When she opened her eyes, the tape had stopped. Eloy was gone. The room was empty except for a single red scarf draped over the back of a chair.
The film began: grainy, flickering. A man in a raincoat walks through an empty train station. He meets a woman in a red scarf. They speak in elliptical dialogues about a lost key, a garden, a door that only opens at midnight. It was beautiful, hypnotic, but cryptic. Forty-five minutes in, Mara felt her hope thinning. Where was the secret? The formula?
The screen went black.
The man and woman stand on a cliff overlooking the sea. The woman turns to the camera—directly to the camera—and says, in Spanish:
I will join you in prayer for a spiritual awakening among God's people and the advancement of the gospel.