The Belial Stone (The Belial Series #1)(8)
And I was thinking, I’ve got some free time coming up in a few weeks. Mind if I come up for a visit? It'd be great to see you and your uncle. It’s been way too long.
Love ya lots,
Drew
She stared at the screen, trying to find some hidden meaning in Drew’s words. But there were none. It was just what it appeared to be: a message asking for help with a paper and about getting together in the future. Nothing sinister, nothing despairing. Just normal.
Tears once again threatened, but this time they were tinged with relief. He hadn’t killed himself. She knew he hadn’t. So what had happened?
She glanced at the attached file link. She moved the mouse to click on it and paused. Not quite yet.
She ran down the stairs and found her keys. Sprinting back to the office, she inserted the flash drive attached to her key ring and copied the file.
“Probably just being paranoid,” she muttered.
She stared at the screen before forcing herself to click on the file. A Word document opened up, entitled: The Belial Stone. She smiled. Drew always did like making waves with his titles.
And the term Belial would certainly do that. Depending upon the source you were reading, Belial denoted either wickedness or even the Devil himself. The term appeared in the Bible multiple times as well as in a number of the Gnostic Gospels.
She remembered the project she and Drew had developed. It incorporated the final apocalyptic battle between the Sons of Belial and the Children of the Light depicted in the Hebrew War Scroll. But she’d never heard of the term Belial associated with a stone before.
She started reading through the first few sentences and couldn’t make it further. His writing style was almost as familiar to her as her own. She stifled a sob. She wasn’t ready to read this. She closed down the file and ejected the flash drive.
Laney pictured Drew when they’d met freshman year of college. He’d been hopelessly lost in the library, and she’d been equally confused. Together, they’d found the books they needed. Realizing they were both majoring in anthropology, they spent most of their time together from that point on. They’d been each other’s shoulder when their love lives had careened off the rails and the person they could always count on for a laugh. He was the brother she’d never had. And now he was gone.
She couldn’t stifle the sob that escaped her lips this time. And she didn’t try to stop those that followed. She slid off the chair and onto the floor, giving in to the tears. The grief enveloped her.
At the edges of her mind, however, a single question whispered: If Drew hadn’t killed himself, then who had?
CHAPTER 5
New York City, NY
The sounds of Pavarotti breathed through the penthouse, his soulful tenor seeming to reach for the dome of the cathedral ceilings. Gideon stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Central Park, his eyes closed, embracing the emotion of the music. As the last strains of the aria died away, he opened his eyes and watched the traffic crawl through the Manhattan streets below.
He drained his wineglass and walked to the dark granite island, taking a seat at one of the high-backed leather chairs. He refilled the glass from the bottle of cabernet he’d left to breathe.
Swirling the dark liquid in his glass, he powered up the laptop in front of him. “So, Mr. Masters, let’s see what you’ve figured out.”
He pulled up the most recent documents. The title of the first one leapt off the screen at him. He quickly scanned the document.
“My, my, aren’t you a clever boy,” he murmured. His anger began to simmer as he realized how Priddle’s trust of Drew Masters could have ruined everything. If this had gotten out…
He glanced through the remainder of the files, shaking his head at how truly dangerous Priddle’s actions had been. That fool. He punched a number into his phone.
“Dr. Arthur Priddle.”
“Dr. Priddle,” Gideon drawled, his voice laced with quiet rage. “You have not been following our agreement.”
Priddle’s words stumbled over each other in a rush. “Mr. Gideon, I have. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“Really? Why, then, am I sitting here reading a paper entitled ‘The Belial Stone’ written by a Dr. Drew Masters?”
“Sir,” Priddle said, his voice taking on an unpleasant whining quality, “I had to bring on some more help. There’s just so much to do with the site and with my classes. But he was sworn to secrecy. He was never supposed to talk about any of our work.”
“Well, apparently he didn’t keep up his end of the bargain, either. That, however, will no longer be a problem. It seems Dr. Masters gave into a moment of despair. He’s dead.”
“What?” Priddle screeched.
Gideon held the phone away from his ear with a look of disgust. When the squealing died down, he said, “Perhaps you should keep the stakes in mind before you make any more unwise decisions, as well as the prize.”
“Uh, yes, yes, sir. Of course. It won't happen again.”
“I’ll make sure of it. You’re leaving for the site tonight. I’ll have a car at your residence in two hours.”
“Uh, sir, I’ll need a few days to wrap things up with the University.”
Gideon’s words lashed out. “Tonight. I don’t care what you tell the University. You will be on a plane in three hours’ time. Do not forget who you are dealing with.” Gideon disconnected the call.