Devil's Eye (38 page)

“
We have sent them on wild goose chases after their favorite targets—terrorists,” Sherwyck said with authority. “They are obsessed with them. You need not worry.”

“
What about the girl? They weren’t supposed to find her with all those symbols on her! The others weren’t discovered for a long time, for God’s sake!”

“
For God’s sake?” Sherwyck haughtily raised his head. “For
God’s
sake, you say? Is your commitment faltering? Are you not praying
our
way? Do I need to worry about you?”

“
No! No, of course not! It’s just an expression.”

“
Expressions are telling, my Senator. Very telling.”

Dunne was flustered as he watched the gaunt, composed figure eyeing him sternly and stroking the neck of his agitated steed.

“
Our moment is here. There is no need for fear of exposure.” Victor Sherwyck spoke out as if preaching: “Our strength lies in our roots! The fantastical world of superstition and disbelief!”

His voice rose. “That has gone on for ages! That is why we succeed! Reasoned minds cannot begin to grasp our task or our works! Those who try are ridiculed! Any discovery will be too late! We will have accomplished our purpose! The final stroke is imminent!” he announced climactically.

Victor Sherwyck stared coldly and penetratingly into the Senator’s eyes.

“
Are you up to it?”

“
Of course, I’m up to it!” Senator Dunne declared with renewed composure.

“
Then follow our long established agreement and do not falter! It is your presence here and your anxiety that puts you at risk.”

“
Me at risk? Me at risk? What about you?”

“
I am above risk!” Sherwyck declared.

“
Well, I’m a United States Senator!” Dunne repeated and proudly arched his back.

“
An obsequious one, I expect.”

“
Of course, of course,” the Senator affirmed. “But what about Taylor?”

Sherwyck responded slowly, as if calculating whether to enlighten Senator Dunne how deeply the presumptive Secretary of Defense was involved in their cabal.

“
Taylor has acted in the Ritual, my dear Senator. You have not. Your supreme test is looming, together with our final stroke. The unmatched sacrifice for the highest prize!”

Dunne stared expectantly.

“
The President!”

Sherwyck sounded cryptic again, but Senator Dunne was used to such utterances.

“
You will have to be firm!” Sherwyck announced. “Unwavering!”

“
Then! Then, you too will be above risk!”

The assurance from this commanding figure controlling the powerful stallion with the red hoof coverings stepping in place next to him was enough for Dunne to hear.

“
I am firm!” Senator Dunne mustered in response. “I never exposed you!” he declared bravely to regain some psychological equilibrium in front of this magnetic personage.

Sherwyck responded with a piercing stare and loosened his grip on Blaze’s lead. The stallion reared on his hind legs and two
‐
stepped closer ready to alight his forelegs on the Senator’s head. Dunne reeled back and Sherwyck tightened the lead as the forelegs hit the ground. The stallion snorted with lowered head and pinned back ears.

“
You will never try to betray me!” Sherwyck commanded.

“
No, no never!” Senator Dunne exclaimed fervently.

He knelt on one knee and made ready to kiss Victor Sherwyck’s outstretched hand.

The Sorcerer peered down on his supplicant with a wicked sneer.

Chapter 38

Colonel Caine and Laura Mitchell hurried into the Library of Congress and headed for her uncle’s basement office. Approaching it, they saw through the open doorway a tall bookcase from the back wall toppled onto his desk.

“
Uncle Jonas?” Laura called excitedly and both ran into the office.

Her uncle lay splayed on his back along his desk. Two books were on his chest and several others were arrayed next to him. A chair lay overturned nearby. Colonel Caine quickly noticed a small trickle of blood from Jonas Mitchell’s mouth. He grabbed his cell phone and immediately dialed 911, but could not get a signal.

He raced out of the office and charged up a spiral staircase near the room leading to upper levels. He bounded up to the next level filled with more stacked books and encountered a young man looking down the narrow walkway.

”
Quick! Have the desk call Emergency! There’s an injured man down here!”

“
Yes, sir,” the young man—by all looks a student—instantly replied to the commanding figure in front of him. “I thought I heard a noise here somewhere.”

“
Hurry! Basement office!”

The young man squeezed past the Colonel and scurried up the spiral staircase.

Caine rushed back to the office where Laura was cradling her uncle’s head.

“
Careful, Laura! Careful!” he said firmly, but soothingly. “We don’t know how bad he’s hurt. Don’t move him.”

“
It’s.. all right, Christopher,” moaned the old man. “No... pain....just..tired.”

“
Don’t talk. Lie still,” Caine knelt on one knee beside him. He looked concernedly at Laura. He didn’t want to say that her uncle probably had internal injuries.

“
Injury.. inside,” Jonas Mitchell said. “Don’t.. know…”

“
You’ll be all right,” Caine soothed.

“
Yes, Uncle,” Laura repeated tearfully cradling his head. “You’ll be all right.”

“
Getting…book,” he wheezed. “…Chair...Cat..into ..room...”

Laura and the Colonel glanced at each other. Their looks signaled the same thought.

“
Some..thing.. happ...happened…fell,” Jonas Mitchell struggled to say.

“
It doesn’t matter. Help is coming,” Caine assured. “You’ll be all right.”

“
Maybe..yes…maybe no.”

“
Don’t talk. Rest,” Laura repeated.

Mitchell persisted with labored breath. “Laura, dear. You.. finish…manusc…my work.”

“
How, Uncle, how?’ she asked desperately.

“
Chris…topher will…help. I know. Good…man. The star…the center…the…star.”

Caine could hear the faint sounds of sirens outside. He felt silent relief, but hoped it was not too late for Laura’s uncle.

“
They’re coming, Uncle Jonas! They’re coming!” Laura said.

“…
Laura, my.. sweet. Brothers…of the forest…waiting. I.. out..lived them.. outlived the Gulag... lived...to tell the.. story. You..have ..wonderful friend.” He gasped.

“
Not so fast, Uncle. Not so fast,” Caine intoned. “You’re not going anywhere just yet.”

“
We…shall…see.” Jonas wheezed and lost consciousness.

Laura was quietly sobbing, kneeling with her uncle’s head in her lap and Caine’s hand on her shoulder when three paramedics arrived. They quickly took over. Caine held her in his embrace comforting her and answering occasional questions from the paramedics. They administered oxygen and placed probes on the old man’s body for remote reads at the trauma center of George Washington University Hospital.

They were instructed to get him there immediately. “Is someone coming along?” one of the paramedics inquired.

Laura gazed into Caine’s eyes and he nodded assurance.

“
The marks?” she whispered anxiously. “The meaning?”

“
We’ll find out. Who did them is more important.”

The paramedics carefully shifted Jonas Mitchell to a stretcher, raised the accordion frame and wheeled him slowly towards the elevator with Laura walking alongside. She glanced back at the Colonel. He gave her an assuring smile.

Caine viewed the disarray around him and stared imaginatively at the toppled bookcase. It had to have been a strange accident, he pondered. There was no way it could fall over by the old man pulling a book from a shelf. The chair had solid footing, no casters. What might cause him to grab the bookcase and make it top heavy? Jonas’ labored remark that a cat came into the room was nagging at him. Unlikely in the basement of the Library of Congress. A semiconscious hallucination? But then, the other incidents?

He perused the top of Jonas Mitchell’s desk and fingered the manuscript on which the old partisan and scholar was laboring. The Colonel flipped the pages with curious interest. Interspersed among paragraphs were occasional hand drawn symbols. The pentagram inside a circle was illustrated in several places with variations inside the star. His eyes widened, when he came upon a familiar design.

“
That’s it!” he murmured half aloud. He was looking at the complete representation of the partial design Colonel Jones had drawn from the markings he saw on the body in the park.

It illustrated a paragraph about Black Magic. The shield was there with the X through it, as Jones had drawn. The lines of the shield then continued at the bottom and reversed with a flourish as if a base for the shield with barbed endings. Under the shield was a V with barbed peaks. Under the illustration were the Latin words:
Grimorium Verum
.

He read around the illustration and learned the symbol represented the defining instructions for Black Magic rituals.

“
Coincidences, like hell!” he declared aloud.

Caine gathered up Jonas Mitchell’s manuscript and hurried back to the main hall of the hallowed Library. A librarian was leaning low and calling under one of the semi circular reading tables to the amusement of patrons seated nearby.

“
Here, kitty, kitty! Here kitty, kitty!” echoed in the arched chamber. “How did that damn cat get in here anyway?” she exclaimed with uncharacteristic frustration.

A large black and gray striped alley cat scooted from under a table to the entrance, stood momentarily with its tail twitching in anticipation, and darted outside as another patron opened the door to enter.

“
Like hell!” Caine murmured coldly, quickening his step and following the cat out the door. He looked left and right along the esplanade, but saw nothing. A splendid view of the Capitol before him was suddenly marred by his realization that what it represented was vulnerable to threats abstract and inexplicable.

He put Mitchell’s manuscript on the concrete balustrade in front of him, pulled out his cell phone and dialed General Bradley.

“
Anything new?” the General responded.

“
The markings on the body deal with Black Magic,” Colonel Caine said flatly.

“
Okay. We can tell that to the police, if they haven’t figured it out already. Kooks usually concoct a reason for killing people.”

“
We have to focus on the museum. The blue grease paint is a direct connection.”

There was a momentary silence. Caine imagined his general leaving his desk and pacing back and forth in his office, irritated and frustrated.

“
Our assignment is Jeannie McConnell,” Bradley continued. “The body wasn’t her, so let’s get back to our priority number one.”

“
There’s some connection, General.”

“
What?”

“
The Hope Diamond.”

“
We talked about this, Colonel.” The General shifted from the familiar to the formal. “Imagine the headline. This is not a direction we can take. You’ve become obsessed with this
mumbo jumbo
! I was beginning to believe it myself! We have a good portion of the Omega Group investigating Jeannie’s disappearance and you’re the only one going off on a tangent.”

Caine felt deflated as he looked languidly at the Capitol Building taking on a luster of gold in the afternoon sun. He knew that any discussion now about Jonas Mitchell’s accident, his manuscript, the cat in the library would frustrate General Bradley even more.