“It’s about my father. I’d always wondered what it was that had terrified him when I was a boy. It terrified my mother, too. That’s when she began to drink hard.”

“What did you remember there?”

“My father was in the catacombs with me. I could feel him. Feel a sorrow. A longing for something out of reach.”

The rain gave a gentle healing, and opened Julian to a deeper level of connection with his father.

“He had an experience once like we did and turned away. And it’s haunted me ever since, although I didn’t know it until the catacombs. I’ve turned away from so much, I’ve become like him.”

“You’re changing that.”

It was his eyes that now filled with tears.

79

79

The second wave of mujahideen were too focused on their greed to realize the approaching swarm of flies, and the haze that darkened the sky, were a portent. Three Jeeps were filled with warriors on a mission to conquer the tablet.

Many of their armies had perished over the centuries pursuing desert treasures. Ancient warriors who searched for better lives. And while some had found ways to heal the hunger, the violence continued, and the desert was bled of hope.

But into this world the prophet Muhammad came. Orphaned and later discontented, he retreated to a cave where an angel appeared in a vision, giving the first of the revelations that could save them.

Those words moved some to lay down swords. But not all. For they held tight to their right of dominion over this land.

These mujahideen were holding tight still, even as the sand leapt in spirals, swirling, smothering the black shroud of flies.

A tidal wave of sand shut out the sky, as the Jeeps sped even faster toward their goal—the warehouse—hoping for refuge. But before they could reach it they were suffocated in the avalanche of desert sand and buried alive.

History has recorded the death of various armies engulfed in poisonous storms, never to be seen again. Some had even declared war on these tempests and marched out in full battle array, only to be interred.

This was the fate of misguided, hubristic men bent on destruction. Men with whom Julian had once been connected, in a lifetime long ago.

The desert would continue to consume all those who would come to conquer this treasure. It would wait for those whose vibrations would release it.

80

80

Monday, October 12

Bruton escorted Dominique through the halls of the Pentagon. Her curiosity peaked as they made their way to a stark basement area. Grey concrete walls. Harsh fluorescent lights. Soldiers at attention like blocks of ice.

Bruton whispered, “You really believe there’s spiritual DNA?”

She stopped and looked at him. She could see he was anxious.

“Yes, I do.”

“And that the missile I sent to Hashim’s village had a mind of its own and meant for all this to happen?”