Passage to Sunrise: A novel

By Bruno Jambor

“This man masquerading as a monk is a dangerous CIA sharp shooter serving an organization led by a former member of SEAL Special Forces. They want to resurrect the ancient faith that shaped Western civilization. Brother Augustine, AKA Charles DeVibo, must be stopped.” Marked for elimination by a ruthless corporation with ties to the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pinifolius LLC
• Release date: Jun 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9780997826418

Bruno Jambor

Bruno Jambor country-hopped from Hungary to France to Algeria, landing at the University of Illinois where he became an astronomer. He spent his career sending other people safely into space. In his action-filled novels, the desert and night sky stimulate his heroes to overcome chaos and find freedom and truth.

Book preview

Prologue

Primus’s hand located the cypher pad in the dark and his fingers tapped the code on the keys automatically. He opened the door and tiptoed to the ceiling-to-floor windows of his office to survey the city at his feet. Tucson was asleep and its subdued lights did not drown out the brighter stars twinkling in the predawn sky.

Primus relished acting in the dark, when people slept, unaware of his manipulation. Stealth and surprise were his trademark. Nobody suspected his existence, yet he continuously influenced the thinking and habits of the dozing population. From his lair high above the city, carved out of the rock of the Catalina Mountains, he adroitly moved the citizenry’s thinking to begin reflecting his ideas about education, politics, government, and religion.

Always attack the weakest point of the chain that holds society together.

And without doubt that weak link was education. He who controls education controls the destiny of the city.

Primus had gained control of most of the school boards of the city and had introduced his methods of teaching and grading teachers without even being known. He had proven himself an expert, and was now impatiently waiting to be transferred to National Headquarters. Tucson had been just a stepping stone. The real plum was Washington, D.C. or—though he didn’t yet dare hope too strongly for it—the World Headquarters in Utrecht, Netherlands.

The day he would leave, Tucson would not know he had been masterminding its transformation for almost two decades. Yet the city had been changed in fundamental ways. He had laid the foundations for a silent revolution that would continue for decades longer, altering the way it voted, elected its representatives, and even prayed. However, it became evident that fewer and fewer citizens prayed, so there was little there to boast about.

As the sole resident of the living quarters of the organization, he lived like a hermit. Up at three fifteen, he dressed and was ready for work before four every day. Never married, with a lean body and a balding head, he could easily pass for a monk except for the expensive blue suits he favored.

In the adjacent conference room he prepared coffee for the upcoming meeting, scheduled, as always, to start before dawn.

When the coffee started to percolate, he returned to his office, sat at his desk, turned on the lamp, and checked his mail. A coded message from EMR National Headquarters caught his attention. He downloaded and decrypted it. The letter bore the logo of the organization and the correct identification number, validating its origin. The logo was mathematician James Bernoulli’s logarithmic spiral, uncoiling from a center point and turning five times, growing proportionately while retaining its unchanged shape. It meant the message was top priority.

It was good news. Headquarters had finally recognized his accomplishments. He was being considered for promotion, and his transfer to National Headquarters in Washington, D.C. was imminent. The prospect uplifted him.

There was a caveat, however. He would be monitored on how well he handled the transition from silent revolution to the implementation of universal harmony. Primus felt a slight chill move up his spine from his lower back. He had no idea what universal harmony meant.

Some kind of a trap? How come I never heard of it?

Did they leave him out of some important new development? He had heard hints about an upcoming policy change involving a new global harmony. He thought it had something to do with implementing global education harmoniously. But this seemed to be something different. No details about universal harmony had reached his ears. He must at all costs not look ignorant on this subject if it was somehow key to his promotion.

He read the news file attached to the message and circled some items that he would share with his immediate staff, due to arrive in less than an hour. He selected five of them:

A new office had opened in Mumbai, India, to coordinate efforts with the Global Educational Development Center, headquartered there.

Three high-level representatives were traveling to Geneva, Switzerland, to participate in the International Congress on Renewable Energy. The main outcome was to create a new policy that would be proposed to the UN for reducing the carbon emission in developed countries and substituting the use of renewable energy sources to coal and other fossil fuels.

Priority must be given to staffing the positions of education analysts, working in cooperation with local and national governments. Their role is to evaluate the efficiency of school boards in applying the recommendations of governments to facilitate the goals of the Global Education Program.

All EMR districts were encouraged to develop close ties with telecommunication and social networks, as well as banks, to facilitate the integration of statistics concerning education on a worldwide scale.

Vigilance needs to be heightened to uncover and suppress any new organization whose goal is to resist the spread of global education and the special goals of EMR International. Especially dangerous are groups trying to bring back education methods based on the classics, where religion is mixed with education: Latin, Philosophy, History, Arts, and such. Most pernicious are organizations not directly under the control of religious orders or of the local religious hierarchy. Some such groups had formed recently. They followed the model of the Knights Templar, which appeared in the twelfth century and was not destroyed until the fourteenth century. If allowed to develop, they would constitute a difficult obstacle to the success of EMR’s plans to bring about a new version of universal harmony. Any EMR district discovering such a group must report it immediately to National Headquarters.

Primus emphasized the last item by bolding the font, and loaded the presentation he had prepared, ready to be shown. He looked at his watch. He had time to enjoy a cup of Ethiopian coffee, the smell of which was now wafting in from the adjacent conference room.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about that mysterious expression—universal harmony—in the news dispatch, and it prevented him from fully enjoying his favorite morning brew. If anybody asked what that expression meant, he would have to dodge the question expertly.

Chapter 1

Dangerous Monk

Two weeks later, Primus’s secretary, Cornelia, handed him a blue folder she had marked Highly sensitive.

It came with a 256 bit encoding. I gave it the highest security level.

The message came from EMR International, Utrecht, Netherlands, addressed to EMR USA, Southwestern District, with the label Urgent.

"EMR Rome has informed us of a dangerous development underway near Otranto. An enemy cell is forming citizens using the art of propaganda to resurrect the old Latin faith in Italy. A religious order calling itself Milites Crucis is training monks to revive the suppressed Latin Mass and the philosophies of Augustine of Hippo and Thomas Aquinas. Their base is the ancient monastery of San Nicola di Casole. They teach their beliefs to civilians as part of indoctrination sessions held at the monastery. Attendees of the sessions have gone so far as to request that Latin Masses be offered in their home dioceses. Our Rome district members have successfully intervened with high authorities, and Latin Masses are henceforth forbidden at the monastery. This resurgence of medieval faith is the work of a certain Dom Athanasius, a U.S. citizen, and former member of the SEAL Special Forces. He recruits members who have trained in the martial arts. His organization has qualities similar to that of the Templars, a vicious sect destroyed centuries ago by our Founding Fathers.

"Like the Templars, they recruit not only monks but lay people. Their existence is a threat to the global harmony that EMT International is chartered to foster. Their aim is to develop a universal harmony, based on the belief that everything in the universe has a preassigned place and level, and tends to the level above it. For example, they believe that material things tend toward organic living things, and eventually to man. And man tends to celestial things and to God, who maintains this hierarchical harmony. This medieval lore is contrary to the global harmony we want to bring about, which is based on global education, diversity, the idea of supreme tolerance, and global economy supervised by a global government.

"Furthermore, it was learned that one of their members, a former CIA sharpshooter, has left their base, and returned to the U.S. to form a second base. Our informants in the CIA have lost track of him but believe that he may be headed for his brother’s residence near Holbrook, Arizona. His monastic name is Brother Augustine, and civilian name, Charles DeVibo.

"The man is forty-two, six foot three, brown eyes, dark hair, and sometimes wears a beard. He has to be considered very dangerous because of his skills with weapons and his training as a CIA agent. Utmost precaution must be taken when approaching him.

It is mandatory that any attempt to form said second base be opposed by all means necessary. Especially dangerous is the influence they could acquire concerning the education of citizens, be they of school age, or adults. This vicious organization must be snuffed out before it becomes known.

Primus could not repress a feeling of joyful relief.

Finally, an official explanation of that blasted expression: universal harmony. It was driving me up the wall. Who knows, this might help me get my promotion.

He locked the document in a safe and called Cornelia back in. Cornelia, have Secundus come in right away.

After Secundus stepped in and was made privy to the essentials of the message, the two top executives made plans to intercept this dangerous killer masquerading as a monk.

Do we have anybody in Holbrook, Secundus?

Flagstaff is the nearest town where we have somebody, answered the second in command.

Has anybody reported any suspicious activity in our district?

No. It’s been quiet lately.

Keep your eyes open. We don’t want any surprises. We don’t want any organization like the Templars to take root in our district.

Why would a monk be so dangerous? We have several monasteries around the state, and they don’t seem to create any waves.

He is not just a monk, he is a killer. At that monastery in Italy, they are not just any kind of monks. They want to bring back the dangerous faith, based on the classics and outdated philosophies. These madmen are not only like the Templars, who wanted to reconquer the Holy Land. Those were bankers, and that’s how our Founding Fathers finally got rid of them. Everybody was after their money, and so they had to be eradicated and their money appropriated. What the message says is that these guys are educators, they spread propaganda. And as you see, their idea of universal harmony is at the top of the list of dangerous utopias according to EMR International. So this is very sensitive for us.

But if they educate using outmoded methods, how can they be a threat to us? We use the latest techniques, using computers and the Internet.

It’s a matter of what you teach, more than the methods you use. A resurgence of teaching about the soul and elevating man to eternal values could destroy everything we’ve built so carefully. For fifty years we have worked hard to infiltrate religious organizations that specialize in teaching. We have succeeded in bringing them to follow our educational principles. We cannot tolerate any resurgence of medieval thinking in our universities, or any education center for that matter. We certainly do not want it to happen on our watch. Be vigilant, report anything suspicious. We have to investigate all potential leads.

Understood, but as I said, in Holbrook all seems quiet.

Well, start there. Keep me posted. We have to work diligently on this. We don’t want EMR International to be disappointed by us.

Do you want me to send our member in Flagstaff to sniff around in Holbrook?

Excellent idea. Let’s be proactive in this case.

Chapter 2

Cabeza Prieta

A shot rang out from the base of the pointed rock dominating the pass. It echoed among the peaks of the Growler Mountains and died out. Charles’s instinct made him dive under the Jeep Wrangler Rubicon, swearing at himself for not having his rifle at hand. He pulled out his SIG-Sauer P320 and peered up from under the Jeep at the spear-shaped rock where the sound came from. A band of crows circled high near the summit, cawing warnings of more danger to come. Then silence. No human presence around.

He crawled out from under the opposite side of the Jeep and scanned the area. Nothing moved.

The silver-gray hardtop Rubicon was parked next to a large boulder and half-covered by the tarp that he had started to hide it under. The SIG was outfitted as a caliber .40SGW, and at short range was enough to dissuade anybody with bad intentions, but the rock where the apparent shot had come from was a good seven hundred yards away, which made it dicey in the event  of a prolonged shooting match.

He holstered the SIG, carefully opened the Jeep door on the side protected by the boulder, and reached for the SIG 716G2 rifle his brother had insisted he should take. Thus equipped, he waited for the next move. Was the shot aimed at him? It should have been followed by more shots. The quiet was unnerving.

Suddenly the pointed rock’s upper half toppled, and plunged toward where Charles was standing. It broke into boulder-sized pieces, raising a cloud of dust. One boulder rolled toward the Jeep, finally stopping eighty feet away. A thick layer of dust rushed to cover the tarp and the Jeep.

His geologist’s instincts awoke and he relaxed.

Only an earthquake. Relax, there was no shot.

The first seismic wave had produced the shotgun-like noise by breaking the rock, followed by the transverse wave that rolled the debris toward him.

He inspected the tarp that almost covered the Jeep. The dust made it blend in the background so well it was hard to see it from a distance. He pulled it over to completely cover the vehicle.

Good thing the boulder stopped before coming closer.

His brother would have been seriously disturbed if his favorite car, which he had loaned to him, had been damaged.

This was only the second earthquake he had experienced. The other one was in Afghanistan, when he was chasing bad guys for Uncle Sam.

He walked around the camouflaged Jeep and was satisfied. Staying hidden and enjoying total solitude helped his goal.

It had been a long time since Charles DeVibo gave up his CIA adventures. And even longer since he had quit his career as a geologist. In a few short seconds though, his previous lives had invaded his memory as if to remind him that he was still the same man, despite his present status as a monk. Yet, he was not truly a monk anymore, since he was not living in a monastery. He had to give that up also. Since his return to Arizona, where he grew up, he was not called Brother Augustine anymore.

But then my name is not Charles either.

A man without a name, and with a complicated past, he needed to make some decisions. He came to this lonely place in the Cabeza Prieta desert to be alone, and he intended to enjoy solitude for a few days to get his life oriented in a new direction.

His hideaway was near the top of the saddle between Growler Peak and Sheep Peak. On one side it ascended from Charlie Bell Pass, on the other it trickled down to the valley floor running all the way to the Aguila Mountains in the distance. From this location he had a bird’s-eye view of the southern portion of the Growler Mountains chain.

Very few adventurers took the road from Ajo through the Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Refuge. The sign at the entrance warning of drug smuggling activities and dangerous encounters kept most dilettante visitors away. And leaving the main trail, as he had done, to take the rocky saddle climb requiring expert four-wheel drive experience guaranteed privacy. Even drug smugglers avoided such a rough road. In any case, from his perch he would be aware of any approaching vehicle and take appropriate action. His brother’s SIG handgun and SIG 716G2 rifle were quite adequate to keep away unwanted company.

To the west, over the top of Sheep Peak, the Granite Mountains glowed in the slanting rays of the late day sun. Growler Valley extended at length to the mound of Antelope Hill near the horizon.

With his binoculars, Charles inspected the desert far to the south. Nothing disturbed the stillness. He seemed to be the only living creature in this part of the world. The crows had retired early to their evening hideout.

He took out a box from the Jeep and prepared his evening meal. A can of Spam, two slices of bread, four dates, and a canteen of water were on the menu for his first night. After his repast, he grabbed the rifle and a flashlight, and left to explore the surroundings in the now dimming light. He climbed to the highest point of the saddle. There was a cool breeze there, announcing the fresh night of this early spring.

Charles stood still to let the soothing silence penetrate his questioning mind. After a few minutes, he heard a very faint sound to his right, at the base of the rock that had lost its top when the quake hit. He bent down close to the ground, rifle at the ready. Another couple of minutes passed and suddenly, fast as lightning, a massive shape ran out from nowhere, plunged into the descent to the north, and disappeared.

Charles was so surprised, he did not move until the shape was gone. It took him a few seconds to realize he had disturbed a feral burro. Smiling, he smoothed his short-cropped beard, and shook his head as he walked over toward where the burro had been hiding.

Behind the shattered boulders that had fallen during the quake, there was a dark mass, like an opening in the rocks. It was a cave. He entered cautiously. The cave’s roof was open on one side and cool air was descending through the natural chimney. As he lit up the cave with his flashlight, he discerned a small tinaja full of water that was fed by the rare rainfalls that sprinkled the heights of Growler Peak and penetrated the cave through the collapsed roof. Dried out droppings could be found near the drinking fountain of the burros. He was not as alone as he thought.

Back at his camp, he stored away his food in the Jeep. He spread a foam pad on the ground and unrolled a sleeping bag on top of it. The setting sun still grazed the top of Growler Peak as the shadows ascended the slopes rapidly, and a sliver of moon shone feebly on the ecliptic. Charles put a rolled up blanket under his neck as he lay down and looked at the sky, where stars were beginning to blink faintly. This is what he had yearned for since his return. Total solitude to clear his mind and figure out his next move.

His older brother, Frank, had taken over the running of the family farm near Holbrook, adding to it a bed and breakfast and guided tours into the mountains and the Mogollon Rim for sightseeing and hunting. Frank had welcomed him back and facilitated his escapade into the mountains of the Cabeza Prieta. He had offered his Jeep, then insisted that he take the SIG handgun and his new 716 rifle equipped with the latest sights for long-distance sniping and for night vision.

You’re going into an area that’s not very friendly anymore. It’s rife with drug traffickers and coyotes, Frank had advised him. You may not see anybody, but if you do, you want to be able to defend yourself.

Charles had looked at the rifle with admiration.

You can still use a gun better than me, I suppose? Frank asked.

I don’t think I forgot everything, answered the ex-CIA agent.

They went outside to their private shooting range. After ten minutes, his old instincts came back and the sharpshooter was in his element with his brother’s gun.

Charles, the youngest of the DeVibo family, established in that central part of Arizona for three generations, had struck out on his own. It had been a rather rocky road. He came back recently with no possessions, no money, and only a deep hunger to discover the secrets of life. His brother could see he needed time to regain his balance and suggested he go away for a few days in the desert wilderness in the southwestern corner of the state.

If you want to be alone, there is no better place than the Cabeza Prieta. But watch out for smugglers, or any suspicious activity. Maintain your distance.

Charles agreed. He did not want company on this trip. Frank gave him topological maps he had acquired when he had gone there several years before. They decided that the vicinity of Growler Peak would be ideal.

Darkness came fast after sunset. According to his habit, Charles fell asleep, waking again shortly after midnight to pray Matins with his brother monks scattered throughout the world. After praying, he rolled on his back and opened his eyes.

The spectacle that greeted him was exhilarating. The mid-March night sky was so full of stars, it was difficult to make out the constellations. To the northwest, the arm of the galaxy spread its milky dust of innumerable stars. As he looked straight up, he pressed his back to the solid ground to reassure himself that gravity was still pulling him to the center of the earth. The immensity of the sky attracted him and appeared to detach him from this small planet. What was above seemed to be an abyss, and it gave him a feeling of vertigo, as if tottering on the edge of a precipice. Without a close-by reference, his senses could not begin to order what was up and what was down.

Appearances were deceiving and hiding reality at the same time. They were calling him to go deeper and discover what was underneath them, or behind them, or, maybe, really in him?

Beauty and appearances, how did I begin to get entangled with them?

It had begun with Susan Sparker, in what he now called his geology days. It began while vacationing at South Padre Island.

Chapter 3

Deep Earth Ventures

The twenty-six foot fishing boat Lone Starfish was riding the gentle swells of the Gulf of Mexico, off South Padre Island, a twenty-minute ride out of Port Isabel. It was anchored, waiting for the divers to come up. Captain Josh was enjoying his can of beer while his mate, Sabrina, was trying to keep the divers in sight against a background of algae and coral.

Here’s a couple coming up, starboard.

Two heads covered by diving hoods emerged, and Sabrina pointed out to them the location of the ladder to climb into the boat. Five minutes later she announced another diver, coming up by himself.

Where are the last two? growled Josh. They should be coming up by now.

Two minutes later, Susan and Charles surfaced and started to climb into the boat.

Charles helped Susan up the ladder and followed her onboard. They disappeared into the lower cabin to get out of their wet suits and change into dry clothes.