wrong about that.” Jake turned and flicked open a file on the screen in front of them. It was an article from the Times of India dated only a few weeks before. The image of flames leapt out with a headline proclaiming miracles in the midst of a fiery storm. Morgan scanned the article quickly.
“Varanasi ... that could be the stone of Nathaniel.”
“The ARKANE researchers agree with you. The Apostle Nathaniel, also known as Bartholomew, supposedly died in India after taking the gospel there. A Christian nun disappeared on the night of the miracles and may have been murdered. We believe she was a Keeper.”
“But who took the stone?”
“We don’t know yet, but a body was also found in Jerusalem at the church of St Matthias. He preached in Ethiopia but was killed in the holy city. Two mysteries relating to the Apostles along with the reported miracles was enough to get ARKANE interested enough to do some more research. Do you know why your father gave you and Faye the stones?”
Morgan stood up, rubbing her neck again to release the strain she felt both physically and emotionally in talking of her family.
“It’s complicated,” she said. “My parents were archaeologists, passionate about their work. They met on a dig in Turkey and fell in love amongst the ruins of Ephesus.”
Jake smiled and waited for her to continue. “Apparently these two stones were found in a commoner’s grave and considered of little value, so they kept them. Faye and I were conceived there, so the twin stones had an emotional value.”
“What happened to your parents?”
Morgan hesitated. The truth of what happened long ago was a story repeated in so many broken marriages, yet it had meant her life was never normal.
“They couldn’t hold a relationship together away from the dig, especially as their careers generated professional rivalry. My father hated the British weather and my mother just wanted peace, so they separated. My father took me to Israel and Faye stayed here. I don’t remember us ever being a family.”
“So the stones were separated and handed down to you both?” Jake questioned.
“Yes, my father gave me mine when I turned 21. I know he regretted the past but he just wasn’t able to compromise. By the time I came back to England after he was killed, my mother had succumbed to breast cancer. I know she wore her stone until the end and now Faye wears it in her memory.”
“That’s a sad story,” Jake said. Morgan shook her head.
“I think it’s probably the story of many relationships. I had a happy life with my father in Israel. Now I’m trying to get to know my sister and niece.” She looked at her watch. “Talking of them, have you heard back from the men sent to protect them?”
Woodstock. Near Oxford, England.
May 18, 10.47pm
From his study, David suddenly heard Faye’s voice raised, a scream cut off quickly and a scuffle from the kitchen. He leapt up, grabbing the nearest thing at hand, a poker from the fireplace that hadn’t been moved from last winter. He was a big man, having played rugby for years and still muscular. Striding into the kitchen, he saw Faye slumped on the floor and a man in black talking into a radio.
“Faye!” He ran towards her, raising the poker to hit her attacker. As he moved past the door of the kitchen he felt a powerful shock in the middle of his back and excruciating pain spread through his body. He fell to the ground, grunting as he lost control of his limbs and his bladder. Another man leant down over him, grimacing at the stink of urine.
“We’ve got at least ten minutes before he can move. Let’s get the girl.”
David lay there, his ears ringing, agony flooding his senses. In that moment, he cried out to God to save his family. He wanted to scream ‘take me, not them’ but he could only lie there, body jerking in his own piss, witnessing the abduction. The man holding Faye had taped her mouth
“Varanasi ... that could be the stone of Nathaniel.”
“The ARKANE researchers agree with you. The Apostle Nathaniel, also known as Bartholomew, supposedly died in India after taking the gospel there. A Christian nun disappeared on the night of the miracles and may have been murdered. We believe she was a Keeper.”
“But who took the stone?”
“We don’t know yet, but a body was also found in Jerusalem at the church of St Matthias. He preached in Ethiopia but was killed in the holy city. Two mysteries relating to the Apostles along with the reported miracles was enough to get ARKANE interested enough to do some more research. Do you know why your father gave you and Faye the stones?”
Morgan stood up, rubbing her neck again to release the strain she felt both physically and emotionally in talking of her family.
“It’s complicated,” she said. “My parents were archaeologists, passionate about their work. They met on a dig in Turkey and fell in love amongst the ruins of Ephesus.”
Jake smiled and waited for her to continue. “Apparently these two stones were found in a commoner’s grave and considered of little value, so they kept them. Faye and I were conceived there, so the twin stones had an emotional value.”
“What happened to your parents?”
Morgan hesitated. The truth of what happened long ago was a story repeated in so many broken marriages, yet it had meant her life was never normal.
“They couldn’t hold a relationship together away from the dig, especially as their careers generated professional rivalry. My father hated the British weather and my mother just wanted peace, so they separated. My father took me to Israel and Faye stayed here. I don’t remember us ever being a family.”
“So the stones were separated and handed down to you both?” Jake questioned.
“Yes, my father gave me mine when I turned 21. I know he regretted the past but he just wasn’t able to compromise. By the time I came back to England after he was killed, my mother had succumbed to breast cancer. I know she wore her stone until the end and now Faye wears it in her memory.”
“That’s a sad story,” Jake said. Morgan shook her head.
“I think it’s probably the story of many relationships. I had a happy life with my father in Israel. Now I’m trying to get to know my sister and niece.” She looked at her watch. “Talking of them, have you heard back from the men sent to protect them?”
Woodstock. Near Oxford, England.
May 18, 10.47pm
From his study, David suddenly heard Faye’s voice raised, a scream cut off quickly and a scuffle from the kitchen. He leapt up, grabbing the nearest thing at hand, a poker from the fireplace that hadn’t been moved from last winter. He was a big man, having played rugby for years and still muscular. Striding into the kitchen, he saw Faye slumped on the floor and a man in black talking into a radio.
“Faye!” He ran towards her, raising the poker to hit her attacker. As he moved past the door of the kitchen he felt a powerful shock in the middle of his back and excruciating pain spread through his body. He fell to the ground, grunting as he lost control of his limbs and his bladder. Another man leant down over him, grimacing at the stink of urine.
“We’ve got at least ten minutes before he can move. Let’s get the girl.”
David lay there, his ears ringing, agony flooding his senses. In that moment, he cried out to God to save his family. He wanted to scream ‘take me, not them’ but he could only lie there, body jerking in his own piss, witnessing the abduction. The man holding Faye had taped her mouth
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