Final Solstice (21 page)

Chapter 1

Solomon sent his limo to pick up Mason at the hospital in the morning. They were keeping Lauren in for observation one more day, and she insisted he go back to work. She promised to get plenty of sleep, and spend some more time Skyping with her daughter and relishing in the sound of her voice.

Mason left her in good hands and stepped out into the parking lot to wait. His attention immediately focused on something else: a line of police tape around a battered mini-van that looked like some giant had stepped on it. Frowning, Mason recalled dimly hearing a car alarm last night.

Right after the Haitian left.

He continued to stare at the shattered windows and the dented roof, and then looked over to the lawn, to a burned section in the grass.

Feeling an urge to go over there and investigate further, he almost didn’t hear the door open or notice the black limousine idling right in front of him.

“Mace,” said the familiar voice inside. “Won’t you join me? I figured we could do our part for the world’s fossil fuel consumption, and carpool.” Solomon’s face appeared in the light as he leaned forward, all smiles.

Mason forced one of his own and joined him inside.

O O O

Whatever Mason was expecting, it certainly wasn’t small talk. Solomon seemed to be full of it, discussing everything from the personalities of some of the WMO members to the colors of the hotel rugs to the inadequacy of the wine list in the restaurant. It was almost as if he purposely avoided talk of Lawton, of the tornado and what he must have known Mason did next. The lack of confrontation was just fine with Mason for now. He was still pondering what was on the thumb drive, and glad for the avoidance of other issues.

In fact, he had thought of calling Shelby right back and asking if the drive might have been corrupted somehow. All it had was a single file, called “WatchMe.avi.” And when Mason clicked it, up came a sequence of kaleidoscopic imagery mixed with soft flute-like music. Ambient and pulsing, with jagged lines and weird geometry, figures and three-dimensional planes, all forming sequence after sequence of mesmerizing sensory stimuli.

Mason let it run, staring at it, feeling pulled in, lulled by his own lack of sleep and exhaustion over the past two days, but also strangely drawn to the imagery in a way he couldn’t explain.

In any case, it stopped after about five minutes, and then started up again in a continual loop. He let it go all the way through again, then gave up. His eyes were sore and he had an odd feeling like vertigo, and then it was enough. He didn’t need that right now.

He’d have to call Shelby and get to the bottom of this, but in the meantime he’d fall back on more conventional means to understand what was going on. And to fulfill his promise to the stranger last night, the Haitian who seemed to know more about him and the state of events than he was letting on. Jack seemed to be part of some larger group, a group at odds with Solomon and his leadership.

What did it all have to do with the farmhouse that Solomon was avoiding, even now, all these years later? For that very reason alone, Mason was tempted to go right to it, admit where he’d been and call Solomon out on it. Ask that he explain his past. If indeed he was the young boy, then who was this Palavar? And just what did that drawing represent—the boy with the knife, and the sacrifice on the altar?

Mason scrutinized Solomon as he spoke, still lost in the past. And he decided. Screw it, he’d try something. Not the whole truth, but enough to get himself off the hook and hopefully allay Solomon’s fears so that he would trust Mason again.

He cleared his throat and jarred Solomon in mid-sentence, where he’d been digressing about predictive capabilities of unified satellite data and global weather patterns.

“I’m sure you know,” Mason said quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on Solomon’s, “I was doing some research on my first day, and came across a rather unique weather situation documented back in 1980. In Kansas.”

Solomon licked his lips, never blinking. “Yes, interesting that you stumbled upon this so quickly on your first day.”

“After Lawton, I apologize but I wasn’t in a good frame of mind, you understand. Completely thrown by my errant forecast. That and nearly getting killed by a freak tornado kind of messed with my head.”

“So you took a drive.”

“I did.”

Solomon reached out and let his fingers settle on his gnarled wooden staff leaning against the door. “And how was the visit?”

It was Mason’s turn to lick his lips as the limo stopped at a red light. Outside, the sun peeked over a line of trees and attempted to push through the tinted windows. “Well, the drive was uneventful, and the site—a farmhouse—long since abandoned. Not sure why. I just thought I’d see it firsthand.”

“That’s why I like you Mason, you’re very hands-on. Not content with backroom research or trusting someone else’s reporting. So, anything of interest on your inspection?”

Mason let out what he hoped was a convincing sigh. “I don’t want to say it was all a waste of time, but something odd definitely happened there. Something out of the ordinary, I just don’t know what.”

“Tell me what you saw; maybe I can fill in the gaps.”

“I was wondering if you could,” Mason said, scratching his neck. “You see, there were these signs up from the Department of Agriculture, and access to the farmhouse was chained up, the doors all locked.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

“Yes, and the more I researched the place, I wondered if maybe I could put the pieces together and get a sense of why that area saw so much tornado activity and strange weather, and yet the farmhouse came out unscathed from it all.”

“It is a meteorological conundrum, I grant that. So did you turn up anything in this research of yours?”

“Only that the farm was owned by one Louis Palavar, who made a fortune in commodity futures, making huge bets on crop failures and drought-impacted prices.”

“Another interesting tidbit.”

“Yes, and the government seemed to take an interest in his land, bought him out but then never did anything with it again. Afterwards, Palavar went on to make a name for himself and several more fortunes in Hollywood. But still, it all began in Kansas, and I began to conclude that maybe back then he possibly had some sort of … weather manipulation technology.”

“Ah, now we come to it.” Solomon’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, we do.” Mason crossed his arms, leaning back as the limo sped up. “You see where I’m going with this, in light of what happened in Lawton, and on your company rooftop.”

“I’m not sure I do,” Solomon said, lowering his tone. “Are you implying that artificial means were employed in both cases to achieve the forecast predicted? Now that would be something for sure.”

“It would.”
Time to wrap this up and get on with it,
Mason thought. “I’m not sure what I’m saying, I’m only speculating that at least with Palavar and 1980, I believe he may have been experimenting with early weather mod techniques. Cloud seeding was an early attempt by the government to cause rain. Weather cannons, not unlike what ski resorts use now, might have been used with some sort of variation. I saw a road that could have been a runway for a small plane that he could have used to spray the clouds and lower atmosphere with nitrous particles or other chemicals, stirring up the currents and creating conditions ripe for tumultuous weather in the area.

“The timing fits. That was about when the government started using such techniques at home and abroad. Project Baton, then Stormfury. Hurricane relief and prevention were the aims, but the same concepts could work with tornadoes and rain production.”

Solomon nodded. “I see. So you think maybe this Palavar fellow developed such technology, perfected it beyond what the government was doing.…”

“Or they bought out his ideas.”

“But maybe first his science got a little out of his control. The tornadoes, the destruction …”

“… and the sparing of his home at the last minute,” Mason added. “It all points to him being in control of the weather, or at least, regaining control in time to save his home and anyone in it.”

“Ah. And did you learn anything more? Did he live alone? Have a wife …?”

Mason shrugged.
Got to be careful here.
“Nothing on that. Alone as far as I could tell.”

“Ah.” Solomon nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. Lonely mad scientist type. Fascinating work, Mace.”

“It is fascinating. But is any of it true?”

“Which part?”

“The weather technology part.” Mason thought for a moment as Solomon made no motion to interrupt. “Oh, I know the government attempted a number of weather control projects. Most, like Baton and Stormfury, ended in failure or at the least, inconclusive results not statistically different from natural processes.”

“True.”

“But there’s no denying some success. Farmers have used cloud seeding in cases to help end droughts. Hail cannons were used to break up hail and save livestock and crops.”

“Also true.”

“And there have been military uses. Vietnam. Operation Popeye, I think it was, 1967 until 1980.”

“Nothing to do with spinach,” Solomon said, licking his lips.

“No. Again, cloud seeding in Southeast Asia, Laos and Cambodia, trying to increase the monsoon season, which apparently it did by over a month. Higher rainfall, slowing down trucks and convoys, battering the enemy formations …”

“One success, at least. But really, rainfall is a parlor trick, nothing more.”

“Seems a pretty good one to me. And the best we’ve got, and have ever managed. Unless you give credence to the wilder conspiracy theories about the HAARP array facility in Alaska.”

“Ah yes.” Solomon let out a chuckle. “Dozens of patents on weather control technology using microwave radiation and other techniques.”

“Countries all over the world accusing us of using it to cause environmental nastiness. So, do you believe that technology can do what they claim? Is that something like what Palavar had, and if so … has it been modified by Solstice?” Not hearing an answer, Mason let the pause drag out.

Solomon looked out the window, his eyes losing focus. “Do you know what some claim about Genghis Khan?”

Mason frowned again at being taken off topic. Solomon had an infuriating way of doing that, but Mason decided to play along. “That half of the world’s population carries his genes because he was such a promiscuous conqueror?”

“Yes, but also—”

“—that a group of so-called psychics are out looking for his legendary tomb and a crapload of treasure?”

“Yes, that too. But I am talking about some of the descriptions of his military conquests. Specifically how he overwhelmed larger forces.”

“Wasn’t it through sheer ferocity? And cavalry, he was among the first to use mounted forces. That, and superior cunning and military strategy?”

“All of those things, surely, but other accounts have it that before many of the battles, Genghis, who was not only commander but a priest-king, would take to the mountains much as a shaman, and invoke the spirits to provide assistance.”

“Assistance in what form?”

Solomon kept staring out at the sun. “Accounts claim that the formerly clear skies would turn pitch black. Wind and thunderstorms would appear out of nowhere. Massive lightning strikes struck the land. Hailstones the size of small boulders rained upon the enemy, ice and sleet wore them down and then fog occluded their vision so that by the time the Mongol forces rode down upon them, they were as good as defeated.”

“That,” said Mason, “I didn’t know. You sound as though you believe it.”

Solomon was silent for a moment, then finally turned his attention away from the sun. He faced Mason and smiled. “We’re almost at Solstice. I have much to share with you about the New York trip, and the subsequent conference in Zurich. We have big, big things ahead of us. Much as you shared with me, there are things that will open your eyes in the days to come.”

“And this technology?” Mason asked. “Is weather control part of it? Please, you must see how it all seems to me. I’m one of the best meteorologists in the country. That’s why you said you brought me on, and yet … to be this wrong? I know nature is unpredictable and always has the last laugh, but usually it’s within reason and afterwards I can see the signs I missed. But lately … I have to believe there may be another cause.”

“A man-made cause? You think perhaps we took and improved on Palavar’s technology—if he had such a thing?”

Mason shrugged. “
Occam’s Razor
. Simplest explanation is usually correct. Either that, or you guys have some powerful sorcerers in your employ, doing rain dances and human sacrifices to the gods.”

Solomon nearly choked out his laughter. “Oh, now that would be something, wouldn’t it?”

“But you know about Palavar,” Mason said directly. “I know it’s not unfamiliar to you.”

“No, of course not. Such a famous event in meteorological history.” Solomon clasped his hands together. “Of course we studied it, just as we studied another close call involving a tornado that happened some years earlier.”

Mason’s mouth went dry. “Which one?”

“Oh, a certain traumatic event in Indiana. A young boy asleep when a Class Five tornado ripped away half his home and swept his parents away into the sky. A boy, orphaned in an instant.”

Mason trembled. “You knew that about me too. I’m sure Gabriel told you.”

“He filled in some gaps. Listen, Mason.…” Solomon leaned forward and set a reassuring hand on Mason’s arm. “We picked you because you are the best, yes that’s true. But also because you are emotionally invested. You want what we want.”

Revenge?
Mason almost said. “And what is that?”

“A way to control the uncontrollable. And, perhaps to mimic Prometheus in some ways.”

Mason frowned. “Sorry, my Greek mythology is a little rusty.”

“The titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to mankind. The ultimate gift to take us out of the clutches of night and cold. Imagine such a gift at such a time when the world was clothed in fear and darkness.”

“Ah now I remember. Wasn’t he punished for his generosity by being chained to a rock and having his liver chewed out by giant birds every night?”