The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(34)
It was ingenious, really, the plan she’d concocted. Having the nuclear EMP built was only the beginning. The massive coordination of getting the nuke to space, untraced, had taken years to develop. But it was there now, floating in orbit, unseen by the very people who tracked such things, ready for her signal.
Yes, people would die. But people died every day. Once the Numen were here, with her, everything would change. Wars would end, for all time. All good things demanded sacrifice. So sacrificing the few to save the many was the only way. She refused to feel bad about that.
She toweled off, turned on the television, and saw the breaking news alert. They were reporting The Griffon had gone off radar and was missing in the vast sea off the coast of Malaysia. No survivors had yet been found.
She pumped her fist.
Are you dead, Jean-Pierre? About time, I say.
Only two more days.
She heard Kiera moving around in the hallway. Her second, as she sometimes thought of her, had been nothing short of perfect. Nevaeh would relive the moment of impact from the missile they’d shot into The Griffon for days to come. And the look on Devi’s face before Kiera had shot her. Hope. Such hope. What a stupid, stupid girl.
Would the Numen take Kiera with them, too?
Nevaeh wasn’t sure, really, if she wanted Kiera to be with the Numen. Odd, the Numen were strangely silent when she’d asked them the question.
She snapped off the television and walked naked to the sensory deprivation tank she’d installed in the room she’d had built in the facility, right next to her bedroom. Closed, it looked like a large white egg. She pressed a button and the eggshell cracked open with a small hydraulic hiss. It was made by a company called DreamPod, and that’s exactly what the tank did for her—allowed her to relax and access her dreams.
This was the place she most enjoyed communicating with the Numen. She believed they preferred it, as they became positively chatty. She lay in the warm, salty, embryonic water, the preprogrammed chakra lights glowing and the distant hum of music in her ears. And then, when she was fully relaxed, she went black. No lights. No music. Nothing.
Her brain relaxed into theta waves—near sleep. The sensory deprivation chamber was quiet as the womb. Absolute silence, absolute calm. It was as close to being back in space as she could get without launching herself on a rocket.
She waited, but nothing. Why wasn’t it working? She couldn’t seem to relax.
The melodic chorus started, all sibilant voices merging into one: Why didn’t the Heaven Stone greet you as it was supposed to, as we expected it to? It was heavy, and that isn’t right. And the buzzing? We do not understand this. What have you done, Nevaeh, to make it treat you like an enemy? You killed Broussard, Devi—perhaps you should not have murdered Devi—she was an innocent, wasn’t she? Blackmailed by you? Why did you kill her?
“Devi was only a tool. She served her purpose. She was of no importance any longer.”
We know you’re wondering if that is why the Heaven Stone doesn’t want to become one with you.
“No, I have no doubts. Maybe the Heaven Stone needs time to understand what my goal is, what we are all planning to do together. Isn’t that possible?”
Yes, perhaps that is possible. There is so much work left to do, but all your plans are in place, the bomb is aboard your satellite, and the countdown is under way— Only two more days, Nevaeh.
“Yes, and at the moment of totality during the lunar eclipse, the heavens will be silenced as you wanted, as I came to believe you wanted, and Earth will be open to you, and I will welcome you and we will begin our journey to save Earth.”
We know you have worked relentlessly to make us recognized by all, to make us know and condemn your enemies. Soon, Nevaeh, soon, but the Heaven Stone—
She waited in the silence of the dark, quiet water but they said no more.
She whispered into the darkness, “I will be high on my mountaintop awaiting you. At the apex of the eclipse, the skies will glow with an explosion of such magnitude all the satellites will go dead, and there will be silence and clarity for you. The world will be dark and silent as well. That will be your moment. I have the stone, it will make me immortal so I may be with you. We will bring peace to the Earth together, and we will rule, together.”
She rose, stepped out of the chamber and into the low light.
It was time to set the world on fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Schizophrenia is a chronic and severe mental disorder that affects how a person thinks, feels, and behaves. People with schizophrenia may seem like they have lost touch with reality.
—National Institute of Mental
Manhattan, New York
July 19, 2012
Nevaeh stepped out of the cab on Fifth Avenue into the sweltering July day. Summer in the city, loud and sticky. She was excited, and not a little nervous, to be taking this step. It felt momentous. She’d waited four months to get on the schedule with Dr. Claire Fontaine, a leading psychiatrist with a specialty in schizophrenia who no longer took new patients. But Nevaeh hadn’t given up. When the call finally came—the doctor had a cancellation, would be willing to make an exception, could she be there tomorrow?—Nevaeh had quickly packed a bag and was on the first flight out of Houston.
Fontaine was her ticket back to NASA, back to the space station, she knew it in her heart. Yes, she’d quit, but flight director Franklin Norgate had reached out time and again, telling her she had a place on the NASA team. He’d made it clear they wanted her back to train other astronauts, and maybe, with the right mission, the right timing, she could get assigned a mission of her own. Did he really believe it? Nevaeh didn’t know if it would ever happen as long as that vindictive bitch Rebecca Holloway was in charge. But maybe after today, Holloway would have to back off, she would have to admit Nevaeh wasn’t insane. Fontaine was that good, that respected, that listened to.