The Lance

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Selena stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hotel corridor toward her rooms. The team was meeting at seven. She wanted to shower and change clothes. It was going to be a long evening.

A uniformed waiter rolling a large food cart draped with white linen came down the corridor. Selena noticed that the sleeves of his uniform jacket seemed too short for him. Trays of food under glass domed covers filled the top of the cart.

Selena was hungry. She decided she had time to order room service before meeting the others. Breakfast hadn't been much more than coffee and a few bites of toast. She'd had nothing to eat since, except a power bar in the van.

She paused in front of her door and took her key from her purse.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am," the waiter said.

Selena inserted her key. Something stung her neck and everything went black.

Then she was awake.

The first thing she felt was pain. Pain in her arms and hands and shoulders. Something cut into her wrists and ankles. She opened her eyes. She could see nothing. Wherever she was, it was pitch black. A hard, rough surface scraped against her skin.

She was naked.

She hung from something. Her arms stretched above her, her legs buckled under. She straightened her legs and the strain eased in her arms.

She remembered the waiter in the hotel corridor. She remembered inserting the key in her door. Then a brief pain, like a bee sting. Then nothing.

A wave of primal fear rocked her. Her mind cleared, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water in her face. She waited for her heart to stop pounding. She closed her eyes and drew upon her training in martial arts, remembered her teacher's words.

Fear does not exist, except in the mind. There is only being, only chi. All else is illusion. Meditate on this. Believe. Then you will be invincible.

She began the meditation to gain control of emotion. To focus the mind and gather power, the warrior's way. Her breathing settled to a steady, slow rhythm.

Selena opened her eyes. She could see nothing, but the meditation had created a heightened state of awareness. She could feel the space around her. It was large, she could tell that. The wall behind was of stone. The floor under her bare feet was cold and smooth. Polished granite or marble, or tile.

She was cool, but not cold. It was very quiet, with a sense of weight all around. There was a whisper of ventilation, a mere breath of air moving against her body. She thought the room must be underground. That would explain the complete silence, the feeling of containment. Her eyes were adjusted to the darkness but there was still nothing to see, except the suggestion of a faint, reddish glow across the way. It could be her imagination.

She was clamped by metal cuffs to the wall. Tight enough to prevent any slippage, any Houdini-like escape.

What time was it? She had no way of knowing. She was due to meet the others. When she failed to show up they would know something was wrong. Was it seven yet? How long had she been out? Was it the same day? Did they know she was missing? How would they find her?

She thought it was the same day. Probably no more than a few hours since she'd been taken.

Light erupted in the room, blinding her. When the flare subsided behind her eyes and she could see, she felt the fear trying to return.

The light came from gas torches set in brackets of black iron. She was in a large, windowless chamber of stone. Shadows from the flames danced around the room. A pattern was inlaid in green marble on the polished granite floor. Selena recognized it.

The Black Sun.

Die Schwarze Sonne. The dark opposite of light. She'd seen a floor just like this one in Germany, in the Generals' Hall of Himmler's Westphalia castle.

In the center of the circle was a vertical wooden pole. Two iron rings were set into the pole, one high and one low. The top of the pole was crowned with a replica of the Black Sun fashioned of gold. Near the pole was a low table. A silver cup studded with emeralds rested upon it. There was a polished wooden box next to the cup, carved with the lightning bolt runes of the SS.

There was a picture of her tacked to the pole.

The circle of the Black Sun was ringed by twelve chairs of wood and flat leather. A thirteenth chair was made of polished wood, larger and more ornate than the others. The chair was carved with runes and swastikas in a design of leaves and branches. Runes were branded into the leather of the other chairs.

Power. Victory. Life. Death.

Repeated, again and again. On one side of the carved chair stood a large Nazi flag. On the other, a flag in black and silver. Words were inlaid in black marble on the wall behind the chair, outlined with gold.

Meine Ehre heist Treue

My Loyalty is True. The SS motto.

Off to the side was a heavy, arch-topped wooden door. The door opened, and Gordon Greenwood entered the room. He was dressed in black under a monk-like robe of white, the cowl thrown back onto his shoulders. The robe was tied across the front with a black cord. The black sun was embroidered over his left breast. A wide black band embroidered with silver runes circled his left sleeve. Beyond the door a flight of stone steps led upward.

Greenwood came over to her.

"Awake? Good, we want you alert."

Selena was angry. "You've made a big mistake, you Nazi cretin."

Greenwood laughed. "Oh, no, I don't think so, Doctor Connor. You're the one who made the mistake. You should never have meddled in things that didn't concern you. But it all works out well in the end."

She heard steps on the stairs. Others began filing into the room. They were dressed like Greenwood in white robes with the black sun on the left breast. Only Greenwood bore the band around his sleeve. Selena recognized Smothers and Earlston. She was shocked to see a man she'd watched countless times anchoring the evening news.

The last one to enter the room was a blond man in his mid twenties. He examined her as if she were an interesting but loathsome bug.

"A beautiful specimen, Father."

"Yes. She even has good Aryan bloodlines, but she is a traitor to her race. She is perfect for our needs. For His need."

Selena didn't like the way Greenwood said that.

"This is my son, Frederick, Doctor Connor. Frederick did a wonderful job in Jerusalem, don't you think? Frederick is here because you succeeded in removing General Dysart. The number of the Council must be preserved. He's a bit young for such responsibility, but I'm sure he'll grow into the task."

"Robes are out of style, Greenwood. I read that Hitler used to dress up when he was little. Are you carrying on the tradition? Didn't you get enough play time in mommy's clothes?"

Greenwood's face reddened. He stepped forward and slapped her, hard. Selena's head slammed back against the wall.

"Go to your place, Frederick. We begin."

Blood trickled from Selena's mouth. Greenwood stood in front of the carved chair. The others took their seats. From his robe, Greenwood withdrew a book. The cover was black, emblazoned with the SS insignia in silver. He began reading aloud in a slow and measured cadence. It took Selena a moment to realize he was speaking in the old Germanic tongue, the language of the runes. A ripple of fear moved through her as she recognized the ritual Arslanian had encoded on his flash drive. The torches flickered.

Nick, she thought, where the hell are you?