“There is more, sir. The language of the tablet in the desert is a language of energy.”

“How so?” the president said, folding his arms.

“We were hundreds of feet under the surface of the warehouse in the catacombs, and were able to breathe on our own.”

“Yes, Charles told me. Even the Special Forces.”

“Yes, sir. But we told them the air came in through fissures in the rock.”

“And they believed you?”

“They didn’t ask questions, but I imagine they had them.”

“What does this have to do with the language of energy?”

“There’s an intelligence in the tablet. It reads the vibration of all around it.”

“Are you saying it knew who you were and allowed you to live?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how did it know you, Miss Valen?”

Dominique knew there was no going back. That awareness gave her the confidence to tell him everything.

“I was part of the group who planted it there.”

The president looked at Bruton.

“You believe all this, Charles?”

“I believe what I’ve heard, so far, sir, yes.”

“Say I believe you, Miss Valen,” the president said with an edge of doubt. “What did this language of energy say to you?”

Dominique spoke from a knowing far beyond her human intelligence.

“We must be willing to look at and dismantle the denial of our history, and descend into that truth and grapple with it, and take responsibility for the evils we’ve done.”

“You’re talking reincarnation and karma.”

“I am, sir. What happens in the world is a direct descendant from our lives before.”

“And the tablet speaks to a rectification?”

“The tablet identifies the trajectory of our souls, and tracks our incarnations, and in turn allows us the chance to see who we’ve been and what we’ve done. And in that knowing we have a chance to unravel those knotted lives and take responsibility for the sum of our actions. And that correction points to a rebalancing of our soul’s purpose, the true purpose of why we’re here.”

“That’s quite a task.”

“It would be, sir.”

And while her nearness to death had imprinted in her a certain courage, a chill invaded her bones.

“Why were you the one the tablet revealed this to?”

“I discovered I was part of the group who placed it in the desert thousands of years ago. But I’m not the only one who can access it.”

She was heartened when the president seemed to be taking all this in stride. Perhaps the secrets his position had been privy to through the centuries gave him a context to be open to extreme anomalies.

“Who else is part of this group?”

“The others who survived the warehouse.”

“Julian Ledge, Hashim, and Nazir Siraj?”

“Yes, sir.”

No one else survived?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But there are others, who weren’t in the warehouse, who are part of this group?”