Disclaimer: I do not own any of Dan Brown's characters, publications, or any other such material spawned purely out of his imagination.
The plane began a steep descent towards the run strip. Something odd was brought to Christine's attention. Silas was sweating profusely, and his grip was tightening more and more by the second on the small blanket folded on his lap. He looked disturbed, and terrified.
"Are you alright?" She asked, looking quite concerned. His eyes closed tightly, and his breathing quickened, mirroring his accelerating heartbeat. "Hey, you alright? You don't look so good. Do you feel sick?"
Silas shook his head in disagreement. It became more and more obvious each second to her what was wrong. With each shake of the plane's cabin, he worsened. He was scared of flying. She searched her memory of the take off. He took a pill. What pill was it? A sedative, most likely. The cabin shook violently in the Spanish atmosphere. It was a rough night, and lightning cracked the landscape. The pressure dropped suddenly, and their feet were lost beneath them. Silas gasped, and grabbed Christine's hand. She jumped, but did not protest. He was reduced to panting now, and was restraining himself with all the fiber of his being from screaming in terror. She placed her other hand on top of the one already buried in his fingers. He opened his eyes to meet hers in an almost pleading fashion. He buried his face behind her shoulder. The turbulence worsened still. He was letting out pained gasps, as if he were being tortured by some terrible image.
"Stop! Make it… stop! Make it…" He uttered. It stopped. They had landed. Silas slowly unburied his face from the seat, wiping the saliva and tears from his face. Christine stared at him in a silent disbelief.
"What happened there?" She asked. He looked down, and shook the remnants of his terror off. "I don't like flying. It's as simple as that. Just a bit nervous." He answered, putting on a forced stern face. "You are alright now, though?" She asked, wondering why she cared. Perhaps it was because she knew of all the people that would be involved with this operation, he had promised to keep her alive. What other harms he might do to her, she would take them as they came, but for now he seemed harmless.
"Attention all passengers. Please prepare for departing your seats. Welcome to Barcelona." A voice said over the PA. It continued to say this greeting in four other languages. They rose, and began their walk down the cold, dark walkway into the airport.
"Which way, now?" Christine asked. Silas drew a cell phone from his pocket, and dialed a ten digit number. "Yes. We are here. She is… Where? Ten minutes? Yes, father. And with you." He said. He killed the call, and grabbed the girl by the wrist. "This way." He said.
"Whoa, easy. Why do you have to be so fucking rough with me? I said I'd come. I said that when I have no idea what the hell you have planned for me, where we are going, and if I will be alive this time tomorrow. Will you do me the small favour of refraining from hurting me when it is not completely necessary." She demanded.
"Just follow me woman." He released her. His sternness almost intrigued her. She wasn't easily intimidated in any situation, and the fact that he refused to let down his offensive guard just teased her interest even more.
"Why do you call me woman? You know who I am. My name is Christine. Chris, if you wish. Call me that. Woman is so degrading, and obviously I am of some sort of value to your people, whoever they may be." She said, with force.
"Your value is in our possession of you. Not your comfort or points of view, Christine." He answered, nudging her along.
They exited the building to see a limo parked outside just along the sidewalk. PLEASE be our ride. Christine thought. To her amazement, Silas lead her up to the limo, and escorted her inside. Their ride was short, though. They stopped on the other side of a large parking lot. The window to the driver's cabin opened, and a hand reached through offering a small piece of paper.
Silas took the piece of paper, and they exited the limo. He read it aloud. It was a lot number. He retrieved a pair of keys from his pocket, and read the card again. It contained directions. They searched for the lot. Lot 3143, it said.
"Where is it?" She asked. Silas stopped dead in his tracks… in front of a Kawasaki Ninja.
"What the… hell. This is a joke." He cursed. "We are to drive THIS?"
Two helmets hung from the bike. One red, one blue. Silas placed the Blue one on his head, and handed the red one to Christine. He climbed on, struck the ignition, and motioned for her to climb on. He nervously mounted the large sport bike. "Hold on, woman" He said.
"Christine!" She yelled, wrapping her arms lightly around his waist. The discomfort both Silas and Christine felt was unimaginable. Silas, perhaps more than her. The grip of a woman, while not foreign to him, was long-since banished from his mind. His jaw was tight as he shifted into third gear, accelerating rapidly. Christine's grip tightened around his waist.
Driving down a large highway similar in speed and scenery to the Autobahn, Silas became annoyedly aware of a car following them for an extended period of time. He looked back, and muttered "hold on…" to Christine. He shifted into fifth, and sped along the highway, hoping to rid them of the odd stalker. However, the car increased in speed, too.
A loud bang sounded, and it was then that they realized the occupants of the vehicle were shooting at them. Silas accelerated rapidly, eyeing an exit ramp sign to his right. He slammed on the breaks, and made a swift turn to the right, skidding through a patch of grass and dust on the way, kicking up a violent cloud of debris. The car stopped on the side of the highway, and backed up at nearly 60 miles an hour. It followed them off the exit ramp.
"What the fuck is happening?" Christine yelled. "Just hold on, and look forward. If anything happens to me, run." He answered.
They turned onto another road, which quickly became gravel. "Where are we going?" She asked. "We're almost there. It looks like we're no longer being followed." Silas answered over the roar of the motor.
They turned a final corner, and there stood a magnificent building. It looked hundreds of years old. Christine had hardly seen anything so ancient in her life time. Even the oldest buildings of Quebec were no older than two hundred years.
"Where are we?" Christine whispered in amazement. "We are at the temple. This is where your destiny lies." He said, parking the bike outside the towering palace.
They entered the door, and there stood twenty men, all wearing lush black robes lined with golden silk. They stood in dressing, hands grasped in front of them.
"Welcome, Silas, Christine. I trust the journey went well, no?" One man in the middle of the group said.
"No, it did not. There were men shooting at us on the freeway. We were nearly killed. And there were spies at the Opus Dei headquarters trying to take Christine from me." Silas said, throwing down his helmet, and approaching the elder. However, he did not make any violent moves. Instead, he fell to one knee, and bowed his head infront of the man. The man bowed in return, and Silas rose.
"You have done well my son, but your task is not over. We meet tonight to carry on the ceremony. You have a very important part in it as well, my son. You see, there is more reason for you being here than just simple transportation of the girl. You have a great honour awaiting you in mere hours. I suggest you take up board here, and cleans yourself of all evil before the ceremony goes under way. We will show you the way to your quarters. Quit your nervous states, and follow me." The man said.
Silas and Christine followed the elder up flights of stairs, and down long endless hallway until finally they stopped in front of two doors. Silas was lead into one, and Christine to the other.
Christine looked around the room. A servant was sitting on a chair in one corner, and in the middle was a large pool with flower petals dancing along the calm warm waters contained within it. Tapestries lined the walls, and candles were lit all around the room.
"Let the cleansing begin!" Said the elder, closing and locking the door behind him. The servant in the corner rose, revealing in the light that she was wearing a mask painted in an odd expression of sorrow. She approached Christine with a small bone handle knife in her left hand, and a bible in the right.