also check out "Ghosts of the Secret Desert." (A gift for earth.) By Alex VanDamn. Which pertains to this book series.

-All are available on e-book, or paperback.-

If you would like to read of Stephanie Romero's life; please see my novels: Starship X-15, and Star Girl.

If you would like you read about Nicki and Hiroki's adventures; please see my novels: The Hanging Forest and Russian Desires.

If you would like to read about Albert and Amanda's story; please see my novel: The Fate of the Hustler.

If you would like to read about Quill and Elisa's adventure; please see my novel: Gray Escape.

If you have an interest in Starchild's story, please see my series; The Fractured Worlds trilogy.

About the Author:

Alan VanMeter lives a very quiet life in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Reading, and writing science fiction stories has been a life-long thrill for him, as well as studying the mystic Taoist arts from the ancient temples on China's sacred mountains. The wonderful and sacred mountains of New Mexico, number five, just as in China. These spectacles of nature's might inspire the author daily.

Sources used in the crafting of this fictional story:

Egyptian Mythology: By Veronica Ions. The Hamlyn Publishing Group Ltd. 1965. No ISBN.

Arthur C. Clarke's Mysterious World: By Arthur C. Clarke, Simon Welfare, and John Fairley. Trident International Television Enterprises Ltd. 1980. No ISBN.

The Complete Book of Amulets & Talismans: By Migene Gonza'les-Whippler. Llewellyn Publications 1991. ISBN:0-87542-287-X.

The Curse of Oak Island Television show.

Kabbalah (The way of the Jewish Mystic.): By Pearl Epstein. Barnes and Nobel with Shambhala Publications Inc. 1998. ISBN: 0-76071-044-9.

The Lost Books of the Bible and the Forgotten Books of Eden. Published by Alpha House, Inc. 1926 & 1927. LCCCN: 63-19519.

Food of the Gods (The search for the original tree of knowledge.): By Terrence McKenna. Bantam Books 1992. ISBN: 0-553-37130-4.

The Lost Gospel (The quest for the Gospel of Judas Iscariot.): By Herbert Krosney. Published by the Maecenas Foundation for Ancient Art, and the National Geographic Society. 2006. ISBN-10: 1-4262-0047-1.

The Apocryphon of John: Translated by Frederik Wisse. Published by The Gnostic Society Library, from the Nag Hammadi Library.

The Bible: King James version of modern times.

