The End of a Lie (The Amy Mohr Chronicles Book 1)

by M A Moore

  Violent thunder storms were rare in this part of the country, but they did occur. A strong cold front promised unusually severe weather in the next few hours. It had already wreaked havoc across the Midwestern United States. The heat and humidity that preceded it had spawned severe thunderstorms, tornadoes and flash floods in the Plains and Midwest. Amy’s local weatherman predicted the storms would weaken as they approached the northeast, but hail and damaging winds were in the forecast. The air outside was thick with moisture and the stillness presaged a major weather event.

  Dusk came earlier than it should have this evening. It was barely 6 p.m., but already the sky was slate gray and a disturbing silence settled over the neighborhood. Amy drew the shades, but decided to experience the squall from the patio at the back of the house. It would be safer inside, but she had an overpowering desire not only to observe the storm, but to become part of it. She set her yoga cushion in the center of the screened room and sat cross-legged, calming her body, so that she could let her mind loose to watch the meteorological madness dispassionately. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Blackness surrounded her. With the chaos of the tempest approaching, for the first time since her return from Africa, she was able to reach that calm center deep within.

  The winds picked up. If she chose, she could feel it tearing through her hair, but she felt no need to escape to safety. Lightning flashed close by and the thunder rattled the foundations of the house, but she was the calm in the center of the storm and had no fear.

  Amy closed her mind’s inner eye. When she re-opened it, she was in a field of wildflowers and the gazebo was just up the hill. She knew Stephen waited for her there, and she climbed to meet him.

  He wore fine white linen, as he had before. His black glossy beard was longer than last time and his hair was loose and arrayed around his head like an ebony halo. His dark brown eyes smiled at her, and he reached out his hand.

  She took it. He had never touched her in previous visions. She suspended her sense of reality.

  She sat down next to him, and for a few moments they just watched the approaching sunset across the fields of Queen Anne’s Lace and red clover. Time didn’t seem to move here.

  “So you’ve finally come for some answers,” he stated as he turned his attention to her.

  Amy said nothing in reply. He would tell her what she needed to know.

  “Amy, did you ever wonder why I became your mentor at the gurukulum, and later your partner in our organization? And why I died the way I did?”

  Amy touched the memory of that day. The usual terror that surrounded it was missing. She had put the recollection in a place that was a manageable ache, and sitting here she could retrieve it without fear or judgement.

  “Amy, you were a gift to me. I needed to redeem some of the bad karma I had accumulated in my most recent lifetime there on Earth.”

  His statement stunned her, but she kept silent.

  “When I joined the organization as a young man, I knew its mission was just and that I would sacrifice everything for its sake. That included leaving my wife and young daughter.”

  Stephen’s face remained calm, and he spoke without passion or emotion of any kind.

  “One does not abandon a child without there being consequences. The black mark it left on my soul would haunt me in future incarnations if I did not atone for it in that lifetime. You were the agent of my redemption.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  “By mentoring you and training you, not only for the sake of our cause, but for your own enlightenment, I was able to remove that stain from my atman -from my soul if you prefer. My death completed the action.”

  Stephen took her other hand and held on tightly. “What do you remember of that night?”

  Until this moment she had been unable to recall the whole scenario, except perhaps in her nightmares. The details of those she never remembered. It was the terror that lingered. Now she let the memory fill her mind.

  “He was dead -perhaps for days. They set the dogs on us. We ran for our lives and headed for the wall.”

  Amy released his hands and looked out to the field of flowers.

  “It was a trap. It had always been a trap. You tripped and fell. I came back for you, but you refused to get up. You demanded my handgun and then ordered me to run. And I did.”

  Amy marveled at the clarity of the recollection and how calmly she could remember it.

  “I heard shots. I was half way up the rope when the dog reached me.”

  She reached down to the scars that had since faded to white. “He tore my thigh as I scaled the wall of the compound. I kicked him away with my other foot.”

  “Better your thigh than your throat,” Stephen stated without emotion.

  Amy turned back to Stephen, “They only told me they found your body.”

  Stephen remained composed. “The dogs didn’t kill me, Amy. When I fired the gun to give you more time to escape, I used up the rest of my prana -my life force. And I just let the body go. I was already an old man who was nearing the end of his energies. The life force in me had drained away. My physical self had become a burden.”

  “You know, I never did swallow a lot of that Hindu philosophy you tried so hard to impress on me.” Amy gave him that look she always did when he waxed too philosophical.

  “Yes, I know. You were a challenging pupil to say the least. Your training as a scientist complicated the process.” Stephen suppressed a laugh. “Do you still believe the notion that time is a one way arrow?”

  “I never thought it was. That’s obsolete Newtonian physics. Einstein showed that time was only a coordinate in the space- time continuum. I don’t know what time is. No real physicist would ever claim to understand or better yet, control it. It is, however, a useful concept.”

  Stephen’s dark brown eyes softened. “You have missed our old debates.” He smiled at her patiently. “So have I.”

  “Remember, earthly existence is all illusion -smoke and mirrors, if you would allow me the analogy. The only sure thing is that all any of us have is now. The past is gone and the future is uncertain at best. Amy, don’t waste your precious ‘now’ regretting past actions. Be in the moment, Amy. Don’t let grief blind you or bind you.” He spoke with an intensity that was rare for him.

  “Tell me what I need to know.” Amy looked into his eyes and demanded answers.

  He sat up straighter and took her hand once more. “You were quite right about the Colombia mission being a ruse. I was the intended target. The question you must ask yourself is ‘who set the trap and what did they hope to catch?’ Things are rarely as they seem. No human organization is without a hidden agenda. You need to be careful in whom you put your trust.”

  Amy held his hand in a vise grip, sensing he would soon leave her.

  “There is something else I want you to consider.”

  He peered so deeply into her eyes that he seemed to touch her soul.

  “The people that come into our lives do not do so at random. Destiny required that you and I meet. You were to replace the daughter I abandoned for a higher calling, and I was to act as your guide to understanding your place in the cosmos. Likewise, Mike Stone was not put in your life path for no reason. Neither of you has divined the purpose that awaits you in this lifetime. You still have business to complete.”

  Amy didn’t answer. Stephen’s visage started to fade and the firmness of his hand melted as well.

  “I’ll always be here for you, Amy,” His words lingered in the space filled by his countenance only moments before.

  Lightning flashed and thunder crashed around her. The hail beat down on the deck surrounding her, but the worst of the tempest had moved to the east. This storm had passed. Tree limbs and branches littered the yard. Amy stood up and surveyed the damage. She went in to retrieve the manila envelope.

  Chapter 36

  A Gurukula is a type of residential school in India with pupils living near the guru, sometimes within the same house. Prior
to British rule, they served as South Asia's primary educational institution. The guru-pupil tradition is a hallowed one in Hinduism and appears in other religious groups in India, such as Jainism, Buddhism and Sikhism. The word gurukula is a contraction of the Sanskrit guru (teacher or master) and kula (extended family).

  Amy continued with her yoga classes at the gurukulum, but her disillusionment with them soon became intolerable. The reasons were not so clear. Some deeper need was not being met. She still started the morning with three Sun Salutations, and she dutifully performed the other asanas every day. Her body grew strong and her flexibility increased. The aches and pains that Amy had assumed came with aging diminished. But more important, her thought patterns became clearer, her observations more astute. She had opened the manila envelope, but the information it contained posed more questions than it supplied answers.

  Stephen had imbued his teaching of yoga with Hindu philosophy which challenged the mind as well as the body. He explained that yoga practice was a means to an end, not an end in itself. The body was a distraction to study. If one could not sit still how could one hope to concentrate on lessons?

  Amy missed his classes. She needed guidance. Hindu instruction began and was yet an oral tradition. The disciple sat at the feet of one’s teacher, his guru, and gleaned the nature of existence and the universe. These came from ancient scriptures thousands of years older than any other known religious texts. Some adherents to the faith believed God inspired these writings, many did not. Amy had read a translation of the Bhagavad Gita or God's Song after Stephen's death. Mahatma Gandhi reported the Gita as his source of inspiration. She gleaned little from it. She felt lost.

  The meaning of most Hindu sacred texts, especially the Vedas, was obscure and needed a master's interpretation to make sense. Veda was the Sanskrit word for knowledge, and knowledge was the only cure for ignorance in the Hindu tradition. Amy, a women trained in the discipline of physics, whole heartedly agreed. How one attained that knowledge was often an issue between Stephen and herself. She was trained in the scientific method: hypothesize, test the hypothesis and either accept, alter or discard it. It had led human civilization out of the realms of pure magic and superstition and into a real understanding of the universe. But physics limited itself to the physical world, and Amy believed that there was more -much more.

  Amy never accepted authority simply on its own claim of infallibility. For her nothing was so sacred that it was exempt from questioning. If an idea represented truth, there was no test that could diminish it. If not, discarding it would only serve a nobler purpose. This belief had often gotten her into trouble over the years. But it was as basic to her as breathing.

  Stephen inspired Amy to dig deeper into her doubts about the nature of life. She expanded her studies at the gurukulum to include meditation. For Amy it opened the possibility that body and mind were only part of the human equation. Something existed beyond either, the true self unbounded by time and space, and linked more fully with the divine knowledge of being. Further studies of some lesser known Hindu texts claimed to presage scientific principles of the present day. To study them seemed a natural step.

  Stephen was an unusual proponent of Hinduism. His roots began in a Judeo-Christian tradition that he had more or less abandoned. Amy had an innate distrust of organized religions. Religion for the masses and religion for the elite rarely served the same purpose. The masses needed controls. Rites and rituals curbed the vulgarities of human nature. Generosity, kindness and selflessness were traits that did not come naturally to most. They had to be taught. Most people needed the fear of divine retribution or the promise of future rewards to deny their baser instincts.

  Modern biology declared there were two driving forces in both human and animal behavior: the need for food and the desire to procreate. The passion for knowledge was only gifted to a small minority of humanity. Those often had difficulty surviving in common society. Some holy men sought seclusion in a mountain aerie to escape the distractions of civilized living. Maybe it helped. Amy didn't know and it wasn't a path she chose to follow.

  The manila envelope contained what seemed to be arcane passages from an ancient Hindu treatise attributed to a scholar named Kanada. On the surface they made no sense to her, but knowing Stephen, they would, if she could find the key to unlocking their secrets. Amy had come to the limits of rational speculation. The answers she sought would not be reached by re-reading the contents of the manila envelope. Stephen never referred to himself as her guru. Amy would have been appalled if he had. He promised her only to be there for her. Now it became clear to her that he did have an agenda. And this agenda was beyond his teachings at the gurukulum and she was sure they were not divinely inspired.

  Amy’s recruitment into the organization had been gradual. Although she and Stephen and had taken up several missions together, she was not a member of the inner circle. She needed to know more about Stephen’s ultimate ambition and that wasn't to be found at her haven in the Catskills. Her local gurukulum was a place to study Hindu sacred scriptures. Stephen had a less spiritual, more humanity-driven goal, and now she needed to discover what it was.

  She closed up the house and told her neighbors she was going to spend some time with an elderly aunt that needed help. She often disappeared for weeks or months, so no one would miss her. She headed to the ashram in California where Stephen studied several years before coming east. Amy was sure he kept in contact with some of the people there.

  She took a month to make the journey. In that time she changed her name and set up an account in the Caribbean from which she could withdraw funds when needed. She hoped to remain off the radar of everyone, including the organization while she searched for answers. She felt that the warning Stephen had passed on to her was important, but unclear as to its exact nature. An ashram was different from a gurukulum. The gurukulum was a place of study where anyone could pursue the knowledge offered. An ashram was more like a monastery.

  The Hindu scholars at the California ashram were not unkind to her, but she soon realized that they were more inclined to ethereal religious and philosophical study than to the pursuit of a political agenda. She attended the public rituals, or pujas, that were almost weekly events. She listened to revered spiritual leaders and meditated in an atmosphere filled with unworldly seekers of inner truth. The cell she lived in was clean -if sparse and austere. A vow of silence was the rule here except for ritual chanting, so getting the information she sought was a difficult task. She learned patience. It was not a gift that came naturally to her. She was sure the key to deciphering Stephen's message was here. She would just need to wait for a revelation.

  The ashram contained an extensive library of ancient scholarly texts often translated into English. Amy sought out the scriptures that she had studied with Stephen. They claimed insights into the atomic structure of the universe five thousand years before western science considered the possibility. The texts were fascinating, but inscrutable. She was no closer to understanding their connection to the warning Stephen had given her.

  She returned to her cell after another session of meditation in the garden under a large acacia tree. The tree reminded her of the bush country of South Africa, and thoughts of South Africa made her think of Mike. The ache was manageable now. She had no further visions of Stephen, but he had never come when she actively sought him.

  Someone knocked at the door to her cell. She had been here for almost two months and no one had ever come to visit her. When she opened it, one of the more kindly members of the ashram stood before her.

  "Namaste," he bowed politely. He was a slight, older Indian man with a shaven head. He was wrapped in orange robes and a wide smile.

  “What you seek may not be here, but Stephen left this in my keeping waiting for you. I think you are ready.” In his hand was an old and well-paged copy of the Vaisesika Sutra of Kanada. He passed the book over to her, bowed once more, and left. It had been so long since she had heard a human voice s
peaking English that Amy had no reply. After two months of silence she had lost the ability to engage in conversation.

  The Kanada Sutra is the standard text of the ancient Hindu Vaisesika philosophers. It conjectures the futility of life in this world of illusion, and proposes that true liberation can only occur with an understanding of God. Conceptualized before the coming of the Buddha, it was only written down in more recent Hindu history. It purported to explain certain physical phenomena that parallel western sciences’ concept of the atom. Some scholars believe that its mantras -sacred mystical formulae used in meditation or prayer- parallel Sir Isaac Newton’s three laws of motion. Change of motion is due to an outside force. That change is proportional to, and in the direction of, that force. Action and reaction are equal and opposite. Amy had spent twenty-five years teaching college physics students those very principles. It was also the first Hindu pseudo-scientific treatise that Stephen had Amy study. She had to admit that the translated text from the Sanskrit was difficult to interpret, but her background as a physicist made it a natural first step, but not an easy study.

  Amy opened the cover of the small book. In handwriting she immediately recognized as Stephen’s, she read ‘time is an illusion, live for the moment, for that is all we have.’ It was scrawled along the side margin of the title page. Thumbing through the rest of the book, she found random underlined words and phrases. She took the copy of Stephen’s original notes from the manila envelope and scanned for identical passages in the manuscript. After a few hours of careful observation, a pattern began to emerge from what once seemed chaos. The clearer the message became, the more she appreciated the need for secrecy. The danger was real, especially if the wrong people were aware of what she now knew.

  She needed to return to South Africa, but not to Cape Town -at least not yet. She would head to Durban, the largest and oldest enclave of Indians outside the subcontinent itself.