The Paths of Destiny

January 28, 2002:

“Robert? Could you come here a minute, please?”

Corey was seated at her computer, frowning. Fortunately, nothing much was going on. So, she’d been spending her time reviewing the computer files. Learning more about the outfit she now led.

“What is it?” I asked as I went over to her desk.

“There’s a whole section of files I can’t get into. Senior Director — Eyes Only. But password protected, and I don’t have the password.”

“Let me try,” I said.

My first thought was to call up Fred Drayton. However, these files had been marked for the Senior Director only. Besides, Drayton was out on assignment with Nighthawk. Both would be out of communication for at least six hours.

“I’m not sure...” Corey hesitated. “Well, all right. I’ll probably share the contents with you, anyway...”

Looking worried, Reese slid her chair aside, making room for me at the computer.

It only took me one attempt to get the correct password. It was the first thing I thought of. The password was “UNOSPJ1946”.

“What made you think of that,” Corey asked in surprise.

“I figured it would be the one thing that no one else would get,” I said with a shrug.

“Interesting,” Corey said as she stared at the screen, with a frown. “I had tried UNOSPJ as the password. I even tried the date my predecessor was made Senior Director. But why 1946?”

“It’s the year that Miss J founded the Organization,” I answered simply. “Before it became known as the SPJ.”

The file opened as we watched — then seemingly exploded in a bright light.

Corey threw herself back from the screen, tumbling to the floor. As I turned to help her up I saw the sudden cascade of files on the screen as if someone had toppled a house of cards — then the blue screen of death.

“Well, that’s definitely not what I expected,” I said as I picked Corey up from the floor and straightened her chair back into its upright position.

Corey’s response was a simple glare in my direction.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m sure we can get someone up here to fix this mess.”

As if in response, the door was flung open and a small, untidy man fairly flew in, pursued ineffectually by Miles O’Halloran.

“MY GOD!!” he shrieked in his thick Norwegian accent, pulling out handfuls of hair. “YOU BROKE THE DIRECTOR’S COMPUTER!!!”

As soon as the door had opened, I placed myself between the intruder and Corey with my paintball gun and Walther pointed straight at the shrieking man’s head. I didn’t lower the guns even when I saw who it was.

“Parker!” Reese said sharply. “Section Leader Thorstensen? Kjell? I seem to have a problem with the computer. Can you help me?”

He stopped.

“Alarm. Someone tampering with the Director’s computer.”

“I am the Director,” Reese said firmly.

“Oh. What are you trying to do?”

“There is a section of the files I am unable to get into. I used the password UNOSPJ1946, but it triggered a file cascade.”

He nodded slowly. “It would. She set it up that way. Even I don’t know all the passwords.”

He looked at us, some of the wildness going out of his gaze.

“She was good, very good. I trained her, but — she surpassed me, eventually.”

“Who?” I asked as I put away my weapons. “Do you mean Briony Mathers? The former Senior Director?”

Kjell nodded. “Of course, Briony. Who else?”

“While you are at it,” I continued, “who installed this computer? Considering the original computer was destroyed, I’m assuming, that whoever installed it, they used a backup of the original to download onto this one. Am I correct? One other thing — when was the last time these systems were upgraded?”

“This? It’s just a terminal. Mainframe’s in the basement, it wasn’t damaged. When the office was destroyed that is. Terminal was destroyed, mainframe survived. It was her idea as well. I just brought up a new terminal and tied it in, everything was still there.”

“Aside from requisitioning a new terminal,” Corey began, “do you think we can access those files from the mainframe?”

“Of course, we can,” Kjell replied. “But you’re going to need the correct password. And there is only one person who has that.”

Just then Corey’s phone rang.

“Reese,” Corey answered. “Yes, send her up, she’s expected.”

“Briony’s on her way up,” Corey said, seeing our looks of curiosity. “Miles please escort Ms. Mathers in. And remember she’s part of the family. No unnecessary security measures required.”

O’Halloran gave a brisk nod and walked out.

“Gentlemen,” Corey said when the door closed, “have a seat.”

As we both sat down in the dark brown leather chairs in front of her desk, Corey sat down looking at the now ruined terminal. Her brows furrowed in thought.

Seconds later, O’Halloran rapped on the door twice and entered.

“Ms. Mathers, Director,” he announced.

Sweeping into the room calm as a lion stalking its prey, Briony Mathers walked past O’Halloran as we stood up to face her. Her body language gave nothing away as she calmly walked towards us; her gaze seemed to pierce our souls as she gave us the quick once over. Then she gave us a bright smile.

“Kjell,” she began happily as she hugged him in greeting. “It’s been a long time. They still have you in that musty old basement office?”

“I like my office just fine,” the rumpled man said with mock indignity as he smiled and hugged her back. “Who else is going to make sure our network’s going to work properly? Certainly, not some of these young whippersnappers we have running around claiming they know how to code and such.”

“I’m sure you can still run circles around them blindfolded, wearing a straitjacket,” Briony quipped good naturedly.

“Hmmpf!” Kjell said. “Briony...”

“I hate to break this up,” Reese said. “Miss Mathers, who called you?”

“Nobody,” Briony said calmly. “I felt that you’d need me here, so I came.”

“Briony, they broke the computer!” Kjell said, indignant.

“Oh?” Miss Mathers turned to Reese. “How did that happen?”

“There were files on the computer that I couldn’t get into. Marked Senior Director Only. Robert found the correct password – we thought – but...” She shrugged.

“UNOSPJ1946.” Briony said. “That should’ve sent a signal to my computer at home, and once I knew who was trying to access the files, I would’ve… Well. Some of the files were very personal, so I would’ve been able to delete those, but the rest I would’ve opened to you. That was the password you used, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Reese said. “But the screen – exploded with light, and ...”

“There was a file cascade,” Kjell Thorstensen exclaimed, Norwegian accent thicker than ever with indignation. “It wiped almost a third of the mainframe before I was able to stop it! It was like an endlessly duplicating worm – every time I stopped it one place, it sprung up in another! I was lucky I could isolate it, and I’m still not sure I’ve eradicated it completely! You didn’t tell me you had planted a worm in the system, Briony!”

“I… I didn’t,” she said slowly. “It was only supposed to signal me that the files had been accessed, so I could determine which ones to open and which ones to delete. That was all.” She gestured to the computer. “May I?”

Reese nodded.

Briony stepped behind the desk and ran the mouse back and forth a few times. The computer responded sluggishly, but eventually gave her an access screen. She typed in a password, pressed enter, and waited.

“Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!” The face of a laughing clown filled the screen, and his maniacal laughter rang out from the speakers, filling the room.

“That – is NOT supposed to happen!”

“May I?” Kjell asked.

Wordlessly, Reese gestured.

Kjell’s fingers flew across the keyboard.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Finally, he was able to cut the connection to the speakers, and we could hear ourselves think again, but the clown still laughed on the screen.

And now, Miles O’Halloran came back into the office.

“Ma’am – there’s a laughing clown on my computer monitor. And I’m getting reports from all over the building of the same thing ...”

Kjell, started to mutter in Norwegian. From the looks on the women’s faces, the mutterings were definitely not compliments. Corey didn’t understand his native tongue, but she was certainly able to read his tones. Briony spoke German, and since Norwegian fell under the Germanic language tree, she was clearly able to understand more than Corey.

Corey opened her mouth to speak, but Briony spoke first.

“Kjell,” she said calmly, “We’ve had this discussion before, I think – and I am sure the new Senior Director tolerates profanity in her presence no more than I do.”

For his part, the unkempt man had the grace to look embarrassed and apologized for his language to both the women.

Corey simply nodded while Briony gave him one of her brightly warm smiles indicating all was forgiven.

“I’ll...,” he began.

Just then, both the desk phones and my cell phone began ringing.

Corey jumped on hers almost as soon as it rang. Briony raised her eyebrows questioningly as she moved towards mine. I nodded my assent as I answered my cell.

“It’s Drayton,” I heard when I answered. “I’ve got a situation here and Kjell isn’t answering his phone.”

“He’s here,” I replied, “with me and the Director. So’s Miss Mathers and O’Halloran. We’ve got a bit of a situation here at HQ with all the computers it seems.”

“Let me guess,” he sighed, “laughing clowns?”

“You get the kewpie doll prize,” I said. “Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Drayton here,” he said. “Section Leader Thorstensen, I’m here in Section Leader DeVere’s Eastbourne office. We’re trying to get to the bottom of this laughing clown thing. She says she heard about a virus that would cause this, but she can’t find it, and can’t see where it was allowed entry to the mainframe.”

Kjell had been working at the computer, running various scripts and making tests as we’d been speaking.

“I know of this virus,” he said. “It was my first thought, of course. No, it is not Laughing Clown. That is a simple virus which does one thing, and one thing only, runs its course, then relinquishes control again. If it were Laughing Clown, it would already have stopped. But it continues!!”

“DeVere, here. Could it be a new variant?”

“No,” Kjell replied thoughtfully. “At least, it’s not a reworking or updating of the original Laughing Clown. It is possible that it’s been totally rewritten to have the same effect, but the end result would be the same code for the product, and this doesn’t even resemble it at all.”

“Be more specific, Kjell,” Corey and Briony both said.

“You see – the colors and the sounds of this Clown are identical to those of the original Laughing Clown virus – I know, because I’ve studied it intensively. And to produce that particular color and sound, requires a very specific code. I’ve isolated the portion of the code which produces the colors and the sound, and it is nothing like I’ve ever seen before! It is almost in a totally different language!”

He paused for a quick breath before continuing.

“Look, I shall show you ...”

Kjell somehow managed to press at least four keys simultaneously with just two fingers, and the screen cleared, the clown replaced with scrolling code. He issued another command, and the printer started chattering, printing out the code scrolling across the screen.

“Kjell, did you order the printer to print the code in my office as well?” Dara asked.

“No...”

And the phones were ringing off the hook again as reports of strange symbols being printed on every printer in the building came in.

“That was Roberts,” Miss Mathers said, replacing the phone on my desk. “Apparently, whatever’s happening here is also being duplicated on my computer at home. I’ve told him we are working on it, and to just monitor the situation. I can assume there’ll be no explosions?”

“I don’t know!!” Kjell howled. “There are no explosive components to a computer. And, I’m assuming, none have been planted. But I don’t know!!!”

I picked up the sheets that were issuing forth from the printer, and began looking them over, curiously.

“Wait a minute,” I said, “Some of these symbols look almost familiar.”

“What do you mean, Robert?” Corey asked looking over my shoulder.

“Some of these symbols appear to be those used in an incantation of some kind,” I said.

“Incantation?” Briony asked as she looked over my other shoulder. “As in magic?”

“Yes,” I said pointing at a symbol. “This one indicates the sun. This one represents water. And this one, here, represents Life or a tree, depending on the spell. There’re a slew of symbols here that are from various magical and mystical disciplines,” I continued in fascination. “Some of these are from a discipline found in India. A couple based on American Indian shamanism. Some from disciplines practiced here in the UK back before the Anglo-Saxon Era. I even recognize some symbols that were first used in China before the invention of gunpowder…”

A thought occurred to me and I turned to O’Halloran.

“Miles,” I said, “do you know where Cousin William is right now?”

“I believe the Earl is in Croydon trying to secure some property from Sir Alan Sugar,” he replied.

“Do me a favor and contact Talbot and let him know I’m headed to the Maidstone estate. I need to peruse the library for some books that I recall William having.”

“Nighthawk here,” I heard over the speaker. “Drayton and I are closer than you are, Parker. I can be there in about an hour. The flim-flam with all these computers cancelled the rest of the day’s classes we were scheduled to teach and I’m not as good with computers as Drayton. What books are you looking for?”

“I’ll send ahead a list for Talbot to have available for you when you arrive. I’ll need you to bring them to me here at HQ.”

“Roger that,” Nighthawk said brightly. “See you in a couple of hours.”

I quickly scribbled the list of books I needed and passed it on to Miles who promptly headed to the outer office to make the call.

“In the meantime,” I continued once O’Halloran had gone, “I’d recommend Drayton figure out a way to contact all SPJ substations apprising them of the situation here at HQ and have them alert us if anything similar occurs on their end.”

“I concur,” Reese nodded. “Drayton, proceed with Colonel Parker’s recommendation.”

“I’m way ahead of you,” Drayton replied. “I’ve already sent out an Organization-wide Priority Red communique from my personal laptop. I apprised all stations of the situation; recommend they disengage from the SPJ network and use the network Dara and I set up a few months back for just such an emergency.”

“Good work, Drayton,” I replied.

“I also took the liberty of setting up an emergency conference number for all stations to use should the Clown 2.0 virus infect their systems before they’ve managed to switch to the new network,” he continued. “I have it set up to where all calls will be routed directly to the conference room on the fifth floor.”

“Was there anything else?” I asked as I noticed a slight hesitation on Drayton’s end.

“Well... I…”

“Out with it man,” I said impatiently. “What else is there?”

“Begging the Senior Director’s pardon,” Drayton continued slowly, “I had them signed under her authority.”

All activity in the office, except for the continued output from the printers, stopped when Drayton finished. Kjell’s eyes went wide in astonishment and he dropped his phone onto the floor. Reese had stopped in mid-step and had whipped her face around to stare directly at me.

As for Ms. Mathers, there was a slight glint of amusement in her eyes as she said not quite inaudibly, “Someone’s been hanging around Parker for too long.”

Time seemed to stand still for an eternity before Reese straightened and nodded her consent.

“Good thinking, Drayton,” she said. “Priority Red communiques can only be issued by the Senior Director. May I assume you’ve used the latest authentication codes?”

“Yes, Director Reese,” Drayton replied crisply.

Reese looked directly at me, eyes piercingly blank.

“Director,” I said straightening to attention. “I’ll take full responsibility. I’ve entrusted Major Drayton with both our authentication codes. I did this in case both of us and Captain O’Halloran became incapacitated for any reason. I’m sure you’ve done the same with O’Halloran.”

Reese crinkled her brow in frustration for a moment, but then nodded.

“Just as well,” she continued. “They were due to be changed again tomorrow, anyway. You did well, Major.”

“Thank you, Director.”

A quick flash of a loving smile in my direction.

“Both of you did well, Parker.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.” I replied before turning to my phone. “Drayton, what’s that number for the conference?”

Two and a half hours later, we were in the conference room; except for Kjell, who had gone back down to the basement to see if he could find a way to purge Clown 2.0 from the mainframe. Meanwhile, we had been receiving calls on the conference number from nearly a third of the SPJ stations. Primarily from across the Eurasian and African continents; the most recent infection report from Tokyo. So far as we knew, the Western hemisphere stations hadn’t been infected as they hadn’t joined the conference.

The various monitors were occupied by Drayton, Kjell, Dara and the various IT heads from each station. From the sounds of it, the eggheads were going over every possible way to come up with some kind of counter virus. With each new proposal, a station would try the proposed solution at their location. If that solution failed, another one would try the next one. Then the next. And so on.

Senior Commanders Storm, Redhawk, Vallance and Conrad were also in attendance. I was glad to see Conrad was finally up and about, having just been released by Doc James only a few weeks ago; currently, he had his injured leg propped up on a chair next to him and his walking cane leaning against the table beside him as he watched the monitors. Vallance and Storm were talking quietly at the other end of the table with Briony. Redhawk was sitting across from me, arms crossed over his chest, scowling at the conference phone between us.

Reese was at her customary position at the head of the conference table, Robyn Coyne and Miles O’Halloran to either side of her. Robyn was taking notes of everything coming over the speakers. Reese and O’Halloran were quietly having a heated discussion over something.

From the glances, more like glares, Miles was giving me, and the reassuring smile Corey gave me every so often, I gathered it was another endless discussion about me. It was well known the captain was very protective of Corey. He still disapproved of my being the Director’s chosen personal administrative assistant. Didn’t matter I was her husband, let alone heir to an Earldom. As it were, I’m guessing Miles was objecting to Drayton, let alone me, knowing Corey’s authentication codes.

As for me, I was poring over the books Nighthawk had retrieved for me. They were various tomes of occult, magic and rituals that contained the symbols I had seen on the printouts. I had been taking notes on the symbols I had seen earlier, while Nighthawk was going through the reams of printouts notating others and determining the frequency of each.

“What are you doing?” a rumbling, baritone voice said from behind me.

“I’m trying to decipher this mish-mash of symbols in these printouts,” I said turning to face the voice behind me.

You could very well imagine my surprise when I saw the chiseled features of Commander John Redhawk behind me; I hadn’t even heard him move to my side of the table. At just above six feet tall, the muscular Apache stood with his arms crossed and feet planted, staring at me with those unwavering piercing grey eyes.

“May I?” he asked, indicating the stacks of notes between me and Nighthawk.

“Of course, sir.”

Nighthawk squeaked when she noticed Redhawk picking up the stack she had just set aside. For his part, the Senior Commander ignored her as he perused the notes, one eyebrow raising higher with each successive page; the only sign of surprise on his otherwise calm demeanor.

“Fascinating,” he finally said setting down the notes he finished reading and picking up one of the books. “I understand you’re our resident expert on the occult and such, Colonel Parker.”

“I suppose I am, Commander.” I replied as I shrugged my shoulders.

“I had a chance to read this one several years back,” he said hefting the book he had just picked up. “Your theories on the various Native American religions and how they all have the same roots were quite… provocative. When this is all over, I’d be interested to know how you came across your theories.”

“I’d be happy to, Commander.”

“Good,” he replied, opening up the book and sitting next to Nighthawk. “How may I be of…”

“Who the hell is that?” he said, overturning his chair as he suddenly stood up, pointing directly toward the center of the table.

“Drayton,” I ordered as soon as I saw what Commander Redhawk was pointing at, “Priority Shinigami. Authorization Parker. Papa-three-three-kilo-four-bravo-zero. Execute.”

Suddenly the monitors were shut off and the conference phones went quiet. I also heard the soft locking of all doors being locked.

“Son of a…” Conrad exclaimed as soon as the monitors had shut off. “What happened to the monitors? I think the tech boys nearly had a solution…”

Suddenly his eyes widened as he looked toward the center of the table. “Well I’ll be.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Parker,” Reese snapped as she stood up, fury blazing from her eyes. “What the hell is going on with you? Why did you order Drayton to shut off all communication from this room and lock all of us in here?

“And what, exactly,” she growled as she strode purposely towards me, “is a ’Priority Shinigami’, and why have I never heard of it?”

“I’m afraid, Corey,” a lilting female voice said from the center of the table, “I’m the reason Robert took the actions he did.”

Standing through the center of the table was the spirit of my great-great-grandmother, Jasmine. As lovely as ever, she had her hands on her hips. Smiling, she turned to look at everyone in the room before gliding over to stand by me while her upper half still protruded through the table.

“I see we have a couple of people present I’ve never met before.” Jasmine continued as she extended her hand out towards Commander Redhawk. “And whom might you be? My name’s Jasmine.”

“Redhawk,” he rumbled, drawing himself up to his full height, arms crossed. “Senior Commander, Field Operations.”

The Senor Commander’s reaction to Jasmine reminded me of Lt. Worf’s when first meeting the entity Q on Star Trek: The Next Generation. Redhawk’s posture and demeanor had always reminded me of Worf’s from the time I first saw him at Graduation. I’d only had a few interactions with the man since then and today, with Jasmine’s sudden appearance, he was more Worf-like than ever.

“Well,” Jasmine’s smile faded slightly as she lowered her hand. “You’re not being very friendly. I imagine you’re quite the hit at parties.”

His only reply was the working of his jaw and a slight guttural growl emerging from his throat through his barely opened lips.

“Never mind Old Sour Puss,” Conrad said in his Mid-Western drawl, rising up from his chair with the aid of his cane. “He’s always serious. But he’s one of the best men to have at your back if you need him.

“Conrad,” he said extending his hand when he finally reached Jasmine. “James Conrad, Madam. Senior Commander, Administration. You can call me Jim. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure, Jim,” Jasmine smiled brightly at the surprise on his face when he discovered that his hand shook a solid one, “is all mine.”

Withdrawing her hand while Conrad stared wonderingly at his own, Jasmine greeted everyone else in turn. Exchanging pleasantries, briefly, with everyone she had met before. A handshake with Storm and Vallance; the former generously and the latter still uncertainly from his previous encounter with her. A pat on the head for a slightly annoyed O’Halloran, followed by a quick giggle with Robyn, and a generous hug for Briony. Of course, she didn’t pay attention to the fact that her lower body, from the waist down, was still under the table.

“Corey,” she exclaimed happily, clapping her hands with delight. “You’re pregnant!!! I’m so happy for you and Robert.”

“Thank you, Jasmine,” Corey genuinely beamed with pride as she absently rubbed her baby bump. “We’re expecting a June delivery.”

“The first of at least four, I’d wager,” Jasmine responded knowingly, “if the Bixby genes are as strong as I expect them to be. What will you name it?”

Corey looked at me and I nodded for her to continue.

“If it’s a boy, we’ll name him Roger Bixby, after your husband.”

“And if it’s a girl,” Jasmine inquired nonchalantly.

“We haven’t decided, yet.” I piped up when Corey hesitated. “We’re still deciding between Jasmine Georgina and Victoria Anne.”

Jasmine seemed to glow with pride upon hearing this.

“Wonderful,” she said happily clasping her hands together. “I’d say name her Victoria Anne. And when the next girl comes along name her Jasmine Georgina. After all I was the last girl born in my family and I’d like that tradition to be kept.”

“Excuse me, Parker,” a quiet female voice said from behind Redhawk. “Who is this woman standing in the table? How do you know her? And where did she come from? Is she a ghost?”

I had quite forgotten about Nighthawk in all the excitement. Judging from the additional stack of notes beside her, she had been steadily continuing her work and hadn’t noticed what was going on until now. To her credit, she was as calm and steady as a cool breeze in the summer.

“Spirit, actually, Lieutenant,” I began as Jasmine went over to Nighthawk, hand extended.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant...?”

“Nighthawk,” she replied standing up, eyes widening slightly as her hand grasped solid flesh. “Katrina Nighthawk.”

Her eyes widened a bit more when her solid hand suddenly went through Jasmine’s, much to my ancestress’s delight.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Ma’am,” Katrina went on, without missing a beat. “How do you know Colonel Parker?”

“Robert’s my great-great-grandson.”

“Great-great-grandson,” Redhawk exclaimed.

“Yes, Commander,” I interrupted just as Jasmine opened her mouth, finger raised. “It’s a long story, which we’ll table for now.”

I turned to my ancestress.

“The main question is why you’re here Jasmine. I thought we agreed you wouldn’t suddenly appear in front of the people I work with if you hadn’t met them yet.”

“Yes we did, Robert. However, this couldn’t wait for you to figure out with your books and notes. I had to appear now and stop it.”

“Lady Jasmine,” Briony said. “Forgive me for interrupting. But what, exactly are you trying to stop?”

“Why the incantation, of course,” Jasmine said simply.

“What kind of incantation?” I asked. “It appears to be some kind of teleportation incantation. But nothing of the kind I’ve ever seen.”

“Exactly, Robert,” Jasmine beamed. ’You always were a smart one. I’ve always said you were just like Sir Roger, figuring things out with just a few clues.”

“So what kind of teleportation incantation is this?” Nighthawk asked with genuine intrigue in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” Jasmine shook her head regretfully. “None of you are ready to know about this yet. Suffice it to say, it’s an incantation we were working on. Back when I was alive, that is.”

“’We’?” Corey prompted.

“Sir Roger, myself, and a few others,” she said.

I hadn’t failed to notice the quick worried glance Jasmine made in my direction with her eyes. I decided I was going to have to speak with her privately about it when this was over.

“It took us some time,” she continued, “to figure it out before we finally got it right. We knew we had succeeded when we sent… well never mind that now. Let’s just say we had great success and managed to finally expand upon it to meet our requirements.”

“If it were such a success,” Nick Storm began, “then why the worry to stop it here and now?”

“If I had to hazard a guess,” Ricky Vallance answered, “I’d say the stuff going on SPJ wide is a result of some of those failed experiments.”

“And if not stopped on our end of it,” Redhawk reasoned, “then the entire space-time continuum would most likely be ripped apart.”

“And because it started here at HQ,” Conrad continued, “it would spread out and engulf the entire globe. Eventually expanding out beyond into space.”

“Parker,” Robyn asked. “is this true?”

“I knew I couldn’t trust you or Parker, Lady Jasmine,” Miles exploded as he jumped out of his chair hard enough for it to slam against the wall behind him. “Your past sins are finally catching up to you!!! And because of them the whole world -- the whole universe -- is going to be destroyed!!!!”

“Captain O’Halloran,” Reese commanded. “Stand down!! Now!!!!”

“Miles,” Robyn said rushing to calm him.

“No, Corey,” O’Halloran shouted shaking Robyn off. “I won’t stand down. This charlatan you married and his beloved ghost have been nothing but trouble since they came into your life. And I’ve had enough of the both of them.”

Suddenly, he had a gun pointed straight at me.

And just as suddenly, everyone else had guns pointed straight at O’Halloran, safeties off and ready to fire. The scene reminded me of my wedding night when AVM Reese came charging in to the reception to drag Corey away from me. Only this time, I had my guns trained out and ready.

“Miles Flanagan O’Halloran…” Corey began.

“YOU DARE THREATEN MY GREAT-GREAT-GRANDSON!!! MY FAMILY!!!!!”

Suddenly the room grew dim to near pitch blackness. The only visible light shining was the whitish-blue, glowing ectoplasmic form of Lady Jasmine, slowly rising from the table. Her hair, normally in a tight bun, was suddenly loose and splaying about her head; her dress billowing about as if being blown by a strong wind. Her normally beautifully calm, smiling face was contorted in a rage I had never seen.

Jasmine’s thunderous voice began chanting in an ancient language. Several actually. I thought I recognized some of them but I couldn’t tell. Whatever she was chanting made the hair on the back of my neck and arms rise from the electric energy that was a result of her incantation.

The chanting went on for an eternity, it seemed. Rising and falling to pitches beyond normal human hearing. Time seemed to stand still with all of us locked in our poses, weapons raised as if we were some bizarre mannequins frozen on display for a child’s diorama.

Finally, the chanting ended.

Jasmine turned her face toward me, her eyes glowing a fiery crimson red. She opened her mouth to say something as she faced O’Halloran, but was interrupted.

Scared as he was, Miles, to his credit, whipped his shaking hand in the direction of Jasmine’s slowly approaching form and fired. Twice. As expected, the bullets passed harmlessly through Jasmine and embedded themselves into the ceiling.

As soon as he fired, every gun trained on him went off sending a spray of bullets speeding toward their fatal impact.

At the same time, with a wave of her hand, Jasmine yanked the gun out of Mile’s shaky grasp and the weapon was literally field stripped in front of our eyes. The pieces of the gun hanging in midair just in front of her.

Realizing what he had done, O’Halloran winced in expectation of the multiple piercings of bullets.

The bullets never reached their target.

Instead, they hung there. Inches from his quivering body. Suspended in the air just like his stripped down gun.

“I HAVE GROWN WEARY OF YOUR BERATING AND DISTRUST OF ROBERT, CAPTAIN O’HALLORAN,” she boomed thunderously in anger. “HE HAS NEVER EARNED THE ABUSE YOU HAVE GIVEN HIM. NOR HAS HE EVER GIVEN YOU JUST CAUSE TO DO SO.

“He certainly doesn’t deserve to die because you dislike him so,” she went on more softly as the darkness receded from the room. “And neither do you. I understand your fear of what has been happening the last few hours.”

With a wave of her hand, the pieces of the trembling captain’s gun reassembled themselves into their proper places until it was whole again. Then, it and the bullets were softly lowered until they came to rest on the table.

“You’re crying,” Miles gasped incredulously as he slowly sank down to the floor, tears running down his own cheeks. “But why?”

“Because, dear Captain O’Halloran,” she said as she slowly embraced the fragile looking creature in front of her, “Your death would have been meaningless. I could not let my mistakes, and those of my compatriots, result in the cause of yours or anyone else’s death. Besides, Robyn would never have forgiven me if I had let you die.”

“I’m sorry, Lady Jasmine,” he wept into her shoulder. “I’m sorry that I mistrusted you and Parker. I should have known you would never harm any of us.”

“Sleep now, Miles,” Jasmine said soothingly stroking his head. “Dream of happy things. And when you awake, you’ll not remember what has happened here. The last thing you’ll remember is the monitors and conference phones shutting off and you’ll wake with a throbbing headache.”

By the time she had finished, Miles was sleeping like a baby, snoring softly. He looked more at peace than I had ever seen him. He must have been dreaming happy thoughts; a small smile slowly crept over his tear streaked face.

Robyn, gently replaced Jasmine with a look of gratitude and relief towards her. She was definitely a brave soul as no sign of what she had witnessed appeared in her body language. Given her training, I suspect she was holding it in until she could be somewhere private.

“Remind me to never get you angry at me, Lady Jasmine,” Briony said once everyone had settled down and taken a seat at the conference table.

“My apologies, to you Briony,” she replied. “To you all, my sincere apologies.”

“A little warning, next time,” I said to Jasmine. “I’ve never seen you like that. And what was that incantation?”

“Last time I got that angry and protective over someone was just after your great-grandmother was born,” she began from her seat on the table beside me. “Long story and one I’ll tell you about some day.”

The pointed look she gave me brooked no argument.

“As for the incantation,” she simply said getting up and pacing though the table, “it was a cleansing spell. The incantation that affected your systems should be cleared up within the hour.”

“What about the rest of the stations throughout the SPJ,” Redhawk rumbled. “How soon will those be cleared up?”

“Within the hour, Commander Sour Puss,” Jasmine smiled brightly. “My getting angry at poor Miles helped add strength to the incantation to spread the cleansing faster and wider. The effects of the cleansing will be apparent here in HQ in a few minutes. Five I would say. From there, they will ripple out to the rest of the affected systems.”

“But…” Nighthawk began.

“I’m sorry, Robert,” Jasmine interrupted slowly fading as her hand gently caressed my cheek. “I have to go and rest now. Using that much energy has weakened me. I’ll see you soon. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t make it for our nightly chess games for the next few days.”

And with that, Jasmine was gone. Her last few words echoing and fading in the air.

As Jasmine’s last words faded, silence fell over the room for a few moments as everyone contemplated the last few moments.

Our brief meditations were interrupted, suddenly, by a loud banging on the door.

“Crap,” I said as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Drayton. “I forgot I had us on lockdown.”

“Drayton,” I heard on the other end. “Parker, is that you?”

“Drayton,” I replied. “Stand down from Shinigami. Authorization Parker. Gulf-radio-one-foxtrot-foxtrot-one-November. Disengage.”

“Shinigami. Disengaged.”

Just at that moment, the monitors and conference phones came alive, shattering the quiet room with the onslaught of sound rolling over us like a tidal wave.

At the same time, the doors unlocked and Lt. Colonel Samantha Garrett came charging in with a security detail on her heels and pouring through the other door armed to the teeth and ready for a fight.

“Director Reese,” Garrett said after a quick glance around the room and motioning her men to lower their weapons. “What happened in here? One of the non-coms said they heard shouting and gunfire.”

“They must have heard the techs arguing,” Corey said calmly indicating the monitors.

“Very well,” Garrett nodded. “And the doors, Director?”

“What about the doors?” Redhawk rumbled irritably.

“Well…” Garrett began.

“’Well’, what, Sami?” Nick asked. “What about the doors?”

“They were locked, Commander.” Sami replied, some of her bravado fading.

“Really?” from Briony. “I never noticed. Jim, Ricky did either one of you lock the doors?”

“I didn’t,” Conrad drawled. “I’ve been sitting here the whole time listening to the techs argue. I think they’ve almost got themselves a solution to the system issues.”

“No, ma’am,” Vallance replied right on Conrad’s heels. “O’Halloran and Robyn were the last ones to enter.”

“Did you bother trying the doorknobs?” I asked just as deadpan as everyone else.

“Yes, Colonel,” she replied then noticed O’Halloran’s sleeping form. “Is Captain O’Halloran in need of medical attention?”

“He’s taking a nap,” Robyn answered sheepishly. “My fault, really. I had him up all night discussing… biology.”

“Satisfied?” Reese asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes, Director.”

“Good,” Reese nodded sharply. “Then, if you would be so kind. Please make sure we are not disturbed anymore.”

“Yes, Director.”

“Oh, and Garrett,” Reese added.

“Yes, Director?”

“Please make sure someone comes and repairs the doors, after we’re finished here.”

“Yes, Director.”

“You and your people are dismissed.”

“Yes, Director.”

No sooner had the doors shut, there came a jubilant cry over the monitors and conference phones.

Once the cheering had calmed down, Reese spoke up.

“I take it you all came up with a solution?”

“Yes, Director,” Kjell’s jubilant voice came over the speakers. “All this time wasted working on a counter virus and the solution came upon us by accident.”

“Really,” Briony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What was the solution?”

“I was working on a new approach for a counter virus when my computer suddenly shut down. After a few moments, it was discovered someone had tripped over the power cord and unplugged it from the wall. Once I had the computer back on, I found that the virus had been cleared.

“So I decided to test my theory on the mainframe. Turns out shutting down the mainframe was the solution all along. Now each station in turn is doing the same thing. So far it appears the procedure is working. We should have the Clown 2.0 virus cleared from all SPJ systems within the hour.”

“Glad to hear it, Kjell,” Reese smiled. “Report to me after all stations are back online. Reese out.”

Once the monitors were cleared and the conference phones had been hung up, Storm spoke up.

“Do you think we should tell them?”

“Tell them what, Nick?” Conrad asked. “Tell them that a series of magic spells cast over a hundred years ago was the cause of all this mess? They’d have us sent to the looney bin.”

“Jim’s correct,” Redhawk rumbled in agreement. “Parker did the right thing putting this room on lockdown as soon as Lady Jasmine appeared.”

“I’m in agreement with your assessment of Parker’s actions, John,” Vallance said. “Most of us in this room already knew about Jasmine. However, you, Jim and Lt. Nighthawk didn’t, until today.”

“Parker,” Katrina asked. “Does Drayton know about Jasmine?”

“Not at all.”

“You’re kidding me,” Reese exclaimed, sitting up in her chair.

“Not kidding.”

“So,” Briony said, “was the Shinigami business something you had worked out ahead of time with Drayton that put us into lockdown?”

“Hate to say it, Briony,” I shrugged my shoulders. “I took a gamble that Fred Drayton would do something to that effect when I barked the order.”

Suddenly, Jim Conrad let out a whoop of laughter and began slapping his knee.

“My God, Parker,” he choked out. “You definitely got yourself a pair.”

Not long after, Corey dismissed us all after making sure Commanders Conrad and Redhawk, and Lt. Nighthawk understood the paramount secrecy of Jasmine.

Several hours later, just before normal closing of office hours approached, Corey and I were back in our shared office. Corey had a new terminal installed by this time. Thanks to Briony, we were looking at the files we had tried viewing before the whole Clown 2.0 incident occurred.

Those she gave us access to, that is.

Most of the files were basic day-to-day logs Briony had kept regarding the running of the SPJ. Others were mission reports classified as “Senior Director Eyes Only”. Others were learning tools that Briony felt her successors would benefit from; they were based on her experiences during her tenure as Senior Director.

“Robert,” Corey said as she shut down the computer with a sigh, rubbing her eyes. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go home.”

“I’ll have Miles get the car.”

“Do that, please,” she replied as she stretched in her chair. “I could use a long soak in the tub when we get home.”

“Car will be ready in a few moments,” I responded as I hung up the phone and went to help Corey out of her seat. “We can head down whenever you’re ready.”

“And while I’m soaking in the tub, you can fix us a nice…”

Suddenly, Corey’s computer came to life.

The screen flashed in a multi-hued shade of various colors and spit something out before winking out again.

In Corey’s lap was a single folded sheet of paper. She picked it up and I moved around to read it over her shoulder. To my utter surprise, it was written in my handwriting.

August, 1891

We have arrived safely.

RBP

We both looked at each other for a moment in confusion before re-reading the simple inscription.

After several stunned seconds, Corey spoke.

“Parker. What the hell is this?”

To be continued in Book 2 of The Parker Chronicles