Deep Fire Rising m-6 Read online

  “An oracle?”

  “They called it the Navel of the World, a machine that could accurately measure the earth’s chi. They completed the work in the 1850s and set about to see if the machine was right. And soon found it was. Uncannily so. For years they sent people to chronicle the effects of the chi and report back to the Lama what they’d seen. And that’s the way it remained until the summer of 1908 when a cataclysmic event upset the planet’s delicate balance of forces.”

  The year triggered another memory for Mercer. “Can I venture a guess as to the exact date? June thirtieth, 1908.”

  This time it was Tisa’s turn for a moment of stunned silence. “How did you…?”

  “That’s when a meteorite slammed into Siberia near the village of Tunguska and leveled several thousand square miles of forest. The blast was heard in Scandinavia and darkened the sky as far as London. Can’t be too many other cataclysmic events that year.”

  Her eyes were still wide. “Few people have even heard of the event and yet you know the exact date.”

  “I’ll tell you the story why sometime,” he said evasively, then steered the conversation back to her tale. “You believe the impact changed the earth’s balance in some way.”

  “Not the planet’s, obviously, but the chi forces. Up until then, the earth behaved as the oracle at Rinpoche-La predicted. After the event, the predictions were no longer accurate. The Lama and his acolytes became concerned. The times and locations between predicted events diverged further as the years passed. Twenty years ago it was decided that the Order had to do something to correct it. We would heal the earth and restore its proper balance of chi.”

  “And the tower is one way you do this?”

  “Oh, no,” Tisa dismissed. “That is just one small project. A short-term, ah, Band-Aid.” She smiled at her turn of phrase. “Our main efforts are a little more subtle. You see, to rebalance the world we must focus on points where the earth’s chi lines intersect. This is becoming more difficult because humanity is also beginning to affect chi with such things as atomic bomb tests and hydroelectric dams that shift rivers. These all change the force lines.”

  Mercer was having a hard time keeping the skepticism from his expression. There could be some truth in the history Tisa had told him, but he didn’t believe a word about the interpretation. He was taunting when he said, “So you guys must hate what China is doing at the Three Gorges Dam, the biggest hydro project in history.”

  “On the contrary,” she replied quickly. “Members of our group were on the committee to see it built. Three Gorges is an important nexus point for chi. The weight of the water is helping to bring the earth balance.”

  Mercer scoffed. “Come on, Tisa. This is ridiculous.”

  “Eight years ago you were approached by a company called Jaeger Metals to help them in the development of a copper mine in Brazil. Do you remember that?”

  “Vaguely,” Mercer said uneasily. “I turned them down. How do you know about that?”

  “Because the Order controls Jaeger Metals. Do you recall why you refused the job?”

  “They wanted to shift billions of tons of overburden for a copper deposit that didn’t justify the expense. I tried to tell them they were pouring money into a hole with no bottom but no one on the board of directors cared.”

  “Do you know what happened to Jaeger?”

  “Yeah, they went ahead with the project, dug a three-mile-wide, eight-hundred-foot-deep pit in the middle of the jungle and went bankrupt.”

  “What you didn’t know, what no one knew, is that spot in the jungle was a chi point and by removing all that dirt we managed to regain five minutes of accuracy.”

  “I-” Mercer checked his sarcasm. Could that possibly be true? At the time, he’d suspected that the whole debacle was a financial swindle of some sort. He’d followed the story in trade magazines after bowing out and recalled that Jaeger had blown about seventy million dollars before giving up, but when the mining company folded no one came forward with a complaint. An SEC investigation after the collapse found all the money had come from a private source that was satisfied with Jaeger’s “good faith” efforts. Could Tisa’s group be that private source? Could all they have wanted was a giant hole and not the copper?

  They did build an undersea tower just to keep a hydrate deposit stable, a little voice reminded him. This appeared to be an organization where you couldn’t question their methods or their motivation.

  Tisa watched the play of conflicting thoughts in Mercer’s eyes. She looked pleased. “Jaeger’s just another example of how we work. You should see the oil field we paid a company to develop in the middle of Australia, about a thousand miles from the nearest oil deposit. They thought we were nuts but took our money and drilled eleven hundred wells for us, every one of them dry.” She frowned. “I hate to admit all that work only corrected another six minutes. Don’t worry, you’ll understand better tomorrow.”

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  “You just have to wait and see. I ask for one night of patience. If you don’t think I’m right then, well, nothing matters much after that.”

  She spoke earnestly, and Mercer recalled what she’d said the night they met. “The end of the world?”

  “As we know it, yes.” In the moonlight, her eyes began to glisten.

  Mercer knew it didn’t matter if he believed what she was saying. It was abundantly clear that Tisa was certain. The deep melancholy that so wracked her features was back, worse than ever.

  “What time is it?” she asked, just to say something.

  “Eight o’clock. That reminds me. I have something for you.” Mercer hastily reached into his jacket pocket. He opened and then handed across a slim black case. Inside on a bed of satin was a woman’s gold Raymond Weil watch. “I remembered you don’t have one and always seem to ask for the time. I bought it for you at Dulles on the way to Greece.”

  Mercer had expected her to be delighted. Instead Tisa regarded the watch as though it were a poisonous snake. He was at a loss.

  She quickly regained her composure. “I’m sorry. It’s beautiful. It’s just that I, well, I’ve never gotten in the habit of wearing one, but for you I will.” She snapped it around her slender wrist and studied it for a moment. “Thank you.”

  He hadn’t known what to expect when he saw her again. But certainly it wasn’t the disaster this night was turning out to be. He reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m sorry about the watch. Obviously I hit a nerve. How’s this? For the rest of the night we’ll just be two people on a date in the most romantic place I’ve ever seen. We will eat too much for dinner, have too much ouzo and forget the rest of the world even exists. What do you say?”

  Tisa wiped at her eyes and smiled. “A date? I guess that wouldn’t be too bad.”

  He stood and set a handful of bills on the table, eager to get away from the dark mood he’d seemed to create at the bar. “Then let’s get at it.”

  They climbed back to Ipapantis Street, flowing with the tide of revelers until they came upon a tiny restaurant that had an even more spectacular view than the hotel bar. There were only six tables. The elderly owner was in the kitchen. His spry wife served as waitress. She brought a bottle of wine without waiting to take their order and a moment later brought bread and garlic-scented olive oil. She never asked what they wanted to eat. Apparently the restaurant didn’t have menus. Their dinner was going to be whatever the chef decided. And by the second course they knew to trust his decisions. The meal was excellent.

  For a while, Mercer and Tisa were uncomfortable together. The conversation started and stopped a dozen times. After her second glass of wine she admitted that this was the first date she’d been on in a long time.

  “I find that hard to believe. You’re beautiful. You must have to beat men off with a stick.”

  She looked into his eyes. “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Good God, don’t you own a mirror? You’re stunning.”


  Her smile spread and her cheeks turned flush with embarrassment and delight. “Thank you.”

  “If I knew you could smile like that, I’d have told you hours ago.” Mercer was pleased with himself. “And truth be told I haven’t been on a real date in a while either.”

  “Oh, please. You must have had dozens of women.”

  “I — well, yes, sort of.” The comment had caught him off guard. “What I mean was I don’t date that much. I’m traveling seven or eight months out of the year, and I don’t think much of the idea of a one-night stand.”

  “Though you have had them.”

  “Uh, a few,” he admitted, not wanting to tell her the truth but unwilling to hide it from her. “I guess I just haven’t taken the time to get involved with anyone seriously.”

  “Maybe you haven’t found the right person.”

  Mercer laughed. “You don’t happen to know a guy named Harry White, do you?”

  “I don’t think so. Why?”

  “You two sound a lot alike.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “He’s my best friend. It’s good.”

  “Now that’s someone I’d like to hear about. Philip Mercer’s best friend. Tell me about this Harry White.”

  After that, things went better. With Harry as a subject, Mercer didn’t even have to try to get Tisa laughing. When they left the restaurant two hours later neither was surprised at how natural it felt to hold hands as they strolled. Mercer had removed his shoulder holster in the men’s room and tucked the gun into the back of his slacks so he could drape his blazer over Tisa’s shoulders.

  There was no need for any artless wile on Mercer’s part or false coquettishness from Tisa. Both knew where the evening was headed as they walked and talked, and yet that certainty made neither impatient. Everything unfolded at such a natural pace that when they finally arrived back at Mercer’s hotel they simply continued down the stairs to his room without pause.

  There wasn’t one moment of awkwardness. They felt only the joy of discovery as their lips met for the first time and as clothes began to pile on the floor. Together on the soft bed, their acts became more intimate until Mercer found himself doing things he hadn’t done since his days of college experimentation. But this wasn’t about pushing boundaries, it was about Tisa giving more and more of herself and he being willing to receive. There wasn’t any fear of going too far, for when he looked in her eyes he saw he’d just scratched the surface.

  They did not separate, but clung tightly to each other as they both drifted toward sleep. It was only as the last spark of consciousness faded that Mercer recognized the words Tisa had panted as she reached her climax. He could have sworn she’d been repeating, “I love you. I love you.”

  SANTORINI, GREECE

  In the moments between sleep and consciousness, in the blending of the dream world and the real, there was a moment of clarity where Mercer often found inspiration. He was not yet aware of his surroundings — that was a minute away — but his mind felt unimpeded and open to new ideas. Without realizing why, he played back his conversation with Tisa about chi forces and locus points. Then that scene became over-dubbed with his own words to Ira Lasko a scant twenty-four hours earlier. They were talking about global warming and Mercer told his boss that the planet had rhythms and cycles we had yet to detect.

  It seemed that he and Tisa had been discussing the same concepts, only she had a name for it. He’d dismissed her philosophy as Eastern legends and New Age bunk, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was the very same thing he believed, that we know more about outer space than our own planet and momentous discoveries await us if only we took the time to look.

  And then the thoughts diverged once again, leaving him with two separate ideas that couldn’t be reconciled. That was his last thought before coming fully awake.

  The light pouring into the room was pearly and wan. With the room’s door open, the air tasted fresh with the scent of the sea. As his eyes adjusted he saw Tisa on the balcony. Because the deck was screened on three sides and open only to the ancient volcanic caldera, she stood completely nude as she made the slow, balanced moves of the Tai Chi ritual, her supple body twisting in lissome poses. As he watched, his mind flashed back to their exploits during the night. He felt a familiar stirring.

  Tisa’s moves became more complex, and intense. Soon she deviated from Tai Chi to commence her morning contortion exercises. She’d taken the quilt from the bed so she could practice more freely. As she moved, Mercer became entranced. She exercised without guile, but he found the poses increasingly erotic. At one point only the crown of her head and the tips of her toes remained on the ground as she formed a backward arch. Her skin was stretched across her torso and her breasts rode high and proud. He could not hold back a moan.

  Tisa flipped around as agile as a cat, peering over her shoulder at him, her eyes wide and mischievous. “I was wondering when you’d notice me out here.” She swung up to her feet and sauntered to the bed. She dropped next to him and her hand disappeared under the covers. “So it is true. Men do have a thing for limber women.”

  “Limber, hell. Some of what you were doing would shame Gumby.”

  She bent and kissed him deeply, her lips soft against his. Mercer reached for her and dragged her into the bed. Her body had cooled from her exercises but quickly warmed against his and soon became almost hot to the touch.

  It was another hour before they got out of bed. Tisa left Mercer in the shower so she could go to her own hotel and gather her things. They would meet at ten for brunch. When she returned, Mercer lounged on the terrace, a Bloody Mary at hand to ease the lingering effects of too much ouzo. She’d left her luggage with the concierge and carried only a beach bag.

  She took a proprietary sip of Mercer’s drink. “Fur of the cat?”

  He smiled. “Hair of the dog.”

  “Ah, that’s right. English is an easy language to speak but has too many idioms.”

  “What is your native language? If you don’t mind my asking, what is your ethnic background?”

  “I grew up speaking Vietnamese at home. My father was half Vietnamese and half French. My mother was from Paris. In the village where I was born, the native language was a blend of Tibetan and Chinese.”

  “You were born in China?”

  “At Rinpoche-La,” she answered as if he should have known. “How do you think I know so much about Zhu and the archive and the oracle? I was raised to be a watcher until my mother fled the village with my half brother and me. I returned when I was eighteen.”

  “Why?”

  Tisa paused. “You must understand the size of the Order. Literally millions of people support us in one form or another. We control yoga studies, temples, and special schools. We also run organic farms on four continents. Go into any specialty food store in the United States and I can show you dozens of products that are produced by Order-owned companies. Most people who work for us have no idea. A yoga instructor in Miami pays a franchise fee to a company in California, who then pays a fee to another corporation in a country with loose banking laws. Eventually the money ends up in our coffers and no one knows we even exist.”

  “That’s where the money for the tower came from?”

  “Partially. Any group that lasts for as long as we have is usually wealthy beyond measure. If someone invests a dollar when they’re a child, it’s worth thousands when they retire, right? Now expand that scenario to span generations.”

  “We’re talking millions.”

  “Billions, actually.”

  “You returned to be part of all that?” Mercer prompted after Tisa lapsed into silence.

  “I returned because I was stupid and spiteful. I was never really happy in Paris. Rinpoche-La was a village of a thousand people and I was the daughter of an important man. In Paris I was another half-breed left over from France’s colonial past. I was isolated and lonely. There were a few people in the city who knew my identity. They were some high-ra
nking members of the Order. Because of my father they treated me as an object of veneration, not a person.

  “Naturally, like any headstrong teenager I blamed my mother for all misery. When I was old enough, I sent word to my father that I wanted to join him. He arranged everything.”

  “That must have been painful for your mother.”

  “Doubly. My half brother had already returned to Rinpoche-La a couple of years earlier. She died a short time later in a train accident never knowing how sorry I was.” Behind her glasses Tisa’s eyes were wet. “I think we should talk about something happier than my childhood.”

  “From the sound of it that should be easy. How about the violence in the Middle East? Or maybe world famine?”

  She understood Mercer’s sense of humor. A smile touched her trembling lips. “What about the AIDS crisis? Much happier.”

  “I do have one more question for you,” Mercer said seriously. “When we met, you told me how you knew about me and the work I’ve done.”

  “Yes,” she answered cautiously.

  “Why? I mean why me in particular? There are hundreds of prospecting geologists.”

  Tisa paused. “When I rejoined my father at Rinpoche-La, my first job for the Order was to collect information about large-scale mining operations. It was part of our efforts to determine how much human development was affecting the earth’s chi. Over the course of a few years I saw your name come up again and again. I was a bit intrigued about how you were at the epicenter of so much work. While I’ve followed the careers of many mining engineers, I think I paid special attention to yours. More than anyone else I came across I saw you balance humanity’s need for raw materials with a sense of environmental awareness.”