The Nostradamus File

CHAPTER FOUR

Indian Island was a little over five hundred rugged acres of rock and trees, fifteen minutes by motor launch from the Maine coast. A deep cove on the leeward side formed a small, natural harbor. A long, wooden pier stretched out from the rocky shore into the water. Anchored in the cove was a white motor yacht shaped like a hunter's arrow.

The main house was a three story structure of Maine timber, built in 1851 with profits from the slave trade. A wide gallery ran around the second story. The roof was capped by a widow's walk. A manicured lawn sloped from the house to the dock, green and perfect. The lawn was bordered by beds of brilliant flowers and half a dozen trees that had been saplings when the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock.

The island provided a secure setting for special events of America's ruling class. One was about to begin, the annual meeting of the Cask and Swords Society. The majority of the members would be present. They would bring their wives, their fiancées and their mistresses. There would be good food, conversations, good liquor. Important decisions would be made.

It was a perfect June morning. The caterers had almost finished setting up on the lawn. A large tent sparkled white in the morning sun. Barbecues were already smoking. Inside the house, three men sat at a table in the library. Through the library windows they could see the yacht riding at ease in the cove.

The three men were meeting to discuss progress in their plan to trigger war in the Middle East.

Phillip Harrison III owned the island. He was a wiry man in his mid-sixties. He wore a soft, casual shirt open at the collar, pressed tan slacks and comfortable Clark loafers. His face was an old New England face, a face that lacked humor, the kind of face seen in 18th Century portraits of colonial clergymen and wealthy merchants, narrow and unsmiling. Harrison had gray hair and hazel eyes and hands with long, narrow fingers. His family had controlled a large portion of America's wealth since the early days of the Republic. He owned and managed the largest private investment bank in the country. No one opened an account with his bank for less than five million dollars. Harrison considered that a small account.

Harrison often thought he would have been more at home in the 18th or 19th Century, when leaders of men were expected to apologize to no one except God for their actions. Harrison believed in God. He believed God had set him on earth to become rich and use his wealth to spread the true faith of an austere and judgmental Christianity. He believed God had given him a mission to wrest control of the Holy Land and the Middle East from Islam. It was the overriding motive in his life. It was why the three men were meeting, although they all had different reasons for wanting the same result.

The second man was Stephen Boyd. Boyd was a round-faced, round-bellied man. His features showed a hint of dissolution. His lips were distended, almost purple in color, a sign of digestive problems that sometimes embarrassed him in company. Boyd's family had been a dominant force in oil since the start of the industry in Pennsylvania. He'd been recruited into CIA right out of the University. He was currently inactive except as a deep source of information. There was no public record that his relationship with Langley had ever existed. It was better that way.

Allen Croft, the third man, owned the yacht at the end of the pier. Croft ran an international consortium of arms manufacturers. If there was a weapon in the world, one of the companies in his consortium had probably made it. He had the look of a predator, with black eyes that glittered under thick eyebrows. Women of a certain type found him attractive. For Croft, war in any part of the world was good for business. He was always looking to create new opportunities and a big, regional war was the best business opportunity of all. The one they were planning would provide handsome profits.

All three were members of Cask and Swords, a secret society that had formed in the early days of the University. Every nation in history had a ruling class based on wealth, connections and power. In America, many of that class belonged to Cask and Swords. Past and present swordsmen included presidents, cabinet officials, governors, military leaders, senators and congressmen. The financial direction of the country was currently in the hands of Cask and Swords members.

The exercise of power and the accumulation of wealth required sacrifices by the masses. The common people had never understood that, but Harrison and the others did. All three men considered it their birth right to shape the destiny of nations and wield power.

They had been making small talk while a servant laid out a light lunch and drinks. Harrison waited until the man left the room.

"The attempt to secure the Nostradamus manuscript failed," he said.

"Who did you use for the acquisition?" Croft asked.

"Marcel Sarti. The boss of L'Union Corse."

"I could have recommended someone better. The French mob is unreliable. They are much too crude."

"It makes no difference now. Needless to say, I am disappointed in Sarti. He had the arrogance to keep part of the fee, even though he failed. He thinks he's in control."

"What do you intend to do?" Boyd asked.

"About Sarti?" Harrison glanced at his watch, a gold Patek-Phillipe. "He won't be an annoyance much longer. I am more concerned about the manuscript. Bertrand sent it to a woman who works for the Project."

"Ah. The President's pet intelligence unit."

"Yes. She was a friend of Bertrand and happened to be visiting Paris. Bertrand sent it to her before he died. She is an accomplished martial artist. When Sarti's thugs tried to take it from her they ended up in a French hospital."

"Do you think she knows what's in the file?"

"Not yet." Harrison sipped white wine from one of his Italian vineyards. "She's an expert linguist. She'll be able to translate it. Once she does, she'll take it to her Director. It complicates things."

"What do you think they'll do?"

"I expect they'll follow up on the quatrains. It's what we'd do."

"What if they discover what we're looking for?"

"What if they do? It may work to our advantage."

Croft said, "This could all be a waste of time. I think we should go ahead with the alternative plan."

"We have to be patient," Harrison said. "It's been over 3000 years. We can wait a little longer."

"The election in Israel is getting closer and Weisner is still behind in the polls."

"As I said, Arthur, be patient. An opportunity will present itself, one way or another. If we need to take a different approach, we will. Everything is in place. It's much better if it works out the way we hope. The discovery will make Weisner a popular hero in Israel. His election will be assured. The rest will follow."

Boyd took a sip of water. "The EPA is causing trouble for me again. President Rice takes the law seriously."

"When the war starts there won't be any more problems with the EPA. Rice will need the oil." Harrison said.

The men began eating.