“Then I guess I’d better be looking at these applicants with an eye toward your successor.”
“That’s my boss talking.”
“And your friend.”
The women smiled at each other as the server brought out their food. The rest of the conversation was about the sights and sounds Deborah enjoyed while in London. She also talked about Ben’s amazing country home in West Sussex. But their conversation soon returned to the Dubois Collection. Sharing her latest translation dilemma, Deborah thought Megan could provide insight about what might be happening with the diary entries. She confessed not being good at encryptions and ciphers either but agreed to take a look when they got back to the office.
Together in the secured storage area, they sat at the table. Deborah logged into her laptop and showed Megan the translated passages.
“It’s bizarre, right?” Deborah said.
“Are you sure about your translations?”
“Absolutely!”
Looking over Deborah’s notes, something caught Megan’s attention. Reading each line again, she was looking for anything that might…
“Deborah, read this again and look for repeating phrases.”
“It can’t be that simple!” Deborah said.
“It might be.”
“Oh my God! Thanks, Megan! I owe you big time!”
From the first translation, she noticed a sentence repeated. We are betrayed. In the next the repeating passage was Minister knows, then Young eyes see so much. Looking at the next entry, another set of repeating sentences, We must hide her. Deborah worked with greater fury translating and typing each new entry she made making sure to underline repeating blocks of words until the message became clearer.
We are betrayed. Minister knows. Young eyes see so much. We must hide her. She is no longer safe. Sese is dead. They are coming. They come for her. I am Dajume.
CHAPTER 21
Ben listened attentively as Deborah shared her latest breakthrough with the Collection. This was it. He was certain. As eager as he was to know more, there was an underlying ache. He knew their time together, as it had been, was nearing its end. The conflict raging inside him was unfathomable. He had to remain focused and remind himself, it didn’t have to be the end. Rather, it could be a transformation—for them both.
“Have you opened the crates?”
“No. What’s that got to do with this?”
“Open them and take a photo of what’s inside.”
“You don’t honestly think the artifact you’re looking for in Kinshasa is inside, do you?”
“The key to it may very well be.”
“I’ll try, but I haven’t even figured out what the sealant is yet.”
“You’ll figure it out. I have every confidence in you. In the meantime, I’ll arrange a flight to Detroit. Will you pick me up or shall I arrange a car?”
“I can pick you up, just let me know what time. I’ll take the day off if necessary, and we can go to the apartment.”
“I’d rather go to the archive.”
The next morning, Deborah went into the freezing room where the crates had been kept since they arrived. They were terribly heavy, so moving them was out of the question. Wrapped in the parka, she reached into the pocket for the small chisel set. Running her gloved fingers along the crate’s edges, the sealant was still fairly pliable but incredibly strong. Gingerly sticking the smallest chisel into the groove, she carefully scraped away little bits of it at a time. Delicately removing it took considerable time to ensure she didn’t damage whatever was inside. After thirty minutes, she needed to step into the main area to get warm. With feeling returning to her fingertips, she went back inside to remove the sealant from another side of the larger crate.
It took three hours, but she finally got the sealant off. Carefully lifting the lid, she removed the protective stuffing laying it on sheets of acid-free paper. She could never have imagined what she saw. Inside was a large wooden figurine with what looked like gold and jewel-encrusted eyes. At the bottom of the crate were a dozen smaller solid gold figurines, turn of the 20th-century gold Belgian coins, and raw gold nuggets. No wonder it’s so heavy!
It had to be worth a fortune! This is why Ben wants to know what was inside. This is absolutely incredible! She couldn’t be certain, but she surmised it was worth far more than the ten and a half million he’d invested in the University to protect his family’s treasure. She considered telling Megan but decided against it for now. Taking out her cell phone, she snapped a picture and left. Whatever was in the other crate would have to wait. She had to pick Ben up at Detroit Metro Airport at noon, and she didn’t want to be late.
When she saw him walk out of customs, she was beyond elated. But her excitement was tempered by what she found in the crate and how he’d react to it. How do you say, Oh, by the way, you’re worth even more money! He walked toward her with a beam in his eyes and a broad smile. He looked exhausted but purposeful. Dressed far more casually than usual, his hair was messy actually sticking up in spots. The last time she saw him looking that way, they were relaxing around his house in West Sussex. But she didn’t care, she was just happy to see him. When he reached her, they hugged tightly. Taking her face in his hands, he kissed her softly and lovingly.
“It’s good to see you,” she said. “I missed you, baby.”
“I missed you too, my sweet.”
Taking her hand, they walked out of the terminal to her car with his luggage in tow. Throwing his things in the back, he flopped down in the front passenger seat. Leaning toward her, he kissed her again, this time far longer and deeper.
“I have something to show you,” she whispered.
“You opened the crates?”
“One of them.”
“Let me see.”
She pulled up the image and handed him her phone. He stared at it emotionless. His face defied the bundle of conflicting emotions overcoming him. He’d flown half a world away to find it, and it was in Detroit all along. The key to finding Asira was Willem Antoine Dubois, a human he’d mistakenly dismissed in his earlier searches as merely a wayward priest. According to Deborah’s translations, the clever Father Willem became Dajume. Somehow he was directly involved in hiding Asira. That’s why the forces emanating from the crates repelled him. It wasn’t meant for him, but Asira.
“Ben?”
When he looked back at her, his eyes looked dark and ominous. She’d never seen that expression before.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“It’s worth a hell of a lot of money, isn’t it?”
“That’s not why it’s valuable, Deborah.”
“Okay, then tell me. What is it?”
“It’s a totem. You’d call it a conduit for a god.”
“So what are all the little figures?”
“Protectors of the God.”
“You realize that’s real gold, right?” she said.
“Yes. Let’s get to the archive.”
He didn’t say much else during their drive. Mostly he stared ahead seemingly lost to another world. He was clearly tired, so she didn’t push. Pulling into the University parking lot, she suggested he put his things in the trunk rather than leave them on the backseat. It was still Detroit. The campus gates meant little if someone really wanted to steal, even a student.
Seeing Mr. Mugabe tending the flowerbeds, she joked to Ben. “Your rival for my affections—Mr. Mugabe.”
“Hmmm, not much competition… unless, of course, you’re into… age.” He chuckled.
It was good to see his smile and his sense of humor return. Taking her advice, he got out of the car when she popped the trunk. She stood off to the side while he put everything inside. Digging through his hastily packed bags, he pulled out his laptop and tablet shoving them into a backpack. He then rearranged things while Deborah moved toward Mr. Mugabe whose sweet smile changed dramatically as he looked at Ben.
Dropping his
tool, he came toward her quickly.
“Miss Deborah, can I talk to you?”
“Of course!” she said walking toward him.
Mr. Mugabe came very close and whispered emphatically, “Why are you with this man? He is not good for you!”
“Excuse me?” She was stunned.
“Please, Miss Deborah. Stay away from him!”
Stepping away from her, he glared as Ben came to her side.
Noticing the look on both their faces, Ben asked. “Is there a problem?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Come on.”
Ben walked closely behind her as they went inside the building.
“What was that about?” he asked.
“It’s crazy!”
“What did he say?”
“It’s not worth repeating,” she said.
Walking into the office suite, Bonnie greeted them, eyeing Ben the entire time. Even if he was exhausted, he was still sexy as hell. Perhaps even more so in those fitted jeans, t-shirt clinging to his chest, and a backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Mr. Stewart! We didn’t know you were coming. I’ll get Mrs. Duval.”
“It’s okay, Bonnie. He’s with me.”
Ben followed Deborah down the hall and into secured storage.
“So where do you want to start?” she asked him.
Knowing he couldn’t go near the crate, he said, “Show me the last diary you worked on.”
Grabbing her gloves, she also gave him a pair. Once he had them on, she handed the diary to him. He carefully opened it.
“Is this where you left off?”
“Yes.”
His eyes darted across the pages flipping from one to the next.
“This makes no sense, and the handwriting is very difficult.”
“I know, but I’ve gotten the hang of it… and you’re tired. Let me take you home so you can rest.”
“I want to know what he did. How he…”
“Baby, I know. Let me keep working. I’ll send you everything later, okay. You’re exhausted!”
She was absolutely right. He was too tired to be of much good. He’d only slept a few hours in the past three days. His body ached, and the energy was draining from him.
“Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
As they walked out, she said, “Bonnie, will you let Megan know I had to leave early. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Sure thing.”
Walking out of the building, she realized she’d left her laptop. Handing Ben her car keys, she said, “Here, I forgot something, I’ll be right out.”
Taking them, he walked out to the car. Out of nowhere, he heard a loud yell and turned to see Mr. Mugabe coming toward him with a machete. Hearing the yell, Deborah turned back and saw Mr. Mugabe through the glass doors attacking Ben. What in the… She ran toward the door to see what was going on. She screamed, “Call security and 911!” then ran out the building.
Ben was trying to wrestle the weapon away from Mr. Mugabe. The strength displayed defied Mugabe’s age and size. Having Ben pinned against her car, the blade was getting far too close to Ben’s throat. Watching them, she froze unsure what to do.
“Mr. Mugabe, please don’t hurt him!” she begged.
“Dajume will not let you harm Asira,” Mugabe growled at Ben. With his eyes glaring and turning white, he held Ben down preparing to decapitate him.
“It’s you!”
Ben’s rage at losing Peter and having his efforts thwarted by the Dajume swiftly manifested. He summoned every bit of human strength and power within him. Both men fell to the ground. With eyes blazing, Ben opened his mouth sucking the breath from Mugabe before spitting it into the ground. Mugabe fell dead on top of him, the blade nicking Ben’s neck.
Pushing Mugabe’s lifeless body off of him, he was prepared to do more but saw Deborah standing nearby with her eyes wild with fear. Others also quickly came upon the scene. He had to frame this carefully.
“Bloody hell! He was trying to kill me!”
There was something in her eyes saying far more than her words. “Oh my God! Ben, I saw…” then she collapsed falling hard to the ground hitting her head.
He quickly crawled toward her in a panic placing her head on his lap. Patting her face trying to revive her, he was frantic as fear overwhelmed him. Holding Deborah close, he was oblivious to the blood staining his shirt. His mind was focused on her, and for a split second trying to understand what happened. Dajume was at the University. He was soon surrounded by campus security with weapons drawn along with dozens more students and faculty descending on the scene.
“The old man attacked me,” he said.
Within a half hour, paramedics and police were on the scene. They bandaged the flesh wound on Ben’s neck. Fortunately, it didn’t require stitches. Deborah was awake but resting on a stretcher. Ben held her hand as police took final statements from them both about the bizarre incident. Their attention was soon diverted as the Coroner’s Office took away Mugabe’s body. Megan, Bonnie, and others from the office stood close by watching everything in shock and dismay.
“Ma’am, we strongly recommend you go to the hospital,” the paramedic stated.
“No, I’ll be fine. I just fainted.”
“You hit the ground pretty hard. I’d be more comfortable if you went. Just to be safe,” Ben said.
“He’s right,” the paramedic added. “You don’t want to mess around with a head injury.”
“Will you come with me?” she asked Ben.
“Where else would I be?”
CHAPTER 22
When she woke up, the side of her head was throbbing. She felt like crap, but her attention turned quickly to Ben. He was sleeping in the chair beside her hospital bed. She couldn’t believe any of this happened. What set Mr. Mugabe off like that? He was always so sweet. Why did he react so strongly to Ben? He met Rodney but never behaved the way he had toward Ben. Was it because Ben was white? Was it because he was a Brit? Did Mr. Mugabe harbor strong resentments—hell, hatred—against Ben because of his ethnic background? The whole thing was confusing as hell and very sad. Regardless of why, he’d attacked Ben, the man she loved.
Looking over at Ben, his mouth eased open slightly as he adjusted in the chair while he slept. Her mind immediately flashed to what happened in the parking lot. As the two men wrestled and fell to the ground, it was as if a ball of… something was coming out of Mr. Mugabe’s mouth into Ben’s. Mugabe’s eyes actually looked white, but that was impossible. It had to be a dream because it certainly wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. Dismissing it as her active brain creating images to combat trauma, she pushed the thoughts aside. Turning toward Ben, she lay on her side watching him sleep until she faded off again.
After twenty-four hours of observation, the hospital released her. She was ready to go home, take a hot shower and crawl back into bed. She felt drained— physically and emotionally. Ben looked far more refreshed, though in the same stinky clothes. His five o’clock shadow now was a bristly mess covering the lower half of his face.
After calling to check on them, Megan graciously offered to pick them up.
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Megan asked.
“The doctor says I’ll be fine… another day of rest and a few painkillers until this knot on the side of my head goes down,” Deborah replied.
“What about you, Ben?”
“I’m the least of your worries. But thank you, Ms. Duval. Your assistance through all this is appreciated.”
“Please call me Megan.”
He smiled helping Deborah get into the backseat of Megan’s car. Climbing in next to her, he held her hand as they took the short drive back to the campus.
“Your things are in my trunk. With everything that happened, you both left them on the ground.”
“Thanks, Megan,” Deborah said.
Watching them in her rearview mirror, she asked, “Ben, how long are you staying in Detroit this time?”
“
As long as necessary,” he said kissing Deborah’s hand.
Parking next to Deborah’s car, Megan popped her trunk so Ben could transfer everything to the other vehicle. The two women talked while he completed his task.
“This thing between you two looks like love to me,” Megan whispered.
“It is.”
“Hold on to him.”
“I intend to.”
“By the way, don’t even think about coming in for the rest of the week. If you do, I’ll just send you home.”
“I’ll be fine. Maybe another day and then…”
“This is your boss talking. You are not to come into the office. I’ll recode secure storage if you try. Get some rest. Enjoy your time with Ben. You’ve both been through something pretty horrible. You need to deal with that… together.”
Deborah hugged Megan and rejoined Ben. Behind the wheel of her car, she’d forgotten about his international driver’s license. Starting the car, he wasn’t the least tentative driving through Detroit streets before getting on the Lodge Freeway. Once they were on the open stretch, he struck up an unexpected conversation.
“Tell me about Mr. Mugabe.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How long have you known him?”
“From day one. When I started at the University, he was working in the Landscape Department.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Why?”
He couldn’t tell her he was trying to understand why Dajume was at the University years before the Dubois Collection arrived. There had to be something else in the University’s larger collection of value to Dajume… something directly related to the recent Dubois donation. It would better explain why the real donor sent it there. Mugabe was clearly dispatched to watch over whatever it was. This was no mere coincidence.
“Does he have family?” Ben asked.
“I honestly don’t know. I think he immigrated from Africa or the Caribbean, but I don’t know which country or if anyone came with him.”
“Did he ever mention anyone else?”
“Not that I recall.”
Ben grew silent again. Deborah could tell he was processing what happened. She wished she had answers for him, but nothing about Mr. Mugabe would ever lead her to believe he was capable of doing what he did.
Asira Awakens Page 15
