Chapter XLIV: Juggernaut
December 27, 1582
Lexington White approached the lower deck of the Spanish Galleon San Augustin without any apprehension. Despite the various hooded figures and concealed weapons that seemed to float about him as a reaction to his presence, he was nonetheless escorted unharassed to the depths of the vessel.
Waiting for him in a dimly lit chamber was the shifting presence of General Schenkhuizen, the man currently in charge of the entire Eastern operation for the Spanish. All of this he was already briefed on yesterday, but he found it fruitful to remind himself of such details while preparing for an audience.
The creaky doors of the old ship slammed shut reluctantly and Lex found himself alone with the restless general who brooded over maps with a frightening sense of restrained power. As General Schenkhuizen pulled his head upward to view his guest, the drooping eyes revealed not any sense of shadowed fatigue but, indeed, a kind of twisted alacrity for the morbid profession of which he was engaged in. A general of action trapped in the cage of command, Lex thought.
“Good afternoon,” the General said straightening himself up from the well lit table. “You’re the emissary your Lady Jesca sent, correct?”
“Correct,” Lex replied coolly reserving himself at the far side of the room. Although this particular portion of the vessel was walled off on three sides, the hanging lamps continued to create enough luminescence to plainly see the eight corners which hid no guard or surprise.
“I have the payment you’ve requested if you have the information I want,” the General informed his guest while motioning with his right finger to a metal box to his right. The sheen from the object had been the first thing that caught Lex’s eye when he had entered.
“You can keep it for now, General,” Lex returned.
General Schenkhuizen raised a curious brow but then transformed it into a ruffle of his forehead. These espionage types, he thought to himself, always ruining perfectly good plans.
“My mistress wants to make sure that we minimize the risk you will be investing on this endeavor,” Lex began to explain, “at least until we’ve built up enough good faith with our findings. The Guild wishes to make sure that there is no dispute over our intentions to have a Spanish economic situation here in the Orient.”
“Hmm…” the General sighed before slumping down onto the seat behind him.
“Plus,” Lex said with a bit of a smile, “Lady Jesca told me that it would probably be easier this way for you to trust us considering you lost your head operative here. From what I know of you, sir, you aren’t the kind to trust spies easily.”
General Schenkhuizen couldn’t help but crack a grin at that. They did their homework well, it seems. “Very good,” the General said, “you’ll find our secretary outside he’ll take your documents. If they’re as good as you’ve promised we’ll have Spanish troopers unloading a few miles from Beijing in a week.”
“We have every faith in the capabilities of your forces, General,” Lex replied with a satisfied bow, “The unstoppable armies of the West will surely prevail under your command, sir.”
“Please,” General Schenkhuizen requested with a friendly grin, “call me Grubby.”
---
Antonio’s vision blurred into focus and his lips parted to taste the salty air. Unlike his many previous returns to consciousness, this one was not met with a searing painful reminder of why he was asleep. No, his body was comfortable even against the briny planks of that small supply ship.
He could hear the gentle sizzle of ocean waves meeting sand. His eyes were greeted with the highly illuminated interior of the hold as mid morning sunlight streamed into the cabin with such clarity that each nook and crevice of the aged ship seemed visible from his viewpoint on the floor. Aside from the salt tickling his nostrils, his body warmed in the tropical climate but was simultaneously cooled by the feeling of a gentle breeze communicating through the inside of the hold.
His dark eyes bit against the inviting air hungrily as he began to raise himself off of the floor. Although the boat was slightly tilted, he managed to found his way to the blindingly lit outer deck. The rope he used to tie the beached vessel to the coast was still holding, but this was not the only sight which possessed his gaze. The bending palm trees shaded a good portion of dirt which then gave way to grounds of pearl-white sand. Kissing this beach was water that was barely visible in its clarity but instead gave the underlying sand a turquoise hue.
With a quick hop down the rope ladder, Antonio found his toes curling against a creamy texture. Even the sand in its dryness was soft enough and cool enough to cover his feet like powder. Traveling not too far to the edge of the water, he realized that he was still in the same minimal clothing by which he made his escape from the House. All the better to taste the water, he thought to himself.
Stepping into waves, it was not like the beaches in Osaka which chilled him the moment he made contact. It was not like the rolling and crashing shores of California either. Indeed, the waves here moved like a gentle massage and the water only subtly separated the heat from his body. Neither were there rocks underfoot; in fact, when he looked underneath the waterline he could see one or two fish scurrying about his ankle. The serenity and luxury of the place nearly made him forget how he got to this shore—this shore that the Ati natives called Boracay.
Submerged in the off-green clarity of the waves, Antonio closed his eyes and blew bubbles in the water. If only it could stay like this for a little while, he thought. No more distractions, no more crazy Chinese spies coming at you with sharp objects.
Rubbing his hands against his tanning skin in this tropical morning bath, he couldn’t help but notice the rough portions of dried blood scraping and dissipating away into the sea. Jiang’s blood, he remembered. Opening his eyes again, it was like he saw her once more… that Christmas night when she approached him with the pale moonlight blinding him from her blade. Her practiced stroke would have hit him if it wasn’t for…
“You’ve talked with the natives already?” was the voice coming from the edge of the water.
Antonio turned around quickly and beheld Nia’s figure shaded by the sun glaring from behind her. Even as a silhouette, she still stood with one hand against her hip and her sultry figure bending to one side awaiting a response. For a second, covering his eyes with his palm against the beam of sunlight, he hesitated to speak to her. It was true she had saved his life that night, but… Antonio squeezed a fist and realized that a metallic object pressed against his palm; he had been holding Isabella’s ring this whole time.
“I told the local missionaries last night when we landed to send word to Manila immediately to have me picked up,” was his only response.
“Just you?” she said quickly.
Antonio took another moment to contemplate his reply and squinted his eyes even more against the mid morning sun. “I’m letting you go… You can take the ship with you after you’ve repaired it.” He pointed to the considerable hole on the side of the beached vessel—a token from the House’s cannons as they made their escape.
“I’m touched by your generosity, Antonio, but they’d behead me if I went back now after letting you live,” was her casual response. Antonio couldn’t see her face properly but he guessed through her tone that she was smiling with some ironic amusement.
“Then you’re free to go wherever you want from here; I don’t care,” he quickly rejoined stepping out of the waves and passing by her. As if on cue, those ebony strands gracing Nia’s crown were lifted up by a gust of cooling air and caressed Antonio’s wet shoulder as he passed.
“The House had been sailing south rather far and your fleet will take a whole month getting here to rescue you,” Nia said as she turned. “Would that be long enough for you to forgive me?” That question halted the wandering Antonio.
“Forgive you?” Antonio asked holding back a growl. “You don’t even know what you did!” he exclaimed curling the last word.
“We were both doing our jobs!” she yelled back as she stared intently at Antonio’s glistening back. “Isabella and I both kill because we have to.”
Antonio failed to respond but merely walked further up the beach towards the boat; he would need some supplies if he was to camp out on the island for a month.
“Aren’t you even going to ask why I saved you?” she asked with a slight curl to her question. It was enough to halt Antonio a second time.
“I could have handled Jiang myself,” Antonio let out a bit weakly. Even as he said it he knew it wasn’t true. Unlike Isabella or Sweet, he was less trained in matters of dexterity as he was a brute soldier and politician.
Nia let a standing few seconds roll by for Antonio to further contemplate the paradox of the situation before she heard him say in a frustrated tone, “maybe so that you can gain my trust and infiltrate us from inside!” His footsteps continued as he took hold of the rope bridge again. Nia walked slowly in pursuit.
“When I was a little girl, I met a prince once,” Nia explained almost as if she was reciting some fairy tale. Antonio paid no heed as he heaved himself a leg up the ladder. “This prince saved me from the river Seine when I was drowning.”
Antonio held onto the ropes but didn’t move another inch upward. Nia stepped closer before she heard Antonio mutter strangely, “Did he now?” He had put as much sarcasm into the statement as he could muster.
“No, not really,” Nia admitted nearly laughing but quickly added, “though he talked about it a lot. Saving girls from rivers seemed like his way of showing his nobility in between classes at Birmingham’s campus in Paris…” Antonio remained still against the hull of the ship but his eyes were wide open staring at the dark brown wood that celebrated that portion of the vessel.
“It was interesting, though,” Nia said as she approached the ladder herself; her face was now close to Antonio’s waist. “This prince of mine had a funny birth mark that showed up every time we went swimming on the beaches of Normandie. It looked like… a flower and was right… here.” Nia’s arm had navigated Antonio’s side and she pressed a finger gingerly on a part of Antonio’s undergarment covered pelvis near his thigh. Antonio did not stir even at the touch but it was enough for him to nearly lose his grip. It took a moment for him to realize that Isabella’s ring was falling from his hand.
“What was it that you told me before I left to return to China?” Nia nearly whispered with a broad grin, “This rose is our destiny?”
---
January 31, 1583
“This can’t be true!” Jakob yelled out. Even in the cold dampening chambers of the Silent Room in Madrid, his voice echoed in its ferocity. “My uncle would never—”
“I’m afraid it’s the only other explanation, Master Jakob,” one of the men insisted as he pressed the papers further towards the troubled Doctor.
Sitting back down in his seat, Jakob DeWitt pressed trembling hands against his forehead and rubbed them slowly back and forth. The rest of the room either seated or standing seemed to hush reverently at the climactic moment. Sweet edged closer to his master with some concern.
“Perhaps it’s a security leak elsewhere!” Jakob suddenly erupted looking back up towards the people in the dimly lit chamber. The men there turned their heads to the floor and Jakob could only desperately look to Sweet. With widened eyes to his sober friend, Sweet only replied with a rueful shaking of his head.
Jakob nearly gasped as he hid his eyes once more under the veil of kneading fingers. “As Sweet already knows,” the man from across the table continued albeit quietly, “our intelligence department hasn’t detected any other possible way this information could have gotten out. I’ve even seen to it myself under Sweet’s directives. I’ve spent time south of the capital near one of their headquarters myself.”
A sigh emanated from the chair as Jakob once more glanced at the papers in front of him. They would need his signature. “I’ll think about it until tomorrow—” he started.
“I’m afraid there’s no time!” the man from across the table interrupted.
“You try signing the death warrant for your own uncle first and tell me this is not a hard decision!” Jakob shot back with his eyes revealing themselves again. His temperate blues were a harsh dark colour in the shadowy glare of the lamps. The man, properly chastised, lowered his head once more.
“But Master Jakob…” he dared to continue, “if your uncle is giving out important secrets such as the locations of the Timepieces—I mean… already two attempts have been made on the original Timepiece while the one from the Second Impact is still missing. If your uncle really has turned on us, I don’t need to explain the consequen—”
Jakob raised his hand and hushed the man. It was true, he thought. There was no other way that this cult and these Councilmen that he’s been briefed about could know the secret locations if someone were not feeding that information to them. It was impossible for Antonio to have leaked the information since the theft started before it was possible for even the fastest vessel to relay information back to the cult in Spain in time. It had to be the only other person who was captured in that dreadful winter…
“And it’s impossible to rescue him from the locations we know?” Jakob asked looking across the large wooden mesa.
“I’m afraid they’re quite adept at evading our nets especially with a good contingent of our force dedicated to the Far East… Rescue would be impossible if we are to try for the Timepiece at the same time,” the man replied.
“Sweet…” Jakob said lowly as he turned to his companion. “I… I want you to carry out this mission for me, please…”
Sweet nodded understandingly but the man across the table coughed slightly before saying, “With all due respect, sir, this is my juris—”
“You’ve done quite enough, Agent de Guzman. You have been a loyal servant of Emperor and Pope. This is now a personal matter…”
Jakob reluctantly leaned over and scribbled his signature on the execution order and slid it back to the Agent across from him.
“Captain DeWitt started the operation five minutes ago so we should be seeing results relatively soon,” Rodrigo explained as he sipped some coffee to keep him awake. The seats in the recon van weren’t exactly the limousine leather sofas that he had been accustomed to, but then again the discomfort probably helped him stay alert and awake.
“We estimate resistance to be minimal since they won’t be expecting us,” Hayato added, “and the Lions certainly are efficient at their work; especially that Captain DeWitt.”
“Yeah, I’ve gotten to know him quite well, actually,” Rodrigo replied. “Their family has been serving Spain for a long time now. They’ve made lots of sacrifices along the way even amongst themselves.”
“That could be said of all of our families, don’t you think?” Hayato asked although maintaining a respectful tone.
Rodrigo seemed to shake his head. “It’s true that we Januses and you Matsujuns have made sacrifices for sure, but none had to go through the kind of mistakes the DeWitts made. One might say that their continued dedication despite the tragedies that affected them shows just how much they care about State and Church, but others might also say that its their way of expiating some guilt…”
Rodrigo couldn’t help but yawn as he watched the view screens flicker with muted gunfire and the jostling motions of deploying men.
“I’m looking forward to some rest after this,” Rodrigo let out taking another sip of the caffeinated drink. “What do you plan on doing?” he asked Hayato after gulping down the warm cell he extracted from his mug.
“I think I’ll familiarize myself with Tom’s essays. You brought them over with you, right?”
Rodrigo lost the energy for words and merely nodded.
“I heard it’s pretty detailed. Like some lucid dream. Though I also hear some of his ideas are pretty funny,” Hayato said with a laugh.
“Wait till you read the part about the Cold War. It’s one of my favourites even if it is near the end. He’s got all these nations pointing nukes at each other,” Rodrigo commented with a smile.
“Speaking of nukes,” Hayato interjected with a smile of his own, “They were talking about that bomb scare in Beijing on the news again. They were saying how the Antarctic Treaty’s all but defunct now that China and Japan no longer exist.”
Rodrigo merely shrugged but added, “It’s probably true. The Antarctic Treaty banned nuclear, biological, chemical weapons and the use of space objects but terrorist groups don’t recognize any of those tenets. It’s the sign of our times, Hayato. We defeated the Communists and the Fascists; now it’s secularism and terrorism we have to worry about.”
“Sir,” one of the operators said turning around to the other two, “Captain DeWitt is reporting that the mission was a total success. We’ve managed to capture all enemy combatants and have begun to transport them to the nearest facility. The cleanup crew will leave behind with a guard to finish the download of data and to canvas the area but we’re pretty much done here.”
“Well done, Oscar,” Hayato replied.
Rodrigo nearly spilt his coffee when his cell phone began to jostle in his pants. Picking it up quickly, he pressed the microphone against his ear.
“Hello?” he asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” was the voice on the other side.
Rodrigo couldn’t respond correctly suddenly stunned by the question.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Rodrigo!?” the voice asked again.
“Where are you? What have you done?!” Rodrigo desperately asked.
“He’s going to die, Rodrigo because you didn’t tell me!!” was the voice followed by a terrified scream in the background.
Rodrigo dropped his coffee on the floor and the cracking mug shocked the entirety of the van. Blood suddenly surged from his nostrils as he nearly collapsed forward.
“He and I are in the room now. In the ROOM! We’re in the RO—” and then it was silent. Carlos de Guzman’s horrific voice disappeared into silence.
Chapter XLV: Treachery (coming soon)
