Sanskrit Cipher: A Marina Alexander Adventure Page 11

  Then she rose and began to help Bruce make his way out of the cave.

  Fifteen

  When Marina finally stepped out of Turncoat Don for the last time, just behind a limping Bruce, she discovered that it was well into night. The sky was the darkest of blue, sprinkled with only a few visible stars. Others and the moon were obstructed by blanketing clouds. The air out here was much warmer than inside the cave. She unsnapped her helmet and removed it with a heartfelt groan of pleasure, running a hand through her matted hair and over her scalp.

  Now that Benny James was safely extricated and on his way to the hospital for assessment, the rescue team had begun to disperse. Work tents billowed down into flat puddles, the spotlights that had been powered by generators popped off, and the table legs folded away. Equipment packed up and packed in vehicles—all of these the normal exercises after a SAR mission of any type.

  “Thank you for that, Dr. Alexander,” said the sheriff as he approached, offering her a bottle of water and a dish for Adele. “You and your talented dog.”

  “I’m happy that we were close enough to help,” Marina replied, kneeling to pour water into the dish for Adele. When she stood, the sheriff handed her a second bottle for herself. “I’m relieved everything went so well.”

  “It would have taken us several hours to even assemble the team, let alone get inside the cave. So thank you again—from the James family and from my team.”

  Marina shook her head and was just about to reply again when she caught sight of a figure standing next to one of the vehicles, several yards away.

  She froze as she met his gaze, and lowered the water as they stared silently at each other. From this distance and in the faulty light she couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but she knew they were a brilliant, intense green.

  For a minute, she considered turning around and walking away. Ignoring the man. Leaving and escaping from whatever threats, chaos, or temptation he brought with him.

  “Ready to go?” Bruce’s voice just behind her startled Marina, and the bottle of water jerked in her hand. “I can still drive even with my bum foot, so you can rest if you want.”

  “No,” she said. “Not quite yet. Excuse me.”

  She didn’t wait for their responses and started across the trampled grass.

  “Long day?” said Varden when she and Adele got close enough. To her annoyance, he bent to greet Adele, and the dog—who’d not been instructed otherwise—eagerly went forward for a sniff and a pat. “Who’s this?” He looked up at Marina with those penetrating green eyes.

  “That’s Adele. Boris is back home,” she said before he could ask. He had met Boris when an injured Varden broke into Marina’s house and insisted she stitch closed a severe laceration on the back of his head.

  “From what I heard, she did her job well,” Varden said, straightening back up. He glanced over her shoulder and his expression changed. “Looks like we’ve got a problem.”

  Marina didn’t have the chance to turn before Bruce stepped into the small circle. “Hey,” he said, bumping companionably—possessively—against her. “What’s up?”

  Before Varden could speak—and she could tell he was about to say something snarky or arrogant—Marina responded to Bruce. “I’ll be ready to go in a minute. Would you please feed Adele while I take care of this here? I haven’t had a chance to dig out her food, and I know she’s hungry.”

  For a moment, she thought Bruce was going to make a big deal about her sending him away, but after an awkward pause, he said, “Okay,” in a clipped voice.

  “Adele, go with Bruce. You hungry? Go with Bruce.”

  “Looks like you’ve got your own watchdog,” said Varden snidely as man and dog walked away.

  “Looks like I’ve got two. Neither of whom I need or want,” she replied with a pointed look at him. “What are you doing here?”

  Though she’d had a moment of furious “how the hell did he find me” thoughts, Marina shook them off. Not worth spending energy on that question—Varden had proven time and again that he kept tabs on her in myriad ways.

  It infuriated her, but there was little she could do about it other than revel in the fact that she traveled often. That meant his surveillance budget, if he kept up with her, must be through the roof.

  The only other thing that made her feel slightly mollified was knowing that Varden kept an eye on her only because Lev asked it of him, and did so very grudgingly. He’d made that very clear in the past—along with what Marina considered his unearned antipathy toward her.

  There were times when Varden’s interference had actually saved her life, much as she hated to admit it. But that didn’t mean she wanted or needed him around, keeping tabs on her.

  “Hedron Burik has been banned from the compound,” Varden told her.

  It was not what Marina had expected to hear. “Hedron.” That was the man—a Skaladeska—who’d tried to kill her and Eli Sanchez when they were in the Amazon. She recovered and regrouped quickly. “And where is the Skaladeska compound these days?”

  His mouth moved in what might have been a quickly repressed smile. “You’d have to visit to find out.”

  She narrowed her eyes and looked up at him. “Are you offering to take me there?”

  Now his expression became a definite grimace. “Only if you asked. Or if Lev ordered it. Fortunately, he’s held back from doing that so far.”

  “And Roman?” Marina didn’t know whether Varden was aware that Roman was actually her father. In fact, she didn’t know whether there was anyone besides herself and Roman who knew. Everyone believed he was her uncle.

  “Yes, if Roman ordered it, I would take you there. They are both concerned for your safety.”

  “Hence, you—my unwanted bodyguard.” She settled her hands on her hips. “Well, you can report back to them both that I’m alive and well and haven’t been embroiled in any international intrigues or threats since I heard from them and their copper beetles. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Understand that Hedron hasn’t forgotten the way you outed him to Roman and the Naslegi.”

  Marina gave a short, sharp laugh. “I? Out him? No, he did that all himself—trying his damnedest to kill me and Eli Sanchez. Apparently Roman didn’t fall for Hedron’s pretend innocence.”

  “As I said, Hedron has been banned from the compound. Which is why I’m here, since you did ask.”

  “Better than you breaking into my house again,” she murmured. “Or my hotel room.”

  Another twitch of his lips was quickly suppressed. “I prefer not to become predictable, Dr. Alexander. Besides, I’d wanted to see you in action for a while. This was the perfect opportunity. I was even able to assist…but I don’t believe you noticed, distracted as you were by the big guy glowering over there. The EMT team was short a person, and as an off-duty ER doc, I offered my expertise.”

  That took her by surprise. “Are you saying you were in the cave?”

  His expression became solemn; she fancied he looked almost reverent. “In the embrace of Gaia. Yes, I was there. She was reaching out to you. Could you feel it?” His voice was a low rumble.

  Marina didn’t reply. Her moments of commune with Gaia had been private and sacred, and the fact that Varden had felt the same…perhaps even was attuned to her personal, electric connection to Mother Earth…unsettled her.

  He seemed to understand, and it disconcerted her even more when he said, “Much as I despise admitting it, Mariska Aleksandrov, you are instrumental to the Skaladeskas and their—our—connection to Gaia. To protecting her. You are the heir, after all.”

  His steady gaze caught and held her eyes, and for a moment, Marina felt the shimmer of connection with Varden. It was the same energy she felt when she was in Lev’s presence, or when she was close to Gaia, recognizing Her power and life.

  “Lev needs you to stay alive,” Varden went on, his voice hardly more than a low rumble. “And you must understand that you’re in danger. Not only from H
edron, but also from him.” He flicked his eyes from hers to the space behind Marina.

  “I’m not involved with Bruce,” she snapped before she could stop the words, then felt a wave of fury toward herself for giving Varden exactly what he wanted: information. And the emotion behind it, dammit.

  She knew that was why he was here—giving her soulful glances and probing looks, making ambiguous statements and threats, and then very nearly flirting with her. He was just skirting the edge of that type of banter.

  Rue Varden wanted information; he wanted to unsettle her (and dammit, he had, simply by showing up here). He also wanted to remind her that despite how much Lev and Roman claimed they needed her, he—Varden—saw her only as a barrier to his own importance in their eyes.

  “It doesn’t appear that he’s received the message,” Varden replied. And this time instead of only a glance at Bruce, he kept his eyes fastened over Marina’s shoulder for several seconds.

  And then he stepped nearer to her, and, in one smooth movement, gathered her close by sliding two strong hands over her upper arms. She hadn’t even registered this shocking action before he bent to cover her mouth with his.

  Marina was so stunned that she was paralyzed at first, unable to react, or even think or breathe…but then she found herself responding to the warmth of Varden’s lips on hers.

  But it was only a matter of seconds before real sense took over and she realized what she was doing, and with whom, and where, and she turned her face away and started to pull back.

  “Easy now,” he said. He kept hold of her arms—not tightly enough to imprison her, but to keep her from making a sharp, rejecting movement. “Let’s not ruin the effect, shall we? I’d hate to have to do that again.”

  He released her slowly, and Marina—whose head was spinning from shock and surprise and far too much heat—stepped back. “I suppose you think I ought to thank you,” she said coolly, proud that her voice was steady. What the hell was he thinking?

  “He’s not the man for you,” Varden said.

  “As I said,” she replied tightly, “it was never going to happen. Your little stunt was unnecessary.”

  “Lev will be relieved to hear that. And Roman too. Now, one last thing I must impress upon you, Marina… I urge you to heed me on this. It’s Hedron. He’s here in the States, and neither I nor Dannen Fridkov—nor any of us—know what he’s doing or where he is, but we’re concerned that you’ll be his target. So please take care of yourself.”

  “You can tell my grandfather that I’ll be careful,” she said, and wondered where she’d found those placating words. The strange thing was that she meant them—both the sentiment and the promise.

  “He will be grateful. Goodbye, Dr. Alexander.” With one last caress—the stroke of a hand down her arm—he turned and walked away.

  Sixteen

  An undisclosed location

  Roman Aleksandrov strode down the narrow corridor, reminding himself that it was he, not his father, who was the sama.

  He was the one who strategized and planned and coordinated. He was the one who’d lived in the Out-World and understood how it functioned, how everything was related to money and power.

  He knew there was nothing that would change the minds of those oligarchs who controlled the world and its economy. They didn’t care about Gaia. They hardly cared about threats or dangers to anything but their own loss of money or chinks in their power. More, more, more…

  This was why he and his father couldn’t agree. And this was why Lev insisted on trying to be involved in the tactics and plans of the Skaladeskas and why Roman was forced to prevaricate. Because his father was old and simply didn’t understand how things must be. He couldn’t.

  The corridor ended at a passage that led to the outside—into the very Breath of Gaia, as Lev would say.

  Roman paused before opening the door. He knew that what was beyond this exit from the compound was a different world. One layered with spirituality and vibration, energy and knowledge.

  Elements he had barely begun to comprehend. Elements that his father had lived and breathed for over a century.

  At last, gathering his thoughts and marshaling his strength, Roman placed his hands on the heavy wooden door. Between them, carved into the mahogany cupped beneath his fingers, was a prayer.

  O Mother Gaia, we work and live at your pleasure. We are one with you, and you are one with us, and we live only to serve you. All we do is for your sacred life, for your benefit, for your name.

  He said the prayer—even in a rush, even distracted, he would never fail to properly give praise and gratitude—then pushed open the door and stepped into the outside, into the world.

  Earth. Mother Nature.

  Gaia.

  Thick green grass grew soft and velvety, pleasantly cool beneath his bare feet as he stepped from the man-made tile floor onto Gaia’s carpet. Beneath the grass was earth and stone. Around him was green, flora, scent, sound, fluttering, scampering…shifting.

  Above were clouds, the buffet of fresh air, the competing scents of myriad organisms—both living and decaying, as was the way.

  A vast, unyielding, uncontained being surrounded him, enveloped him. He was a son of Gaia.

  A flicker of emotion thumped his heart when he saw his father sitting there. Knobby knees, bare white feet, homespun hair like a tuft of dandelion on a pink scalp.

  So old, you are, Father. So frail and so withered and worn. And so powerful.

  Despite their differences, despite the dishonesty and secrets between them, Roman loved and respected his father even now…even as he saw how the elderly man had grown weak and how he waned.

  Whether Lev had truly been born from Gaia—brought forth from Her, the Living Earth—during the events in Tunguska over a century ago, Roman couldn’t know.

  At the end of the day, it didn’t matter whether that legend was true—or whether Lev had been born from some simple woman and as an infant, miraculously survived a horrific earthly event. It didn’t matter…because in either case, it was clear to Roman and to those who were members of their people that Lev was sanctified and holy and that he was undeniably close to Gaia. That he was Gaia’s chosen son—for if She hadn’t birthed him, She’d at least somehow protected him as a defenseless infant.

  Lev looked up as he approached, the peaceful calm and the startling clarity in his blue-gray eyes taking Roman by surprise, as it always did. The man’s body might be failing him, but his mind and consciousness were as sharp and keen as ever.

  “Sit, my son,” said Lev. He himself was positioned in his favorite place: beneath the spread of the limbs of a great tree, nestled between rearing roots that formed a sort of moss-upholstered, grass-covered chair. This tree was a broad, leafy specimen, with smooth bark and gnarled roots embracing him.

  Despite the different locations where the Skaladeskas had made their place over the years, there was always a tree waiting for Lev like this one: a shaman-like organism, centuries older than he, with knowledge and experience and a place for him to sit, meditate, and journey.

  Roman marveled that his father always found a tree for himself near where they lived—especially in the years since their original Siberian hideaway had been discovered. Now, here in their current location, there was yet another holy tree—just far enough beyond the compound where they lived that Lev could have privacy to commune with Gaia, but near enough for his old bones to travel easily and on foot.

  Lev looked up at him as Roman approached then lowered himself onto a gentle cupping of the grass just in front of Lev. The elderly man smiled gently. “It’s not that the tree is found near our place, Roman…it’s that our place is to be found near the tree.”

  Roman inclined his head, not at all taken aback that his father had somehow read his thoughts.

  Of course he had.

  Roman felt a bit foolish, which was a little infuriating. All these times that he and Nora and Varden had meticulously plotted and planned for the safety and se
crecy of their hideaways, Roman believed he’d been the one in charge and in control, making the decisions, being the clever one. But in reality, it had been Lev—and Gaia Herself—that brought them from Siberia to the Amazon and to other safe places since.

  “Of course, Father,” he said. How was it that at nearly the age of seventy, he should feel like a boy of ten when faced with his father and his father’s calm power?

  Not because Lev was condescending or overbearing, but because Roman thought more of himself than he should. A lesson he learned many times over…and had done once again today. He was not, and never had been, truly in control of the Skaladeskas. Not really.

  “Have you any news of Hedron?” asked Lev.

  Roman shook his head. “There’s been no communication for over a year.”

  “And how long has he been gone now…three years?” Lev’s face had settled into graver, deeper lines.

  “Yes. Since Marina—ah, Mariska—was here.” And had nearly died at the hands of that bastard Hedron and his ham-handed son.

  Lev didn’t know the full story of what had happened back in the Amazon when Marina and the entomologist escaped. He didn’t know that Hedron had been willing to allow Marina—the heir to the Skaladeskas—to die because of a personal grudge against Roman and Nora and the others of the Naslegi.

  He didn’t know that later, Roman had barred the compound against Hedron—the man who wanted to destroy Roman and his daughter, and anyone else who stood in the way of his gaining of power among the Skaladeskas.

  And Roman certainly couldn’t tell his father that the decision he’d made while enraged by Hedron’s actions had endangered the Skaladeskas more than any other action he’d taken over the last five decades.

  What Roman had to do instead was to find Hedron and silence him and his sons Brand and George permanently.

  “What is it? There’s something you aren’t telling me.” Lev tilted his head a bit like a scrawny, wizened owl as his gaze pierced that of his son’s. Then the elderly man’s expression tensed and his body seized and quivered. “No. It’s not Mariska…”