by James, Aiden
“Execution at the hands of Krontos’ cronies?”
“Likely. But until the bodies are processed, we won’t know for sure,” Roderick advised, sitting down on the couch. Cedric joined him and the pair cleared a spot for me to sit front and center to the laptop. It appeared I’d be the featured attraction for Skype time with Michael. Oh joy. “The internet links to the auction site have been disabled. We can only assume the coin is now in the perpetrators’ possession, and I expect they will be purging all on-line evidence of the coin’s existence.”
“So, Krontos has it in his possession, or will soon,” I said, stating the obvious conclusion to no one in particular. “Should we also assume he will somehow find a way to remove the awareness of the coin from the world’s consciousness? Or, do you think he will only seek to eliminate it from our awareness?”
“What… and perhaps alter the entire series of events that led us here?” Roderick frowned as he pulled the laptop toward him, typing in new commands.
“Wait… wait a goddamned minute!” Cedric reached over me to prevent Roderick from typing. “You two need to speak straight, instead of this ‘altered world’ bullshit. There’s no way some dude—immortal or not—can do things not even God can!”
“You mean the altered reality we encountered in Bolivia, and which once formed the only protection for the Yitari’s long, peaceful existence, is a bunch of bullshit, too?” countered Roderick, just as irritated. “How did you ever make it back home from the dimensional plane you spent six months residing in? Hmmmm? You didn’t just hop on a Greyhound bus to the States from the shores of Lake Titicaca, did you? Not to mention, how do you explain the time passage of several years in the six months spent away from our plane that you told us about in June? You, better than anyone, should understand the rules governing time and events are not the same when going from one dimension to another!”
The pair eyed each other angrily, but said nothing more. I took the opportunity to see if I could present an explanation that made sense to Cedric. Otherwise, the rest of our breakfast meeting could remain volatile, and therefore unproductive.
“I know you think all the new age metaphysical stuff out there is pure nonsense, Cedric,” I said, turning to face him. “And for the most part, you are totally correct. But, some metaphysical principles are rooted in and supported by traditional science. Even Einstein bought into some of it, as mentioned before. But let me begin explaining things to you like this: Everyone has free will to make countless choices in life, correct?”
He nodded curtly, the anger hovering near the surface.
“Suppose every one of those choices you could’ve made in our reality still exists elsewhere, with real outcomes on some other plane, or planes, of existence. For example, you told me once you dreamt of being a sculptor when you graduated from college, and you also regretted not pursuing your baseball dream with the Los Angeles Dodgers when they recruited you out of high school—things you thought were impractical. Instead, you chose what seemed wiser and financially sustainable. And, that choice eventually led to one hell of a career with the CIA. But… what if those other choices you thought hard about and didn’t act upon became reality somewhere else?”
“That really sounds like bullshit, William” he said, snickering. “If that’s the best you can do, all your efforts to change my mind won’t do jack!”
“Okay… I’ll give you that, my friend,” I said, glancing at Roderick. “But humor us anyway, since what if the facts in this case end up pointing to our bizarre premise being the truth?”
Cedric snickered again, but indicated he would politely listen to the rest of what came pouring out of my mouth. Roderick bristled beside me.
“From what we can tell, Krontos has not only figured out how to travel within other dimensions, such as the ones you witnessed in Bolivia. He has also learned how to cultivate the alternative realities of other people, and superimpose snippets into their lives on this earth plane,” I said, ignoring the growing mirth in Cedric’s eyes. “If such a thing was possible, can you at least picture what would happen to those posing the biggest threat to his designs? And, how would they know he had altered their lives by grafting in either negative or positive events on a whim?”
“Sounds like surgery… of the bullshit variety,” he replied. But, at least he was hearing me—even if he couldn’t wrap his mind around it all.
“Precisely,” said Roderick, his tone extending forgiveness for their recent spat. “It is just like surgery. And it doesn’t have to be full-scale alternate lifetimes Krontos taps into for him to accomplish his goals. He can take a weekend, or a day. Hell, we’ve seen him take an hour or two from a person’s earthly reality and replace it with a completely different sequence of events lifted from one of their alternative paths that never came to fruition in our world.”
I didn’t feel the need to add anything else. Neither did Roderick. The ball was in Cedric’s court, and all we could do was hope he would eventually become open to this way of thinking. At some point, his survival would likely depend on it.
Meanwhile, it was time to meet with Michael Lavoie.
Seeing my former CIA boss for the first time in nearly two and a half years was good, at least for the most part. Awkward at first, since it took a moment to get used to the physical changes as viewed through the slightly distorted transmission received by Roderick’s Macbook. Father time was finally winning the war with Michael’s vanity. His face was fuller, with unflattering definition to his surgically altered jowls, and I briefly detected a slight paunch around his waistline. Not that I’d ever judge anyone for these imperfections, as they are part of the natural aging process. But, since Michael had liked to poke fun at others for having these flaws, I couldn’t suppress a slight grin.
“So, what will you boys be doing now?” asked Michael, after our debriefing ended.
“Well, we had planned to be here through November first, and our flight back to the States isn’t until the afternoon of the second,” said Roderick. “Maybe we will have a look around.”
Sounded fine to me. Maybe we could revisit some of the places I had last seen in the spring of 1945, shortly after Germany’s surrender. Maybe I could figure out something romantic to help ease my wife’s trepidation in coming here. Lord knows there would be sightseeing that Alistair and Amy would be up for.
“I strongly suggest you not do that,” advised Michael. “We may not understand Krontos on your level, but we have seen the murderous rampages his thugs participate in. Who’s to say you’re not on a hit list right now? I would like for you all to come back to Washington, and to do it tonight. Don’t delay.”
“Mike, you’re sounding like a boss—our boss,” said Cedric. He glanced at Roderick and me before going on. “But none of us work for you anymore. You, my friend, are strictly an advisor at this point. And, though we’ll take your advisement under consideration, you’ll likely have to find some other way to cover your ass for Thomas’s death.”
I expected Michael to offer a harsh rebuke. I had been privy to a few of those down through the years. But, he merely nodded, before confirming if that was also Roderick’s and my position.
“We will make it without your watchdogs, Michael,” said Roderick, to which I agreed. “We understand that if we get in over our heads, we’ll have to work things out on our own. There will be no safety net from you or anyone else back in Washington this time.”
I shot Roderick a look, since I assumed this had been the way things were since I rebuffed the agency’s efforts to get me to come back, six months before our Bolivia trip last year. He mouthed an assurance he would explain things at a later time, and we wrapped up our video meeting with Michael.
“So, what are we going to do?” I asked Roderick. “Or, more accurately, what can I tell Beatrice and Alistair?”
“We can go home, if you insist,” he said. “Or, we could see some sights for a few days, making sure we all wear bullet proof vests.”
“Or
, we can go find this son of a bitch,” said Cedric. “If it were up to me, I’d want to be hunting Krontos, instead of the other way around.”
He had a point. They both did.
“Maybe we can see a few sights while we pursue Krontos,” I said, at first not sure why I suggested such a thing. But as I thought about it, it started to make sense. Crazy sense. “Until we know for sure he has the coin, I think we should try to get closer to him. Closer, but not too close.”
“Now, what in the hell are you talking about?” Cedric released an exasperated sigh.
“Actually, it might be something that works well,” said Roderick, smiling at me. He must’ve liked the puzzle pieces coming together in my head. “Even though it’s likely Krontos already has the coin, it’s foolish to assume this outcome without a little research. Maybe a visit to the very places that made this coin famous could hone William’s senses to be drawn to where it is.”
“Stutthof and Auschwitz?” I whispered, seeing the connection Roderick had picked up on.
“We’ve got almost four days before our scheduled flight, which saves me the hassle of canceling and rebooking,” he said, his smile widening. “We just need to secure some weaponry… just in case.”
He picked up his phone, and soon scanned his contacts.
“I thought we told Mike to take a frigging hike?” Cedric eyed him suspiciously.
“We did,” said Roderick. “But the CIA isn’t the only game in town.”
And, so, we prepared to embark on the next leg of our journey. An excursion Roderick and Cedric seemed pleased about, with reactions I never would have pictured just two days earlier. Staying in Europe would be a tougher sell to Beatrice… not sure about my boy and his gal.
My biggest concern at the moment was the presence of a nagging doubt refusing to go away. A counsel cautioning me to reflect on what I had lectured Cedric about earlier. Was the inspiration spawning our latest plans an earthly perception? Or did it come from somewhere else?
I sent an urgent prayer heavenward, that it wasn’t Krontos feeding me a path from one of my alternative existences.
Chapter Nine
“Why in the hell did we even bother coming up here if there is no coin to find? Maybe we should return to Roderick’s fortress in America. Surely, Krontos has moved on by now.”
Alistair’s complaint carried validity to a point, and only because Roderick, Cedric, and I decided not to tell him the full reason as to why we were visiting Stutthof. All we revealed to him and Amy was the same advisement I gave Beatrice when I returned to our room: The auction was off, the coin was missing, and our CIA contact was dead.
Plenty to digest, considering she had awakened only thirty minutes earlier.
Unlike Alistair, she at least waited for the subplots to be filled in before reacting to my announcement of traveling to Poland. Once I told her we wanted to see if anything, psychic or otherwise, came to Roderick or me when visiting the Nazi death camps involved with the coin, she offered only a slight protest. Her biggest qualm was making sure we didn’t linger in Europe any longer than our original plans. I could tell she was intrigued by the prospects of visiting memorials from World War II. Although, dealing with cooler weather than Germany’s balmy October temperatures meant she would need a warmer coat prior to making the trek to Northern Poland.
“If it turns out we get nothing, in terms of impressions or the tingling that can sometimes reach my left arm from half the world away, then we’ll head back to Berlin tomorrow night and see if we can reschedule our flight back to the States a day early,” I replied to Alistair, looking toward Stutthof’s main entrance as Cedric parked our rental. “You really need to lighten up on the stress, Ali. Seriously, son.”
I heard his familiar ‘humpf’ from the backseat he shared with Amy, thinking it sounded more endearing when he was a soon to be retired college professor. Beatrice and I occupied the middle bench of the minivan, and Roderick kept Cedric company in the front. My wife rolled her eyes, and at first I thought she was ready to chide me. But then she cut a scornful glance at our boy.
“Krontos breached the fortress easily the first time,” added Roderick, adjusting his coat and fedora. Cedric unlocked the doors and we gathered our cameras and notepads. Roderick made the brilliant suggestion for us all to take pictures and notes—to not just rely on the paranormally gifted in our midst. “You might be right that he won’t return there. However, since he has invaded our lives effortlessly on a whim, wouldn’t it be nice if we had a few less questions about the coin’s whereabouts the next time he comes to call?”
“Only if you find the damned thing before we return home on Monday,” replied Alistair. “Otherwise, all you’re doing is wasting precious time.”
Everyone exited the van, with Roderick pausing to make sure the guns he and Cedric procured while I entertained my family at their breakfast meal in the hotel’s main dining room were still camouflaged by a blanket in the very back. Unless someone with prior knowledge alerted the authorities, I didn’t expect any police interference. Roderick acted as if he wasn’t so sure, carefully scanning the area around us. The parking area was packed with tourists, likely hoping to beat the wintry weather reportedly on the way by the weekend.
“Remember what we discussed on the way here,” Roderick said. “William needs to be the first one inside the camp exhibit, followed by me. Then Beatrice, Ali, and Amy. Cedric will pull up the rear, keeping an eye out just in case.”
I gave my wife a loving kiss and moved ahead of everyone else. Roderick adjusted his sunglasses as he kept pace behind me. I had thought there wouldn’t be a need for us to be so organized until inside the encampment, but a powerful feeling of déjà vu swept over me as we made our way to the main entrance. Yes, the place had an outdoor museum feel to it, but for the most part it felt as it did when I visited the grounds in late spring, 1945.
“This place is swarming with energy,” said Roderick, reverently, behind me.
I had instinctively picked up my pace, and he stayed with me stride for stride. I could hear the others murmuring further behind us about ‘what’s the big hurry?’ I couldn’t fight the urge to quickly get beyond the memorial entrance, as if the barracks, towers, and barbwire fences called to me, like long lost friends.
“It’s a vortex from hell,” I told him, briefly glancing over a shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t have done this.”
“Just be glad you are only feeling the energy pull. Would you rather see and hear the imprints assaulting my mind?”
Very good point. The oppressive sadness that had forever imprinted itself upon this hallowed ground might well overwhelm me before our afternoon visit concluded. However, it was nothing compared to the visual images of unspeakable suffering and cruelty being presented to Roderick’s mind in vibrant images. Images in living color, along with the scents and auditory imprints from those events. Olfactory assaults of blood, sweat, human waste, and the terrible stench of burning flesh from the four crematoriums on the property—all serenaded by the screams of agony and cries for mercy from a multitude of victims derided by zealous insults and rebukes from a host of inhuman SS guards.
“Sorry, Rod. We can abort this idea,” I told him, as my heart was overwhelmed with compassion for him and the tens of thousands who suffered so horribly, and lost their lives in this place. “I doubt I’ll pick up anything about the coin with such a barrage going on.”
“We need to try anyway.” His voice cracked, and I stopped to let him catch up. He wiped his fingers beneath his glasses that had fogged up. “Keep moving Judas. Like you, I haven’t been here in decades… but I feel compelled to do this. If you are reluctant to do it for your coin, then please do it for me.”
I nodded and resumed my pace, ignoring Alistair’s pleas for me to wait up. Other tourists around us gave Roderick and I strange looks as we hurried to the entrance. Although they had no clue as to why we were in a rush, their somber expressions confirmed they felt the oppressiveness.
“It’s probably best to let him work through this, my dear,” I told her gently. “On the way to Krakow, we can discuss what he’s picked up on.” I offered a compassionate smile that defied the dread threatening to overwhelm me. It wouldn’t be long before both Roderick and I would be rendered mute.
The deepening coldness crept into my bones—and surely it sought to invade everyone else. The sound of coats and hoods zipped tightly resounded around us, surely fed by siphoned energy feeding hundreds of souls that never moved on. Not completely unlike my long sentence to roam the earth, those who died in bitter sorrow found it difficult to leave. My eyes began to mist, and I braced my heart for the emotional onslaught about to come.
Beatrice came up to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Her warmth was most welcome, and the love radiating from her spirit to mine warmed me to the core. But a look from Roderick reminded me of our purpose here. I needed to move to the front of our little group and lead the way.
“I love you.”
Her words touched me deeper than her embrace, and I tried to respond in kind. But my voice was just as lost as Roderick’s. I nodded and turned away, hoping she never forgot how deeply I cherished her and our incorrigible son.
“Follow me,” I whispered.
There were professionally guided tours going on around us. Of course, we didn’t participate, instead following the energy flow of the death camp now largely covered in grass and concrete. I had no doubt Roderick would glean important images and messages from imprinted events dating from the internment camp’s change to a labor education camp in late 1941, until the Allies’ liberation in May, 1945. But I worried I wouldn’t pick up anything dealing with my legendary coin.
