Page 58
Story: Final Strike
“Because of how many Aztec and Maya were decimated as a result of war and disease. And plundered. Much of the gold that was stolen from them was shipped to Spain and then, to put it bluntly, money-laundered across the European powers. But the jaguar priests kept the majority of it. So why did you flinch when I mentioned Europe?”
“London. Berlin. Madrid. Ground zero of the global pandemic that’s underway,” Agent Carter said emphatically.
“These people,” Roth said, tapping the table, “the Order of the Jaguar, are part of the Kowinem. That’s a Maya secret society, a group that propped up and undermined the royalty. They were the kingmakers. They’re going to hit us financially, politically, medically, and even . . . to quote the Disney movie, ecumenically.”
Wright looked confused again. “Your thoughts jump from one thing to another so fast, Mr. Roth.”
“Ecumenically . . . from Pirates of the Caribbean? Anyway, it means going against Christianity in general, as a whole religion, not a particular denomination. The Spanish forced the Indigenous people of Mesoamerica to convert to Catholicism. We’re going to see a reverse of that. Maybe a mark, or a glyph, that will separate the believers from infidels.”
Director Wright frowned with anger. “If I understand you, Mr. Roth, other world leaders could also be targets. They’ll attack the financial markets, which no longer operate on a gold standard—because they have more gold than we think—they’ll use bioweapons and kem äm to make us sick and scared, and then they’ll come through the border cities and use the gangs like MS-13 to cause chaos and confusion and overwhelm our law enforcement agencies. Does that sound about right?”
“And it’s already started,” Roth said. “Because they believed they were fulfilling a five-hundred-year-old prophecy made by Kukulkán, the Maya god.”
“How did they get inside the White House, though?” Wright demanded. “The security cameras show nothing. Even the ones unaffected by the power outage. There was no sign of him entering the Situation Room. He just appeared out of nowhere like a magician.”
“He was probably invisible,” Roth said. “The Maya talk about that in their legends. Was anyone allowed in during the meeting? He could also have been in disguise himself.”
Wright turned to one of the agents seated by him. “Do you remember, Alex?”
“A staffer from Secretary Owens came to deliver a file,” replied the agent. “But she didn’t enter the room.”
“Have you found her yet?” Roth asked.
Alex shook his head. “The White House has been evacuated. They’re looking for her, but she’s probably traveling back to her home.”
Roth shook his head. “No. She’s probably with Jacob Calakmul.”
“How did he escape? Or do you think he’s still at the White House . . . invisible?”
“He could be,” Roth said. “Or he had another escape path.”
Director Wright grabbed his cell phone and made a call. “Buck, this is Bill. The White House is not secure. Keep the president away.” He went pale. “What? When did you . . . just now? I agree. Get him back in the air right now.”
He ended the call. Everyone was silent.
“The prime minister of Great Britain has vanished.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CAPTAIN MITCHELL’S AIRBOAT TOURS
EVERGLADES CITY, FLORIDA
January 10
“Well, we appreciate the last-minute accommodation,” Lund said, sliding several hundred-dollar bills across the windowsill.
“It’s a little colder than normal this morning. Do you want some ponchos or something?”
“Sure. We’ll take them.”
The manager handed some ponchos wrapped in plastic to Lund, who distributed them to Jane Louise, Suki, and Sarina, keeping one for himself.
“Captain Tom Channell is your pilot today. He’s prepping the airboat right now, and you’ll be on your way.”
“We’re really excited to go,” Lund said, feigning enthusiasm. Suki could see him glancing nervously at the highway. Captain Mitchell’s Airboat Tours was right off the Tamiami highway, about forty-five minutes from Naples. With the traffic accident Lund had caused, there hadn’t been many cars coming up behind them.
After pulling on her own poncho, she helped Jane Louise with hers and then helped Sarina. A little drizzle had started.
“London. Berlin. Madrid. Ground zero of the global pandemic that’s underway,” Agent Carter said emphatically.
“These people,” Roth said, tapping the table, “the Order of the Jaguar, are part of the Kowinem. That’s a Maya secret society, a group that propped up and undermined the royalty. They were the kingmakers. They’re going to hit us financially, politically, medically, and even . . . to quote the Disney movie, ecumenically.”
Wright looked confused again. “Your thoughts jump from one thing to another so fast, Mr. Roth.”
“Ecumenically . . . from Pirates of the Caribbean? Anyway, it means going against Christianity in general, as a whole religion, not a particular denomination. The Spanish forced the Indigenous people of Mesoamerica to convert to Catholicism. We’re going to see a reverse of that. Maybe a mark, or a glyph, that will separate the believers from infidels.”
Director Wright frowned with anger. “If I understand you, Mr. Roth, other world leaders could also be targets. They’ll attack the financial markets, which no longer operate on a gold standard—because they have more gold than we think—they’ll use bioweapons and kem äm to make us sick and scared, and then they’ll come through the border cities and use the gangs like MS-13 to cause chaos and confusion and overwhelm our law enforcement agencies. Does that sound about right?”
“And it’s already started,” Roth said. “Because they believed they were fulfilling a five-hundred-year-old prophecy made by Kukulkán, the Maya god.”
“How did they get inside the White House, though?” Wright demanded. “The security cameras show nothing. Even the ones unaffected by the power outage. There was no sign of him entering the Situation Room. He just appeared out of nowhere like a magician.”
“He was probably invisible,” Roth said. “The Maya talk about that in their legends. Was anyone allowed in during the meeting? He could also have been in disguise himself.”
Wright turned to one of the agents seated by him. “Do you remember, Alex?”
“A staffer from Secretary Owens came to deliver a file,” replied the agent. “But she didn’t enter the room.”
“Have you found her yet?” Roth asked.
Alex shook his head. “The White House has been evacuated. They’re looking for her, but she’s probably traveling back to her home.”
Roth shook his head. “No. She’s probably with Jacob Calakmul.”
“How did he escape? Or do you think he’s still at the White House . . . invisible?”
“He could be,” Roth said. “Or he had another escape path.”
Director Wright grabbed his cell phone and made a call. “Buck, this is Bill. The White House is not secure. Keep the president away.” He went pale. “What? When did you . . . just now? I agree. Get him back in the air right now.”
He ended the call. Everyone was silent.
“The prime minister of Great Britain has vanished.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CAPTAIN MITCHELL’S AIRBOAT TOURS
EVERGLADES CITY, FLORIDA
January 10
“Well, we appreciate the last-minute accommodation,” Lund said, sliding several hundred-dollar bills across the windowsill.
“It’s a little colder than normal this morning. Do you want some ponchos or something?”
“Sure. We’ll take them.”
The manager handed some ponchos wrapped in plastic to Lund, who distributed them to Jane Louise, Suki, and Sarina, keeping one for himself.
“Captain Tom Channell is your pilot today. He’s prepping the airboat right now, and you’ll be on your way.”
“We’re really excited to go,” Lund said, feigning enthusiasm. Suki could see him glancing nervously at the highway. Captain Mitchell’s Airboat Tours was right off the Tamiami highway, about forty-five minutes from Naples. With the traffic accident Lund had caused, there hadn’t been many cars coming up behind them.
After pulling on her own poncho, she helped Jane Louise with hers and then helped Sarina. A little drizzle had started.
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