In the Shadow of Men

by Darren Swart

  “Yes, Sir.” His voice was tight. He didn’t like stepping away from the President at all, especially with a stranger. But, he would do what he was told—to a point.

  Marty and the President followed the paths through alternating beds of hyacinths and tulips. Just out of range of the clatter of sprinklers, they chatted like two old chums. It was an unusually warm morning for April in Washington, so they enjoyed the mixture of warm sun mixed with an occasional cool breeze from the north. It was quite exhilarating. Bob reluctantly lingered thirty feet or so behind them, careful to keep his distance, but not too far out of range of his charge.

  The President wasted no time getting to the point once out of ear shot. “Marty, we understand that you may know something about the whereabouts of Duke Fredrick Lindenspear?”

  Marty assumed the conversation would eventually steer in that direction. He had rehearsed the response in his mind a hundred times. Sometimes, it almost seemed like the truth. He measured his words, carefully. He looked at the president, earnestly. “Thank you, Ben. My friends and I had a terrible experience and we haven’t really known what to do about it. You’re the first person to provide us with a way to talk about the situation.”

  The President eyed him, curiously.

  “We were invited to Syria on an expedition when things went horribly awry.”

  The President prodded, gently. “Go on…”

  “We thought that we had found the resting place of a lost religious relic when there was a terrible explosion.”

  The President’s eyes narrowed, slightly. “What kind of explosion was it? Were you attacked?”

  “I can’t really say. It seemed like it was more of some freak atmospheric disturbance.”

  The President knew there was more to this than the weather. He gave Marty a dazzling smile that was usually reserved for a Senate Sub-committee when they were asking a lot of pushy questions. He lied, skillfully. “Let me confide in you. Our intelligence in the area had detected a cell of political insurgents that were planning a coup of the Syrian government. Naturally, we were concerned since there has been such a history of political instability in the region. We were able to track their stronghold to a location close to where you were.” Without a shred of dignity, he continued with the compelling lie. “The duke graciously agreed to step in as a liaison to negotiate a diplomatic solution to the issue that we could stabilize the situation. My resources in Langley were able to develop a profile of the extremists that attacked your group. We believe that it was an effort to sabotage the diplomatic process.”

  Marty could smell the manure that was being used to fertilize the hyacinths. His face filled with concern. “Well, I knew we had heavy security, but I didn’t know what happened. Thank you, Sir. That certainly clears things up for me.”

  The President looked confused for a moment before returning to the pitch. “I’m sure you can appreciate how complicated matters of foreign affairs are. What we were really hoping was that you could provide us with information on the expedition that would help us find the duke.”

  Marty recognized the sacrificial pawn and moved around it. “I would really love to help you, but as you may be aware, we also lost a friend on that expedition. Whatever happened to the duke and his men also caused our friend to disappear.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right. It was a Mr. David Delgado, I believe?”

  “Yes. We call him Digger.”

  “We are always gravely concerned about the welfare of our own citizens, first and foremost.”

  “Thank you, Ben. So, is there a plan to rescue them? That is what you’re saying, right? That our colleagues were kidnapped?”

  Fawkes stared at him for a moment. He had to hand it to kid. He was as slick as a District Rep hiding a pork barrel in a Bill for widows and orphans. They would have to watch him for a while and see where it led. “I would love to be able to confide about our actions, but unfortunately, in the interest of National Security, there are limits on what I can say. I’m sure you understand.”

  Marty smiled at the President. “I believe we’re on the same page, Sir. I will be sure to let you know if I learn of any information that will be helpful.”

  Marty could see it in the eyes. Fawkes smile was more polite than genuine this time. “Thank you, Marty. We’ll be in touch. Feel free to wait here. Someone will see you out.” He motioned to a small comfortable-looking bench under a cherry tree.

  Marty assumed it wouldn’t be a long wait. With a quick handshake, he was gone. Bob happily began to converse with his wrist and fell in tow with the president back into the building. It was less than a minute before another man in a black suit instructed Marty tersely, “This way, sir.”

  Marty found himself on a sidewalk from a side gate, without as much as a good day. He guessed that the President was disappointed with the fishing today.

  Two meetings later Benjamin Fawkes sat in a squeaky wooden office chair dating—from the Eisenhower era—in a room free of electronic monitoring equipment. He loaded a data stick into his laptop and waited, as the file loaded. With no particular introduction, a crystal clear digital recording began with an occasional glitch from unseen electronic interference at the time of the recording. It was the only shred of evidence left from a lonely mountain top in Syria.

  It was the fourth time the President had watched the recording, hoping for some insight on what had happened. He watched as McPherson mortally stabbed Wood. The camera’s focus stayed on the group. He watched as McPherson shot the portly little Israeli, only to catch a throwing knife with his chest from somewhere outside of camera range. He watched the duke launch an orb of energy across the sky and loop back to him. Moments later, the Ark began to pulse and glow. In a sudden pulse of blue energy, the camera went static. Wood knew more than he was telling. He would assign a team to watch him—just in case there was a rendezvous with Delgado.

  Chapter 44

  Marty strode briskly, as he moved away from the White House. He found his way to a quiet bench in Potomac Park and plopped down. He stared out absently over the millions of cherry blossoms before him. The wind whispered his name. He closed his eyes and quietly drifted away. He opened his eyes in Bess’s kitchen. Her portly form was swaying over a bubbling pot on the stove. She turned to face him smiling. “Rachel?”

  A rather portly version of Rachel responded. “Yes, Dear?”

  “For future reference, I never actually saw Bess cook. Irene did all that.”

  She sat down. “You know you’re awfully picky, don’t you?”

  He grinned. “Sorry. How’s Digger by the way?”

  He swaggered into the room. His waistline was four times wider and he sported a pair of red suspenders. His straight brown hair had a pronounced widow’s peak. “Hey, Guy, how’s our girl?”

  “A bit cranky right now. The baby’s due in a month.” He changed the subject, jabbing his finger at Digger’s rotund midsection. “Dude, you might want to pace yourself on the paste. It’s only been eight months. You’re starting to look a lot like Gillian.”

  He chuckled. “Why? No need to worry about cholesterol here.” He snapped his red suspenders. “You like ’em?”

  “Oh, sure. They look good on you.”

  They both laughed.

  Marty watched, as Rachel stirred a cup of hot tea. He looked at her, seriously. “Did I fail in what I was supposed to do?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Sweetie, you’re thinking in terms of absolutes. This is over for now.”

  “But the duke is still alive, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but that is not our problem. He cannot return until he finds Jezz’s reliquary on Oronas and all the jewels to activate the portal.”

  He blinked. “Who’s Jezz?”

  She sipped her tea. “She’s my sister.”

  “You have a sister?”

  She smiled. “Six to be exact, all on different planets. Gabriel, as it turns out, was quite the busy beaver in those days.”

  “So,
will the duke try to control her next? What do we need to do?”

  She stirred the cream in her tea with a crystal spoon. “There is nothing to do. This is out of our hands. He is trapped there, indefinitely.”

  Marty opened his hands wide. “Why did you let him live? You know how dangerous he is.”

  She removed the spoon and placed it in a saucer beside the cup. It made a musical chime, as it touched the saucer. She sat back and sighed deeply. It was like she was trying to explain to a child why they couldn’t have dessert before dinner. “I am not the Judge here. I am governed by rules just like you. It is not my place to make those kinds of decisions. That is up to Him. I did what was called for within my power. He asked to be taken from this world to another, so I did. Ultimately, I didn’t inform him of the consequences and, thereby, was able to separate him from his position of power.”

  “So, you sent him away.”

  “Technically, I did what he asked me to do. The caveat was that for every positive there must be a negative, which is why I had to keep Digger here. That is how I maintained the balance of the system.”

  “What about the duke’s men? Where did they go?”

  “That was tricky. They were all linked to him. I was able to separate them, so they didn’t arrive together. It will take them time to regroup, if at all.”

  “So, we wait.”

  “Of course. That is the nature of things. We all wait. Sometimes, we wait for others. Sometimes, others wait for us. Existence means waiting for something. The key is what you do while you wait. So, go live your life. If something happens, deal with it then. Don’t waste your time living for the happenstance of a maybe.” She smiled, as she reached across the table and placed a hand on his cheek. “Bess and Barb wanted me to let you know that they are very proud of you. You did the right thing.”

  He felt a lump in his throat rise before returning her radiant smile. “I can live with that. Speaking of waiting, I have a farm and a wife waiting for me. It’s time I got back to them.”

  Digger reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “It’s good seeing you, Guy.”

  Rachel began to glow. “Dear child, we will always be here when you need us. Go in peace.”

  The light filled him. He opened his eyes just in time to see a storm of cherry blooms fluttering in the breeze. He felt his cheek. It was still warm from her touch. It was time to go home to his wife. He missed her, desperately.

  ****

  As always, Rachel was right. As he rose from the bench, someone was waiting on him. A lone dark figure watched him dispassionately from a distance. And he was waiting, as well. He would wait for as long as it took.

  A word about the author…

  As a career professional spanning the disciplines of corporate security, safety, and environmental management, Darren has spent 30 years in technical fields. Born and raised in North Carolina, he has experienced a diverse background as supervisor, police officer, husband, and father.

  As an international traveler and marathon runner, he has experienced physical and mental challenges. His lifetime of experiences have seasoned his view of the world and provide a unique blend of cultural perspective with a thirst for understanding the human condition.

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