The Belial Stone(35)

Laney was stunned. She recalled reading once about the mass extinction of animals. Large groups of animals had been washed into caves, creating huge fossil beds. No one could explain why all the animals had died at the same time. “But what does any of this have to do with a sister site?”

“According to Drew, the weapon will be found at the sister site.”

Laney was staggered by the implications. “Are we actually talking about an ancient weapon of mass destruction?

Patrick nodded. “Yes.

“But, but…that’s impossible.

“You mean, as impossible as men who can be shot, stabbed, and then heal almost immediately?”

He had a point. And the fact was, Drew was never one to go for the extreme explanation. If he heard hoof beats, it was always a horse, never a zebra. So if Drew had thought this was possible, he must have seen some incredibly convincing proof.

She took a deep breath and shoved aside her disbelief. “Okay. So, I get this paper from Drew, Drew dies, and someone comes after me. I’m going to take a leap here and say these guys are after this weapon. Or, at least, trying to keep anyone else from finding it.”

Patrick shrugged. “I’m not sure. It all makes a warped sort of sense. If, of course, Drew was right.

Laney looked past her uncle, trying to imagine the unimaginable. If Drew was right, there was an ancient weapon of mass destruction out there. And they couldn’t let Paul’s companion get it. Whatever reason he had for wanting it, she didn’t think it was for the benefit of mankind.

Finding out what happened to Drew now had more critical ramifications. They needed to know more about his research. They needed to find this weapon. And they needed to do it fast. Because if they didn’t…

A chill ran through her as Paul's final words came back to her. “Humanity’s time is up.”





CHAPTER 26



An hour later, Laney and Patrick walked out of the guesthouse into the bright morning sun. Last night, she’d been in no state to take in their surroundings. Today, as she stepped out onto the front porch, she realized their guest cottage was nestled in a row of similar cottages on what looked like a residential street. “This is beautiful.”

Patrick smiled. “You missed all this last night. The Chandler estate dates back to the 1800s.” He gestured down the street. “These used to be sharecropper homes. They were renovated when Henry Chandler took over. Now, they’re a mix of guest houses and offices. They call it Sharecroppers Lane.”

She was enchanted. All the small cottages had porches with overflowing flower boxes. Many of them had stone face. It looked like something out of a fairy tale.

A golf cart rolled down the street towards them. Solar panels covered its roof, explaining its silent approach. It came to a stop in front of them, with Jake at the wheel. “How’d you sleep?”

Laney climbed in behind him, allowing Patrick the other front seat. “Like a log.”

“I’m not surprised. You were dead to the world when I carried you to your room last night.”

Laney felt her face grow hot. “You carried me?”

Jake grinned. “We’re a full-service enterprise, here at Chandler.”

“Great,” she mumbled.

A few minutes later, her embarrassment was a distant memory as she looked on with amazement at the grounds. Nestled into the rolling hills of the Maryland countryside, the headquarters sat on five hundred acres.

“Henry appreciates privacy and history,” Jake explained. “He wanted his headquarters to reflect that. So, instead of situating his headquarters in the middle of a city, he renovated the family estate into his work center.”

Henry Chandler’s “appreciation” for privacy was a well-known fact. He’d never been photographed by the press. Only seen from a distance. His client list, believed to be a who’s who of world leaders, was a closely guarded secret. And his projects were equally hush-hush. Word got out occasionally, though, and helped build a reputation for cutting-edge thinking and innovation.

Jake pointed to the eight-foot iron fence that surrounded the property. “While Henry might appreciate the past, there’s nothing outdated about his security measures. That fence not only has video cameras, but pressure sensors that record even the slightest amount of applied force. If a sensor is triggered, a security unit is immediately dispatched.

Laney was struck by the familiarity of the design. “Just like the fence separating the West Bank and Israel.”

“Actually, this fence was the prototype for that fence, although we’ve kept that information under wraps.

“You’re kidding,” Laney said. She’d been to the Israeli fence. It was quite an undertaking. It had also been quite effective at reducing the number of suicide bombers traveling from the disputed lands into Israel. She’d never, however, read anything about the Chandler Group’s involvement.