Moffat's Secret

by J. C. Williams

  “I do know of your reputation. You are the expert for Stonehenge. What are you thinking?” Chad asked.

  “I had not thought about it before, but one of the rumored artifacts from Jerusalem is the Ark of the Covenant. The Exodus occurred around 1400 BCE. Stonehenge and the Great Pyramids were built a millennium before then, around 2600 BCE. If I were thinking about a place to store something for a thousand years, I would pick one of those two.”

  “Maybe not the Pyramids. Even in 1300 CE there was pilfering and robbing of the Pyramids. Stonehenge sounds more stable. Ever see anything there from Jerusalem?”

  “No. I have not. I have seen things that are centuries old from Germany, Denmark, and other European countries. And, of course the Romans six hundred years after the fall of Jerusalem. Stonehenge was a destination of Europeans for over two thousand years. However, if you were the Templars and buried artifacts there, wouldn’t you put in place a system to hand down that information to successors? You would have a guardian or guardians for your secret.”

  Chad tried hard to keep his face passive and not reveal his surprise. Did Jason Michaels know something about guardians? Or was it just a logical question and conclusion?

  Jason made a decision. “What are you doing tomorrow, Saturday? I need to go to Stonehenge. Check on some work. Would you like to go?”

  “Can I bring a friend?”

  Chapter 86

  Michaels gave Sandy and Chad special access passes reserved for the site workers and archeologists. Five years of work at Stonehenge enabled, if not entitled, Jason to the special access.

  “We’ll put on some maintenance jumpsuits. These passes allow us to get inside the ropes. That’s not allowed during operating hours, unless of course you happen to be the visiting President of the USA.”

  “This is more than I dreamed of,” Chad said. “Thanks again. Are there inscriptions on the stones here?” He was hoping for a man and three suns.

  “There is not much here in the way of inscriptions. Maybe in the distant past, five thousand years ago. Eroded for sure, by now, by the wind and other elements. There has been some graffiti over the years, over the centuries. It is one of the most well respected sites in the world. Over a million people a year come here. Twenty thousand just at summer solstice. It’s also one of the most excavated sites, though we have not dug up even ten percent of it. So on the one hand something could be buried here, for a long time. But, on the other hand, any visible reference to the spot would have been easily noticed.”

  “Have you been here before, Sandy?” Jason asked.

  “Once as a teenager, couple times as an adult. Never this close to the stones. It’s amazing.”

  Chad stood in awe. Jason watched his fellow archeologist.

  “Chad, when you are at a dig, does your mind start to see things as they might have been in the past? Envision the people?”

  “Yes,” Chad said almost in a whisper. “If I uncover a pottery piece, I can see them using it. An arrowhead, and I see them hunting.”

  “Me too. When I find bones, I picture the person’s height, their weight, the way they walk.”

  Sandy asked, “Tell us what you see here, Jason.”

  “Okay. But it will be hard, Stonehenge covers so much time. This is five thousand years old. I first see a fuzzy view. I don’t have evidence, and it is just my opinion, but I believe there had to be some other race, some other culture, maybe some other visitors from another world with knowledge of astronomy, knowledge of this planet, and of this solar system. There is so much science imbedded here.”

  Chad had not asked Jason what his opinion was about ancient astronauts. It seemed that Stonehenge had Michaels leaning toward that belief.

  Jason continued. “Let me give you an example. This is the only latitude where the sight lines for the rising summer solstice sun and setting winter solstice sun is perpendicular to the most northern moonrise and the most southern moonrise. That may seem like an obscure fact, but there is a narrow range of just one-degree latitude for that location. At this latitude, it means there was a tolerance of plus or minus thirty-five miles. People had to be that accurate five thousand years ago.”

  “So you think that piece of knowledge and the choice of this location could not have been determined over thousands of years?” Chad challenged. “The risings and settings of suns and moons were the most significant of events in people’s daily lives the world over.”

  “It was possible. But, there is only one sighting a year for those four events. It would take a great amount of structured communication passed on through generations, and through centuries, to narrow down the location on the earth where that occurred.”

  “I understand your point, it was an overwhelming challenge, and not just luck to be at this spot,” Chad said. But, he did not regard it as indisputable evidence of an alien existence in the design or the construction of Stonehenge.

  “Is it mostly an astronomical site?” Sandy asked.

  “It has many astronomical attributes. From celestial alignment, to a nineteen year moon calendar. From twenty-eight and twenty-nine day lunar months to a three hundred sixty five and a quarter day calendar. But it was more than that. It is a religious site. A burial site. Perhaps, a healing site. You know that some of these stones have a natural vibration that if struck the right way emit sounds?”

  “Interesting,” Sandy and Chad said together.

  “Whether the knowledge came from other worldly beings or from observant humans, there is a body of knowledge that was handed down for centuries. As with most societies and cultures, there would have been an inner circle of knowledge keepers. Protectors. Guardians of the information and any secrets.”

  At the mention of guardians, Chad looked at Sandy to see if she caught the word and concept. She did.

  “Back to your question on what I view when I imagine the world at Stonehenge. I picture scenes of celestial beings. I see humans clothed in animal skins. I see the evolution from hunting to farming, sheep herding, and wool. It all happened here. Man began creating fabric in 1800 BCE here in the UK. I see religious rites. Processions from the river a couple miles away where there are smaller stone circles. Gatherings at the winter and summer solstice lasted for weeks. Up to four thousand people. Imagine that in 3000 BCE. At that time there was only a hundred thousand people in all of England. Four out of every one hundred people across all of England gathered here.”

  They ambled through the site, Chad and Sandy snapping pictures, partly tourists, partly investigators. Jason lectured non-stop for two hours. When they finished, Chad concluded there were no clues to a hidden locator stone but hundreds of places to bury one.

  “Chad, I don’t think we found anything here that ties it to the Templars.” Jason said.

  “Nothing obvious, that is for sure,” Chad said. “But we appreciate your time, Jason.”

  Jason was thoughtful. “It is a consensus that the Templars removed treasures when they were in Jerusalem, the first time. However, as we discussed that does not mean they moved it to Europe right away. When the Muslims recaptured Jerusalem, the Templars took up residence in Acre, Israel. Then, later, the island of Cyprus, as I mentioned. I think that if they waited until they left Israel and until they saw the way the political religious winds were blowing, the treasure movement may have been closer to 1290 or 1300 CE.”

  “What would be the significance of that?” Chad asked. “Were there safer havens than Stonehenge?”

  “Certainly not under the protection of the monarchies. They were weakening. The church received rights from the Magna Carta in 1215. The universities did as well. Independent thinking was growing. Oxford had been educating for a time already when in 1209 Cambridge was founded because of a rift at Oxford. So, perhaps universities would be a safe haven.”

  “That helps,” Chad said. “We’ll visit those two universities. Perhaps we will find some connection to a trip to the Americas along with artifacts from Jerusalem.”

  “We
can also look into any churches or cathedrals that were strong at that time, and still in existence,” Sandy said. Then she smirked, “Can’t be more than a couple hundred of those.”

  The three of them laughed and said their good-byes. Once safely in their car, Chad asked, “Where to now?”

  “We’ll stay in Bath tonight and then York tomorrow.”

  “York? What’s in York?” Chad asked perplexed.

  “Two things. A large cathedral built about that time. And, me Granddad.”

  “Granddad?”

  “Aye. He and his stories of the Guardians of Stonehenge.”

  Chapter 87

  DI Moffat shook Archer gently as she cruised into Bath, an hour from Stonehenge.

  “Hush-a-by, don’t you cry. When you awake, you shall have cake. And all the pretty little ponies,” she sang.

  “What? Huh? Cake?” Chad asked sleepily.

  “It’s a Scottish lullaby. You Americans stole it.”

  “Oh. Are we there yet?”

  “We there yet?” she mimicked. “Not a nice word about my singing?”

  “Sweet as an angel,” he tried to get himself out of trouble.

  “H-m-m-ph. You fell asleep quickly.”

  “Jet lag. I’ll be okay after a run and a shower.”

  “Skip the run. But, you do need the shower. I’ll join you. I guarantee you’ll use more energy than any ten mile run.”

  “Shouldn’t we take a bath, not a shower?”

  Sandy didn’t answer.

  “Because, we’re in Bath,” he started to explain.

  “I got it. It just wasn’t funny,” she said dryly.

  “That’s my best stuff, Inspector,” he sighed. That brought a chuckle. He went on “What about dinner? Lunch was a while ago.”

  “What about dinner?” she once again whined in mimicry. “I offer you sex and you’re thinking about food. Bloody hell, Archer. Maybe I should get a separate room.”

  “I was thinking I needed to keep my strength up. I was planning a long night.”

  “Good recovery. I’ll let that slide,” she smiled. “I’ll order room service.”

  After a moment of quiet, Chad added quietly, “Make it oysters.”

  She laughed out loud.

  -----

  “It’s dark out,” Chad complained.

  “It’s five AM,” Sandy answered. “Time to get up.”

  “I think it’s only midnight in Boston,” he continued to complain. “If I had known we’d be getting up so early, I would have insisted on separate rooms.”

  “You wouldn’t have been able to stay away.”

  “Probably,” he said and pulled her into his arms. They kissed deeply. He didn’t know where this relationship was going, but he loved where they were right now.

  As they packed up, Sandy reminded him, “We have to make it back to London tonight. So, we need to be in York early, and we’ll only have a couple hours there.”

  “Okay,” he said sleepily, packing up. He looked at his phone. He hadn’t turned it on since he suspected something was wrong. Since he found it misplaced in his backpack.

  Sandy noticed. In her best New York imitation, she hoarsely whispered, “Hey-y-y-y. I know a guy, who knows a guy, who lives in York. If youse want, he can look at your phone.”

  Chad stared at her. “Who are you supposed to be?”

  “Since we’re going to York, I thought I’d be a New Yorker.”

  “That is bad on so many levels,” Chad laughed. It earned him a punch on the arm.

  “Who do you think messed with it on the plane?”

  “It could be Aman again. Maybe the group called the guardians.”

  They talked about family, childhood, food, and other things for the next three hours. They didn’t talk about killers and threats. Chad felt content. He was at the wheel. He said he needed to get used to driving on the opposite side of the road.

  “One hour to go,” she said.

  “What are we going to learn from your granddad?”

  “He used to tell me stories when I was a child, about the Guardians of Stonehenge. When Jason Michaels mentioned it, I remembered the stories. I think it may tie into what the Aman asked you about.”

  “Guardians from five thousand years ago? What are we looking for? Ghosts?”

  “Maybe,” she responded.

  A few minutes later, Sandy pointed ahead. “Okay. There’s a place to stop up here. There are a couple things I want to take to him. I can drive from here. Chad, my grandfather is eighty. He comes and goes in the present. He lives a lot of the time in the past. I called yesterday and the home says he’s been alert the last few days. I’m not sure what we’ll get.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  -----

  This part of York looked familiar to Archer. He was across the street from the pub where Doc had died. The empty sidewalk, silent windows, and the neon sign that read CLOSED spoke to him. It was a reminder of why he was doing this. Why he endured the deaths, the intrigue, and frustrations of Doc’s quest, making it his own.

  Chad waited while Sandy took his phone inside an address belonging to a furniture store. She was back quickly.

  “He’ll need a couple hours.” The way she said it didn’t invite a response. Chad gave none. He had noticed the seriousness that grew within her as they approached York. Her hands tapped the wheel. She drove away from the city center.

  Just outside of the city, the urban landscape gave way to the rolling meadows that he remembered from his earlier visit. She turned when she saw the sign for Abby Village. Under the name was an invitation to visitors to find Peace of Mind. The yellow and red flowers below the sign swayed in the breeze, playing hide-and-seek among the green ferns.

  The entrance drive wound through neatly mowed grass and bushes. They sure knew how to back up their motto, Chad thought. They parked in a shady lot, but were hardly out of the car when a young man in a light blue blazer approached.

  “Welcome to Abby Village. How can I help you?”

  Sandy did the talking. Chad watched. The young man turned them over to a hostess, just inside the door. She smiled, chatted away, and left them in a waiting area that could have been a library in an old English manor. Chad noticed Sandy relaxing. The kind and friendly approach at Abby Village worked well on the visitors. Hopefully, it was as good for the residents.

  A few minutes later, the hostess, who seemed assigned to them, returned and led them to a community room. Various card games, board games, video games, and television occupied about a dozen octogenarians. Chad spotted two other rooms like this on their short walk.

  “Thank you,” Sandy said as they entered, dismissing their guide. She then made a beeline for a bushy silver haired man reading in an easy chair. A large nose supported a small pair of reading glasses. The book rested on one arm of his chair. His other hand stroked a tabby cat that was motionless in his lap. That was the fourth dog or cat that Chad had noticed. They must use animals for companionship. Perhaps messy, perhaps expensive to keep clean, but perhaps, effective.

  “Saundra, luv,” her granddad smiled as he rose to greet her. She was a half-foot taller than the old man. Her height came from her mother’s side, Chad concluded.

  “Granddad, this is Chad. You haven’t met him,” she explained. “He’s from America.”

  “Chad, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Brandon Moffat.”

  His shake was firm. His hands strong. Chad noticed his thick forearms.

  Brandon turned to Sandy.

  “Saundra, lassie, let me look at you.” Brandon held both her hands, stepped back and gave her a once over. “You look just like your mum when she was your age. I remember when your father first brought her home. Tall, red hair, and green eyes.”

  “What brings you from ……,” Brandon began and failed to finish it.

  “I live in London now, granddad.”

  “Yes. Yes. That’s right. It’s why I don’t see you as much. How are you?”


  “I’m good, granddad. How about you?”

  “I think I’m doing okay. I have my good days and bad days, you know. Did you happen to remember?” he asked, giving Sandy a conspiratorial look.

  “Of course, granddad.” That explained the two stops she made on the way here, Chad thought. She put a bag in the corner.

  Chad brought two folding chairs over from the wall. They all sat down.

  “The message from my attendants said that you had just a little time. What’s on your mind?” Brandon asked.

  “Do you remember the stories you told me when I was a little girl? The ones about the Guardians of Stonehenge?”

  “Sure, I do. I heard them from my grandfather, and he from his grandfather. Centuries of stories.”

  “Could you tell Chad about them? About the Guardians? I would, but I didn’t want to muddle it.”

  Brandon leaned forward and whispered. “And, do I tell him about the Moffat Treasure as well?”

  Chapter 88

  Archer stared dumfounded. Sandy quickly rose, “Let’s talk in your room, granddad. We can open those things.” She picked up the bags and turned to Chad. “Chad, can you bring the two chairs?”

  “Aye, good idea, lass,” Brandon said eyeing the bag. “We need to keep the Moffat Treasure a Moffat Secret.”

  Chad followed them to a room down a long corridor. It was good size, almost roomy, he thought. The walls were painted a warm blue and dotted with framed photographs of family. A dresser, a wardrobe, an easy chair, and a small desk still left room for a comfortable bed.

  Brandon noticed Chad’s review of the room. “Are you with the Yard, too?”

  “No. I’m an archeologist.”

  “You examine things like a policeman. It’s a sleep number.”

  “Pardon me?” Chad asked.

  “The bed. I saw you looking at it. It is very comfortable. A sleep-number bed. My number is sixty-five.”

  “Here, granddad. Here are the strawberry licorice strings.”

  “Thank you, Saundra. And the …..?” he prompted.