The Agnus Dei Gambit

I had never actually met Dr. Millie Butler. But I knew who she was. She was a modern-day Florence Nightingale, a woman who had dedicated her exceptional medical talents to the cause of humanity. In that capacity, she had influenced the way medical care is administered in most of the developing world.

It was the reason why she'd been given the UN's highest honor for public service and it was why she was considered to be something of a miracle worker among the world's top surgeons. Needless to say, my medical care was in exceptionally good hands.

Millie said lightly, "I repaired the damage while you were out. You were very lucky. The sword only missed your brachial artery by a couple of centimeters. You've been on whole blood transfusions for a few hours and you should be feeling stronger. I gave you a dose of oxymorphone to manage the pain."

Kelley added, "We were fortunate. Millie just happened to be at CARE International headquarters in Vienna when Chelsea called. Millie met us in Innsbruck at the plane that Chelsea chartered."

Private jets are expensive. But the Red Dragon could afford it. It was another wonderful thing about having a friend like Chelsea. I counted my blessings, and my superb wife was right at the top of the list. But right beneath her was the friendship of Chelsea Hughes-Meissner and her incredible family.

The flight was direct to Chelsea's compound on St. Lucia. Millie wanted to keep me isolated "just for observation." The good doctor was too civilized to say it. But I suspect she actually thought I might do something reckless. After all, how many people do you know who are recovering from a sword wound?

The ten hours from Innsbruck to St Lucia worked wonders. By the time we touched down I was sitting up front with Kelly, Brooke and Millie enjoying the kind of meal you don't get on a commercial flight. I was still a bit torn up. But you should have seen the other guy. He was buried in the broken remnants of his evil scheme.

*****

The Lagatus Imperii read the report with the equanimity that one would expect from a patrician legate of the Praefecti. He had argued from the beginning against the folly of giving such an important task to a band of assassins. But he had been overruled by the Propraetorship of the Concilium Seniorum. The good news was that he had been proven correct. But now the Praefecti would need another path.

The Praefecti were dedicated to the proposition that the only effective way a body politic could be led was through unquestioned obedience to an enlightened few. Even the autocracies were riven by strife because some citizens felt that they should have a say in how they were governed. That misguided idea fostered inefficient decision making and stirred up conflict in the marketplace. Hence, the Praefecti were devoted to ensuring a single steady hand on the tiller -- theirs!!

The Praefecti's strategy had been flawless. They would horde commodities in anticipation of a worldwide breakdown in the social order. Huge stockpiles of gold, oil, foodstuffs, all lay waiting in Praefecti vaults in anticipation of the chaos that the destruction of the world's communication infrastructure would cause.

That largesse would be distributed at the proper time to a grateful citizenry, in exchange for the necessary subservience to the Praefecti's benign despotism. Now, that plan had to be put on hold because the means for sowing chaos had been utterly obliterated in the destruction of the Apostle's lair.

Judas, the only surviving Apostle, had reported to the Concilium that the Citadel had mysteriously collapsed totally obliterating the equipment, programming, backups, and staff required to recoup the Praefecti's investment.

Still, the Praefecti and their schemes had survived for seventeen hundred years. This setback would not deter them in their unrelenting quest to achieve world domination. It just might take a few centuries longer.

EPILOG

Kelley and I flew back to Chicago two weeks later. I really hated saying goodbye to Brooke. She had been a staunch companion. But she was leaving for freshman orientation at Cal Tech. I thought to myself, "The nerds at that school will never believe what SHE did on her summer vacation."

Millie went back to her duties with the World Health Organization as soon as she was certain that I was out of the woods. Chelsea and her husband Tom were hospitable. But you know what they say about guests and fish.

Given the profound implications of what we had blindly stumbled onto, Chelsea continued to investigate our discovery. She said, "There's a lot more involved in this plot than a group of zealots on a remote mountaintop. But whoever was behind it covered their tracks very well."

Then she added menacingly, "I think the Red Dragon needs to follow the slimy trail, just to see where it leads. Fortunately, I have the documents and laptops that you scooped up to aid my quest."

For our part, we were back at the Quadrangle club the following Monday. It was the same cast of characters. Except, I was only eating with my right hand. I covered it up by ordering a salad, not a steak. It didn't seem prudent to draw attention to my condition by having Kelley cut up my meat for me.

The five of us had agreed that it would provoke unwelcome interest if the word got out that western civilization had teetered on the edge of destruction. The Citadel had been utterly destroyed, and the Red Dragon was on the case. If there was an entity lurking behind the Apostle's actions, then the Dragon would find it and dispose of it. But that would be another story.

Kelley handed a small stainless-steel container to the Chancellor. She said, "This is the blood sample. I won't get into the details about how we retrieved it, since it required some questionable actions on our part, and you need plausible deniability."

That was the understatement of the century. Blowing up an entire citadel full of zealots might be considered a crime in some states.

She added blandly, "Needless to say, you cannot be considered complicit in what we did so there will be no repercussions." Which was also true. Anybody who knew the real story was buried under tons of stonework.

The Chancellor nodded his understanding. You don't get to be Chancellor of a world class university by being naïve. He took the box and said, "Thank you Kelly. The donors will be pleased." Ah yes, those ubiquitous donors.

Then he turned and solemnly handed the container to Isobel. He said, "It is now my privilege to pass this along to you Isobel as the Director of the IGG. I am certain that whatever findings you generate will add to the historic record."

Isobel looked like she was about to cry. She said, "Thank you sir. I will make sure that truth and Dr. Atkinson's legacy will be preserved."

So there it was. Once again, Kelley and I had walked into a situation that nobody could have possibly imagined. And once again, through courage, smarts, and a little bit of luck, we'd managed to triumph. God only knows what other challenges await us. But the one thing that I know for sure is that that my loving wife will always be by my side.

Author's Note:

I've been told that readers like to trace back to other stories the characters appeared in. So, here it goes: Joey and Kelley first appeared in The Long Goodbye. But their association with Chelsea started with The First Deadly Sin and continued on in The Big Short. A young Millie first appears in A Totally Unromantic Love Story. But her real story is in The Short Happy Life of Island Bill. Chelsea first appears in The Short Happy Life of Island Bill, but her real story is in Islands in the Stream. Brooke has a very brief appearance in The First Deadly Sin.

Finally, you may think this story is pure fantasy. If so... you would be entirely wrong. I took some literary license. But I want to assure you that everything I talked about is possible and, in most cases, already happened.

The John the Baptist DNA experiment dates to 2017 (covered in a History Channel episode). The earliest car hacks date to 2010. Root server attacks are probably infeasible, but the consequences I describe are real. And their less convoluted cousins, distributed denials of service -- called DDoSs, have been paralyzing the world's economies off-and-on since ILOVEYOU in 2000.

Even worse, there's the ever-present prospect that some nut, or rogue nation, could take down our infrastructure, just as the Apostles might have done. That is why I, sleep like a baby every night... Don't babies wake up every two hours crying and wetting themselves?