The Sunset Prophecy (Love & Armageddon #1) (17 page)

21

Bailout

M
ark Cohen sat at his desk watching the television, in self-imposed exile. A cigarette dangled from his lips. It was the first time he’d lit one in five years. The last time was when the market crashed in ‘08.

He’d cancelled
his flight to New York. The last thing he wanted to do was face the wrath of his employees, his shareholders, and the media. Instead, he sat in his home, ignored the phone calls from his partners and the overwhelming pestering from the media.

He stared at the ceiling fan above. It looked solid enough. He picked up the $500 silk tie on the desk and yanked it from both sides. He took another swig of scotch and took his chair to the middle of his office. He stood on the chair and threw out his arms to the side, catching his balance. He then tied the silk tie between the brass canopy and center pipe of the fan, recollecting the hazy
skills of a once-proud Webelo Scout. He gave the tie another abrupt yank. The stucco in the ceiling crackled like the tearing of fabric. The bolt on his office door was not fastened. He stepped down and peeked through his door before locking it.

“
Milt, no calls,” he said loudly. “If Rachel calls, tell her I’ll meet her at her parents’ house tonight.”

Milt came over from the kitchen.

“Sir, the partners are livid. You really need to get back to them. If they start showing up at the door...there is only so much I can do.”

“
Turn them away,” said Mark. “This is my private property. They can’t force their way in. Tell them I’m not here.”

Milt pursed his lips.
“Yes, sir.”

Mark closed the door and slid the bolt. He stepped onto the chair and began reciting the
Lord’s Prayer as he stretched the black tie underneath his chin. It wasn’t long enough. He stepped down from the chair, opened the door, and called out for Milt again, painfully prolonging the process.

“
Can you bring me a tie?”

“
Sir, there is someone here to see you.”

“
I said to turn them away, dammit, Milt,” Mark yelled with a slight slur.

“
Mr. Cohen,” yelled the raspy, gentlemanly voice from the front door.

“
Go away,” barked the CEO.

The man stepped foot into the house with confidence.
“My name is Augustus Fisker. I’m with the FBI. May I come in and speak with you about your company’s recent activities?”

Mark pause
d and gazed over his shoulder and huffed at the chair.

“
Give me a minute,” he yelled. He took the tie off the ceiling fan and moved the chair back in front of his desk. “Send him in,” Mark said loudly, in a defeated tone.

Fisker was led by Milt toward Mark
’s office, where he was greeted with a glass of scotch.

“
No, thank you, I drove,” said Fisker, smiling.

“
The world is crumbling, pardon me if I continue to numb myself in your presence,” Mark said, downing his glass with ease. “Have a seat.”

“
A terrorist could’ve detonated a dirty bomb in the middle of Wall Street and would’ve created less damage, do you understand?” said Fisker, as he sat down. “Your organization was the first to liquidate and the one that liquidated the most.”

Mark smiled awkwardly and placed both elbows on his chair
’s padding. He placed his hand over his rib, still sore from the impact of Logan’s force. “We are all correcting a wrong,” he said. Mark paused and noticed Fisker’s faint tattoos. “Sorry, but can I see your I.D. please?”

“
Of course, you noticed these, huh?” Fisker smiled and pointed at his neck tattoo. He pulled out his old wallet and showed Mark his credentials. “Been with bureau for 20 years.” The truth was Uriel had been with the organization since its inception in different capacities and different names.

Mark nodded. His eyes trailed Fisker
’s hand as he put his wallet back into his back pocket.

Fisker sat back in his chair and adjusted his coat, he squinted his eyes with deep skepticism as he glanced down where Mark had his hand on over his rib.
“The police were at your home on the eve of the redistribution. I read the report and it said they responded to an intruder who miraculously escaped and exhibited cat-like skills. Can you tell me what happened?”

Mark sat still, stone-faced. The bags under his eyes quivered. His bottom lip curled downward.

“It’s okay. Tell me what happened.”

“
I have no idea,” he wailed. Tears streamed down his cheek.

“
Come on, Mark. You’re not the only one. Was it a young man wearing a mask?”

Mark nodded.

“He told you to do this?”

Mark nodded again.

“How did he get into your house?”

Mark pointed toward a large frame that was against the wall. Fisker raised himself from the chair and inspected it.

“Logan Drake is the artist?” he asked, while staring at the blood caked canvas.

“
I paid almost half a million for that piece,” Mark said solemnly.

“
Did you get this through Sotheby’s, too?”

“
Yes, why?”

Fisker spun the frame on one of its corners and repeatedly examined both sides.
“Well, every CEO, vice president, CFO, chairman who just took a dump on the economy had one of Mr. Drake’s pieces in their office or home.”

“
I had another of his pieces in my office. It’s in the same melted condition, according to Cheryl, my secretary,” said Mark.

Fisker walked toward the desk.
“Did he threaten you?”

“
He’s threatening the entire system,” Mark said. “He knows everything. He knows too much. This is just the beginning. My career is over.”

“
Well, it seems like everyone is playing by his rules. Nothing has come out yet. People are dancing in the street right now. On some level, they think you guys are heroes. I’d enjoy it if I were you,” he said, with sarcasm.

Mark lowered his head and spread out his hands on the desk.
“You need to find this guy. Make him pay for all this. You need to take him out before he reveals everything we’ve done. The Feds, the treasury, the wars, the manipulation of the system. You have to know what I’m talking about. You wouldn’t care otherwise.”

Fisker put his hand in his pocket. He was just as concerned as Mark.
Autonomy was the antithesis to the harvest. The last thing Fisker wanted before Israfel blew his horn was complete societal disruption. Fisker knew Theolodus had something to do with this, and Logan Drake was the key. “Do me a favor, Mark. Keep your mouth shut about all of this, okay?”

“
Is there any way you can offer me protection?” asked Mark, in a panic. “I promise I won’t say a thing.”

“
From what?”

“
I know I have many powerful people around the world upset with me right now. I’m too chicken shit to take my life. I can’t go through with it. Please understand. Grant me and my family protection, please.”

Fisker crossed his arms.
“What else did he tell you?”

“
He said he’d contact me, once I did what he told me to do.”

“
Is that okay if we try to trace his phone call from your house?”

“
Yes, please. I won’t say a word. I don’t care. I’ll do anything you tell me to do.”

Fisker
’s phone rang. He placed the phone to his ear.

“
Hello, sir,” said the man on the line.

“
Yes, Agent Clark, what good news do you have for me?”

“
Our warrant did the trick. Sotheby’s has agreed to give us Logan’s address.”

“
Send me the address. Don’t send any agents. I’ll go alone.”

“
Excuse me, are you sure?”

“
Yes, this is a direct order. Your job is to consult the media. Contact the major players and advise them to change up their stories a little bit. Too much focus on these life-changing stories for ordinary families. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a feeling this is all part of this asshole’s plan.”

Fisker hung up his phone and placed it back into his jacket. He faced Mark.
“I’ll make sure a couple of officers are assigned to your home. I’ll work on your immunity, too. But your job is to prevent world war, and try to smooth things over with the global economy. This is the largest transfer of wealth in history and I’d be lying to you if I said it’s not making governments around the world uneasy. The markets are upside down and all the money is in the hands of the proletariat.”

“
Yes, of course, I’ll see what I can do. I mean, I can ask the feds to print more.”

“
See what you can do, make sure things get under control.”

Mark walked Fisker to the front door. Outside
the mansion was the agency’s black SUV with tinted windows, its driver wearing black Ray-Bans and an earpiece. Fisker looked at his phone as Agent Clark texted him the address to Logan’s warehouse. He looked up toward Mark and smiled.

“
It was a pleasure, Mark. I hope your life gets back in order. I’ll have my techies at your house in a few hours. Don’t go anywhere.”

“
Thank you, Augustus.”

Fisker slid into the passenger seat. He leaned forward, grinned and waved at Mark. The SUV exited the driveway, leaving
toward downtown.

22

Codex Unleashed

T
he campus was typically empty for a late Saturday morning.

Keelen followed Cindy into the Dornsife building and walked the hallways of the second floor. Most of the lights were turned off. Cold
, dry air permeated the hallways. Keelen rubbed her nose as it itched inside her nostrils.

“
I still can’t wrap my head around why Logan didn’t show up on that video,” asked Keelen. The clack of her heels bounced off the thick walls.

“
Why aren’t you listening to me? I’m telling you, he’s a friggin’ vampire,” whispered Cindy. “All the blood in his studio, his nocturnal lifestyle. I’m surprised he didn’t gnaw your neck when both of you dated.”

“
You’re so stupid,” Keelen said, dryly. “Remind me why we’re here again.”

“
Because you’re the most amazing friend on the planet and you care about your best friend’s trivial pursuits?”

Keelen snorted.
“Trivial? There is nothing trivial about this.”

“
Listen, this is going to turn out to be the greatest archaeological find since the Dead Sea Scrolls, just you watch. They’re going to rename this building after me.”

Just before they reached the office, they heard two men quarreling.

“Paolo, what’s happening cannot be good for the economy. Investment will die, consumption will rise, and the majority of these people that were bailed out are going to squander the cash. Buy Amazon, Wal-Mart and McDonald’s stock because that’s where all the money is going to go,” said the bearded, bald-headed man. His voice traveled high through his sinuses.

“
No, I disagree. I’m telling you this is all gonna spark the rise of small businesses, the elimination of debt is a wonderful thing. Think post World War economy here,” argued Paolo.

“
No one is going to want to invest with us anymore. Other countries are going to be wary of doing business here.”

“
Good,” exclaimed Paolo. “The money is going to stay here now.”

“
Umm, excuse me,” Cindy said, interrupting the impromptu debate.

“
Cindy,” Paolo said. His hair was disheveled and he wore the same outfit from the previous day. “This is Professor Mitch McCormac. He’s our head Austrian economist at the university.”

“
Nice to meet you, girls. I understand you have some exciting research to attend to,” Mitch said. He then turned to Paolo and puffed out his chest and sniffed. A tick he showed whenever leaving a good debate. “Believe me when I tell you this, no good will come of this. We are in decline.”

“
Well, at least I’ll have more money in my pocket during this downward spiral.”

Mitch patted Paolo on his shoulder, nodded at the girls and left the office.

Cindy placed the box on Paolo’s desk. Keelen took a seat and played on her phone.

“
I’m betting you couldn’t sleep last night?” Paolo asked, with an enthusiastic smile.

“
How’d you know?” Cindy asked.

“
Well, I couldn’t either. This is too exciting. Here, let me show you something.”

Paolo and Cindy walked toward the professor
’s desk. He picked up a carbon copy of one the book’s pages. “I made some translations.”

Cindy
’s eyes widened. “...and?”

“
I don’t believe in crazy things,” Paolo said, his hands trembling. “This is either a hoax or what is contained in this book is prophetic.”

Keelen chortled in her seat.
“Professor, I thought you were a man of science.”

Paolo eyed Keelen with slight contempt.
“I’m either being tricked by you two girls or what is inside this book is something...something unprecedented.”

“
Well, lay it on us, Mr. Rivers,” Keelen said.

Paolo placed the carbon paper back on his desk and lifted the book out of the crate. He immediately tuned to the page he had copied and pointed to the picture of the Mary-like figure with the black
shawl. A golden sun hung right above her head and there were three paragraphs of cryptic writing below her.

Paolo read the words with the ardor of a poet
: “The Blessed Sacrament, kept for eternal salvation, on the road to Sunset.”

“
Blessed Sacrament? From my research, that usually refers to the body of Christ, right?” Cindy asked.

“
This is where it gets strange, though. I did some studying and found out that this is the first time anywhere where the Blessed Sacrament is being alluded to as something that is kept away, locked away. The body of Christ is always described as something that should be embraced and used as an example for salvation. It’s out in the open. Then this picture of this Mary-like figure is referred to in this book as the Blessed Sacrament. Why would an old ancient Judeo-Christian text, if this book turns out to be the case, refer to a woman as the Blessed Sacrament?” he asked excitedly. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“
So, a woman is the daughter of God in this book?” asked Cindy with enthusiasm.

“
I don’t know, but what I gathered is that she is not related to Hebraic or Christ theology, instead she is mentioned as Roman, possibly Greek. The book also states that this woman, this Blessed Sacrament, is ransomed or sacrificed after Constantine. Remember, Constantine was the first Christian emperor that oversaw the transition of a powerful shift in Western thought and rule, essentially from polytheism to monotheism.”

“
I wish I knew what you were talking about,” said Cindy.

“
I need more time, but I’m concerned. I’m so exhausted,” said Paolo, his eyes clearly straining through his glasses.

Keelen stood up from her chair, matching Paolo
’s nervous energy. She walked up to Cindy and grabbed her hand. “We’re done with all this, give me the book. I’m burning it,” she said. She then pointed at Paolo, who was sweating as if he just ran a marathon. “Look at him. This book is making everyone mad.”

“
No, no,” implored Paolo, grabbing Keelen’s arm. “You can’t. This book speaks to me.”

“
What’s it saying?” asked Cindy, who wrestled her arm away from Keelen’s grip.

“
Stop it, Cindy. You’re making it worse,” Keelen cautioned. “Don’t encourage this behavior.”

Paolo licked his lips and plunged his finger deep onto the text.
“It specifically states the year 1904 as the year the Blessed Sacrament gets her own Mission.”

Cindy craned her neck down toward Paolo, where his intense stare cemented itself into the text. Paolo raised his voice and read with clarity and power.
“The crossroads shall be built 70 years later as a beacon for the return. The embassy shall guard the key to the Blessed Sacrament. This is to ensure the return, which shall occur at the epicenter of wickedness, where all those who will be harvested have been trained in their sin and iniquity.”

Cindy stepped away from Paolo. His face was wet, his grin feverish. Consumed by the text he said,
“Don’t you see?”

“
Cindy, let’s go,” Keelen said, hooking her by the arm.

Cindy pulled her arm away again. She wasn
’t annoyed with Keelen, just enchanted with Paolo’s words.

“
Our feet stand over the text,” said the professor, whose hand trembled as he removed his glasses for a quick wipe. His body was not refreshed. His blood pressure spiked his core’s temperature as sweat beads gathered all over his forehead. With reddened eyes he said, “The delegation for the Blessed Sacrament is on Sunset Boulevard. Wickedness is upon us.”

“
Okay, this is ridiculous,” Keelen said sternly. It was one thing to obsess, another to be completely absorbed, she thought. “Professor Rivers, you’re mad, how could you possibly come to this conclusion?”

“
Blessed sacrament...blessed sacrament...sounds familiar,” Cindy said to herself in deep thought.

Professor Rivers nodded.
“You got it, there is a church called the Blessed Sacrament on the road to Sunset, built in 1904 next to the crossroads of the world.”

Keelen laughed loudly.
“Crossroads of the world...crossroads of the world? Are you implying...? The crossroads of the world is nothing but a collection of small office suites. Why would an ancient text refer to an office park? Paolo, you’re reaching. It sounds like a tired mind that has shifted to delusional thinking.”

Paolo clumsily walked to his desk. He sat in his chair and lowered his head into his folded arms. He mumbled
, “I need sleep.”

“
Keelen, we need to go the Church of the Blessed Sacrament, like now.”

It wasn’t
that Keelen didn’t believe that there was no validity to Paolo’s claims; she just didn’t believe the end result would produce something that would eventually satisfy Cindy’s expectations. “What do you think is going to come of this?” she asked.

“
I don’t know. But there is something in me that wants to keep going.”

“
What if this is all some kind of conspiracy? Aren’t you afraid that something might happen to you? Like Raffi?”

“
Go with me. We are visiting a church. Just a church. They’ll thank us when we discover the secrets behind this book. We’ll be heroes. We’ll be guests of honor on bingo nights.”

Keelen let out a deep breath.
“Cindy, I love you. But I have other issues to deal with right now. I need to talk to Logan and figure things out with Matt.” Keelen then glanced toward Paolo. “Take the professor with you. Is that okay with you, Professor?” Keelen heard snores. “Professor?”

“
Looks like I’ll go at it alone,” said Cindy.

“
Hold on,” Keelen said. “Look at me.”

Cindy stood still, with her slender arms at her side, like a soldier ready to receive their orders.

“Promise me once you’re done visiting this church, we all leave this stuff behind with the professor and you move on. You can stop by and ask for the credit you deserve, but this chase has its limits, actually, we have our limits. I don’t want to end up like Raffi.”

“
Fine.”

“
Thank you,” said Keelen, relieved. “Take me to Logan’s and I’ll meet up with you after you come back from the church.”

Cindy nodded and picked up the box with the book and the artifacts and headed out the door.

Keelen glanced over her shoulder and felt a resounding guilt for leaving Paolo behind by himself. She grabbed a tribal quilt from the sofa the professor had in his office and placed it around his shoulders.