Kingdom of Gods Page 5

  Sidney wondered if Captain Butchart was the same Guardian her mentor had spoken of. Perhaps Badger’s worst fears were founded. Perhaps Admiral Garland did have a Guardian in his back pocket. Butchart glared at Sidney.

  “Miss Peters,” he said, using the fictitious name on her application form. He spoke slowly as if he knew the name was false. “Normally I’d obtain a statement from you.” He rose from his chair. “However, I refuse to waste my time on a liar.” Butchart walked around the table and stood in front of Sidney. He towered over her. “Your employment application form is full of lies.”

  Sidney smiled nervously. “I can explain, sir. This was all just, you know, a dare.” It was truthful enough.

  “And what was entailed in this dare?”

  “Nothing much. Get on the base and stay overnight without getting caught, then get off the base before ten.”

  Butchart grinned and stepped closer. “It’s past ten now. What was your prize supposed to be, Miss Peters?”

  He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. “No prize, Captain. It was just an initiation exercise. You know, to prove I’d fit in with the gang.”

  Butchart sighed. His time was being wasted on this prankster. “Explain how you bypassed the gate security check on Tuesday evening and remained unseen until Wednesday morning.”

  Sidney felt the captain invade her ethereal body, searching for a disturbance in her energy’s web, for traces of lies. At that point, it was clear to her that he was indeed the same fallen Guardian, one who’d been trusted by her people.

  She had to be careful. If she used her Guardian powers, he’d recognize that she wasn’t an ordinary prisoner. Her chances for survival would be gone. He’d not allow another Guardian to survive, nor anyone else who had the power to stop him.

  She made no attempt to put up barriers to his probing. She had to avoid lies. More lies would only raise more suspicion. More suspicion would create more questions. Every second that went by was another second for someone to discover the sabotaged missiles.

  She told Butchart the truth. That she’d never left the base Tuesday afternoon, that another woman had been disguised to make it look like she’d left the base after the interview with Admiral Garland’s staff. She admitted to finding the storage room and hiding out there. She told them she’d planned to talk to the security officer, Lieutenant Weir, in hopes he’d help her get past the security gate.

  Butchart leaned forward. “And why would Lieutenant Weir help you get off the base?”

  Sidney shrugged. “Well, guess ’cause he seems really nice and ’cause no harm was done, and well, probably he likes to have a good time.”

  She felt her face warm when she realized the implication. Her innocence may have saved her — Butchart snickered. Returning to his chair, he took a deep breath and released it slowly. Sidney sensed he was attempting to establish a telepathic link. Soon, he became frustrated and returned to the manuscript in front of him.

  “Miss Peters, my decision will be based solely on evidence. My staff is combing this base. If there’s any evidence indicating an invasion of secured areas, I intend to charge you with spying. Is that clear?”

  Sidney nodded. Butchart activated his comlink, requesting one of his men to report to the interrogation room. Within seconds, the man entered the room and stood at attention before the captain.

  “Your report is ready?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Butchart ordered the security guards to take Sidney back to the hallway. Standing outside the room, she heard portions of what they said. Butchart became increasingly infuriated. She heard him shout, “Are you absolutely certain?”

  Every cell in her body convulsed. It was difficult to breathe. This was it; they’d discovered the defused missiles. She’d never be released. The interrogation room door opened, and the guards were instructed to bring Sidney back into the room. They grabbed her arms and shoved her to stand directly in front of Butchart.

  She closed her eyes and saw her Guardian mentor’s smiling face. Greystone spoke. “Remember you need only the courage to trust in the Guardian sacred truths.” In that moment she surrendered to the wisdom of the universe. No longer shackled by fear, she could summon her powers with simply a thought. She opened her eyes and stood tall. With her head erect, she faced Butchart.

  “Miss Peters, in view of the fact that there’s no evidence of malicious activity, you aren’t being charged with any criminal activity. You’ll leave once you’ve signed the interrogation report.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I’m truly grateful.”

  Butchart’s cold demeanor was unmoved by Sidney’s gratitude. He put his hand on her arm and gripped it tightly. “And,” he whispered with contempt, “if I should find proof you were here on some mission of sabotage, I’ll find you and bring you back. Understood?”

  Sidney nodded. The handcuffs were removed. The transcription of the interrogation session arrived, and Sidney signed it as Heather Peters. Butchart stormed out of the room, leaving the security guards to escort her to the front desk where Lieutenant Weir was waiting. He quickly ushered her out of the administration building to the parking lot.

  “I’ve called a taxi for you. Just wait here by the gate.”

  Sidney worried it may take too long for a taxi to show up. She had to get off the base now. She shook her head.

  “Oh, please don’t bother. I need to do some walking and thinking.”

  An alarm sounded, enveloping the entire base compound. Naval personnel began to scurry and run, forming a line near the gates. Sidney looked at the road leading toward the freeway. It was straight without any buildings or bushes to conceal her flight. Before Lieutenant Weir had time to turn back to her, she was running at fast as she could down the road. He started after her.

  “Peters, stop! There’s probably a mistake,” he shouted to her.

  Sidney ignored him. Lieutenant Weir wasn’t far behind. Gradually she gained distance from him. Others joined the pursuit, shouting for her to stop or be shot. She mentally braced herself and raced on. Survival instincts and a life of running on mountain trails in high altitude gave her an edge. The ramp onto the freeway was only a few yards away. If she could get that far, the officers would have more difficulty capturing her.

  A bullet whizzed by her head. A second bullet hit the ground on the left just ahead of her. She began to run an erratic course. Another bullet passed through her left hand. Blood splattered onto the pavement, and a searing pain traveled the length of her arm. The jolt of pain caused her to trip and fall. A security guard pinned her to the ground with his knees and held her wrists in a tight grip. He raised his right hand to strike her with his fist. Exhausted and in pain, she surrendered.

  The security guards pushed Sidney into the back of their vehicle. Lieutenant Weir sat next to her. She stared out her side window and called to her brother telepathically. Danik. There was no response. Her mind was too focused on the painful wound and dire circumstances to make the connection. Again she tried to redirect her mind. Danik, go home. Go home now!

  The telepathic link was brief. But in that one moment, Sidney was able to convey that she’d been arrested. She believed Badger could be a danger to both of them now that she’d failed, and the best way for her brother to help her was to return to Hawk’s Island. She felt his attempt to continue the link, but his loving energy was overshadowed by her ordeal.

  “Come on.” Lieutenant Weir led her into the administration building. “The admiral’s waiting. Man is he ticked. I don’t believe you’re a hostile, so I’ll try and look out for you. Can’t promise anything. It’s going to be rough.”

  Sidney examined Lieutenant Weir’s face. She saw pride in his uniform, but also saw that his uniform didn’t define him as a man. He was likely the closest thing to a friend available to her now. The lieutenant guided her through the hallways to the interrogation room.

  “My friend, don’t put yourself in any danger on my account. I do have other
resources.”

  “Is there anyone I can contact?” he whispered while the others were several feet behind. “Someone with some pull, a lawyer?”

  “No, I’m on my own for now.”

  Walking in silence into the interrogation room, Lieutenant Weir grabbed a first aid kit. He seated her in a chair and inspected her hand. The bullet had passed cleanly through the palm. Her hand had stopped bleeding but was swollen, and any pressure or movement of the fingers made her wince. Kneeling on the floor in front of her, Weir wrapped the gauze around her hand and secured it with a piece of tape.

  “Where are they going to take me, Lieutenant?”

  He glanced up into her worried eyes. She was tired. Her clothes were dirty and stained with blood, her hair was tangled, and she smelled of sweat — a far cry from the vivacious beauty who’d cheerfully greeted him a day ago.

  “If you’re found guilty of terrorism, you’ll be transferred to a ship under the command of Captain Waterhouse, good guy, mostly. You can trust him, if you get that far. That’s all I can tell you.”

  Admiral Garland arrived with two armed men close behind him. Although still agitated, the admiral had mastered his anger. Lieutenant Weir snapped to attention.

  “You’re excused, Lieutenant. Make sure no one enters this room. If she makes another escape attempt, shoot her legs off. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” He swiftly left.

  Butchart, carrying a medical kit, burst into the room. “Sir — ”

  The admiral interrupted. “Frank, we’ll talk about this fiasco later. Who the hell helped her get through the security systems? Get a confession, whatever it takes. Understood?”

  Butchart glared at Sidney. He barked orders at the two men to secure her to the chair.

  Sidney cooperated and made no complaint as the metal handcuffs tightened around her wrists and ankles. Her Guardian nature could help her if she gained control over her fear. She breathed slowly, and silently repeated the sacred truths.

  The admiral slowly paced around her chair, his arms crossed over his chest. His demeanor was that of a man in complete control and pondering his next move.

  He stood directly in front of Sidney. “Gentlemen, I believe we have a saboteur. Our missiles have somehow been destroyed. I don’t need her confession on that matter. She obviously had someone on the inside get her through secured areas. Who was her accomplice? Frank, choose your weapon, whatever will make her talk. I want her accomplice locked up and eliminated before sundown.”

  Butchart approached her. Sidney stiffened, anticipating a violent blow or an act of humiliation. “You are hereby charged with spying and the sabotage of American military weapons, a deliberate act of violence against the United States of America. You can save yourself considerable suffering if you tell us who your accomplice was.”

  Sidney looked into the captain’s eyes. “No one, sir.”

  “Liar!” Butchart opened the medical kit and handed a vial to one of his men. “Jack, prepare the first dose of the serum.” Jack pulled out a syringe from the bag and ripped open its packaging. Inserting the needle into the vial, he drew a solution into the syringe.

  Butchart grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. “Now, one more time before I inject the drug. Once the drug hits your brain, it’ll allow only the truth into your conscious thought. And it’ll have a very nasty effect on your body. Who was your accomplice?”

  The grip on her hair brought tears to her eyes. “Captain Butchart, I promise there was no accomplice. No one.” She closed her eyes and again focused on the solution in the vial and the syringe. Briefly, she connected with its energy, sensing its tart taste in her mouth. She asked that it harmonize its energy with that of that of the Earth and the Creator, that its energy be shifted for the higher good of all. That was the last thought she could recall the next morning.

  Thursday, July 4, Early Morning

  She was awakened by footsteps approaching her cell. They were pounding, like those of a man strutting and sure of himself. Butchart stopped in front of her cell door, smiling with contempt and satisfaction. With a wave of his hand he dismissed the two security guards.

  “Good morning, Miss Davenport. That is your name, according to what you told us when the serum went to work.” Butchart stood tall, his arms across his chest. “No need for further questioning, my dear. Did you sleep well?” he asked sarcastically.

  Sidney mustered up some strength. She wondered just how much she’d revealed. Most of the previous day was a blank. Her mind was so muddled she could barely recall how her hand had been injured. She shuffled to the cell door.

  “I’ve been better, Captain.”

  Butchart smiled. “So, how is dear old Greystone?”

  Sidney was taken aback. “Who?”

  “My dear little witch, it became obvious when that bullet wound in your hand was healing so rapidly. Then, too, the serum had minimal effect on your brain, though it just might kill you in a day or so.” He paced a few steps back and forth in front of her cell’s door. “And another Guardian will be eliminated.”

  “Frank, Greystone hasn’t forgotten you. Someone will soon come to bring you back home to him.”

  “He can try,” he said with a pasted on smile.

  Sidney hung onto the metal bars of her cell door. “Tell me, does the admiral know who you really are?”

  Butchart pounced at her. “Shut your damn mouth,” he hissed. “So far your father has escaped my traps, but you are finished. None of you are going to interfere with my business here.” He stepped back and regained his military posture. “You’re being transferred to a ship. I’ll personally escort you there and provide Captain Waterhouse with orders to have you executed.” He stepped up close to the cell door. “And then I’ll have the pleasure of witnessing the bullet turn your little Guardian brain into mush. You’re in no condition to stop a bullet.”

  Butchart hauled her outside to the rear of the building and waited as the chopper descended. The captain held a knife against her ribs. “If anything out of the ordinary happens, anything at all, the slightest tremor in the chopper’s engines, you’re dead. Is that clear?”

  Sidney nodded.

  Stumbling toward the chopper, she struggled to focus. The drug in her blood was again creating a dense mental fog. She felt her body gradually giving in to its poison. Dust rose and swirled with the force of the blades whipping through the air. Bits of grit stung her face. The captain shoved her through the doorway of the chopper and strapped her into a seat. She closed her eyes and made one last effort to reach her universal powers. Thus, her thoughts were delivered to the Light.

  Before she was too ill to access her powers, Sidney placed a protective shield around her Holy Membrane. A Guardian’s Holy Membrane was a cocoon of energy that became more powerful over time as the waking Guardian’s aura became in sync with the Universal Creator. It responded to the thoughts and intentions of the Guardian. It facilitated rapid healing, telepathy, time travel — all of the Guardians’ sacred gifts. But if the host was weak, dominant Dark forces could influence and penetrate the Holy Membrane.

  Shielding the Holy Membrane was a last resort, a desperate act. The shield’s energy came from beings of Light in higher dimensions, neutralizing and repelling anything that came into contact with the physical host. Nothing could penetrate the shield, not even the forces that would benefit the host.

  Rapid healing would decline and connection with the Guardian Elders would be lost. It wouldn’t allow another foreign substance to have any effect on her body. The secrets of her Guardian people would not be revealed through another drug assault. Sidney knew her choice could result in her death because the energy would also interfere with medication that could save her life. The shield would remain in place until Sidney either died or became strong enough to remove what she had created. She relaxed and became oblivious to the captain beside her and the jostling of the chopper.

  6. Captain Waterhouse’s Prisoner

  July 4, M
id-Morning, Near New Seattle’s Naval Harbor: Sidney felt the helicopter shift altitude and woke to see beneath her the gray Pacific Ocean and what appeared to be a modified cruise ship. At the perimeter of the ship’s helipad was an officer and a dozen or so armed seamen. Below the helipad were the ship decks, gun turrets, and the spray of the ocean against the ship’s silver hull. The helicopter touched down lightly, and its door swung open.

  “Let’s go,” hollered Butchart.

  Sidney’s hands were still handcuffed behind her, making it difficult for her to maintain balance. Taking a deep breath, she managed to step down. Butchart clutched her neck to push her head below the rotating blades and led her toward the waiting officer.

  The formal military greeting was a blur of salutes and stiff postures. Sidney’s gaze stayed fixed on the ocean. She longed for its wetness in her parched mouth. Though she wouldn’t have had the strength to stay afloat, the thought of the cool waves washing over her feverish skin was refreshing. No one spoke to her until her knees weakened and she faltered.

  The ship’s officer grasped her arm and commanded, “Stand up. Put your feet farther apart to keep your balance. Understood?”

  The officer’s voice was unsympathetic, and yet it didn’t carry the hatred of Butchart’s. She tried to smile, to convey something along the lines of gratitude rather than indifference to his assistance. The officer looked into Sidney’s face.

  “Captain Butchart, sir, the prisoner appears sick. Why is she so pale? She seems to have a fever, too. Captain Waterhouse is quite clear on not accepting injured or ill prisoners, sir.”

  “Lieutenant Bridges, the captain’s going to have to make an exception in this case. Special circumstances. Anyway, she’s to be executed this evening. No need for him to conduct an interrogation on this one. Let’s go.”