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A sequel to  “The Breastplate of Narmer”

By:

WAYNE STUART SCHOLFIELD

A Golden Eagle

Builds its nest in Shambhala

Springs high coup

———

wscholfield56@hotmail.com

Prelude and Chapter One:

Nickolas Placebo III strolled through the foyer of his fathers’ main office snug in the confidence that only someone with his privileged background could be so cool in the face of such enormous responsibility. He had been summoned to take his place at the head of a vast empire and none would dare to challenge the pace at which he approached the critical meeting taking place fifty floors above, even if they knew who he really was. The security clearance he displayed on the lapel of his Armani pinstripe was more than adequate to repel even the most zealous of guards and knowing the code to the penthouse express lift confirmed, to any curious on-lookers, this was an entity not to be fucked with.

He stepped onto the elevated arena, where the game of ultimate control was played, with the presence of a Superbowl star quarterback. Nothing was going to deter him from executing his game plan and none of the veteran executives presently sizing him up, would stand a chance in hell of manipulating the proceeding even though he was sure that was what they were thinking. Palming off any attempts to approach him, he weaved through the defensive participants of his inaugural conference to take his position at the head of the imposingly large boardroom table. By act of allegiance, the others dutifully positioned themselves according to rank and quietly awaited address from their new overlord; this monumental moment had been choreographed.

‘It’s good to finally meet with you in person,’ opened Nick as he scanned the twenty or so uniformed suits positioned before him and as none commented, he continued. ‘You all know your positions in this organization; I don’t expect any changes to procedures or protocols but one thing you will have to get used to is, the way I operate.’

‘And how would that be?’ asked the first shaven head to his right

‘Very low profile’ he answered without a pause ‘and no questions.’

After waiting for an uncomfortable amount of time, he continued ‘Now down to business; for starters I won’t be attending anymore of these prearranged mental masturbation sessions of yours and I will expect you to move into the twenty first century as well. You will utilize you time and resources better than wasting them by commuting to and from this ivory tower. I have installed my latest software on your personal computers which will keep us all connected twenty-four-seven; you can no longer shit without me knowing about it.’

A shockwave of dissent reverberated around the glass-sided sarcophagus they were centered in, interrupted only by a loud beeping sound from Nick’s personal communicator. He stood up and began striding towards the elevator leaving them with a final command that was stated without any eye contact,

‘I have to go, scurry back to your computers and we will continue this in cyberspace.’

By the time he stepped out of the building and onto the pneumatic steps of his container office, mounted on the back of a large prime mover, he had removed his jacket and tie. Throwing them onto the floor as he entered, he instructed his secretary to make him a tequila sunrise while inter-communicating to the driver to ‘get them the hell out of this God forsaken city’. Before they had gone two blocks he had showered, finished his drink, logged onto his favourite web-site and if you thought Google earth was amazing, then his version was out of this world.

CHAPTER ONE

As the first rays of the Sun cracked the dark blue skies over the Pacific Ocean, the surfers that dotted the shoreline of Australia’s most easterly point plunged into the water that surrounded the lighthouse cape that was the world famous Byron Bay. A deep low directly off the coast produced a groundswell of memorable proportions and a perfect six foot wave broke left and right off the headland which protruded well out into the antipodean marine corridor. A family of dolphins’ fellowshipped with the encroaching hoard of wetsuit clad board riders as a display of skills blossomed on every open face of the white capped tubes of liquid energy.

If this wasn’t a true surfer’s paradise then it wasn’t far from it and if you could pry your eyes from the perfect day unfolding there was a group of Kite-surfers, towards the west, harnessing the mornings offshore wind from a pearly white beach as it emerged from the blackness of the night. Because a day like this didn’t come along all that often, a multitude of onlookers accumulated in the end of the line township clogging all exits with their cars for the whole morning. A film crew worked from a strategic vantage point recording the predicted display of talent and conditions. It was hard not to be impressed by the skills of the board riders but it was the kite surfers who eventually captivated all the attention, bouncing high off the tops of the seriously good waves. By the time the onshore winds began to hit, all the attention was focused on them and their high flying antics. The film crew was planning interviews when a strange looking jet powered catamaran zoomed out from behind Julian Rocks, rendezvoused with the exhausted kite surfers, sped eastward and disappeared beneath the horizon.

Onboard, as the wetsuits were coming off and the gear was being stowed, a happy and healthy bunch of people rowdily chattered; finally plopping themselves down on the luxurious lounges of the now underwater vessel.

‘This boat of yours is amazing Hamish!’ exclaimed a revitalized young Buzz

‘It’s not a boat, it’s a ship and I told you to call me Grant.’

‘O.K, O.K don’t get your knickers in a twist.’

‘Now that’s how to start a day,’ commented Nat ‘but I’m glad we had a way out of there. Did you see that crowd on the headland?’

‘Yeah, we wouldn’t have gotten out of there if it hadn’t been for Grant and his ship.’

‘Where did you get this thing from?’

‘I’ve had it in the planning stages for years and I’m so happy we finally get to take it for a spin.’

‘Do you think we are being tracked?’

‘Not likely, it’s completely stealth technology.’

‘Anyway it’s about time they knew we existed.’ Said Buzz

‘They know,’ replied Nat ‘they just don’t know where we exist.’

‘I can’t imagine they just forgot about us after our last encounter, we must have really pissed them off.’

‘So where are we off to?’ asked Jim (aka. James)

Laurie stood up as if he was going to answer the question but instead launched into a statement that would have been more at home at the opening of a seminar.

‘Firstly I would like to thank you all for turning up on such short notice and add my approval, on rejuvenating and recreating yourselves into what I hope will be a successful team.

Congratulations to Natalie and Gabriel (Buzz) on becoming a couple; considering the changes they have had to go through over the last six months, I think they have displayed amazing maturity and commitment to one another and I for one am happy to pledge my allegiance to them on matters concerning the up and coming difficulties we are bound to encounter on the mission we are embarking on.’

At this moment the rest of the substantial crew, which had gathered around, broke into a spontaneous round of applause confirming mutual support on the maters to which Laurence was speaking. They were all looking surprisingly young and fit and rather uniform in the provided attire that had come with Captain Grant’s new ship. Someone had been working overtime on ergonomics and design co-ordination as everything had a certain style which Buzz had so aptly stated earlier ‘put Star Trek décor designers to shame.’

Laurie raised his hands in such a way as to calm the ovation down and continued with his speech. “May I say for those of us who are more like passengers on this vessel, to those who have worked so hard to put us on course; we salute you, well done. The main concern for the crew is to keep us below the radar; this is the most crucial aspect of our present journey and will remain so until we are safely back at base. Other than that we will be poking and prodding into the operations of Big Brother and trying to stay out of trouble. So there’s a glass of champagne for everyone and a toast to the success of our first exploratory journey before we all get back to what it is we are supposed to be doing.

‘To the mission!’ Said Grant as he raised his glass and encouraged all the others to do the same.

‘To the mission!’ Came the collective reply

After the crew had finished their drinks and conversations, they receded from the lounge leaving the core group Nat, Buzz, Laurie, Grant and Jim to continue their briefing.

‘I repeat my question,’ said Jim ‘where are we off to?’

‘New Zealand’ came Laurie’s blunt reply, ‘and before you ask why, I would like to go over some facts that you may or may not know; never the less it will be good revision.’

‘Excellent,’ jammed in Buzz ‘I’m in the mood for a good story.’

Laurie paused for a moment to catch his breath and slowly begun.

‘I would like to remind everybody who we are and what it is we stand for; a sort of mission statement, just so we will be under no misunderstandings when tough decisions have to be made.’

The others passed quick glances in one another’s directions before Nat rose to the occasion by saying,

‘Just get on with it Laurie.’

‘As you all know, we have come together from various walks of life with different philosophies to unite our peaceful efforts into a combined force to counteract the more Orwellian aspects of the unseen, often unknown powers that, for whatever reason, tend to disregard the little man in their continuing quest for ongoing ultimate power.

Some of us here used to co-exist with them in a relationship that I like to describe as rebellious little brother tolerated because of our family connections but since our last escapade, which entailed relieving them of a large sum of money, we can no longer rely on that privileged courtesy any more. Be under no misunderstandings, we are outlaws and although you won’t find our wanted posters displayed in the public domain, be assured they exist inside their secret service files.

Our funds are in good shape and I will continue to administer them although in the long run we will have to keep toping them up by pursuing the things they value the most and that leads us to our present course. So whatever your personal reasons for doing what we do, I will be here to continually remind you of the cost verses reward aspects of any plans you might be considering regardless of what good reasons there might be to track in that direction.’

‘Jesus, Laurie, get on with it.” Said Jim, still anxious to find out where and why they are going

‘O.K then here it is, as we all learnt from in our last adventure, Egyptian History has an important bent in the way our adversaries go about their business. When stories of the ancient world were chiseled in stone on the walls of the temples, the legend of a Phoenix ruling emerging civilizations was well established. In their accounts, as in ours, the concept of a bird being the very representation of a creator god with us was entrenched in the conscience of the people. When the Earth was still an empty waste and darkness hung over the deep, the spirit of God hovered over the waters before breaking the silence with a piecing cry.

‘Let there be light’, was recorded as the first utterance of a creator that mankind has striven to envisage ever since.

Now, if I knew of a golden artifact that is as old as time itself, which represented that concept of that god; what would you say it looked like?

‘Finally we are getting to the point!’ exclaimed Buzz, breaking Laurie’s monopoly on the conversation. ‘What you are saying is we are on the trail of an artifact more important that the Ark of the Covenant or the Breastplate of Narmer.’

‘Yes,’ affirmed Laurie ‘and what I want to achieve at this moment is to consolidate between ourselves a mental image of what that significant artifact might look like.’

“A Golden Falcon like the one in the movie Bogart and Bacall made famous.’ Stated Grant

‘A good guess,’ said Buzz ‘but that was only fiction and at best a falcon only represented Horus, a prince in the pantheon of Egyptian gods. If you had of said a Golden Heron you would have picked the symbol for the king.’

Laurence raised his arms again, in a manner that indicated he was still in charge of his seminar, and said ‘ You are both jumping to conclusions; firstly the Maltese Falcon wasn’t only fictional, it was a real gift from the King of Malta to the King of Spain and was stolen by Pirates before it ever got there. Secondly it could not have been a Heron\ Phoenix or Benu-bird, as they called it, because that was the symbol for Osiris after he had died and represented the ability to reemerge from the underworld.’

‘Of course,’ chipped in Natalie ‘what we would be looking for wouldn’t be a symbol of rebirth; it would be the symbol of the ongoing, immortal, presence of God on Earth.’

‘Precisely,’ said Laurie ‘what we should be envisioning would be as diurnal as the sun, fly higher, swifter and preside above all others; what we are looking for is The Golden Eagle.’

A temporary silence ensued until Buzz piped up again, ‘well that shouldn’t be too hard; don’t forget it used to be the symbol for the Roman Empire as well as every other power crazed megalomaniac since.’

‘That alone should tell you we are on the right track. If the Greek Egyptian rulers, the Ptolemy’s and Julius Caesar valued the golden eagle as the symbol for their divine right to rule the world then how much would the present dictatorship value having the original pre-flood artifact, representing God’s authentic rule on Earth?’

‘Heaps!’ Answered Jimmy

‘Arch, all well and said, but how does that relate to our present course?’ asked Sir Hamish (Grant) in his role as Captain

‘Unbeknownst to most people, New Zealand has at least two unique mysteries; a tribal heritage of Micronesian Kings that can trace their history back to the glory days of Egypt and a coven of Melchezdek priests that have gained power and influence in the current regimes eye, by their intricate knowledge of the old Egyptian religious practices.’

‘And you think you can turn that to our advantage in tracking down this mysterious Golden Eagle of yours.’ added Natalie

‘Yes, some time ago I was contacted by a representative of these north island natives who believe they have had a large cache of artifacts in their possession since they left Egypt thousands of years ago and that it might be about time they returned them to the appropriate owners, but are having a little trouble working out who that might be. Hopefully, with the help of Natalie and her newfound status, we might be able to convince them that we are honourable enough to assist them in their task.’

‘That’s if they don’t eat us first.’ Joked Buzz

‘If you don’t mind; I would like to ask you to take this seriously and spend some of the remaining time we have left, before we get there, on getting together with Nat and researching this in your unique method which gained us the advantage we needed in our last adventure.’ Finished off Laurie

‘Is that O.K with you Nat, that these guy’s enjoy some of the niceties I’m sure they have stashed around here while you and I go off hungry and try to make some more sense of this?’ asked Buzz

‘Yes,’ answered Natalie ‘I’m intrigued now and more than willing to investigate from the astral perspective.’

‘O.K,’ said Buzz “let’s go for it; I’m excited!’

They left it at that and with mixed signs of amusement and disapproval of Gabriel’s irreverent attitude, the couple retired to their cabin and began to prepare themselves for a meditation session that only they could perform. After showering and getting comfortable on their big bed they could almost immediately enter the deepest, chakra aligned states of altered consciousness that allowed them to do the work that was asked of them and soon they were flying over the landscape of a distant past.

—————————

As his juggernaut of a home away from home, slash office, slotted itself into the huge transport plane and climbed high into the skies of the northern hemisphere, Mr. Placebo barely noticed he had even left the ground. His consciousness was totally engrossed in the search for his stamp of authority, focusing solely on tracking anyone who would challenge for an understanding of the keys that would open up doors to his fathers’ kingdom.

One of the locks had been picked and his hackles were up; when two high profile pieces, knights of the big game, had been rolled in a classic sting, alarm bells rang. Nick was on red alert, digging deeper into his data banks than ever before to piece together a scenario on how they had found themselves in their present predicament.

What was it they were overlooking? Step by step he retraced the events and characters that had been involved. Why were they so easily deceived? Desire to acquire objects of past glories, baubles to delight the hangers on, was this their weakness? While he held all the secrets of power and wielded them like a battle axe; all of a sudden, out of left field, someone has come up with a shield. It ate at him like acid on flesh.

Everyone was traceable and Nick considered himself the best cyber tracker in the business and after all it was his business. So when the flags went up and an unknown craft just dropped off the radar, it required all his personal attention. The footage coming through on his V.D.U gave him the first real breakthrough, close-ups of six wet-suit clad enigmas flaunting themselves in front of the worlds’ media and then disappearing right before their eyes in a state of the art defence proto-type only a few outsiders even knew existed.

Although he couldn’t track it, he could eliminate places where it wouldn’t be and as he frenzied himself with boiling it down to a possible destination, his aura loomed large and bright red. His poking and prodding at the blue ray controls of his highly sophisticated super computer began to take on the outward appearance of something unworldly searching for a needle in a haystack with a pitchfork and a sickle Alarming horns were detectable by his ears only as his energy tailed off the command was bellowed,

‘NEW ZEALAND.’

Chapter Two https://wayneswordpress.wordpress.com/2009/04/

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