Chapter Eight
Hal Claycomb risked death again.
He stepped under the blue and gold arches of the hidden chamber, alone and unarmed, carrying only his brown briefcase, the leather starting to crack on the corners. Every time he attended a meeting alone with the High Priest, he should have been concerned with his life. But he wasn’t. He had the power. He just needed the High Priest to believe that Purity did.
The High Priest would join him shortly.
While Hal waited, he recited his pitch in his head. Right now, he was isolated from his operatives. Purity was holding them outside the observatory while he waited here, under the high vaulted ceilings.
On the ceiling and pillar fresco, sinewy figures danced, battled and strummed musical instrumentals among silver vines and ochre sand dunes. H
