Buried in the Sky Read online

  Murad ate some grapes while mulling the idea over in his head. “Suppose she recovers the next artifact and takes it to America before you can stop her. What then? Are you going to fly to the United States, hope she gives it to you freely, and then fly it back over to me?”

  “That is why I can't do this on my own,” Solomon said. “She needs to be outnumbered and outgunned.”

  “And suppose you are outsmarted.”

  Solomon considered the idea only for a brief moment. “I have something she values very much, and she wants it quite badly. She would be more than a little upset if I were to destroy it in front of her very eyes. She'd be willing to give up anything to see that doesn't happen.”

  “Are you underestimating your target again, Mr. Solomon? I hesitate to call that a sure thing. Not one I would place much of a wager on.”

  “I know Simone better than anyone. Better than the people she works for. I know the way she thinks, and what desires drive her. She's stronger than you realize. When she sets herself to a task, she completes it. Every time. At whatever cost. But she's not looking only for relics. She's looking for what I have.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Information.”

  Murad chuckled. “That must be some incredible information.”

  “Only to her,” Solomon said. “That's what makes it valuable. No one can take it away. No one else wants it. No one else even cares. Only Simone. And that puts her at a unique disadvantage.”

  “You say she has the backing of powerful friends. I am curious to know how they factor into this. Surely they will not be so easily persuaded.”

  “I happen to have information on that, too. The outfit she works with has had some inner turmoil in the recent past.”

  “Of what sort?”

  “Trust,” Solomon said. “If they don't mend it, it will ruin them. That is why I need you to trust me when I say that I have considered every possible aspect of this situation, from every conceivable angle. There isn't much else to do when stuck in a hospital bed other than think, and I've thought this through ten times over. It will work. As I said, you have my word.”

  With the plate of food empty and the bottle of wine drained of its contents, Murad wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood. “Follow me.”

  Solomon stood and followed Murad a few steps away from the restaurant, just far enough for them to see the bodyguards carrying the lifeless and bloody body of the beaten stranger away.

  Murad put his arm around Solomon's shoulder. “This man you see, he made promises he could not keep. I was gentle with him, for he was not only a business associate but a friend. I was perhaps more patient than I should have been.” He looked Solomon in the eye. “I will spare you the details of what I do to my enemies.”

  “I have a vivid imagination,” Solomon said.

  Murad patted Solomon on the back. “So do I.”

  He turned back toward the restaurant and Solomon followed.

  “I have a few conditions,” Solomon said.

  Murad laughed a hearty laugh. “You have conditions! For a deal that has not been made!”

  Solomon stopped. “I had assumed you didn't want me to go off and make all the money for myself.”

  Murad turned to him. “You are a man without pretense, Mr. Solomon. That, I admire. Speak.”

  “I choose my own men. They'll be working alongside me, so they need to be people I trust completely. They will work under my command, not for you or anyone else. You don't need to meet them, only fund their involvement. Whatever they require, they get. Guns, knives, explosives, ammunition, armor, transport, whatever is necessary for the completion of the task. I can handle all documents and identification, and most surveillance equipment, if need be.”

  Murad nodded. “The less I know about the details, the better for us all.”

  “I'll need a half-dozen to start, more after the first mission is a success and we provide you with the artifact, which itself will provide you with whatever additional funding we will need. The upfront cost is merely an investment for larger operations in the future that will pay off in even greater numbers.”

  A smile grew on Murad's face, transitioning into a gentle laugh. “You are a persuasive individual, Mr. Solomon. I hope for your sake this arrangement works out better than the last one.”

  “If I have what I need, I guarantee you it will.”

  Solomon held out his hand, and Murad shook.

  “Consider it a deal,” Murad said. They began walking back to the restaurant. “Hire your six men and provide me with their rate, as well as a list of necessities. You will have whatever you need.”

  As the two re-entered the seating area, another individual, a man in his fifties and wearing a white suit, was standing there waiting.

  Murad approached with open arms. “Mr. Kressler! So sorry to keep you waiting.”

  Mr. Kressler responded with a kind smile. “It was only a moment,” he said in a distinctly Eastern European accent.

  “Allow me to introduce Mr. Solomon,” Murad said.

  Solomon shook the man's thin hand. “Pleasure.”

  “All mine,” Mr. Kressler said. “If I may ask, how do you know one another?”

  Murad chuckled. “Mr. Solomon? He is my cousin.”

  3.

  Mount Merbabu, Indonesia

  The upside of living on the side of a mountain was the peaceful isolation. No one bothered Simone. There were few around to bother her even if they were so inclined.

  The downside, however, was that nothing and no one was nearby.

  Each morning, Simone would hike eleven kilometers east to a small village where she would train in meditation, yoga, and a martial art known as Pencak Silat in exchange for performing manual labor around the farms and homes of the mountainside village. The thin air at the high altitude made training and even breathing difficult. The hardest part was keeping her mind calm and letting her body do the work for her instead of forcing any one thing.

  It had taken more than a week for Simone to learn to just sit still and be. Her body had adapted to the rigorous workout regimen quicker than her mind had taken to locating a sense of stillness and peace. The first few days, she'd barely managed the eleven-kilometer trek back to Indah's little cottage, which stood at a higher altitude than the village. Going there was the easy part. Getting back required climbing up rather than down.

  After a few months of doing this every day, Simone found the effort simple. The training still pushed her to the edge of her comfort zone and then even further, but with it came a stronger presence, a deeper feeling of mindfulness, and a sense of peace she had not felt in her entire adult life.

  The nightmares were more or less gone. She slept through the night, every night. She chalked that up to pure exhaustion at first, as she found herself passed out in a chair before even taking off her hiking boots on more than one occasion. But the more she became used to pushing and strengthening her body and mind, the easier she found it to allow herself to rest.

  Simone returned that day drenched in sweat. The cool night had given no indication of how warm the oncoming day would be. It felt like summer all over again, and the trek back up the mountain had Simone lifting the front brim of her boonie hat to wipe her brow every few minutes as perspiration dripped into her eyes.

  She stepped inside Indah's cottage and collapsed on the chair next to the rear door where she always sat to remove her boots. Pausing to release a slow exhale, Simone dropped her hat from her head to the floor and unlaced the boots, setting them aside.

  On her way to indulge in a much needed shower, Simone grabbed her phone from the kitchen table where she always left it. The purpose of retreating to the mountains was to escape everything else that was going on outside of her own head, with Clark and Lincoln and April and Solomon and everyone, so she never took her phone with her when venturing down the mountain to the village where she trained. She knew it was stupid not to have it on hand in case of an emergency, but it was a r
isk she was willing to take, and she took that risk daily.

  After turning the phone on, she found a notification from a news app on the screen. She blinked several times, making sure she was reading the headline correctly.

  METEOR HITS ASCENSION ISLAND, BRITISH AUTHORITIES BAFFLED

  Simone opened the article and read. The description the article painted in her head resembled the meteor she had seen the night before so perfectly that she returned to the chair by the door to sit down and re-read the article.

  Eyewitness accounts said it was unusually bright, streaking across the sky at high speed as it entered Earth's atmosphere. Nowhere in the article was Indonesia mentioned.

  Simone closed the article and set her phone aside, but she didn't rise from the chair just yet. She recalled the meteor she saw racing north. Ascension Island was far to the west between Africa and South America. There was no chance the object that fell on Ascension Island was the same one she had seen the night before.

  _____

  After washing and changing into clean shorts and a tank top, Simone scarfed down enough food to feed a small family. The intense, daily workouts had given her an appetite that seemed impossible to sate.

  Indah never complained. She simply provided what Simone needed, and kept to herself otherwise. Simone had thought she was off-putting to the older woman, intruding on her home and her quiet life in the mountains, but she had later come to realize the distance was merely Indah providing Simone with the solitude she had come in search of.

  Simone pulled up a search on her phone for other meteor articles from the past twelve hours. She found several mentioning sightings in Indonesia, Malaysia, the Philippines, Vietnam, and China, but no reports of an impact anywhere. Whatever Simone had seen must have burned up in the atmosphere.

  Strangely, there were no other articles she could find. The one she'd read earlier about Ascension Island had been deleted and was no longer available to read.

  Simone closed the search and dropped the phone onto the bed where she lay. She stared at the wooden beams of the ceiling, trying to wrap her head around it all. Maybe it was nothing, some mass hysteria like a UFO sighting or ghosts or some other "supernatural" phenomenon that had a perfectly reasonable real-world explanation.

  A few years ago, Simone would have written it off as just that. But images of the Serpent's Fang would not leave her mind's eye. Her gaze fell to the large scar on her calf from when she was cut and drowned in the Dubai hotel. The moment she thought of Iceland and the Viking runestone, Simone swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stood up and left the room.

  She poured a glass of water at the kitchen sink and drank it all down without stopping. She knew there were forces at work far beyond her perception. There were things in the world that didn't have rational explanations, that could not be defined by modern science. And there were also people out there desperate to keep them a secret.

  She poured another glass of water and leaned against the counter. If Clark had her cell number, she knew her phone would have already rung. She'd be off to Ascension Island or some other far-off place to do who knows what, and for a purpose likely not entirely benevolent.

  Her head turned toward the hallway that led to her bedroom where she had left her phone. Clark might not have her number, but she still had his.

  She rubbed her face and sat down at the kitchen table, setting the glass of water aside.

  "The door is open."

  Simone looked up to see Indah standing there, then shifted her gaze to the back door, which had been left ajar.

  She got up and shut the door.

  "It is always open," Indah said as she sat her old bones down at the table.

  Leaning against the door, Simone said, "I'm sorry. It doesn't latch all the way sometimes."

  "No," Indah said. "It is always open for you."

  Simone returned to her seat at the table. "I don't plan to stay very much longer."

  "Again, you misunderstand. You will leave when you wish. But should you return, you will find the door open."

  A warmth came over Simone as she sat there, thankful for the old woman's hospitality. "You've been very kind to me. And my family."

  "We are all family, Simone."

  Simone placed her hand over Indah's on the table. "Thank you."

  Indah gave Simone's hand a gentle squeeze and rose to prepare some tea.

  After a moment of silent thought, Simone finished her glass of water, cleared her throat, and asked, "You said you'd heard. About the accident."

  The water in the tea pot grew hot and restless. Indah stared down at it, motionless.

  "I was wondering..." Simone found that moment to be as good as any to dig deeper. She was going to at some point, and if she felt compelled to leave the island and return to working with Clark, then she had to take the opportunity that was presented to her in case such an opportunity did not arise again.

  The churning of the water in the tea pot grew louder.

  "I was wondering if you knew ... if you knew who was responsible."

  Indah stared at the teapot on the stove as the water reached a rolling boil, sending the kettle into a whistling frenzy.

  Slowly, carefully, she lifted the kettle from the stove, and the whistling ceased.

  Simone listened as the sound of steaming-hot water filled two teacups.

  Indah gave Simone one of the teacups. She did not return to where she had been sitting. Instead, she remained standing. "Indeed, nothing gets past you."

  "So it really wasn't an accident?"

  Indah stared into Simone. "It is a dangerous line of work you are in. If it was not, you would have no need to come here."

  Simone took a breath, fully prepared to explain just how intimately she knew of the dangers, as the scars on her body proved, reminders that would never go away, but she held her tongue. There was a lot she still didn't know.

  "It is easier to make enemies than friends," Indah continued. "The worst dangers are those you do not expect, and cannot prepare for. You are correct. It was not an accident."

  Simone's heart sank into the pit of her stomach. No matter how many times she replayed her conversation with Clark, no matter how much she reminded herself of what was said, the gut-punch feeling never lessened. She didn't think the realization would ever sting less. If anything, it only hurt worse.

  "The man who did it hanged himself," Indah said. "If it is retribution you seek, you will not find it, even if you could hang him yourself. That is not how grief works."

  Indah's words confirmed what Clark had said. The one responsible was gone and never coming back. There was nothing Simone could do about that. She hesitated to consider what she would do if he was still around. Would she hunt him down and hurt him in the same way? Would she kill him and take another life?

  How hard it was to say no scared her.

  She cleared her throat. "My sister lived for a short time after arriving at the hospital. Do you know who accompanied her there?"

  "I heard nothing," Indah said. "Only that she was gone."

  "Heard from whom?" Simone asked. Clark was allegedly not with Sonja when she passed. It was another party, but Simone never got the name. All talk of her family had ceased around Clark, who was still convinced someone might be listening.

  "I heard from a source," Indah said, "who heard from a different source. I do not know that person's source, but I know that not everyone is graced with long life." Indah stepped closer to Simone. "These thoughts ... you must lift them from your chest. The heart cannot beat under such pressure."

  "That's easier said than done."

  "It's easier done than not done. I know you wish to change the past and control the future, but they do not exist. This is the only moment we have. I told you, we cannot spend our time twice. Please, think about how to use this moment, today and tomorrow and all days from then on."

  Simone closed her eyes and let her thoughts settle. A year back, she would have drunk herself to sleep. But on
that day, she found a moment of stillness that resembled peace just enough to convince her, if only for the time being, that everything would work itself out in the end.

  What difference did it make, really, if she knew who told Clark the news? It wouldn't change the news itself. It wouldn't bring Sonja back from the dead.

  Simone told herself the same over and over again, repeating the question and answer in her head even as she fell into sleep that night.

  When she awoke the next day, she rose from her bed with the same desire to do something about it. Do what, she didn't have the faintest idea. All she knew was that she had to get rid of the hopelessness she felt whenever thinking about her family. She didn't want to believe everything was out of her hands, beyond her reach, far away from her control, even if it did happen when she was a small child.

  Simone got dressed that morning with a renewed sense of clarity. There was no amount of sleep, meditation, exercise, martial arts, or hard labor that would convince her that distancing herself from the truth was the best path to take.

  The time was right.

  It was time to return to America.

  4.

  Jakarta, Indonesia

  The hike down the mountain lasted days.

  By the time she reached the base, Simone found herself more thankful than ever for the months of conditioning and training she had done during her stay on Mount Merbabu.

  She walked and hitch-hiked to a town called Salatiga, and from there hitched a ride north to the city of Semarang, and from there she traded hand-made jewelry she had made to pass time when recovering from strenuous workouts while staying with Indah to a fisherman for a ride on a small personal motorboat west toward Jakarta. She had given most of the jewelry to the village where she trained and helped on the farm, but kept a few pieces to use for bartering as she had none of their currency.