Herculean

Epilogue Tabula Rasa

Pierce kept his final promise to Tyndareus. The contents of the gallery enshrining the worst horrors of the Holocaust were boxed up and shipped anonymously to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, D.C., although Pierce held back the items in Mengele’s trophy case. Those, he burned.

All that remained was an empty room. A blank slate, waiting for a new story to be written upon it. Five days after returning to Rome, Pierce called the group together to discuss what shape that story would take.

They had returned to the hidden facility below Castel Sant’Angelo for a little well-earned rest and recovery, while the rest of the world briefly went crazy worrying about a possible eruption of the Yellowstone caldera.

Despite assurances from numerous geologists and volcano experts, the cable news channels stirred up a frenzy of fear and speculation about the possibility that the geothermal event being reported in the Norris Basin might be the harbinger of an even greater disaster.

By week’s end, however, the furor had died down and park rangers reopened the roads to the Norris Basin area. For safety reasons, the backcountry areas remained closed to the public, just as they had before the unexpected geyser eruption, which had triggered a discharge of acidified water into a nameless minor valley a few miles from the nearest trail.

The eruption had scoured all traces of Tyndareus and his men from the ravine, and Dourado, with the powerful Cerberus computer network at her disposal, took care of the rest, arranging for the recovery of the vehicles that had borne them into the park, and obliterating any paper trail that might have prompted an investigation.

Another slate wiped clean, but then erasing history was what the Herculean Society did best. And that was something that had been nagging at Pierce since their return.

He looked at the expectant faces, trying to think of how to broach the subject. “I guess I should have had some chairs brought in,” he remarked, hoping it would serve as an icebreaker. The smiles and gentle laughter told him that it had.

“Actually, furniture is one of the things I wanted to talk to you all about.” That got quizzical stares, and he almost faltered. “I…ah, I’m thinking about…well, keeping this place.”

“Well, duh,” Fiona said. “You don’t walk away from real estate like this. Not in Rome.”

Pierce stared at her, wondering if she understood what he was trying to suggest. Probably. She’s a smart kid… No, make that a smart young woman.

“You know how I feel about caves,” Carter said. “But this place has more of a basement rec-room vibe. I can deal.”

The comment surprised Pierce on several levels. Carter had hardly spoken to him since their return, though in truth, he was probably as much to blame for that as she. The memory of what had happened to Rohn nagged at the back of his mind. Carter had saved them both, but whether she had tapped into her ability consciously or not was something that Pierce felt he needed to know. If she couldn’t control it, then the next person she turned into a mindless drone might be Lazarus. Or him. Or all of them.

It was a question he would eventually have to ask, but he did not yet know how, and he suspected that Carter probably didn’t know how to answer it.

Even more surprising to him was the implicit acceptance of an offer he had not yet made.

“George, let’s cut to the chase,” Gallo said. “You want this to be our new headquarters. I think I speak for everyone when I say that these accommodations are far more…accommodating than the citadel in Gibraltar.”

Pierce looked around to see if Gallo was in fact expressing the consensus of the group. Carter spoke up again. “I’ll admit, I was a little hesitant about letting someone else call the shots for me, but where else am I going to get unlimited access to state-of-the-art equipment and unlimited funding—”

“I don’t know about ‘unlimited,’” Pierce cut in quickly.

“And research opportunities that are…well, unique.” She glanced up at Lazarus. “But the truth is, you’re doing good work. Important work. I want to be a part of that.”

“You all feel that way? Cintia, would you be willing to leave Brazil and come work here?”

Dourado, her piercings all restored and sporting magenta hair with all the curl ironed out, replied without hesitation. “I can live anywhere. But with the hardware here, I can do magic.”

Pierce turned to Lazarus, who merely nodded.

“Uh… well, I’m glad to hear it,” Pierce said. “But actually that’s only part of it. I’ve been thinking a lot about… I guess you could call it our ‘mission statement.’ The Herculean Society has a very specific agenda — to preserve and protect the legacy of Hercules. Our founder, Alexander Diotrephes, had very good reasons for wanting to do that, reasons that are still valid today. But I think he was so consumed with trying to hide the truth about who he really was, that he forgot the most important thing about the legend.

“Hercules was a hero, and heroes help people.” He saw that Gallo was about to comment, and he quickly added, “I know, some of the stories don’t exactly make him out to be heroic, but even today, three thousand years later, what people remember most about him is the good stuff he did. He used his power to help people.”

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Dourado said.

“Exactly. That’s the legacy of Hercules that we’re supposed to be preserving. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not thinking of quitting the Herculean Society or changing what we do. But we’ve got the resources to do a lot more than just running around hiding the evidence. I mean, look at what we accomplished. We took down a Nazi war criminal who everyone thought was dead, and we dismantled a criminal empire. I think we’re off to a pretty good start.

“But there’s more to it than that. There are threats out there that no one is equipped to deal with. Things that we might know about because Alexander knew, but kept secret. We can use that knowledge to deal with those threats before they reach critical mass.”

Gallo cocked her head to the side. “How exactly would that work?”

Pierce took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. He reached into his jacket and took an envelope out of his inner pocket. “These are just mock-ups,” he said as he removed the contents and began distributing them. “Subject to change. Nothing is carved in stone.”

Surprisingly, Lazarus was the first to comment. “The Cerberus Group. Director of Operations, Erik Lazarus.” He held up a business card which, in addition to what he had just read, featured the same image that Dourado had found on the anonymous website of Tyndareus’s organization.

“I’m the Chief Scientific Advisor,” Carter said, showing her card.

“Like I said, subject to change. If you don’t like your title, we can come up with something better.”

“Cerberus Group.” Fiona wrinkled her nose. “Sounds like the name of a scary multinational corporation.”

“And we’ll keep all of Cerberus’s current underworld connections,” Pierce said. “If someone is looking for something dangerous, we’ll be able to hear about it. They might even come to us to find it for them.”

“I like it,” Gallo said. “Cerberus was the gatekeeper of the Underworld. I think that’s what George has in mind for us. We’ll be the watchdogs, guarding humanity from scary things in the night.”

“Something like that,” Pierce said with a shrug. “You can sleep on it if you want.”

“No need,” Gallo said. “Count me in.”

Fiona and Dourado voiced their support as well. Carter appeared enthusiastic as well, but instead of casting a vote, she nodded to Lazarus. “I’m with Erik. If he stays, I stay.”

Pierce turned to the big man. “Well?”

Lazarus gazed back, the furrow of his brow the only indication that something might be amiss. He held up the card again. “It says Lazarus.”

Fiona seemed to understand what he was driving at. “Erik, Uncle George explained it to me. I won’t tell my dad or the others. I promise.”

Lazarus frowned. “It’s wrong for me to put you in that position. You shouldn’t have to lie to protect me.”

“Then tell them,” she replied. “They aren’t going to be mad at you, you know.”

Pierce knew it was not quite that simple. Lazarus was caught between two worlds. He had found love and happiness with Carter, but the ties that bound him to his former life were stronger than the bonds of blood or brotherhood. If he revealed himself to Jack Sigler and the rest of his former team, the gravity of his old life would draw him back. It was probably inevitable. Yet, the fact that he was torn by the decision meant that part of him did not want to give up his new life in exchange for the old one.

“You can tell them when you’re ready,” Pierce said. “But you know what? Right now, I think we need to focus on new beginnings. The past isn’t as important as the future. Tabula rasa. A clean slate and a fresh start. What do you say?”

Lazarus looked at Carter and then at Pierce, and nodded. “I’m in.”