THe Sentinal Satellite Read online

  He then pointed to three engraved circles on it and said,

  “These three interlocking circles signify that it belongs to me. We are calling to the lost ones, telling them to come back home by following the vibrations of the didgeridoo that the Wandjina gave us. That is what it does, calls the lost souls back from the spirit world. The voices you will hear in there are their appeals for help.”

  Maria was already uncomfortable standing there and now this, ghostly voices inside a cave added greatly to that apprehension. It prompted her to ask,

  “Is this cave connected to the Uluru Serpent?”

  The old man’s reply did not allay her fears.

  “It is of the same energy path.”

  By ‘energy path’, she understood that to mean, of the same Ley Lines.

  With all the necessary equipment needed to enter the tunnel piled at his feet, Santo turned and pointed his remote at the D-wing. It shimmered and slowly blended in with the surroundings to become almost impossible to detect. Another press of a button sent it high into the sky where it would safely hover until called back.

  While loaded with their backpacks, prepared to enter the cave, the aboriginal voiced a dire warning.

  “You are entering a dangerous place. If you see our lost brothers, tell them to return to us.”

  And then,

  “We must go now.”

  Maria looked down the sheer cliff to the land far below and asked a perfectly normal question,

  “But how will you get down?”

  He pointed to a rope dangling from somewhere up top that they had not seen before. He said,

  “It is not down that we need to go but rather up.”

  As the last man started climbing up the rope, he turned to Maria and offered a dire warning.

  “Do not listen to the voices.”

  Now deep in the cave, they turned on their flashlights and Maria was surprised at what she saw. On the cave wall were pictographs drawn in the rough style of the aboriginals. Though crude, there was no mistaking the intended imagery. Clearly, at least to Maria, ancient aboriginals had painted images of the Wandjina. With large eyes that she thought might be goggles there was no mistaking their humanoid bodies. There were also crude depictions of what were clearly dinosaurs with aliens sitting on them as one might sit on a horse.

  When Santo turned around to see what had delayed her, he too became struck by the paintings, although more by their similarity to another place. Looking at them, he said,

  “Sort of reminds you of the paintings inside the Inca pyramid in Peru where we found the Sky People’s portal to their world, doesn’t it.”

  Mesmerized by the coincidence, she was hoping there was no connection and mumbled,

  “Let’s hope there is no portal to another world around here.”

  Considering the diminutive size of this Kata Tjuta mound, the tunnel they had entered was incredibly long. By Santo’s reckoning, they should have reached the far side of it by now. Although the tunnel narrowed, it just kept going and going. Maria voiced what Santo was already coming to terms with.

  “This can’t be right Santo.”

  She then heard a distant voice seemingly coming out of solid rock. Although it was muffled and in the language of the ancient Aboriginals there was no mistaking the droning pleading tone. Maria froze and stood as solid as the surrounding rock. Santo heard it too. Even though sweeping the light in all directions, there was no indication of the source. Fearful, Maria whispered,

  “You heard that, right?”

  From the same unknown location, a different voice emanated forth. This time it was in English but with a strange British accent. Both heard,

  “Can you help me get out of here lad?”

  Santo, the braver of the two answered in English.

  “Where are you?”

  “I do not know where I am. Come closer to the wall so that I can hear you better.”

  As Santo obeyed the request, taking a step closer to the wall, Maria suddenly remembered the old man’s dire warning, ‘do not listen to the voices.’ Just as she was about to warn Santo to stay away from the wall, what she saw struck her mute. As Santo reached out for the wall, his arm started to shimmer as if a gentle wave motion on a pond. She screamed, “No Santo!” Then like a ravenous contagion, the shimmering illusion quickly spread through his arm into his body. Although fiercely struggling to pull away, he was nevertheless slowly pulled into the solid stone.

  Before good judgment could warn her not to leap forward and grab him, the instinct to do so had already compelled her. She leapt forward and grabbed him in a bear hug. She planted her feet to pull him away from whatever was happening, but unfortunately the force pulling Santo into the wall was greater than her determination to pull him away. Suddenly, as if by some strange magic, they were no longer in the Cave of Voices.

  Chapter 24

  As usual, Niko was at the computer cutting into government and corporate accounts filling his pockets with untold wealth. The Duchess had given him strict orders that priority one was to catch the ‘Belle’ flag and trace its origin. Niko had caught the flag and was listening to a mother talking to her daughter. He was promised a reward if he could come up with a location and now dollar signs rolled through his eyes like a slot machine about to pay off.

  He assumed his cackling was mute but even from across the floor the Duchess heard his maniacal pleasure. She assumed that he was using the Step-down Atom Based computer system to pilfer millions from government accounts. It did not matter, for as soon as her plan was complete there would be no more need for him and those felonious skills. Whatever he amassed would then be transferred to her accounts.

  As he shoved a whole donut into his mouth, the alarm sounded. Fingers flew over the keyboard and the frequency tracing began. By common computers, it was impossible to trace the message as it transferred from satellite to satellite, each altering the code and intended direction. However, Niko was not hampered with common computers. The Great Gray computer system easily stayed on the transmission and within seconds pinpointed the location.

  He was so excited that he forgot to swallow. When he snapped around to get her attention, both words and donuts spewed forth.

  “Remember yesterday, you asked me to flag certain frequencies looking for a little girl named Belle? I have the location on trace now.”

  She ran over to him and demaded,

  “Where is the little brat?”

  He proudly pointed to the coordinates, but it was not good enough. She slapped him on the back of the head and demanded,

  “Numbers are no good to me you fool. Call the location up.”

  Through satellite imagery, she was disappointed to see only jungle. She asked,

  “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

  “That’s the location for sure. I’ll bet my last chocolate bar on it.”

  “You’ll be betting more than that if you are wrong. What about the source?”

  “I did not program for the source but the next time they transmit I’ll have that for you too.”

  Pleased that Maria’s baby had been located, a diabolical plan for revenge formulated in the wicked mind. She demanded to know,

  “How much money is available in my accounts?”

  He did not need to look that up.

  “Almost a billion Euro.”

  “Will I be able to immediately transfer some of it to other accounts?”

  “Yes, everything is in place.”

  “Very well. I’ll be gone for a few hours so try not to destroy the place.”

  From her secret location in the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean, the Duchess was not pleased that a trip to the Kara Sea at the north end of Russia would take well over two hours in her antiquated D-wing. However, as the man she wanted to see controlled a small village there, she begrudgingly suffered the trip.

  The village had undergone many name changes these last chaotic years. If truth were known, nobody cared what it was called
anymore. It was a stronghold for the largest organization of assassins in the country and a gathering place for men accustomed to chaos and anarchy.

  Though it was summer in Russia, it was never summer in the village of assassins. Northern ice on the Kara Sea permanently crushed the shore, and winter storms were a year round event. The only way into the village was by plane and only between storms. Russian authorities knew it was there but had no inclination to bring order to a forsaken hellhole that nobody cared about anyway.

  The warmest building in the village was the tavern where soulless men gathered to brag about transgressions that would curdle the hearts of civilized men. Desperate prostitutes who could no longer make a living anywhere else, now mingled with killers and gangsters to glean what little they could from drunken men.

  Gleb Novokshanoff was the self-proclaimed Mayor of the village and leader of the assassins. He was sitting with his men at the only upholstered circular booth drinking vodka by the gallon. Despite being well dressed and bearing the appearance of a handsome man, the prostitutes had learned never to approach him for favors. He looked civilized but clothes do make the man. However, in this case it did disguise his internal brutality. Forever wrapped in his arms was his loving dog, a small Russkiy Toy with big furry ears. As always, Gleb was the center of attention.

  Outside, in the cold swirling wind the Duchess hovered in her D-wing looking for a safe place to touch down. Unseen, she landed in the shadows of the building and as close to the door as possible. Before exiting her vehicle, she donned a full-length white fox fur coat and flipped the hood over her head. The short dash from D-wing to the front door confirmed the freezing wind.

  There was no guard at the door and no sentry collecting admission. With a push of the door, she entered the noisy smoke filled tavern. An expensive white fox fur was unheard of in this hellhole so as expected it drew the attention of the few men alert enough to notice her entrance.

  Through a haze of smoke, she saw Gleb Novokshanoff sitting across the room. She began a long arduous trek past staring eyes and lustful sneers. Hoping to get lucky, the crowd of drunks surrounded her. She remembered the old days when kings and presidents would do the same at the galas she attended. Everybody surrounded her asking for favors and her hand. Was this what her life had now come to?

  Gleb saw her approach. Although it had been many years, he easily recognized her. He saw the giant of a man, Rimouski step in front of the Duchess and knew trouble was near. Rimouski’s bulbous nose practically covered his thick toothless mouth, which to the repulsed Duchess was a good thing. He grabbed her coat and managed to spit out the words,

  “You come with Rimouski. You enjoy what he do to you.”

  All eyes in the tavern turned to the confrontation. Her polite tug to regain the coat was answered by a strong arm pulling her into him. With the grace and good etiquette of a queen, the Duchess casually raised her fur-sleeved arm and the shot from a hidden pistol rang loud. Blood spewed out the back of his head and a giant of a man crashed to the floor. Never taking her eyes of Gleb, while ignoring the shock and some laughter from the crowd, she casually continued her stroll toward him.

  She stood regal in front of his booth and waited. Gleb, slightly confused only stared at her. Eventually she was forced to begin the conversation with,

  “Well?”

  “Well what?

  “Ask a lady to sit you bohemian pig.”

  Not pleased to be insulted in front of his men, Gleb made the mistake of countering with,

  “I don’t see no lady but if a bitch wants to sit, then do.”

  She angrily countered with,

  “If you ever insult me like that again I’ll shoot your dog.”

  As if understanding the threat, the dog snarled at her.

  After wiping off the seat, the Duchess sat across from Gleb and stared at him. The only reason he had not retaliated for shooting one of his assassins and worse, threatening his dog, was a profitable history of doing business with her. Over the years his gang had made millions doing what they were hired to do, kill her enemies.

  She got right to business.

  “I need six of your best men for a job.”

  As he was surprised at how many she needed, he casually said,

  “Six? Something like that is going to cost you.”

  As if it did not matter at all, she casually said,

  “How much this time?”

  Taking a chance, he decided to ask for much more than the usual price of a half million Euros apiece. Using his best negotiating tone he said,

  “One million apiece.”

  Striking a pose of offensiveness, she responded,

  “Don’t be silly. I will need them to supply their own weapons and transportation. For six of your best I am willing to pay twelve million Euros.”

  Dollar signs suddenly appeared in his head and performed the Russian Kalinka dance. Looking across the floor, he signaled for Ivan, his best team leader to come over. As he approached, a waitress appeared and Gleb made the mistake of saying to her,

  “Get this bitch---.”

  Suddenly a shot rang out and the dog’s head disappeared in a cascade of blood and skull fragments. Stunned, Gleb looked at the smoking gun in her hand and then down at the headless body of his dog.

  Everybody instinctively reached for handguns and knives ready to avenge their leader’s loss. He understood that if he gave the order, he would be losing millions. Instead, in a pretended sorrowful tone, he said,

  “I really loved that dog.”

  He then corrected his error and again said to the startled waitress,

  “Whatever this fine lady would like goes on my bill.”

  The duchess responded with a polite, “Thank you.”

  When she saw that his men were prepared to kill her at the slightest signal, she only smiled and casually said,

  “One has a tendency to be braver when not caring if you live or die. Right now, the way things are going, I’m leaning slighting toward the side of preferring death.”

  Instead of the Duchess holding a smoking gun, all Gleb saw sitting in front of him was twelve million Euros. While casting the rest of the dog aside, he waved the murderous men away. Most simply shrugged and returned to their drinks.

  Ivan, the assassin team leader was a tall Russian but unlike the others in the tavern seemed pleasant enough. Not daring to sit, he stood waiting for Gleb to explain why he was beckoned. Gleb explained,

  “This fine lady would like to hire six of your finest men for a million apiece.”

  She was quick to notice that the conniving Gleb had lowered the price, now standing to make a commission of six million Euro without even moving from the table.

  Ivan responded,

  “For that much money it must be a very dangerous and complicated job. You understand that the more important the kill the greater the risk to my men. Who do we have to kill, a president, banker, a king?”

  Casually the Duchess responded,

  “A baby.”

  Understanding that it might be a no risk assignment for a lot of money, Ivan said,

  “I only have five men left, you shoot the other one. But for that amount of money I will take his place.”

  After negotiating the final arrangements and getting banking codes, she gave them the coordinates to the location in the Brazilian Jungle. Ivan asked,

  “How soon do you want the baby killed?”

  She looked him square in the eye, sneered and demanded,

  “Yesterday. Get your men moving on it right now.”

  As she got up to leave, Ivan, quick to recognize her demand for respect and not wanting a bullet in his head quickly jumped aside. Another waitress appeared handing Gleb another Russkiy Toy with big furry ears and it was warmly accepted. The Duchess sneered at the pathetic signs of affection heaped upon a dog savoring the attention. She said,

  “If you can keep your perverted hands off that filthy beast long enough and everything works out, I migh
t have another lucrative job for you soon.”

  As she walked through the crowd, her exit was reminiscent of Moses parting the Red Sea. Everybody gave her a wide birth. At the door, after flipping the hood over her head, she disappeared into the cold swirling wind. As her craft lifted high, there was a great glow of accomplishment about her. Although she had destroyed the House of the Nazarene and killed many scientists, the taking of one child’s life will by far be the better prize.

  Chapter 25

  Santo understood that he was sucked into solid stone and knew resistance was futile. He also understood that Maria had grabbed him and tried to pull him back before he could yell a demand to let go. When consciousness had slowly returned to him, he discovered that he was sprawled on the ground. A confused Maria was sprawled across his body slowly struggling to get to her feet. When they finally stood, each checked themselves for injuries.

  Apparently, whatever happened did not injure them in any way. After dusting themselves off, they looked around their new surroundings. Santo was the first to notice that wherever they were, they were in a massive glass dome structure akin to a covered football arena. After being drawn into solid rock and emerging in what appeared to be another world had somewhat subsided, Maria had gained enough cognizance to ask,