Reformation (18 page)

Mark used his
time on the eleven hour flight from Cairo to St. Louis wisely – he slept.  He could tell his mental edge was slipping.  He couldn’t even maintain a constant train of thought to formulate the big picture and his next moves.  Considering he was about to come face to face with the leader of an alien presence that had been on earth for over four thousand years, Mark thought it best to be well rested rather than pouring over reports to be well read instead. 

It had been an intense
thirty-six hours since he last closed his eyes to recharge.  He was afraid his mind would have too much going on inside to allow sleep, but the instant he reclined his leather seat back flat and put his head on a pillow it was lights out.  Ten hours later he awoke with a clear head and an energized body ready to continue the good fight.

Thanks to the plane flying with t
he time zones, it was still midday in St. Louis when he arrived.  On final approach Mark stole a quick glance out the window to see his favorite feature of the city.  Along the Mississippi River front near the downtown skyscrapers stood a reflective, stainless steel arch that rose six hundred and thirty feet toward the heavens.  It was a profound monument to the pioneers of the 1800s who conquered their fear of the unknown to boldly expand the nation westward.  He drew inspiration from their strength in order to conquer the unknown he now faced.

The small plane did not even come to a full stop before the exit door immediately behind the cockpit was let down allowin
g Mark to charge down the built-in steps and climb into an awaiting Suburban SUV.  The oversized vehicle sped away, left the airport grounds and headed east toward a downtrodden neighborhood that lay directly in the airport’s landing pattern.

Mark looked around the vehicle to ta
ke a head count.  Four local NSA agents were all he had to work with.  “We certainly bring the heat when faced with a threat on American soil don’t we?”

“Terrance deemed the situation too sensitive to involve the local authorities
, and he does not have presidential authority yet to engage the nearby National Guard units,” the driver reported.  “Besides, we are just going to pick up one man.  How hard can that be?”

Mark let the disapproving sneer on his face give the clueless man his answer.  At least Terrance did not have presidential authority yet, that was a bit of good news.  Mark half expected
to wake from his flight to find the entire planet at war with the western power that dropped a nuke on a sovereign Middle Eastern nation.

The SUV rocketed into the parking lot of the Henderson Home Psychiatric Facility
which stood a single story high with a dark brick exterior and tall, narrow windows every fifteen feet.  The building sat in a valley relative to the neighboring buildings; which happened to be poorly maintained government housing. 

Mark could scarcely believe his brother, who was so smart and talented, wound up
earning a meager living in a dump like this place.  He could be in Hollywood or New York City having the rich and famous pay him obscene amounts of money to whine about their oh so tortured lives.  Instead, he earned peanuts tending the incurably insane.  He never understood what drove his brother to do this.

With the Suburban parked just outside the front door, Mark and his four helpers stepped out of the vehicle and ran up the narrow sidewa
lk to reach the entrance shaded overhead with a rickety awning.  Mark ripped the door open, but forced himself to actually walk down the long corridor to reach his brother’s office in order to not raise too much alarm.  He was among the insane right now.  They were unpredictable at best so the less disruption the better.

Mark stepped through the open door into the outer office where a strikingly attractive young woman
with long dark hair still in her early twenties looked up at him with patient eyes.  Ah, Tara, she was exactly how Mark pictured her based on the voice he’d heard over the phone numerous times.

“Dr. Holmes is in a session at the moment, can I help you with something?” Tara helpfully asked.  When Mark’s four travel companions entered the room a moment later she sprung to her feet in alarm.  An index finger pressed against Mark’s lips was enough to keep her silent
, however.

“I’m his brother
, Mark, and he’s expecting me,” he said quietly and then drew a pistol that had been tucked into a holster near the small of his back under his sport coat.  The other four men drew their weapons as well while Tara helplessly looked on in silence.

Mark raised the gun to eye level and reached out with his left hand to turn the knob and nudged the inne
r office door open.  As the six panel white door slowly rotated open, he returned his free hand to the pistol grip and moved into the room leveling his two-handed aim straight at a man seated across from his older brother.

“The session’s over,” Mark announced to the room while his four companions fanned out around the
office.

“
Or the real
session has only just begun,” Jeffrey heard his patient say.  For his part, Dr. Holmes was left completely speechless by the sudden armed entry of his little brother into the office.  Even though the guns were not leveled at him, Jeffrey was quite sure he needed a change of pants, yet Hastelloy sat cool as a cucumber eyeing Mark as he crossed the room holding a steady aim.

Jeffrey had never seen this side of his brother before; the cold professional.  When they got together for holidays and shared vacations it was all jokes and stories of the foolish antics of their youth.  Now the little boy he once watched ride his bicycle head long into the back of a parked truck without even looking up stood with a deadly weapon drawn on a man sitting six feet away.

Seeing his brother now brought back the nightmare which interrupted Jeffrey’s troubled sleep the night before.  In his mind, Dr. Holmes could still see the primal anger in Mark’s eyes.  Even now he held the same two-handed grip on his weapon as he did in the dream. 

Jeffrey felt a cold shiver dance its way up his spine when he recalled the imagery of following his brother
, out of loyalty, into his office only to be saved by Hastelloy when his brother turned out to be a monster.  In the end, a lifetime of familiarity with Mark won out over a single bizarre dream.  That concluded, he still did not like the way Mark was going about things.  Hastelloy was a patient under his care after all.

Without even
consciously deciding to do so, a wave of professional ethics prompted Dr. Holmes to spring from his chair and stand between his patient and Mark with his arms open wide to provide as much protection as possible.  Staring down the barrel of a loaded handgun made Jeffrey’s knees buckle a bit, but he defiantly held his ground to ask, “What is the meaning of this?”

“Jeff
, get out of the way.  Like I told you on the phone, this man is dangerous in a way you’ve only read about, and he is coming with me.”

“To what end?” Hastelloy asked in a very conversational manner.  “I am perfectly happy to carry on a
discussion with you right here NSA agent Marcus Andrew Holmes.”

The last five words passed through Jeffrey like a bolt of lightning to electrify every nerve ending in his body
, and make the hairs on the back of his neck stand at full attention.  He wasn’t sure which realization was more shocking: that the patient knew his brother’s full name, or that his brother worked for the most secretive intelligence agency the world over. 

Either was enough to prompt Jeffrey to turn around and face Hastelloy with his jaw dropped open wide enough to swallow a battle ship whole.  “You two are familiar?”

“Never in person, but when being hunted, it is always wise to know the hunter better than he knows himself,” Hastelloy responded while still remaining seated as if the therapy session were still continuing uninterrupted.

Mark stepped around Jeffrey’s human shield to stand alongside his brother
and put his deadly aim back on the target. “I recently became acquainted with him after spending some time with his partners in Egypt.”

“Above ground or below?”
Hastelloy questioned.

“Inside your little hiding place if that
’s what you’re trying to get to,” Mark snapped back.

“Whoa, wait, what?” Jeffrey stammered.

“Yeah,” Mark said with a raised eyebrow and a confirming nod of his head.  “It’s inside the Sphinx with a three mile tunnel leading to it just like he told you.”

Hastelloy shifted his gaze to Jeffrey and looked upon him with grave disappointment.  “Shame on you
, Doctor, for divulging information told to you in strict confidence.  I am very disappointed.”

The stern glare then morphed into amusement as he looked back toward Mark
who was still pointing a pistol at him.  “Then again, this moment might never have happened without your transgression.”

“And what a special moment it’s been,” Mark taunted
as he grabbed Hastelloy by the wrist to yank him to his feet.  “Now it’s over and you’re coming with me.”

In a blindingly quick motion
, Hastelloy yanked Mark towards him with interlocked hands and turned his shoulder under Mark’s armpit.  The resulting hip toss landed Mark sprawled across the couch clear on the other side of the coffee table with his own gun pointed at him in the hands of Hastelloy. 

It all happened so fast Jeffrey’s mind barely had time to recognize the complete turn of events before Hastelloy addressed Mark in a commanding tone that only comes from a lifetime spent in military service.  “If I truly intended either you or your brother harm, then believe me, harm would be done.”

“Drop it or I drop you,” one of Mark’s armed accomplices shouted.

Hastelloy regarded Mark with the acerbic smirk of a man who owned the moment.  “We both know killing this body will not do you any good.”

“It will get a gun out of my face, remove my brother from a dangerous situation, and render you trapped back in Egypt,” Mark responded calmly as he repositioned himself to sit comfortably upright in the couch with his arm draped over the backrest.

Hastelloy held the kinetic stare between the two
men for an extra heartbeat and then turned his aim toward the ceiling and released his grip on the weapon so it hung from his index finger by the trigger guard.

Mark tossed his head to the side slightly which prompted one of his men to take the gun out of Hastelloy’s hand.  “Cuff him and let’s go.”

“If I am taken from this room, I will not utter another word and your opportunity to finally have answers will have slipped away from you once more,” Hastelloy declared.

“Oh believe me, you’ll talk,” Jeffrey heard his brother say with a cold hard edge to his words even an arctic freeze could not match.  As a humanist, the very idea that his government once used torture on captives during the height of panic following the events of 9-11 brought him deep sorrow and shame.  The insinuation that his brother was about to employ those same detestable tactics on the patient standing before him was enough to send Dr. Holmes into action.

“Keep him here, in my office,” Jeffrey offered.  “Hastelloy has been talking to me for weeks and seems perfectly willing to continue talking right here.  What good will relocating him do if the patient is adamant about not talking anyplace but here?”

Mark looked upon
his brother as if he were the most naïve person alive.  “He is not simply a patient.  He used you to get to me.  He is an extremely dangerous terrorist who must be taken into custody.”

“Funny, you’ve spent five minutes with him and think you know everything,” Jeffrey responded with a very hurt undertone.  “I have spent a week and a half getting to know him
, and I am telling you your best bet for any kind of answers is talking to him right here.  Have these guys stand guard inside and out while the two of you talk.  I have other things I need to do outside this office anyway.”

“The three of us will talk,” Hastelloy objected
.  “If Dr. Holmes stays as well, I give you my word you will have answers with no escape attempts from me.”

A skeptical scowl from Mark prompted the patient
to then look directly at Dr. Holmes.  “Have I not always been a man of my word?”  He then looked back at Mark to ask, “Do we have an accord?”

Mark got to his feet once more and peered intently at Hastelloy taking measure of the man’s honor.  Next he looked at Jeffrey who did his best to convey to his brother that he did take Hastelloy at his word.  Finally he eyed one of his team members.  “Two outside the building, two
right outside the office.  Call for backup and close the door on your way out.”

With the room’s occupancy down to three, Hastelloy and Dr. Holmes sat down in their chairs once more with Mark sitting across the coffee table on the c
ouch.  “Pardon the interruption; please continue,” Mark said with legs crossed and hands clasped neatly in his lap.

“
Why do we
have to walk so far, Father?” Pang asked for about the hundredth time.  It was all Liu could do not to turn around and slap the boy.  The Sheng family did not have much, but they did have the tradition of quietly carrying their burdens with pride and honor.  There was no honor in the constant whining of his son.  The boy was eleven years old now, it was time he understood his lot in life and accepted it.

“We go because master Zhu has called a meeting of the Lords,” Liu said between huffs.  The journey on foot was indeed long,
especially without any food in their stomachs to give them energy.  The flood that came from the incompetently maintained dams upriver washed away his crops and food stores.  Then the drought caused his planted seeds to wither away in the ground.   “Besides, what else is there for us to do now besides sit and die staring at our barren fields?”

The
purpose of the gathering was almost certainly to discuss a rebellion against the current emperor.  At first Liu did not carry any particular love or hate for Kublai Khan and his leadership.  So long as his taxes remained reasonable and the leadership competent, what did he care to whom the proceeds went.  Truth be told, even if he were forced to contribute a few extra bushels of wheat per season, it was not worth picking up a sword and risking his life in battle.

Competent leadership was the issue
, however.  Maintenance on the dams was neglected for years in favor of constructing the emperor’s palace; a grotesquely massive and opulent city unto itself.  Now the nation starved, and it was time for change, but it would not come easy.  Dozens of minor lords constantly fought amongst themselves, but only a unified effort would prevail against the emperor and his legendary armies.

Talk of rebellion could wait
, however.  Pang’s unusually loud whimper let Liu know it was time for a break.  He spotted a semicircle of rocks under a large tree by the roadside with a fire pit still smoldering from a traveling party’s encampment the night before.  “Come; let’s rest for a few minutes to regain our strength.”

Liu
removed his circular straw hat and leaned it against the tree as he sat upon one of the stones.  He allowed the sack slung over his right shoulder to fall off to the ground and he reached in to pull out the last fist sized steamed bun for him to share with his exhausted son.

He tore the roll in two and handed half to Pang.  “We only have a few more miles.  We
’d have been there last night if your constant complaining did not force us to stop so often.  You are almost a man now.  In two more years you will be married and working a farm of your own to support a family of your own.  You must accept your responsibilities.  To do otherwise is a waste of effort.”

“Our family has no food, we should be home hunting so mother and the twins can survive,” Pang protested.  “That is our responsibility, not marching across the countryside to a worthless meeting.”

The selfish arrogance Liu observed in the next generation brought him great sorrow.  “Men who are our betters have ordered the gathering.  We are under Master Zhu’s care and must trust that he knows best.”

“And Zhu is under the emperor’
s care and now orders a gathering to talk about rebellion,” Pang countered.  “He questions the wisdom of authority over him, and we should do the same rather than just blindly following orders.  I only trust our masters to do what is best for them, not us.”

Liu
vented a huff of frustration through his nostrils and licked the last bread crumbs from his hand.  He then snatched his straw hat and fastened it to his head once more and continued walking along the dirt road.  Pang did the same and ran to catch up to his father, matching his angry strides.  The young man knew better than to press the matter further. The two made the rest of the journey in silence.

A
silent hour later, Liu heard the rhythmic beating of horse hooves approaching quickly from up ahead.  The dirt road came to a peak in another fifty feet which he recognized as the last hill to climb before master Zhu’s fortress came into view.  The thunderclaps drew near and Liu put his arm in front of Pang moving them both well off to the side of the road.  An instant later a panting black blur whooshed past, and it was not the last.  In all, ten horses with riders blew past without a word.

“I wonder what has them in such a hurry,”
Liu asked as the two continued walking in the weeds alongside the road just in case more would follow.  As they crested the hill they were able to see hundreds of tents, large and small, set up across the landscape surrounding Zhu’s fortress.

Ten minutes later
Liu and his son reached the gatehouse with the portcullis drawn closed with a guard standing firm on the other side.  “We are here for the gathering.”

“It’s over,”
came a gruff reply. 

“What do you mean?”
Liu asked with a sense of futility at having made the long journey for nothing.  “The banquet was last night and talks were to begin today.”

“Everyone at the banquet is dead, poisoned by the emperor,” the guard reported.

“E. .everyone?  Even Zhu?” Liu managed through his profound state of shock.

The sentry shook his head to the side and allowed a faint smile to grace his lips.  “No, Ma
ster Zhu fell ill but survived thanks to the care of two visitors from the west.  Now he rallies all the banners behind his cause to seek revenge.”

Liu
let out a heavy sigh of relief at the news.  He did not know any of the other lords so he did not mourn their loss.  In fact, he drew encouragement from the news as the squabbling factions were suddenly united in a common cause to overthrow that Mongol monster from the north.  Kublai Khan was an animal without honor who oversaw an army of animals.  When a dog turned rabid it had to be put down, and Liu was honored to join the effort to avenge the wrong perpetrated against his master.

“How can we be of service?”
Liu asked, but the question met deaf ears as the guard’s attention was turned behind him with the approach of an armed column of pike men marching toward the gate.

“Open the gate,” a pale skinned foreigner
with an exotic accent ordered in passable Mandarin.  The man must have been one of the foreign visitors who now seemed to serve as Zhu’s military advisors in return for saving his life.

As the pike men marched past
, a second foreigner stopped in front of Liu and Pang.  “Who are these two?” he asked of the guard with the same exotic accent as the other man shouting orders to the marching column.

“Late arrivals for the gathering,”
came a crisp reply from the gate guard. 

“Fortune seems to favor you
; now grab a pike and get in line,” the foreigner ordered in a tone that left nothing for debate.  Liu did as ordered without a second thought and Pang followed suit.