Once Ramsey got some food and coffee he called her. She didn’t pick up so he left a message saying Haas had sent the text about collapsing from heat and exhaustion and she should call him back as soon as possible. Within minutes a relieved Myriam responded.
“You’re safe?”
“At home in Grinnell.”
“That’s a relief. When I saw Haas putting you into his car, I thought for sure he was kidnapping you.”
“In a way he was. He wanted to talk to me about Adam. Wants me to help find him.”
“Will you?” she asked.
Ramsey heard the hint of desperation in her tone. But he couldn’t be sure if it was for finding Adam or keeping the shrine’s caretaker out of the clutches of the South Africans. He decided he could ease her fears either way. “I’m through with that. Adam’s alive and I wish him an obscure life away from South Africans and anyone else trying to exploit his powers.”
Myriam said, “I understand. I’m just glad you’re all right. I feel so responsible.”
“No worries,” Ramsey said in a comforting tone. “Like me, you appear to have been a pawn in some grand scheme by Haas and his Brothers of the Lord buddies to find Adam. In many ways my part in the whole business, my whole involvement in the way it went down, doesn’t make much sense to me.”
There was a pause and then Myriam said, “At the time it all seemed simple and clear what I had to do, but I see what you mean. I have to tell you something. I suspect you noticed the tremor in my leg.”
“I could see you were trying to hide it. Parkinson’s?”
“Yes. Yesterday something remarkable occurred at the shrine when a young woman told me you were in trouble. I suddenly found I had regained my balance and strength and was able to run down the hill to the parking lot. Unfortunately not in time to help you, but the Parkinson’s is gone. In fact, yesterday afternoon at the shrine was like before Adam disappeared. Many healings and realizations were reported.”
“Interesting. I’m very happy for you,” Ramsey said.
“Those healings and my own healing raise interesting questions, don’t they?
“Perhaps. Is it still happening today?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been there yet.”
“So what’s your next step?”
“Hiram’s on his way here. We’ll see. By the way, I have another key. Keep the one you have just in case you come back.”
“You need to work it out with Hiram,” Ramsey said.
“I know.”
“I have to run. Take care.” Ramsey wondered for a moment what the return yesterday of the Milagro Shrine’s healing power meant. He thought about calling Myriam back and asking her to check. Was it just another anomaly in a world full of anomalies? He shook his head. Remember, you’re letting all that go old buddy, after you speak with Grossinger.
Next Ramsey called Pete, deciding not to tell about his abduction. They arranged for Pete to send Ramsey’s stuff he left in the cabin back to Grinnell.
Then Ramsey made the most important call of all. He wasn’t surprised when Grossinger agreed to meet him on such short notice. Once again they decided to meet at Adam’s old apartment.
Ramsey arranged for one of his new employees to drive him to the Des Moines airport. The drive turned out to be highly productive. The young man was able to bring Ramsey up to speed on the company projects—particularly the upcoming visit to Blue Island, Illinois, on behalf of one of the company’s urban clients. Ramsey also took care of a number of calls and emails.
Normality felt good.
April 3, 2016
Seattle, Washington
In many ways, Alex Moore was the spitting image of his uncle. Like Adam, he was tall, large-boned, and muscular—but instead of red hair he had long, jet-black, dreadlock extensions.
He gently closed the massive door of the isolation chamber. It was designed for PSI experiments by one of the world’s leading paranormal investigators, Patrick Rhodes. Its two-foot-thick lead walls were impervious to all known electromagnetic radiation, sound, and bioenergetic fields.
To an outside observer Alex could be described as possessing the sort of presence that would draw the attention of every person in a crowd. He briefly scanned the empty room that acted as a gateway to the chamber, and then opened the second door.
Looking out the window with his feet up on the desk was a bespectacled young man dressed in a t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and sneakers. A mop of brown hair stuck out in all directions. He had a two-day growth of beard that covered his narrow face in dark brown patches.
Alex said, “Not long now.”
Rhodes looked away from the window and the rain clouds enveloping Seattle’s downtown landscape. He pushed horn-rimmed glasses up his long nose. “Can I go in the chamber?” He asked with reverence in his voice.
“Of course.” Alex smiled. “I’m going for some coffee.”
April 3, 2016
Rio Chama, New Mexico
Myriam once again sat on her favorite bench that allowed visitors to gaze upon the shrine’s venerable cottonwood tree. The catkins had dried up and the majestic old tree’s spray of new green leaves glistened in the sun. She took a deep breath and let it out, but it did not release the anxiety that held her body tense against the chill spring wind. As she began to shiver, Myriam thought to herself, Shivering but not trembling. What a relief.
Then she saw him. He thrust his hand in the air signaling he saw her. He stopped, waiting. The anxiety disappeared and Myriam vigorously waved back. With that Beecher strode quickly up the rest of the slight rise toward her.
As he got closer, Myriam could see the openhearted smile of her lover. It was all she needed. She raced to the man she held so dear for so long and fell gently into his embracing arms.
At first nothing was said, each content to savor the touch of the other as they walked towards the small Christ Chapel. The breeze died and the morning sun felt like a blanket engulfing them in radiant, loving warmth.
Finally Beecher spoke. “Your Parkinson’s, it’s gone?”
Myriam was surprised. “I didn’t think you knew.”
“I could see what was happening and I researched the symptoms.”
“I didn’t want to tell you. I thought you would turn away.”
Beecher looked her in the eyes. “I wouldn’t have. And I won’t now if you’ll let me stay.”
“Hiram,” she said as tears filled her eyes. They walked on.
Finally Myriam said, “It went away! The only way I can explain it is that I was healed by the shrine two days ago. I’m fine. Miraculously, everything is normal now.”
When they reached the Christ Chapel, Myriam told Hiram the whole story of Ramsey’s abduction by Haas, Father Michael’s complicity, and Ramsey’s safe return to Grinnell. She ended the story by saying, “Jonathan’s done with the whole matter. He’s really pissed that everybody played him. He had no idea why Haas was so convinced he could find Adam. But none of that matters.” She twined her fingers in Beecher’s. “Are we together?”
“We are,” Beecher replied lovingly.
Myriam’s mood changed and she asked anxiously, “Are you worried about Haas and Brother Paul?”
Beecher shook his head and took her in his strong arms. “I was a pawn too. They don’t need me anymore, so they’ll leave us alone.”
Myriam hugged him fiercely, glad they were safe. “So what should we do?”
Beecher looked down at his feet. Shame threatened to overwhelm him. But he knew he had to tell Myriam everything. He took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something. It may change how you feel about me.”
Myriam hid her anxiety and desperately hoped what he was about to confess wouldn’t change their lives or her commitment to the man she loved. It was strange feeling this way when only two days earlier, she had been so angry she contemplated leaving him.
“I had a strange experience when I met Conklin in Austin in December last year,” Beecher began. For the next
ten minutes he laid out his encounter at Oilcan Harry’s with the transvestite. He finished and waited for Myriam to say something.
Myriam rocked back on her heels. The story was hard to believe yet there was something in his contrite expression that indicated he was telling the truth. It was as though he had been transformed or some heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“Hiram, why didn’t you tell me earlier?” she said softly.
“He shook his head. “Fear, maybe. . . . No, it wasn’t only that. I was also ashamed of my life in the Brothers of the Lord. I saw that I had acted in a non-Christian manner, I suppose, but more so, I had acted without love for a fellow human being.”
He looked at her with tears in his eyes. “I guess I’m asking for forgiveness for many sins.”
Myriam felt the knot in her stomach slowly release. She saw in front of her a changed man but a man who could still be her friend and lover. “Truly you can only forgive yourself, love,” she heard herself say, but she also knew she had to forgive him herself or their relationship might not survive his confession. “I understand,” she said with compassion.
He closed his eyes and she saw the worry drain out of him. “Thank you,” he answered. But there was one more thing Beecher knew he had to tell Myriam. “There’s something else, but it’s more of a question than divulging a sin. When I confronted Conklin yesterday, asking him one more time which side he was on . . . why he was doing what he did, he told me he was in love with me. Said he had felt it since the first day he set eyes on me.”
All the while Beecher had been telling his story about Oilcan Harry’s, Myriam had listened intently holding back any judgment. She took a deep breath and said as matter-of-factly as she could, “Hiram, what did you say to him?”
“I told him that nothing like he wanted was possible between us.”
“And how did Conklin take it?”
Beecher shrugged. “Said he understood.”
She saw he was still holding something back and gently prodded him to tell her everything. “And?”
“I wanted to say we could still be friends, but the words never came out of my mouth. I’m wondering if I did the right thing?”
Myriam stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “There’s plenty of time to answer that question, love.”
“How did I get to deserve such a beautiful wonderful woman as you?” Beecher asked cradling her lovingly in his arms. “Let’s go home.”
Myriam smiled. “Let’s go home.”
April 4, 2016
Rio Chama, New Mexico
After a glorious night, Hiram and Myriam found themselves relaxing around her breakfast table.
Myriam said, “I had a revelation last night. Something came to me in my sleep. It was like a dream, only more intense—as though it were really happening.”
She took a deep breath, ready for Beecher to laugh at her, but the big man put down his coffee and leaned across the table taking her hand in his broad fingers. “Tell me about it.”
“A coyote came to me and began speaking. He asked me, ‘Why are you crying, little one?’ I told him, ‘Because I was leaving New Mexico in the morning.’ He laughed gently and shook his head. ‘The shrine needs a new caretaker.’ He gave me a catkin like ones from the cottonwood tree.” Myriam opened up her left hand. In it was a dried spike from the cottonwood. “I found this on the dresser this morning.”
She paused, then said shyly, “I want to keep the shrine going.” She waited for Beecher to say something.
The big man nodded his head slowly and said, “Agreed.
“You’re so agreeable.”
“It’s my penance.”
Myriam reached over and placed her other hand in his. “I love you so much.”
April 4, 2016
Des Moines, Iowa
Ramsey parked on the capital grounds and studied the new urban architecture that seemed to float along the Des Moines River. He shook his head at the nearness of the development to the river. Heavy spring rains coupled with snowmelt had brought the river up and out of its banks. A surprising warm front had extended from the Rockies into Minnesota and was going to increase the flood danger. These buildings would be flooded unless city crews sandbagged the entire area. That was a stopgap measure at best. Next year if the city accepted his firm’s watershed recommendations for the capital, they would build retaining walls to keep back the floodwaters. But the new design would spoil views and playgrounds. It was a win/lose situation unless he could find a way to make the new area special for everyone.
Every bridge needs to be crossed in its time, he thought. He started the car and pulled into the street heading for the Grossinger Lofts. For a moment he thought about calling Grossinger and saying he couldn’t make the meeting. Ever since he decided to confront Adam’s friend, he had been indecisive about what approach to take. That indecision had led to hesitation and waiting. He looked at his watch. He was almost late. Then it came to him.
As Ramsey walked down the hall he could see that the door to Adam’s condo was slightly ajar. Carefully he pushed it open. “Hello,” he called out.
“Come in,” Grossinger said quietly.
Sitting in the large leather chair, Grossinger gestured for Ramsey to sit in the chair next to the computer table. To Ramsey, the older man seemed to have aged. His countenance was almost grandfatherly.
“What have you found out about Adam?” he asked.
Ramsey’s plan was to go right to the heart of the matter. “You lied to me last week.”
“What do you mean?” Grossinger seemed genuinely surprised.
“You knew all along Adam was alive. You and Pieter Haas cooked up this convoluted scheme to involve me in a search for his whereabouts.”
Grossinger stood up. “I don’t know any Pieter Haas. Are you crazy?” he said with a tinge of anger.
“You’re denying you’re a Gnostic?”
Grossinger turned away from Ramsey and walked over to the window. Tapping his finger on the sill, he turned abruptly back towards Ramsey. His anger had subsided “Okay, calm down and tell me what this is about.”
Taking Grossinger’s cue, Ramsey said calmly, “I was told you are a high level member of the New Gnostics, a global group of people who have been affected by the Rio Chama Shrine and Adam’s healing powers.”
“I can tell you truthfully I’m not a member of any such group.” Moving ever closer to Ramsey, he added, “What did you say about Adam’s healing power just now?”
Ramsey was confused. “Don’t you know Adam was the source of the shrine’s healing power?”
Grossinger appeared to Ramsey to be struggling with how to answer. Finally he nodded. “Adam figured it out eventually. Before I say more I need you to tell me what’s going on.”
Ramsey decided he had nothing to lose and told him about the strange sequence of events. Grossinger listened intently without asking any questions and when it was over said, “That’s quite a story. But the part about my involvement is not true. The conversation in the airport was just a coincidence. I was talking with my wife about Adam.”
As Ramsey was about to reply, Grossinger’s phone buzzed. “I need to take this,” he said, and walked into the bedroom, closing the door.
The call seemed to be taking forever. Eventually Ramsey noticed a photo album just to the right of the computer. He started thumbing through it. It was all pictures of Adam playing chess with different people. Above each opponent was a large black “W” or “L.” Halfway through the album he was stopped cold. There was a picture of himself across from Adam. Above Ramsey’s head was an “L.” Later he would recall that the album wasn’t there the last time he was in the condo and vaguely remembered during his college days playing an amateur chess competition at Des Moines’ Drake University.
April 6, 2016
Grinnell, Iowa
Four days after returning from New Mexico, Ramsey’s experiences and revelations about Adam Gwillt being the source of the h
ealing power of the shrine were becoming more unreal and even improbable. Rather than clarifying his long search to understand the geographical power behind sacred places, the New Mexico adventure—as he was coming to think of it—had only muddied the water.
Rather than confronting his old mentor Roger Orensen, as he had planned to do right after returning from his confrontation with Grossinger, Ramsey decided to concentrate on his work. A project his company had been working on for over a year was coming to a critical point. It involved a trip to Blue Island, Illinois, a nearly all-black suburb of South Chicago. It was described in geographical literature as a social and food desert.
For months Ramsey’s partner, Ron Grange, had worked to convince the Philip Thornton Foundation to partner with some Blue Island community members to create a pilot project for rehabilitating the beleaguered town. Grange had convinced Illinois’ junior U.S. Senator that his company’s geographical perspective would bring remedies to the problems where others had failed. Success would be a feather in the Senator’s cap if he got behind it. The result was that state troopers would accompany Ramsey and Grange on a tour of the beleaguered city.
Over the last few days Ramsey had worked feverishly to bring himself up to speed on Blue Island. He only traveled from his house to his office, sometimes sleeping overnight there. New Mexico and Adam Gwillt receded from his mind.
The day before the planned visit, Ramsey met his partner at the Marriott Inn’s four-star restaurant for dinner and to go over their plans for the visit.
At dinner Ramsey asked, “Who’s meeting us?”
Grange replied, “Janet Furlong from the Philip Thornton Foundation. She worked with us on the low-income co-op deal in East Lansing three years ago. The Illinois Highway Patrol has assigned two state troopers to drive us around. We’ll be met on site by Reverend Small from the city’s largest Baptist church. He’s the most highly respected man in town.”
“Will we get to speak to the residents?”
The Adam Enigma Page 23
