Moffat's Secret

by J. C. Williams

  “I’ll get started.”

  -----

  Chad began in the office. There were two file drawers in the desk. One drawer appeared to be all active class work – lectures, students’ files, exams. The other drawer was for more personal things for the household – water bills, phone bills, credit card statements. He did see a file for WH Industries. Was that the same as Stella Enterprises? Inside he found a neatly handwritten note that said – See Safe Deposit Box for contract. He also found copies of weekly expense reports, going back to the previous December. Julie and Henry’s lawyer would need these.

  Chad next checked the history room. He’d been in it a few times. There were well-labeled boxes filled with well-labeled files that covered thirty years of an excavator and teacher’s life. Three large metal fireproof cabinets stood as quiet guardians of the man’s history. The first had one drawer of pocket size appointment calendars. Two drawers held his daily activity journals – small pocket notebooks. Hundreds and hundreds of them, all neatly dated. They contained everything he had to remember from getting more vegetables, arranging logistics, dig plans, and possible finds.

  A second file cabinet was the official Project Report Journal. Entries were random. He used it when he had a definitive result - good or bad. It was an archeology summary form the Daily Journal. This was a larger notebook, not fitting into a pocket.

  The third cabinet was locked. It contained Doc’s third journal. He called it his Reflections, a very personal journal. Chad had seen Henry writing almost every night under all kinds of lights including lanterns, candles, and even moonlight. The drawers were labeled with the years.

  He wondered what Julie would do with all of the journals. He started through some of the reports and notebooks. They came to life with the stories he had heard today and the faces he saw – the colleagues that were at the funeral.

  Chad became absorbed and didn’t realize that hours had passed. It was dark. He missed his run today. He missed the clearing of the mind. He went for a walk around the University grounds instead. His thoughts were full of Henry. He went through Doc’s life like it was a dig. He roped off quadrants, labeling the years and the decades. He treated the people and the stories as artifacts from the digging and sifting. He could step back and see Doc’s life in its entirety.

  Light bulbs went off. He would write Doc’s biography. It would be a way to set forth Doc’s legacy. It would be something he would like to do. Call it a labor of love. Call it closure.

  He was so excited he called Julie immediately. She was even more excited.

  His cell rang just after he hung up. He expected Julie. He was surprised at the caller. Wayne Haskin.

  Chapter 31

  Archer started the conversation on Sunday night. “Interesting choice for a meeting place, Mr. Haskin,”

  “Dr. Archer. Nice to meet you again. I can’t claim credit for the choice, but I will accept the blame if deserved.”

  “It’s alright. I like the name, The Crammer. It’s definitely a college bar. I guess the name refers to cramming for exams. I saw the notice that they stop serving alcohol at one in the morning and start serving coffee. Breakfast begins at five.”

  They were in a campus bar at the University of Georgia. Chad and Julie spent the day going through all of Henry’s things. The file cabinets would move to Chad’s place in Boston. The clothes were bagged for donation. Julie took most of the artifacts collected over the years. Chad took a few. He took the books, too. Julie was intrigued that Haskin wanted to meet with Chad. They both thought Haskin might ask Chad to continue Henry’s research.

  “Perhaps my assistant thought that if the subject for the meeting was academic research, we should utilize such a renowned center for research,” Haskin joked.

  Haskin waved his warms inclusively of the entire bar. This early on a Sunday there were only a few customers. Two students occupied played at one of the pool tables. Two boys and a girl occupied a table, drinking and studying. There were two more people in a booth. Chad could just see the top of their heads.

  “I imagine, professor, you don’t rub elbows with students in the local bars? Not protocol?”

  “I’ve been known to have a beer or two at the end of the week,” Chad said.

  “Good. How about a beer then?” Haskin asked.

  “Sounds good, but call me Chad.”

  “Fine. Call me Wayne.”

  Haskin returned with two beers. He raised his mug. “To Dr. Clark.”

  “To Doc.”

  “I know that this is a bad time and it may be too soon. I can understand if you feel that way. I am looking for someone to continue Dr. Clark’s research?”

  “What is the research? He never told me or Julie.”

  “That’s good, that he didn’t. He respected his non-disclosure agreement with us. I’ll tell you more about the research later. Let’s talk about you.”

  “Okay. What do you need to know? I imagine you have a rather thorough vetting department.”

  Haskin responded, “We do. I like to meet our important hires personally. Chad, you impressed me with what you said in the eulogy about ethics. Were you sincere?”

  “Wayne, archeologists don’t make much money. We depend on the grant monies of the sponsor. Foundations, universities, and organizations. Sometimes, the country funds the dig. Some are even privately funded, as I suspect you did with Dr. Clark. It is tempting to smuggle and sell artifacts that are found, either from pressure of individuals doing the funding or the black market. I truly believe as Dr. Clark did, that it belongs to the people of a country. Sometimes that is not synonymous with those that rule a country. Mostly though we feel that the ownership is the world. We cannot control what a country does, but we use our influence to get finds displayed and shared.”

  “Good. Hearing it a second time and looking into your eyes, I believe you. One of my companies is Stellar Industries. I set it up to fund research on communication systems for satellites. I wasn’t sure there would be any money in it. But there is. We have grown into design work and now actually manufacture some components. With that division operating profitably, I can branch out and use the profits to fund other research. Research that helps the world. Some of its in medicine and drugs, some start-up companies. Lately, I have an interest in antiquities.”

  “Hence, Dr. Clark.”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a collector, Wayne?” Chad couldn’t keep the implication out of his question.

  “I know what you are asking. The answer is yes. I did, and still do, own some artifacts. In recent years I have come to appreciate the right to ownership of countries over individuals. I have returned many. Some I have not. My justification is that at the moment those countries cannot properly care and protect them. So I am holding it for them. I have had my lawyers draw up such papers. It stops lawsuits. I lend them to museums and any fees they earn go to a trust for the country.”

  “Thanks for sharing that. What else can you tell me?”

  “That’s about it except that I would need your services immediately and probably until the middle of July. I believe Dr. Clark was close to completion and I have some commitments in July. I would like to have possession of the item by then.” Haskin handed Archer folded papers. “This is our non-disclosure agreement.”

  Chad unfolded it. Two sheets. “I’ll review the NDA tonight. One other request. Actually a condition to considering this. I would like to talk to Mr. Boyer.”

  “Understandable. Mr. Boyer was one of the last people to see Dr. Clark before his death. That is no problem. I can actually have him here in ten minutes.”

  Chapter 32

  Archer watched the thin-faced man he met at Doc’s funeral walk into The Crammer. Boyer was dressed the same - dark suit, white shirt, gray tie.

  “Dr. Archer, it is nice to meet you, again. And, again, my condolences.”

  Haskin left after calling Boyer. He told Chad to call him after he read the NDA.

  “Thank you,” Ch
ad said and focused on reading everything he could on this man. He needed his instincts working at a high level. Already he found Boyer’s tone and attitude almost condescending. Wonder what Doc thought of him?

  “He said you have questions for me. And, perhaps we should get to know each other. If you take our contract, you and I will have several exchanges of information. That was the arrangement with Dr. Clark, and I assume will be the same with you.”

  “That would be fine,” Chad responded.

  “What would you like to know?” Boyer asked. “Understand I might be limited without your signed NDA.”

  “What is the project?” Chad could have asked Haskin, but he wanted to hold things so he could observe Boyer thinking and talking.

  “What I can tell you, is that it is a search for an ancient artifact that has been lost for centuries. Clues have surfaced as to what happened. We hope they will lead to its discovery. The project requires collecting information, solving puzzles, and a lot of travel. And, a lot of secrecy.”

  “You met with Dr. Clark the night he died?”

  “Yes. It was a shock to learn of his accident.”

  “Can you tell me why you met in York? What was Doc’s mood like that night? What was he drinking? Whom was he drinking with?”

  “Good questions. I’ll start by saying again how sorry I am. In situations like this, one always asks what if? What if I had been on time? What if I did not have to be in London the next morning? We could have met the next day. What if I stayed later and walked him out? What if he hadn’t had one more drink? What if, what if, what if.”

  “My experience is that you can never answer those questions,” Chad said, and wondered if the fifty-something Boyer would think him impertinent for his age.

  “Quite right. Well. We met in York because Dr. Clark wanted to meet there. He was there because he said the next clue was there. I was going to London and using one of Haskin’s private jets, so it was no bother to meet in York. His mood? Excited. He told me he was having a friend join him. You, by name. He said you were the world’s best puzzle solver. He wanted to clear you. I told him it was too late to get you vetted. However, we knew a bit about you from our background check on him. So, if he could get an NDA signed, and on his word, it would be okay. He was excited about that. I was, too. His excitement was catching. That’s when he talked me into staying for another drink. It was my second beer. I don’t know if it was his second or third whiskey. I have had a few drinks with Dr. Clark. I don’t think two would affect him that badly.”

  “I agree with that. So no beer?”

  “No.”

  Chad processed the information quietly.

  “Wait,” Boyer said. “Just as I was leaving, a few fellows sat at our table. You know the pubs, those long tables. Make new friends. They asked if they could sit. Dr. Clark said it was fine and they offered to buy him a pint. That was when I left.”

  “Did you tell that to the police?”

  “No. I was in London the next day and did not hear about it until the day after that.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Mr. Haskin told me. Someone in our research department got a hit on the accident.”

  Archer looked puzzled. “A hit?”

  “We have a world wide search program for any news item about any of our employees. All four thousand of them. I guess the local York news police blotter noted it.”

  “I see.”

  “Mr. Boyer, what do you do for Haskin?”

  “I forget my title. I mainly follow up in person for Mr. Haskin on the hundreds of projects he or Stellar Enterprises has around the world. Like I met with Dr. Clark. Have you read his reports for the project?”

  “No, I have not seen them.”

  “I just assumed he kept copies. But they are not many and skimpy. We met often in person. He took our need for secrecy to heart. He used many abbreviations. Almost like a code. What we are seeking is… well …. it is sensitive. We wish to keep others unaware of this. We did not want any record around that could give it away. We would ask that you do the same. The details and names and places are the things you and I will discuss face-to-face.”

  “I understand, but I will need to know what he told you or retrace the steps.”

  “Retracing may be best. You may learn more. It will not take long. I can point you to who and where to get started and to some of the people he met with along the way. It took Dr. Clark weeks to find each next contact. You will not need that much time, I am sure.”

  Chad had run out of questions. Unfortunately, Boyer’s account agreed with the police and his own investigation. It looked like Henry died by accident, and inebriation was a factor.

  Chapter 33

  I could get used to this, Archer thought as Haskin’s jet flew from Athens, Georgia, to Boston on Monday afternoon. He had signed the NDA and Haskin suggested he drop Chad in Boston.

  Haskin leaned back in the cushioned seat nursing a drink. “What do you know about the Ark of the Covenant?”

  “Really, Wayne? That’s the project? I think you have mistaken me for Indiana Jones.”

  “You’re not? Maybe we can call Massachusetts Chad?”

  “Not even close.” Archer saw Haskin turn serious. Chad did as well. “I actually know quite a bit. It’s fascinating to my students. Usually two or three choose it for one of their final papers. The problem is there is more fiction than facts. Verifiable facts. Just last week, I gave them an assignment to prove it did or did not exist.”

  “You don’t believe what you read in Exodus?” Wayne asked.

  “There are a couple problems with that, Wayne. To construct a chest, plated with gold, and two cherubs on top, in the middle of the desert is a reach.”

  “Couldn’t the god of Mt. Sinai, if he could do anything, provide gold plate and the cherubs?”

  Archer looked sideways at Haskin. “If we continue down this path we will end up in a discussion of faith, a god, or many gods, and alternative theories of the origin and development of the human race. I don’t think we want to go there.”

  “Let’s not then. Do you think there was an ark? And if so, what do you feel was the fate of the ark?” Haskin asked.

  “Like where it is hidden or if it is hidden? I think it was a real thing, constructed of acacia wood, because that grows in that region. However, over five hundred years, even as hard a wood acacia is, and as resistant to decay that it is, it simply deteriorated.”

  “So, not hidden and then found by the Knights Templar and spirited off to France or England?”

  “No evidence that my students turned up,” Archer answered.

  “What about the objects inside the ark?” Haskin asked.

  “You mean the tablets, the manna, and the staff of Aaron?”

  “Yes. What became of them?”

  “I’ve never studied that. I don’t have a firm opinion on whether they all existed and were stored in the ark. I expect that whatever was in the ark ended up in the tabernacle in the Temple of Solomon at one time. Then any objects that existed were either hidden or taken when the Temple was captured and destroyed by the Babylonians.”

  “You believe there were tablets?”

  “Yes, some form of instruction etched in stone. It was too good a story not to have some truth in it.” Chad said, beginning to see where he was going.

  “Good. Let me tell you a story. Four years ago a discovery was made in Israel. Near Mount Carmel. The northern area of the country, near the port of Haifa. It was an urn in a cave, sealed tight. Inside, were fifteen pages rolled together. Some have named it the Carmel Scrolls. Heard anything about it?”

  “No.”

  “And you probably will not. The Israeli army found it. The army has it. The army controls it. They have kept it a secret. In fact it was learned that they had not even opened the urn for a year.”

  “How is it you know about it? Why is it kept secret? And who knows about it? You said some call it the Carmel Scrolls.”

 
; “I confess – Carmel Scrolls is my name for it. The people who know are limited. I am sure several in the Israeli Armed forces are aware of the find, but I don’t think it is known in the halls, chambers, and private offices of their government. Outside the military, I know of only five people who know about the scrolls. And, perhaps one more. The five are myself, Boyer, you, my source, who is a rabbi, and his source, the one that leaked it outside of the military.”

  “And Dr. Clark.” Chad added.

  “Yes.”

  Haskin continued. “The military needed to establish the validity of the scrolls. A key factor was to establish its age. The document claims events that occurred in 600 BCE. They brought in a scientist from Weizmann Institute of Science to do radiocarbon dating. He was sworn to secrecy with a version of our Official Secrets Act. In Israel, the threat of the consequences is very real.”

  Chad commented knowingly, “The military was taking a chance that the technician would read the scrolls when he inspected it.”

  “A small chance. It took over a year for them to decide to do the test. The technician had to ask questions about the source, the conditions it was stored under, and how long it was stored. To do that, you are correct, he had the opportunity to read it. The military felt confident, I am sure, that he would not learn anything. It is written in Greek.”

  “This story is becoming intriguing.”

  “It gets better. The technician’s grandparents came from Greece before World War Two. His mother died in the sixties. He was two. His grandmother raised him. He learned Greek from her. The military I am sure did not check that far back. Or perhaps some records were not complete. In any event, our scientist read it.”

  “Now the rabbi enters the picture,” Chad stated. “The technician confided in his rabbi about a crisis of conscience?”