The elder smiled. “I don’t have a definitive answer for you. I’ve looked for others over the years who remembered as I do, and have found none; but perhaps I am different only in that I remember. Who can say? But what I believe is that when we die, we are judged, and our destiny decided. I’ve died twenty-five times, and have yet to finish my journey.”

  I thought about what he’d said. Was all humanity on this endless treadmill, and they simply couldn’t remember the cycle? Or when life ended, was that the end of us?

  I wondered what else this old man could tell me of the world.

  As if reading my thoughts, he smiled. “Young man, there are reasons the fates have brought you to me. You are on the cusp of great things. Yet you are entirely unaware of what you are.”

  Suddenly I wanted to tell this man everything. Though I’d met him only hours before, I implicitly trusted him. I’d never thought that I’d face a man who might understand the things I kept secret, and I hoped that he might be able to give me sound advice.

  “Elder—”

  “Call me Omar. I prefer it.”

  “Omar, you called me a prophet. My mother did the same. In her mind, she referred to me as Prophet, but I don’t think she knew why. She thought of it almost as a title. I know what the word means, but… I’m not even religious. How can I be a prophet?”

  Omar leaned a little closer, but his answer felt cryptic, and didn’t answer my question. “With your ability to read thoughts, you’ve developed a great empathy, an appreciation for diverse points of view. You have a willingness to take on burdens that none would normally suffer, especially if you feel that it will accomplish a greater good.”

  He then placed his hands on my knees and closed his eyes. After a long moment, he nodded. “You will make of yourself a target. One that others will try to tear down. But you have great physical strength and a kind heart, and you will need both in order to maintain the path I see you taking.” He opened his eyes. “That’s all I can tell you of that path. You will have to see the rest for yourself, in the fullness of your life.”

  “I’ve already seen too many things I don’t understand,” I said. “For instance, not long ago I was under attack from a sniper when a short man came out of nowhere and knocked me off my feet, saving my life. He spoke in my mind, saying that something called the Tenebrarum knew I was there. Does any of that make sense to you?”

  A hint of amusement appeared at the corners of Omar’s mouth when I mentioned the strange man, and his eyes widened at the word Tenebrarum.

  He raked his fingers through his beard.

  “Yes, it all makes sense to me. You aren’t insane, if that is your fear. I will tell you a story that may help. Are you ready to suspend disbelief for a moment?”

  I nodded.

  “There are other places than the world we live in,” Omar began. “I’m not speaking of different planets, though certainly those exist as well. I’m speaking of a spirit realm. Think of it as a place that lies somewhere between the universe we know and the place where heaven is rumored to reside. It is a land of powerful beings beyond our comprehension. Yet they resemble us enough to have an influence on who and what we are.”

  “Do you mean like angels?” I asked.

  “If it pleases you to think of them in that way. But in truth, I don’t believe they have bodies. They are pure energy, with power beyond our understanding—though that power is still nothing when compared to the power of the one true God who created us all. Among these beings are three who have greatly influenced humanity—and in so doing, have gained followers among our people. Their names are Seder, Lilith, and Sammael. They represent order, peace, and chaos, respectively.”

  “Sammael,” I repeated. “Isn’t that one of the names of the Devil?”

  “It is, but they are not the same. These spirits have been called hundreds of names over the history of mankind. Sammael is, however, a master of chaos. And that brings me to the Tenebrarum—the followers of Sammael. They seek to uproot the order that holds our society together.”

  “Why would the Tenebrarum be after me?” I asked.

  “They must see in you what I see. A touch of the true power. A power that has already gravitated away from their grasp.”

  “You mean the power to read minds? It’s the only real skill I have. Apart from maybe breaking codes.”

  “I can’t say,” said Omar. “I can just feel it within you. But…” He smiled. “Maybe we should ask that other person you mentioned.”

  He closed his eyes and remained absolutely frozen for nearly a minute. Then from behind me, a grating voice spoke in a Scottish brogue.

  “Bah! “I ought to give you a right wallop to the side of your head for calling on me like this, young man.”

  I twisted around on my pillow and saw the short man I’d encountered in the desert outside of Sana’a.

  “I didn’t call you,” I protested.

  “Not you,” the little man snapped, annoyed. He looked at Omar. “What are you called nowadays? It used to be Roberto, but that was a lifetime ago.”

  Omar chuckled. “Ramai, I don’t remember you being this grumpy when we drank together oh so many years ago. The name is Omar this time around.”

  My mind filled with questions. How the hell had this man appeared out of nowhere? How had Omar communicated with him? And why did he call Omar a young man?

  Ramai sat down next to us and gathered his long brown beard onto his lap. “Just because I got blootered with you on that cheap wine in Portugal doesn’t mean you should be calling me on a whim.” He glanced at me. “Especially when you’ve got company.”

  Omar patted Ramai’s knee. “Calm yourself. I haven’t asked you here without reason. This young man is asking questions I cannot answer. So who better to answer his questions than one of the masters of the Luminatum? Besides, it sounds as though you’ve taken an interest in him already.”

  Ramai looked at me with an expression of sadness, or maybe regret. I tried to peer into his mind, but just as with Omar, I could sense only a bit of emotion, and no thoughts.

  “Jeremiah,” he said, “your place is not with me.”

  “How do you know my name?” I asked.

  Ramai’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. “Young man, you aren’t the only one with gifts. I can also sense your questions, most of which I have no answers for. I have a special knack for appearing and disappearing at will. I am older than you can imagine, and I was already many lifetimes old when this one”—he hitched a thumb toward Omar—“first appeared in this world.”

  He sighed. “You are not one of the Luminatum, I’m afraid. Yet you clearly aren’t of the Tenebrarum, and we should all be thankful for that. You are a mystery, young Jeremiah. I’ve known of your kind for nearly… let’s just say for a long time. However, it was only within the last year that I encountered another with the telltale signs of the Pacitum—the followers of peace. You are the first male member that I’ve ever heard of.” He frowned. “How much do you know of your birth? Your parents?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing of my birth. In fact I can’t remember anything from before I was thirteen. I know nothing of my father either. I grew up with my mother, and she never spoke of him. What does all this mean? Pacitum? Luminatum? Tenebrarum? How can I be a member of one of these things when I’ve never even heard of any of this stuff?”

  Ramai sighed, as if annoyed by the question. “The Luminatum are a society of people with a touch of the true power, a power lent to us by the Creator. We follow righteous causes and try to eradicate chaos. The Tenebrarum are also equipped with power, but they sow chaos wherever they go, and they seek to destroy the righteous.”

  “Are the Tenebrarum given power by the Creator as well?”

  “No, their power does not come from the same source. They use the powers of others, extracted via blood rituals and sacrifices. Death follows the Tenebrarum wherever they go.”

  I thought of Mahmood’s experience with the dark idol. The drinking of blood, and the oily sensation of evil.

  Ramai continued. “The vast majority of people have no touch of the true power and, like you, are oblivious to the existence of these groups. But you are another category altogether. You are neither Luminatum nor Tenebrarum, yet you have the power—and it is strong within you, despite it not yet having come to maturity. You exhibit all the signs of one of Lilith’s followers—the Pacitum. They seek peace above all else, and act only with great reluctance. They see the right in both chaos and order as a balance.”

  “Okay, so what I’m hearing is that you’re with the Luminatum, the good guys, and I’m with the Pacitum, which is sort of like… Switzerland or something. Not your enemy, but not on your team either. If that’s the case, why did you appear and save my life?”

  Ramai shook his head. “This isn’t about teams. It’s about what influences one’s power and general outlook on life. You appeared in one of the prophecies that I studied. I didn’t want to see that prophecy come to a dead end, so I nudged things along in a direction I preferred.” He winked. “I’m not against the Pacitum. We have a very similar end goal in mind. We just differ in how we believe we’ll achieve that goal.”

  He patted me on the shoulder. “I wish I could give you more guidance, but I fear I cannot. However, I will say this. Your life is about to take a very significant turn. I see a test in your near future, and more than your life will hang in the balance. You must steel yourself against those who would do you harm. Good luck, young Jeremiah.”

  And with a whoosh of inrushing air, Ramai vanished, leaving me staring at empty space.

  Omar began to rise shakily to his feet, and I quickly jumped up and helped him.

  “Thank you, young man.” He patted me on the arm. “Please take Ramai’s advice. Think on what you’ve learned. And also keep it to yourself.”

  I choked back a laugh. Who in the world would believe me anyway?

  “Now,” said Omar, “there is someone else you must meet. When you first entered this building, you had questions about a much more… tactical matter. Nuclear weapons, I believe?”

  I was taken aback. “I… yes.”

  “I will introduce you to a very excitable young man named Abdul. He knows a lot about that subject. It is my wish that my people stop the foolish plans that some in this village have created. Some believe that God’s will can be achieved by destroying those who are unlike them. I know different. A bomb, no matter how powerful, cannot bring peace to this world.”

  As he led me through the village, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Ramai had said. Would I really be able to someday fill in the blanks of my identity?

  Who was I?

  What was I?

  And if I was a member of Pacitum, whatever that meant, was I doing the right thing as a member of the CIA? So far, things had felt right. I’d believed in what I’d been doing. But then again, Waleed had felt just as strongly about his beliefs, and how he went about things was crazy to me.

  Ramai and Omar had left me with a lot to think about.

  A New Team Member

  It was late in the evening when I returned to the building that housed our teams. As I approached, I saw a bearded man staring at the building, looking suspicious. But just then one of the members of Amanda’s team came outside, walked right up to him, and touched his elbow. I felt a prickly sensation at the base of my neck, and at the same moment, the villager visibly relaxed. I sensed confusion from him—and an overwhelming desire to check his crops.

  As he jogged off, it dawned on me why the SEAL captain was so wary of Amanda’s group. I wondered what else her team was capable of.

  I went inside, only to find an arm-wrestling match in progress. Clean was up against one of the SEALs. The two of them were focused, struggling against each other, and the others were gathered around to watch. Both men were heavily-muscled veterans of elite fighting units, and the atmosphere crackled with excitement.

  Then Clean grunted loudly and used a surge of power to force his opponent’s hand back onto the table, to a mix of cheers and groans.

  Clean then spotted me, and beckoned me over. “Come on, Jeremiah. Try your luck against the reigning champ. CIA versus Army. Uphold the honor of your outfit.”

  The other men started chanting, “Do it… do it… do it…”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”

  I took the seat vacated by the SEAL, and Clean and I clasped hands. I was strong, but Clean was built like a gorilla. I’d probably end up losing, but I certainly wasn’t going to back down from the challenge.

  Nate laid a hand on top of ours and began the count.

  “Three… two… one… go!”

  Clean hit me instantly with a burst of strength, and it took everything I had to keep him from slamming my hand down on the table. I felt the blood rushing into my muscles as I strained, but I found comfort in the throbbing of my muscles as the warmth spread through my arm. And instead of weakening as time elapsed, I could feel the growing heat in my muscles making me feel stronger.

  I pushed harder. Our clasped hands moved back to center and then began tilting in my favor.

  Clean gritted his teeth and grunted.

  A tingling sensation ran up and down my spine and I felt energy flow into my arms. My muscles throbbed with pent-up strength, and at that moment I knew that I could smash Clean’s hand into the table. Instead I pressed my advantage just a little, using only a fraction of the effort I knew I was capable of, yet I was slowly progressing toward a victory.

  The power flowing through me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before. I felt like a compressed spring ready to explode. I paused to savor the sensation, holding my hand right where it was even as Clean struggled to push me back. I had visions of slamming his hand through the table. I wondered if I could do it.

  It was only then that I realized that my unusual strength must be one of the powers that Omar and Ramai had referred to.

  Which meant the contest wasn’t fair.

  I let out a loud grunt and let Clean smash my hand back against the table.

  A loss for me; a victory for the Green Berets.

  The guys patted us on our backs and congratulated Clean on his win, but as Clean looked across the table at me and gave me a nod, I read in his mind what he was thinking.

  “That bastard let me win!”

  We smacked our hands together. “I was sure you were going to kick my butt there for a moment,” he said.

  “I thought so too. I almost had you. But you wore me down; I just got too tired to finish you off.”

  But as the next match began, I had only one question on my mind.

  Just how strong am I?

  It had been easy to read the mind of the terrorist that Omar had introduced me to, so now, as I hovered over the regional maps that McClintock had laid out, I pointed to a town called Elista in southern Russia, west of the Caspian Sea.

  “This is where the two nukes split,” I said. “My informant drove one east, around the northern edge of the Caspian Sea, skirting the edges of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. He put the vehicle and the intact missile in a warehouse near Dushanbe.”

  “I’ve got a bunch of Tajik assets in Dushanbe that have helped me out of jams before,” McClintock said. “Do you know precisely where in Dushanbe this thing is hidden?”

  I nodded.

  “What about the other missile?” Amanda asked.

  “I don’t know its exact route. My informant said it was to go south along the west coast of the Caspian. I would guess it then cut across Iran and Afghanistan to Peshawar. And ran into some kind of problem along the way that resulted in a glow-in-the-dark dead guy.”

  “My team will take the southern route.” Amanda stated matter-of-factly. “We can go through those areas unseen, and I have someone who can do a cleanup on the damaged nuke. McClintock, since you’ve got resources in Dushanbe, that one’s yours.”

  Apparently she had now taken command of all three teams.

  She looked at Captain Richter. “You good with heading toward Poltava? If those missiles came from an unsecured Soviet stockpile…”

  Richter nodded. “We’ll take care of it.”

  It was two in the morning, and our flight wasn’t going to arrive for several hours, but I was too wound up to get any sleep, so I stepped out for some fresh air. The two other teams had already departed.

  As I walked the outskirts of the village, I smelled something that reminded me of lightning storms in Florida. The smell of ozone. And then, off in the distance, a flicker of blue-white light flared into existence before disappearing just as quickly.

  Curious, I walked in that direction, my senses on full alert. Then suddenly it occurred to me that I was outside the village on my own. I reached toward my holster to confirm the presence of the handgun, and was about to turn back when I sensed a presence.

  It was one of Amanda’s crew. I couldn’t see them in the darkness, but I could sense their thoughts. They were preparing for a “jump,” whatever that meant.

  The baying of wolves shattered the silence. I stretched my senses as far as I could push them, and was amazed when I realized I was actually peering into the minds of the wolves. They thought not in words, but in emotions and directives, and I even picked up on what they were seeing.

  They were creeping up on Amanda’s team. And they were hungry.

  Suddenly a flare of yellow-orange flame illuminated the night, and I could see events clearly. A gout of flames was erupting directly from Amanda’s outstretched hand and splashing along the ground between her and the wolves.

  How the hell? If she had a flamethrower, it had to have been the smallest one he’d ever seen, not that he was an expert. But it sure looked like the flames had spouted from her hand.

  The frightened wolves ran, leaving me watching the flickering flames coming from the burning scrub. I watched as Amanda’s crew held each other’s hands…

  … and vanished.

  As I walked back to the village, I wondered if the CIA was the right place for me. Things were getting very weird. Disappearing people, flashes of electricity, a human flame-thrower…

 

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