I’m so excited to be a part of the The Tenth Saint blog tour. Here is an amazing excerpt! Enjoy and happy reading!

In Chapter Thirty-two, Sarah Weston meets her antagonist: the man who  has been trying to silence the prophecy of the tenth saint. Not only is  Sandor Hughes the mastermind behind so much evil, he also is the  architect of a heinous environmental crime that threatens the very  balance of the Earth. Or is he?

Chapter 32

The fingers of sunrise were barely touching the sky when Sarah’s captor pulled up to the Gulfstream G-550 parked on the private aviation tarmac at Brussels Airport. Two dark-suited men with coiled wires extending from their ears to the inside of their collars stood at the base of the stairway. One spoke into a microphone on his wrist, announcing the car’s arrival, and the other opened the door and helped Sarah out of the back seat. She shivered as the icy pre-dawn air hit her face. Neither of the guards said anything as they escorted Sarah up the stairs to the cabin of the Gulfstream.

Sarah knew these jets well, but this one was an extraordinary specimen. The interior had been customized to the hilt. Instead of a traditional configuration, the cabin was arranged like a living room with a modern, almost futuristic, sensibility. An elliptical white leather sectional faced a grouping of Lucite tables in various freeform shapes. Abstract art was mounted on the walls that divided the main cabin and the galley. The floor was made of a glossy, ebony stained wood composite, with an intarsia-style inlay of a familiar logo at the center. Before the black leather Eames lounge chair swiveled around, Sarah knew whom she was about to meet.

Sandor Hughes was a man in his eighties, ruddy faced and wearing a barbed grin. His white hair was thicker and wavier than a man his age should be entitled to. His blue eyes were dulled from cataracts but surveyed her with an alertness that betrayed a fierce intelligence. The chairman of Donovan Geodynamics waved his guards away with a pink, puffy hand and spoke in a raspy voice, not with the Texas accent she was expecting but rather with the familiar diction of a northeasterner.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Sarah. Please, sit.”

Sarah sat tentatively on the edge of the sofa and waited for him to start the conversation. Her senses were on high alert as she faced the mastermind of all the evil that befell her expedition, a man capable of anything.

Hughes got right to the point. “I know you think you know who I am. The truth is, you’re right. And very, very wrong.”

She looked out the window. A drizzly morning was dawning, and in the gloom the Belgian capital looked older and more tired than usual. She kept quiet as Hughes resumed his narrative.

“Andrew Matakala was a brilliant young man with an education, a Western sensibility, and a whole lot of connections. I hired him to find the tomb and keep the prophecies hidden—nothing more. I had no way of knowing he would become more and more corrupt with every ounce of power he tasted. People have been hurt . . . killed. I never asked for that, never sanctioned it. I am many things, but I am not a murderer. Yet every drop of blood he spilled, I have on my hands.”

“Did you bring me all the way here for a confession?” Sarah snapped. “Or are you just trying to get me out of your way?”

“You know, you and I are more alike than you might want to believe,” he said, his hands shaking as he took a sip of his morning scotch. “When I was your age, before I saw the worst in human nature, I was much more of an idealist. I believed I could change the world . . . just as you do.”

“Don’t presume to know what I believe.” Her tone carried more emotion that she wanted to betray.

“How can I not? You’ve made it amply clear by taking on this quest to vindicate the tenth saint, even if it means gambling everything—your job, your reputation, the respect of your own kin. I admire that kind of conviction, I do. But there are things you don’t understand. You have no idea what’s at stake here. Not everything is as it appears.”

Sarah looked squarely into his opaque blue eyes, bloodshot to match his ruddy complexion. “Oh, I know what’s at stake. I’ve known men like you all my life. Everything is a pawn in your chess game. You need the Alliance’s support to advance Poseidon. And you need Poseidon to make Donovan the biggest provider of alternative energy in the world. So what if there are a few pesky thorns in your side? Just banish them, like all the others.” Her face was now hot with rage. “Where is your conscience, Mr. Hughes? Are you willing to put the earth’s future in jeopardy for your corporate profits?”

“Is that what you think? That I’m doing this for material gain? Because if that’s the case, you’re not as astute as I thought.”

“Then why are you trying to silence the messages of two people who saw with their own eyes an end brought on by exactly such a manipulation of the planet? The beast they spoke of and your Poseidon are one and the same. And yet you simply refuse to allow for such a possibility. It is the height of arrogance.”

He rose with great effort and leaned into a cane. He shuffled over to the bar and poured himself another two fingers of scotch over a single ice cube.

“If you believe the world could be destroyed by an errant algae, you’re absolutely right,” he said.

That took her by surprise. The last thing she was expecting was for him to agree with her.

“Only that algae won’t be Poseidon,” he continued. “What if I was to tell you that forty years from now, the world will be suffering so much from greenhouse gases that a company named Aurora Technologies will introduce a similar product that is far more aggressive and volatile? And that nations, anxious to counter the insidious effects of global warming in the face of vast deforestation, will not scrutinize it or test it adequately? That our leaders, desperate and out of time, will regard that program as the savior and hastily approve it without bothering to verify its stability? And that it will gradually bring about destruction, just as your prophets predicted?”

She was perplexed. Was this a theory? Or a declaration?

“If we continue on our current trajectory of manipulating the earth, Sarah, planetary conditions will deteriorate so rapidly that leaders will be forced to assume great risk to mitigate the damage. That’s why it’s important to go forward with Poseidon before things reach that breaking point. Our years of research have been focused on controlling the growth of the algae so that it does not spread or multiply out of control. We have foreseen every possible scenario—toxic substances, nuclear waste, extreme temperatures, changes in the atmosphere—and have been testing Poseidon against all of them. Our facility is so advanced that we are simulating true oceanic conditions. We are not the bad guys here, Sarah. We want the same things you want—to save the planet from certain ruin. If Poseidon gets voted down, we will hasten that ruin rather than curtail it.”

“So you say. But it’s not enough to make me change my mind. Anyway, it doesn’t matter what I think. The decision rests with the Alliance. It’s in their hands now.”

He coughed nervously and his face turned an ugly shade of magenta. He loosened his shirt collar to catch his breath. “Let me be candid here. I know you know things that could be very . . . damaging. I need your cooperation.”

Sarah stood. She stared him down, her teeth clenched but her thoughts clear. She wasn’t playing his game, damn the consequences. “Why would I want to cooperate with you, after all you’ve done?”

“Because I’m on your side, God damn it,” he thundered. “Yes, there will be a nuclear accident. It will be the most horrific, deadliest meltdown in the history of mankind. The runoff will spill into the oceans and Aurora’s algae will mutate and grow exponentially. There will be nothing anyone can do to stop it. With every additional square foot it occupies, it will consume more carbon dioxide. Before long it will crowd the oceans and cause marine life to die, sinking to the ocean floor and leaving behind a cloud of methane. The algae will eventually sap the carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, leaving it with dangerously high levels of oxygen. The intense concentrations of methane will cause fires to erupt, and oxygen will feed their flames. One fire will beget another. And another. And another, until fires rage all over the earth, leaving destruction and death in their wake. And all will be lost.” He looked out the window with misty eyes. “Your prophets are right.”

Sarah froze. A chill raked her skin, and the fine white hairs on her arms stood on end.

“Who are you?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

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