The Milestone Protocol by Ernest Dempsey (reading in the dark txt) 📗

“The beginning of the text that mentions suffering and death is referring to the Black Death that ravaged most of the known world. It’s estimated that seventy-five to two hundred million people died between 1347 and 1351.”

“And Jani Beg ruled one of the more powerful nations during that period.”

“Yes. And some would say that he was one of the primary reasons the Black Death spread so quickly.”

“How so?” Sean asked. He raised a thumb to his chin and scratched it for a moment. The scruff on his face had grown over the last few days, and he needed a shave—or Adriana would say he did. Sean got the impression she didn’t like the stubble.

Kevin blew through his lips, flapping them to express the gravity of his answer. “In 1347, the plague had already decimated his forces. Soldiers were dying throughout his camp. To be honest, Jani Beg was lucky it didn’t take his life as well. The siege dragged on, and as he realized he was losing men while the Genoese inside the city walls simply resupplied from the sea, Jani Beg knew that he couldn’t keep it up forever. Then he had an idea. He used the siege engines to fling his diseased dead over the city walls, spreading the Black Death to those inside.”

Sean opened his mouth in a silent “ah.”

“So,” Kevin went on, “when the people within the walls started getting sick, the Genoese traders fled back to Italy, thinking they could outrun the plague. Instead, they carried it back to Europe. Most died on the journey. Once they were in Italy, it spread throughout the continent like a wildfire doused with gasoline.”

“I wonder, if he realized the impact that decision would have, would he do it again?”

“I would think so. He was one of those guys who rose to power by killing off his brothers—two of them, in fact. The Khans could be ruthless; it was part of the nature of their ascendancy.”

Kevin turned his attention back to the tablet. “The rest of this inscription, however, is strange. It looks like the ramblings of a madman.”

“Did Jani Beg end up going a little crazy toward the end?”

Kevin bobbed his head in multiple directions. “Maybe. It’s possible. Many of his line grew more paranoid with old age, which was certainly a result of the constant threat of conspiracy and assassination that surrounded them. The inscription says that this is what they wanted, that he was deceived, and they are always watching, calculating, weighing the sins of man in the balance.”

Sean stood silent for several seconds. His wrinkled brow and set jaw told Kevin he was thinking hard about the bizarre script.

“Was he talking about angels or gods or something?” Sean asked finally.

Kevin let his eyes wander back down to the tablet. “It’s difficult to say. He was a Muslim, so there were religious influences in his life. It’s possible he was talking about some kind of supernatural beings. Or it may have simply been people who wanted him dead, conspirators or those with ambition. He was assassinated in 1357.”

“So, that must explain it.”

“Perhaps,” Kevin hedged. “Except that doesn’t jibe with the last few passages.”

“Which say?”

Kevin traced the vertical lines of text with a gloved finger. “The saint guards the rose stone. But be warned. The power of the gods can it unleash, for those who mean to rule.”

Sean stared at the tablet. Kevin didn’t mention the two symbols at the bottom of the plate, and Sean decided to let it go for the time being. He did, however, know what they were. Sean recognized them from Egyptian history. The ankh was easy enough to identify. He’d seen the image tattooed on people at bars, theme parks, and swimming pools—used as a common design with virtually no meaning to the wearer.

He knew what it meant, though, and where it came from, just like he knew the second symbol. The bird’s long beak, squat body, and skinny legs were unmistakable standing within the confines of a crescent moon. The ibis was a sacred bird in ancient Egypt, and the likeness on this tablet represented one of the images of the Egyptian god, Thoth.

For several heartbeats, neither man said anything for what felt like ten minutes.

“I’m not sure what to make of it,” Kevin admitted after he felt like the appropriate amount of time had passed. “He suggests whoever these beings are must be some kind of kings. And I don’t know what saint he’s talking about. He was a Muslim. It wouldn’t be a Christian saint.”

Sean’s face darkened, and he slumped into the nearest chair, his tanned face turning to ash. “I think it’s best if we get some sleep,” he said, hiding something with his words.

Kevin analyzed the man, but he couldn’t get a read on him. “Okay, Sean. Sure. Good idea, although I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

“You have a lot on your heart and mind. I’ll order a bottle of something from room service. That will help you fall asleep. What do you like?”

“Scotch,” Kevin said, he realized, too quickly.

Sean winced, but pouted his lower lip in understanding. “Okay. I’ll see what they have. You take a shower. Hopefully, the bottle will be here before you get out.”

A few minutes later, Sean heard the sounds of the water spewing out of the shower head. He called down to the front office and ordered a bottle of whatever scotch they had, though he did it reluctantly. He didn’t care for the stuff, but it wasn’t for him. Nothing would help him sleep that night. Not with what weighed heavily on his mind.

He sensed something he’d not felt in his entire life, a feeling that gnawed at his gut. Something terrible was coming. He could almost smell it, like an invisible storm about to roll over the mountains and wreak havoc in an adjacent valley.

Sean needed to find out if his hunch was right. And he prayed it wasn’t.

7 Location Undisclosed

Buri walked confidently into the