Xibalba … Trepidation and fear overwhelm him. “What have I done? Guardian, please—I want to go back!”

It is too late. Fear not, Michael, for we shall never forsake you. You have made the ultimate sacrifice. In doing so, you have restored humanity to your species and given the souls of our ancestors a chance for redemption. The path you have chosen is a noble one—one that will reveal the very secrets of the universe, one that will pit the very essence of good versus evil, light versus darkness, and there is more at stake than you could ever imagine.

Now close your eyes and rest while we prepare you, for what lies ahead is evil—in its purest form.

JANUARY 3, 2013
WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, DC.

President Ennis Chaney looks up from his desk as his chief of staff, Katherine Gleason, enters, all smiles. “Good morning.”

“Morning. Another great day to be alive. Is the press conference all set?”

“Yes, sir. You’ll find the podium decorated with two floral arrangements, a thank-you from the Chinese.”

“That was thoughtful. Have my other guests arrived?”

“Yes, sir, waiting for you in the corridor.”

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Secretary of State Pierre Borgia is fixing his tie when the conference call comes in. He checks his watch, then activates the video-comm on his desk.

The image of Joseph Randolph, Sr., smiles at him from one side of the split screen, defense contractor Peter Mabus from the other.

“There he is, Pete. Lucky Pierre,”

We’re mighty proud of you, son.”

Borgia lowers the volume. “Gentlemen, please, it’s not a done deal yet. Chaney still hasn’t officially offered me the vice presidency, although we are scheduled to meet before the press conference.”

“Trust me, son, my sources tell me it’s a done deal.” Randolph runs a liver-spotted hand across his silvery white hair. “What do you think, Pete. Should we give Pierre a few months to settle into his new office, or should we start pushing buttons to run Chaney out of town now?”

“Midterm elections will do just fine. By then, Mabus Tech Industries’ll be bigger’n Microsoft.”

The knock sends a rush of adrenaline coursing through Borgia’s stomach. “That’ll be Chaney. I’ll call you later.”

Borgia switches off the video-comm as the president enters.

“Morning, Pierre. All ready for the press conference?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Oh, before we head out to the Rose Garden, there are a few gentlemen I’d like you to meet. They’ll be your escorts for this morning’s event.” Chaney opens the door, allowing a man in a dark suit and the two heavily armed policemen into Borgia’s office.

“This is Special Agent David Tierney, with the FBI.”

“Mr.Borgia, I’m placing you under arrest—”

Borgia’s jaw drops as the guards pull his arms behind his back and cuff him. “What the hell are you talking about?”