The Prodigal Sun: A Novel

by S. E. Meyer

  “A Mr. Adam Schultz.”

  “The guy from the auction house mess? He’s only been here a few hours, we haven’t even finished questioning him yet and--.” Traedon cut him off.

  “Good, bring me to him and I’ll take him off your hands. Don’t worry constable, we will keep you updated on any information he has regarding your case”

  “Fine, whatever, you CIA, CO19, MI6, boys are all the same,” the Chief replied in an irritated tone. “You think you can just barge in and take things over. Well you sir don’t even have any jurisdiction here. I can drag this into a paperwork battle for your department if I want to, so stop telling me what your going to do with my prisoner, and it's chief constable to you,” spat the man in charge.

  “Fine,” hissed Traedon. “I understand you’re a little sensitive of me pissing in your pasture okay? But I have an executive order signed by The President along with signed orders from your commissioner, and the Prime Minister, authorizing me to take custody. So can we do this the easy way and you just hand him over to me now, please?” Traedon continued with a sincere expression, but was gritting his teeth at having to use formal pleasantries.

  “Executive orders by your President do not mean anything to me, but hang on a minute.” The Chief shook his head in frustration before looking out into the large adjacent room and then picked up his phone.

  “Kendal, find Burns and tell him I need him in here right away. There is an agent here to see his prisoner,” the Chief said into the receiver. One of the plain clothes detectives in the room hung up the other end of the line and quickly disappeared through an exit.

  Adam sat quietly in the small, square, dimly lit room where he was being held. He was bound at the wrists and ankles. A chain ran between two sets of handcuffs and another chain ran from his right ankle to a ring that was cemented into the floor. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there and was lost in thought. How could this have gone so wrong? Adam thought to himself. Everything was set, the money, the auction, everything. Who would have stolen it? Did someone else know of its power? It’s time to formulate a new plan. He had the money and would soon also have Brent’s share. Frank was secure for now, but would have to be checked on. I could just find a nice spot somewhere and live out my days. He thought. No, that seemed too much like running away. I have a gift, and I intend to use it. Adam could feel the need for power growing inside him along with revenge. Whatever he was going to do next, he had to get out of police custody first. He knew he had to move soon, it would easier to escape before he was transferred to prison. He had money for bail, but the odds of a judge offering it was probably slim. I have to get out of here, and soon. Suddenly the lights grew brighter and Adam heard a lock being drawn. The door at the other end of the room opened and two uniform constables stepped through the doorway. Another man, wearing a well-pressed suit, followed closely behind.

  “Well Mr. Schultz, quite a day today, you’ve had. I’m detective Burns and I was hoping we could have a little chat about today’s events down at the auction house.” Adam blankly stared at the floor, not acknowledging that anyone had entered the room.

  “So what was your business there?” Burns asked. “And what do you know of the theft that occurred there?” There was only silence as Adam sat perfectly still.

  “You might as well tell us what’s going on Adam, you’re in a spot of trouble here. The charges are continuing to pile up. Aggravated assault, battery, homicide, robbery, the list goes on, and eyewitness accounts say you admitted to knowing the murderer who escaped.”

  “I wasn’t the one who murdered Brent.” Adam finally spoke, still staring at the floor.

  “Ah, he speaks. So what were you doing there?” he asked again.

  Adam took a deep breath as he continued to stare at the floor. He focused all of his mental energy on the two sets of handcuffs.

  “What were you doing there and why did you attack the guard?” Burns asked again.

  “I was bidding on an item that was there.” replied Adam, his blank gaze still focused towards his feet.. As he started to speak the latch on his handcuffs opened, but Adam remained perfectly still.

  “According to witnesses you were bidding on the item that was stolen.” stated Burns.

  “Nice job Sherlock,” Adam retorted. “If I had the money to buy it, and I was bidding on it, I obviously didn’t steal it.”

  “Listen Mr. Schultz, with the charges we are filing against you the odds of you ever seeing daylight again are slim to none. If you cooperate maybe we can come to an agreement.” Burns continued to inch closer to Adam as he spoke. “I have ways of making you talk,” whispered the Agent. Adam finally made eye contact with Burns. Adam’s eyes flashed for a second as he placed a thought in the detective's mind to send the other officers away. It was easy to implant the thought as the Agent was already leaning towards emptying out the room so he could get physical with Adam.

  “Leave us alone,” Burns said to the two officers. As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, Burns turned around to face Adam, pulling out a large club. Adam made eye contact, reading the detective's thoughts. His eyes began to shimmer a faint blue as he spoke.

  “Ah, so you are one of the few trained firearms officers at this station.” Adam smiled. “You will give me your gun and escort me out of this building through a discreet exit. Once we are there, you will let me go and not remember what you did.” Burns held a momentary look of disbelief. Squinting, he put a hand to his forehead.

  “What…what is this?” Burns asked.

  Adam repeated the directions again. This time the detective stood up and walked around behind Adam to release his bonds.

  “No, leave those on for now” Adam said, referring to the cuffs on his legs. Adam quickly pulled the cuffs off his wrists. Burns looked surprised for a moment and then handed him his gun. Adam quickly tucked it into his pants and covered it with his shirt.

  “Shall we go then?” Adam asked, looking deep into the detective's hazel eyes.

  Burns pulled out his key and unlocked the door. “After you,” he said as he swung it open and got behind Adam. He put a hand on Adams shoulder and escorted him out of the room.

  “Need some help there Burns?” asked one of the officers, still standing out in the hallway.

  “No, I’m fine, just changing interrogation rooms.”

  “Alright” replied the officer in a ‘that’s not a very good idea’ kind of tone. Burns continued to escort Adam down the hallway and around a corner. They went through another doorway and around another corner. At the end of the next hallway they came to a staircase. As they began to climb the stairs, another detective descending the stairs saw them coming.

  “Burns, Chief wants to see you. There’s someone here that wants to talk to your prisoner. Hey where are you going with him?” The transfer seemed unusual without an escort.

  “Just taking him up to the interrogation room.”

  “Kind of risky by yourself, well hurry up, the Chief’s in a hurry and in one of his moods.”

  “Alright,” replied Burns in a monotone voice. They reached the top of the stairs and quickly headed down a corridor towards two double doors. The detective inserted his key and unlocked the first set of doors, then swiped his ID badge over the console to the right of the second set of doors. Adam could see outside through the windows at the end of the hallway, it was a back alleyway and seemed deserted. Adam looked into the man’s eyes one last time.

  “You will return to your desk and remember nothing of this.”

  Adam handed the gun back to Burns and then walked through the doorway, disappearing down the alley. Detective Burns walked back down the hallway and took a left, went through several doorways and entered a large room full of desks. He held his gun up to the side of his head and was muttering something under his breath as he neared his desk. He almost made it to his chair when he heard the Chief yelling, rousing him from his trance.

  “What in the bloody hell are you doing?
Put that thing away! Where the hell have you been? Didn’t Jennings tell you to get up here immediately?” Burns spun around, still holding the gun to his temple and blankly stared at the Chief. Standing next to him was someone Burns didn’t recognize, an extremely tall man dressed in black. “This is Agent Witten,” the Chief continued. “Where’s the prisoner? And put your bloody gun away, what in bloody hell is the matter with you? This isn’t funny Burns!”

  “I’m trying to sir, but I just can’t seem to bring myself to drop my arm. Help me. Please!“ Burns switched off the safety and tucked his finger inside the guard. He began to put pressure on the trigger. “I can’t stop myself sir, I’m serious, please help me.”

  “Oh my God, Burns No!” The Captain jumped towards the detective, grabbing his arm, but it was too late. There was a loud crack as the gun went off splattering Burn’s last thoughts across his desk. Traedon looked Burns in the eye just before he crumpled to the floor and knew exactly what had happened. The room became a circus as everyone came running over to where they were standing.

  “Quickly now, block off a radius,” said Traedon. “Get everyone you can on this.”

  “What are you talking about?” The Chief was standing over Burns, shaking.

  “Your prisoner has escaped.”

  “How is that---” Traedon cut him off, grabbing the Chief by the collar and shaking him.

  “It doesn’t matter just DO IT!” The Chief seemed to get a hold of himself and put a hand to his head as he leaned against the nearest desk.

  “Now I told you Witten, you can’t just come in here and take over my station. And my God man, you just watched this man blow his brains out, can’t you see I have a mess to deal with here?” Traedon gave the man one last shake and then ran for the door.

  “Do it! Or the man who murdered him will slip through our hands.” The Chief looked over at his assistant as Traedon disappeared through the doorway.

  “What the hell is he talking about Julie? Burns obviously murdered himself, we all saw him do it.” He took a deep breath. “What in God’s name is going on around here!” He looked back over at Julie. “Run a check on Agent Witten, something doesn’t seem right. That guy gives me the creeps.” The Chief turned back around and looked at Burns lying on the floor. The Chief's facial expression changed and he quickly snapped into action. “Johnson! Make the calls and get this taken care of,” he yelled as he pointed at Burns. “And for God’s sake get a blanket over him or something.”

  “Right away sir,” Johnson replied.

  Everyone was standing around in shock from the incident that just happened. The Chief shook his head in disbelief. “What am I going to tell his poor wife Mary? She was always against Burnsy getting issued a firearm. I'm the one that convinced her it would be okay.”

  Julie waved at the Chief as she ran to where he was standing. “Here sir, look, there is an Agent Witten, but here’s his ID.” Julie pulled the piece of paper off the printer next to them. It was a photo ID of Agent Witten. The picture was of a shorter balding, gray-haired man in his middle fifties.

  “Everyone, listen up!” the Chief yelled. “We have a situation here. I know we all knew Burns well, and there will be a time to grieve for him, but right now we need to do our jobs! I want a radius blocked off around this building, everyone we have, go… now. I want both of those men found immediately!” Everyone stood there staring blankly as the Chief's words slowly sunk in.

  “I SAID NOW!” The Chief roared.

  At the booming voice of their Chief Constable, the agents in the room seemed to snap back to life. Everyone began running for the doors. One couldn’t tell if their sudden motivation was due to the Chief's furious expression, or their eagerness to leave Burns behind, along with his scattered thoughts.

  Traedon left the building, reaching out with his mind to find Adam. There you are. He began to run at an unbelievable speed around the side of the building and down the alleyway. Using Adams thoughts like a compass he continued to take lefts and rights. Within a few moments he found Adam a hundred or so feet ahead. Traedon caught up with Adam just as he turned down another alley that opened up to a main street.

  Suddenly Adam stopped and turned around.“What do you want?” he asked.

  Traedon stopped and raised his hand. Adam slammed into the brick wall, uncontrollably. Adam stared at him, panting, trying to catch his breath as Traedon slowly walked closer. He managed to get enough air to speak in a trembling voice. “Who are you?” Adam asked.

  “Not important,” Traedon replied and then paused. “No Adam, the question really is who are you?” As he said the last three words, Traedon took the last three steps to Adam. In one fluid motion he grabbed Adam with astonishing speed and held a small device to the back of his neck. There was an electrical clicking noise and Adams body went limp. Just then a black SUV pulled up in front of the alley and three tall athletic men in black suits jumped out. Traedon gathered his composure, slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses and straightened his suit. “Get him inside.”

  the rabbit hole

  The next flight out to Mexico City wasn’t until that evening. Frank and John were in the den studying the open pyramid. “Do you know what this is John?” Frank asked.

  “I have no idea,” replied John as he nodded his head and shrugged slightly.

  “This is a miniature cylinder seal. See the markings going all the way around?” Frank was running his finger around the small round cylinder. It was about the size of a “C” battery, but slightly longer and had tiny markings in rows all the way around it. “These cylinders were made to be rolled and pressed into clay, making the writing readable. We need something we can make an impression into. Can you think of anything John? Chewing gum, or we could make some flour dough maybe?”

  “Wait, Jenny picked up some play dough for Aurora’s birthday, will that work?”

  “That would be perfect.”

  John quickly disappeared and then came back with a package of play dough in his hands. “Any color preference?” he asked.

  “No, um how about blue,” Frank responded with a smile.

  John pulled out the large wad of blue dough and handed it to Frank. Frank set it on the desk and pressed it into a large rectangle with his hands. “Now, watch this!”Frank set the cylinder into the blue play dough and slowly rolled it from one end to the other, pressing firmly.

  “That’s Amazing!” John exclaimed. “What does it say?” He asked Frank as he stared at the rows of beautiful ancient letters imprinted into the wad of dough.

  “Yes John, quite amazing, but I don’t know what it says. I can’t read it.” Frank answered with a hint of disappointment on his face.

  “Why not?” John asked staring Frank down.

  “It’s more of the language I don’t understand completely yet, the language of the Gods. There is a small inscription in Sumerian though.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Oh my, it says whoever follows the path to enlightenment must be pure of blood, all others will perish,” explained Frank.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know exactly, I need to get this down to Mexico and see Hosea. I hope he can help me figure this out while I hide out down there.”

  They began working on purchasing an airline ticket for Frank while Jenny started packing some of John‘s old clothes that she thought might fit him.

  “Frank” John spoke softly. “I have to ask, because my curiosity is getting the better of me. What if I wanted to keep taking the injections?”

  “I can see why you would want to, I mean, I did it. I wanted to see what would happen to me. But you see John, now I know, and believe me if I could change things back to the way they were before, I think I would. It’s not as great as it might seem, I will never lead a normal life. I rarely sleep at all now. I used to love to sleep and now it feels like I am going through one very long day. Not only that, but what about Jennifer? Have you thought about how things would be if you could alwa
ys read someone’s mind? It’s very strange to always get a person’s honest thoughts, even if they don’t share them with you verbally. I think there is a reason why we can’t read minds. I’m not saying deception is good, but sometimes you’re better off not saying anything at all, or at least not saying what you’re thinking. I always know what the people I am talking to are thinking.”

  “I see what you’re saying, I guess. It’s just hard not to be curious as to what it would be like.”

  “I know, and you will get a taste of that, you are already unique in that you are one of only a couple of people who will ever use more than twenty percent of your brain. You now have a gift, but it’s progressed far enough. I don’t blame you John; anyone would want this who didn’t already have a chance to experience it. By the way, have you been noticing anything different lately?”

  “Not really, I mean, not yet anyway.”

  “You probably have changed more than you think.”

  Frank picked up a piece of paper and a pen. He began writing numbers on the sheet, but he kept his back to John so he couldn’t see what he was doing.

  “I’m going to hold this sheet of paper up for two seconds, just look at it okay?”

  Frank displayed the sheet of numbers to John for an instant.

  “Okay, what did you see?”

  “A lot of numbers.”

  John remembered that it was a sheet full of numbers, hand written. That was about all he could remember.

  “That’s it, I guess, I think the first number was four?”

  “Concentrate John, what did you see, try and picture the paper in your mind. Start at the top and work your way down the page”

  Suddenly, John could see the page in his head. “Well now that’s kind of like cheating, all I have to do is read it” He started to rattle off the numbers.

  “four, seven, six, eight, eleven, three, two, one, five, fourteen, nine, five, two, six, twenty-one, seven, twelve, twenty seven, four, thirty nine, fifty one and six. Wow that is amazing, are they right?”