by K. B. Kofoed
The next day, Dan’s response was waiting for him when he checked his e-mail.
It said: “Took me a while to sort out your note. What happens if the thing works? Well, I’ve had a while to think about it. I’m bothered by the computer simulations. Further analysis was in the offing. Gene promised to keep me informed. Then, nothing. What gives with Gene?
As to your question. I’m sure of one thing. If anyone plans to build this thing they better do it right because IF it is a resonator, it’s powerful. Someone could get fried.”
This was nothing that Jim hadn’t heard already. He was disappointed that Dan hadn’t given more information on the wavelength of the ark, or why the computer program might have run the way it did. Dan Slater was the only independent expert Jim had access to, and he was coming up short. Jim wanted to get the ark out of his head, but the unanswered questions kept him on the hook. After reading Dan’s note Jim realized that Dan, too, was hooked on the subject and waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He wrote another rambling note to Dan. He read it and rewrote it three times. Finally Monday deadlines began to encroach on him so he gave up and mailed it, with apologies. After he sent it he concluded that his final sentence in the note had said all that needed saying; “I wish you were in Philly, Dan.”
Dan called him that night.
“You know, ol’ hoss,” he said when Jim picked up the phone, “I miss you, too, but I have to admit that things didn’t seem so warm and cozy with your friend Gene, there.”
“You mean Lou,” said Jim. “He’s the grumpy one.”
“No,” replied Dan, “I liked Lou and Claire. They’re good friends, I can tell. Lou is somewhat protective of you.”
Jim was surprised by what Dan said. “Protective?”
“Yeah, but that’s good, Jim,” said Dan. “That’s the way friends are supposed to be.”
“I guess so,” said Jim, “but I fail to see how you picked that up after only one night with them. You always were a bit of a mystic, though. Anyway, any more technical observations on the ark?”
“I’ve been thinking more about the tabernacle,” said Dan. “I keep seeing it as a wave guide.”
“A what?” said Jim.
“A wave guide is something to carry a wave it gets to the resonator. It simply ‘guides’ the wave, like it says. In this case, though, I feel a little dubious of the way it would work. You see, the boards that comprise the tabernacle are about fifteen feet high. When they are all put together they become a double-layered gold reflector, like the ark.”
“But much bigger,” said Jim.
“Right,” said Dan. “The side walls are about forty feet long and the back wall is about twenty feet long, and at the corners -- the ends of the back wall -- the boards are on angle, facing the ark.”
“Is there any significance to that?”
“The tabernacle has no 90° corners.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” replied Jim.
“Well, I’m not sure I do either, Jim, but it’s obvious that it must be important or God wouldn’t have put it in the instructions.”
“Hmmm,” mused Jim. “I never really considered the Tabernacle as part of the machine.”
“For carrying radio waves, it is. If you want to direct the energy coming from the ark.”
Jim told Dan about the weekend at the Wilcox estate and mentioned that the model Wilcox had made included the angled corner boards.
“Model?” said Dan in surprise. “So this guy is really going to recreate the Tabernacle?”
Jim wondered if he’d betrayed a trust, but he felt Dan was part of it. He tried to recall if, in his discussions with Gene and John, he’d ever mentioned Dan being privy to the project. “Gee, I’m not really sure I should be telling you this. I’m not sure you’re part of the project.”
Dan laughed. “What makes you think I wanted to be part of it?”
“Well, it was you who first suggested how the thing might work. Without you we wouldn’t be where we are now.”
“Where is that, exactly?” asked Dan. “Not to be disrespectful of your friends,” he continued, “but I’d ask them the same question. If they don’t have a good answer, then tell them to sit down, have a coke, and give the whole deal some thought. You know, I’d be more than a little concerned about that computer program. Strange as hell that it didn’t run right. I’d get some results from that too before I started buying gold for this thing.”
“They’re borrowing the gold,” remarked Jim.
Dan laughed out loud. “Borrowing it?” he exclaimed. “Well, what’ll they do if the thing works?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if it works and this thing is pumping out enough energy to roast an ox, how are they going to get the gold back? I don’t remember an on and off switch anywhere in the specs.”
Jim laughed. “I was sort of hoping you’d be more positive. Well, let me rephrase that. Supportive.”
“Sorry, ol’ hoss,” said Dan, “but I wouldn’t load a gun unless I knew where it was pointed.”
The subject then shifted to Dan’s career plans. He said that the Signet Group in Philly wanted him to join their ranks as soon as possible. “I love Colorado,” said Dan, “but the money can’t match Signet’s. I’d be a fool to turn them down.”
“Hell, that’s great news,” Jim said happily. “We have an extra bedroom if you need it while you’re getting settled. I know Kas wouldn’t mind.”
Kas was washing some dishes nearby listening to the conversation. When she heard this she turned and made a face. Jim saw her reaction and scowled.
Dan defused the situation by saying, “Not necessary, sport, but thanks anyway. Signet says they have a few floors of the Dorchester set aside for new executives. They’re going to help me find a place, move me in, everything. Expenses paid.”
When Jim hung up Kas was ready to fight, but he held up his hand. “I know,” he said. “No need to fight. Dan declined. The company’s taking care of everything for him.”
“I wasn’t going to say no, Jim,” she explained. “I just should have been consulted. I was standing right here, after all.”
“I knew you’d agree,” Jim said with a mischievous smile. “That’s why I love you.”
#
During the next week Dan sent Jim a few computer plots he’d tried using the computers at his company. He was trying to figure out the significance of the angled corner boards of the tabernacle, but so far he’d found nothing. By this time it had been about a month since the meeting in Westchester County and Jim had still heard nothing from Gene. Finally he could stand it no longer. Right in the middle of a particularly unappealing noontime tuna salad sandwich he picked up the phone and dialed Gene Henson’s office.
Gene’s secretary said he was on vacation.
That alone might have quelled Jim’s curiosity, but he wasn’t satisfied. He dug through some old papers beside his computer desk until he found the phone number for John Wilcox’s office. Without hesitation he made the call, but Wilcox’s assistant only said, “Mr. Wilcox is not in the office and isn’t expected back this week.”
Jim grew frustrated. He didn’t want to, but he dialed the number for Wilcox’s mansion in Mt. Kisco.
Aaron answered the phone. Jim knew that he was overstepping his bounds, but he successfully engaged Aaron in a friendly discussion. Finally Aaron let it drop that his boss was visiting a government installation in New Mexico.
“Uh huh. I guess things are rolling with the ark,” said Jim, trying to mask his surprise. “How do you feel about it, Aaron? You had a lot to do with the project. Is your boss leaving you out of the loop?”
“I take care of the place,” replied Aaron cautiously. “John told me not to discuss this with anyone, but you’re part of the team, right?”
Jim’s eyes widened, but he didn’t want to sound too eager. “Well, don’t betray a trust on my account,” he said. “Don’t worry, Aaron,” he continued. “I won�
��t tell him we talked.”
“I’m surprised you’re not at the Sandia Base, too,” said Aaron. “Why’s that?”
Jim thought quickly. He hated to lie but felt he had to. “I’m in Philly for the moment,” said Jim, “trying like hell to get a project finished up.”
“Forgive me for questioning you,” said Aaron. “Shall I tell John you called?”
“No. Don’t bother. I was about to telephone him myself but he didn’t have a number when we talked. Do you have it?”
Jim could hear Aaron leafing through a booklet. Finally he came back on the line. “John told me to keep this number to myself.”
“No problem, Aaron, like I said ...”
Aaron cheerfully gave Jim all the information he wanted. He even mentioned the Santa Rosa Towers, the hotel where John was staying, and provided the number. Jim thanked him and said goodbye just as Lou entered the studio. Jim looked at him and smiled. “I’m in the wrong business,” he said. “I should go into telemarketing.”
Lou grinned. “It’s easy to push people’s buttons if you don’t mind lying your ass off.”
“I take it that’s advice from an expert?”
“No, I’m a novice. Claire’s the expert.”
“And I’m the fall guy,” said Jim disappointedly.
Noticing that Jim looked a bit stressed, Lou asked him what the call was about.
“I just learned, covertly, that the ark project has taken a new turn,” replied Jim, glad for the chance to talk about it. He told Lou that he thought he’d been shut out of the project.
“Fuck ’em. Just another lost client,” advised Lou. “You lose an account, lick your wounds, and move on. Right?”
“Gene is there too, I think,” said Jim darkly. “Well, he might be. His girl said he was vacationing. This bugs me. The worst part is that I’m not sure I should be.”
“So you lose out on some money. So what?” Lou said, clearly annoyed. “This thing’s had you by the balls too long. Give it up.”
Jim slumped back into his chair in disgust and grabbed his computer mouse. He opened up a file that he’d been working on, a digital image of the earth with the sun rising behind it, but he just sat there staring blankly at the screen. Finally he turned and faced his friend. “Listen, Lou,” said Jim. “I won’t deny that this thing seems, I don’t know, obsessive, but I’ve been carrying around this baggage for a while and thinking I’d NEVER know whether the ark really existed or what it looked like. Every time I tried to give it up something would bring it back; a call from Dan, some found sketches.”
Lou, inking a sketch at his drawing table, put down his pen and turned. “Those things all happened around the same time.”
“That’s not important. The point is that I can’t let it go. You think I haven’t tried? Jesus, Lou, it makes no sense for me to be dogging this stupid subject.”
Lou’s expression changed. “I’ll bet I know what the problem is,” he said with a raised eyebrow. “I’m the reason they don’t include you. Confidentiality. He doesn’t trust me or Claire, or even Kas, ’cause she talks to Claire. You heard him say so yourself.”
“Who?”
“That Wilcox asshole.” Lou was almost shouting. “He said he was concerned about the baggage attached to you.”
Jim shook his head, doubtfully. “The military is involved. They’re at the Sandia Military base. That’s a big research facility, I think, down in New Mexico. Maybe the baggage is on his end.”
“Military,” Lou stated coldly. “There’s a thought.”
“That’s what I have to know,” said Jim, reaching for the telephone. “No harm in trying.”
#
A distant phone rang in Jim’s earpiece. Once, twice. It sounded so close that Jim wondered if he’d gotten the correct number. Suddenly there was a click and a feminine voice answered: “Intel. General Wilcox’s office. Spec Sgt. Jenkins, speaking.”
“General John Wilcox?” asked Jim, masking his surprise.
“No. That would be his son,” said the young female voice. “This is General Lawrence Wilcox’s office. Whom do you wish to speak with?”
“Is John there?” said Jim.
There was a moment of silence. Jim was sure he’d be disconnected, but soon the woman came back on the line. “The General’s son will be in and out of the office all day. Can I take a message?”
Jim hesitated at first but decided to leave a message. He’d probably never be lucky enough to call when John was there. “Okay,” said Jim. “This is Jim Wilson. I need to talk to him, so could you have him call me, please?” He gave the woman his home and studio numbers and hung up.
Lou had been listening while Jim made the call. “You think he’ll call?”
“I don’t know, Lou, but my chances of getting him in that office are nil.”
“His Dad is a freakin’ General? Did I get that right?” Lou spun in his chair.
“Yeah.” Jim frowned. “I don’t know why exactly that pisses me off so much.”
“That’s easy,” said Lou. “Not only is this thing out of your hands but you know, like I do, you’ve probably seen the end of it.”
“They never let go,” said Jim, nodding. “I guess that’s it. Game over.” He looked up at the ceiling and slumped back in his chair. “Balls.”
Lou turned and picked up his pen. “I’m sorry it worked out this way, Jim, but you know what I always say?”
“Screw ’em?”
“No.” said Lou. “More like, ‘they’ll screw you whether you’re standing up or sitting down.’”
That forced a laugh out of Jim. “I never heard that one.”
“Brand new,” said Lou. “Not bad, huh?”
“Needs work,” said Jim, offering an appreciative smile. As they both got back to work Jim began to realize that Lou might have be right. “Fine. Let the military deal with it,” he thought.
The phone rang. To Jim’s surprise it was Gene, calling from a hotel in Albuquerque. Gene was laughing when Jim answered. “Hey, Jim, what’s up? John says you called him at his Dad’s office. Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know, Gene,” replied Jim cautiously. “Was John angry?”
“Well, I guess puzzled is more like it,” said Gene. “How did you get that number?”
“Tell you what,” said Jim. “An answer for an answer. First me. What are you doing in New Mexico?”
“That’s a bit of a story,” said Gene.
“I’ll bet,” said Jim.
“The skinny is that John’s Dad got involved when he heard about the plans,” Gene explained.
“Involved? How involved?”
“So how did you get the number?” asked Gene.
“Well,” said Jim thoughtfully. “Sources.”
“Sources that have his father’s private military number?” Gene was silent for a few seconds. “Okay, Jim, what do you want?”
“I want to know what’s happening with the ark project, Gene,” said Jim, trying to maintain a friendly tone.
“John is close to his Dad, Jim,” said Gene. “They talk all the time. It’s not a big deal. He told his Dad about the project and his Dad, who’s pretty big stuff around here, offered the services of his staff at Sandia to help John get some answers.”
“Why not tell me?” asked Jim. He noticed Lou standing in the doorway between their studios, listening. He gave Lou the thumb’s up sign and Lou nodded.
Gene seemed surprisingly forthcoming. “What’s the point in dragging you down here?” he asked. “John didn’t want a whole herd of people down there. The place is big on security.”
“I know Sandia,” said Jim. “Applied for a job there a million years ago. Nukes all over the place.”
“Yeah,” said Gene, “I guess. John didn’t involve you in this because there’s no need. We’re getting data. That’s all.” What Gene was saying seemed to add up, but Jim was still uneasy about the military being involved. He said as much to Gene. “We were planning on filling you in if
we got any data, Jim,” continued Gene, “and as far as my being here, I’m on vacation and John invited me to fly down. I’m going to rent a car tomorrow and visit the Grand Canyon.”
“Oh,” said Jim. “Have a good time. I wouldn’t mind seeing the canyon myself.”
After exchanging a few more pleasantries Jim hung up. Lou was still in the doorway. “Pussy,” said Lou. “Sounded to me like he walked all over you.”
“They’re not cutting me out. They’re just doing research.”
“The military is looking into this for you?” said Lou, grinning cynically. “God, Jim, are you buying that?”
“Well, what choice do I have?” said Jim, scratching his thinning brown hair.
“Just bag the whole thing. It stinks! Buy it if you want to, Jim. It’s your funeral.”
That afternoon John Wilcox called. His greeting was cordial and positive, but he seemed concerned that Jim had gotten the number at his father’s office. To protect Aaron’s job, Jim lied. “I had it written down somewhere. Maybe you gave it to me.”
“Not important,” said John. “Anyway, glad I have you on the line. I could look this up, I guess, but you might have the information at hand. How much gold and silver were used in the biblical construction of the ark?”
Jim was glad the folder where he kept his data about the ark was on his desk, neatly stacked next to his Graphis Annuals and his software disks. “I happen to have it right here, with my notes. Let’s see ... the total gold, by biblical measure, was 29 talents and 730 shekels. That equals 37,952 ounces of gold.”
“What’s a talent?” asked John, “and a shekel?”
“Internet sources said a talent was equal to seventy-five and a half pounds. A shekel, maybe four ounces. Gold is generally valued by the Troy ounce, so I figured everything in ounces.”
“Christ,” said John. “that’s a lot of gold.”
“Yeah. Add to that about 128,000 ounces of silver.”
“Silver,” said John. “Gene mentioned that. And bronze.”
