“Exactly. If there is a kink in the curvature of space-time around the earth, and if its quantum state became entangled with the satellite, any mishandling of the crash debris could result in that kink ripping a hole from space to the ground.”
“And that would not be good.”
“Not if you like life on this planet.”
“You make a compelling case, Dr. Shaw.”
Before he could make a final comment, his satellite phone rang. Checking the screen, he saw the incoming call was from Sigma command in D.C. It was Captain Kathryn Bryant, his second-in-command. Kat’s specialty was in intelligence-gathering services for Sigma, but he had tasked her with the preliminary logistics in putting a search team together.
Painter had spoken to her briefly earlier. The tentative plan had been to have Commander Pierce’s group proceed directly from China to Ulan Bator, the capital of Mongolia, where his group would rendezvous with a two-man team sent from Washington.
Kat had suggested keeping the expedition small, as the region where the satellite crashed was in Mongolia’s Khan Khentii Strictly Protected Area, a region of the country where access was highly restricted, especially to foreigners, due to preservation efforts—both natural and historical. The region was also considered to be sacred to the people of Mongolia. Any misstep and the team could be booted out of there.
As a consequence, logistical details were still being worked out.
Painter hoped for better news from Kat as he answered the phone.
Her first words quickly quashed that hope.
“Director, we have another problem.”
Of course, we do . . .
Kat continued, “I just heard word through the intelligence channels of an attack in Italy. Details are still sketchy, but apparently someone shot a rocket-propelled grenade into the university offices of Monsignor Verona.”
“Vigor? Is he okay?”
“He is. In fact, I’ve got him queued up on the line for a conference call with you. He’s still a little shaken up, but his niece was present during the attack and got them both out safely. He insisted on talking to you—and I think you might want to hear him out.”
Painter had plenty on his plate, but he owed the monsignor this courtesy. “Put him on.”
Kat made the connections and the familiar tenor voice of Monsignor Verona came onto the line.
“Director Crowe, grazie.” Vigor sounded surprisingly calm considering what had just transpired, but he was a resilient old bird. “I know you are busy, but I have a grave concern that I wanted to bring to your attention.”
“What’s wrong?”
“To be blunt, I believe the world is coming to a major crisis point.”
Painter felt an icy chill begin to develop. “Why do you say that?”
The monsignor went on to explain about a mysterious package from a dead archaeological colleague: a skull and a book bound in human skin. Vigor talked about Hungarian witches, Talmudic magical relics, and an inscription begging for salvation.
As the story continued, the chill slowly seeped away. Relief set in. This had nothing to do with what Painter had witnessed at the space center.
Vigor continued, “After the attack, I suspect now why my colleague, Father Josip, went into hiding. Whatever he is pursuing has clearly drawn the attention of a violent group, someone who seeks to keep his knowledge from reaching the world. He has asked for me to join him in Central Asia, near the Aral Sea. I was hoping you’d be able to offer some field support—especially as time is running short.”
Painter wished he had the resources to help, but considering what he faced, he couldn’t justify such a diversion of manpower. “I’m sorry—”
Kat interrupted, still on the conference call. “Monsignor Vigor, I think you should tell Director Crowe why you believe time is running short.”
“Mi dispiace,” he apologized. “I thought I already had, but I realize now I only told you, Captain Bryant, not the director.”
“Tell me what?” Painter asked.
“The inscription on the skull, the one asking for salvation . . . it was a plea against the world ending.”
“You mentioned that already.”
“Yes, but I failed to mention when the world was prophesied to end.”
Painter felt that chill creep back up his spine. “Let me guess,” he said. “In four days.”
“Sì,” Vigor replied, surprised. “But how did you know that?”
For the moment, Painter refrained from explaining. He had Kat put Vigor back on hold, while he and his second-in-command talked in private.
“What do you think?” he asked Kat.
“I find it intriguing that such a relic should match the doomsday time frame reported by the Space and Missile Systems Center.”
Apparently Kat had already learned about that strange bit of news from out west. He shouldn’t have been surprised. That was her field of expertise, gathering intelligence. Nothing escaped her notice.
“But is it a mere coincidence?” Painter asked. “Do we divert resources toward what may be just an archaeological wild-goose chase?”
“In this case, I’m interested enough to say yes. First, it wouldn’t necessarily be that much of a diversion. The coordinates supplied by Monsignor Verona are in Central Asia and happen to be along the route from D.C. to Mongolia. It would be easy enough for our U.S.-based team to make a short stop at the Aral Sea to investigate this mystery. It wouldn’t set the timetable back significantly. Besides, I still need to get resources air-dropped out to Mongolia. In the meantime, we can send a second team, one that’s already closer, in advance for an initial reconnaissance of the area.”
“You mean Gray, Kowalski, and Seichan.”
She nodded. “It’s only a few hours from Hong Kong to Ulan Bator, the capital city of Mongolia.”
“It sounds like you’ve thought this all out. But I should let you know, there may be a third member of the U.S. team.” He glanced over to Jada. “A civilian who has convinced me her expertise may be needed.”
“Not a problem. I value Dr. Shaw’s help.”
He smiled. As usual, Kat had read his mind.
“Also,” she said, “there is another advantage in making this detour. By working with the monsignor and his mysterious colleague, it offers us the perfect cover story for our search into the restricted Khan Khentii Strictly Protected Area.”
“Of course,” Painter said, nodding, pleased at her resourcefulness. “They can pose as an archaeological team.”