Moffat's Secret

by J. C. Williams

  “I checked out the concept of a group called the Guardians with some of my contacts around the intelligence community. The Guardians seem to be real, but very, very, secret and quiet. They have not been active in any illegal way that brought them to light. No organized or registered entity exists. One source told me he believes it is a descendant of the Templars, a much less visible descendant than the Masons. He believes they are guardians of historical and secret knowledge. He also believes they are international in its membership and some members are in powerful positions. If so, they could have similar resources as Aman.”

  “You believe Sandy is working for one of them?” Chad asked.

  “Maybe. Only you can answer as to what she knows, what she learned from you. You have to admit that she is in a good place to provide leading information,” George answered. “Who led you to the York Minster theory and Moffat’s Secret? Sandy?”

  Chad realized that they either already knew this or George was listening in to the conversation with Haskin and Boyer.

  “She did. Why would she do that, help me, if she was working for the guardians or Aman and they want to prevent me from finding the stone and tablets?”

  Chad knew the answer even before George gave it to him.

  “Misdirection,” George said.

  “If they want to stop me, why don’t they do so permanently, like they did in Israel to two others?” Chad asked.

  George let Chad think through this. That question had been in Chad’s mind. There had been no answer until now. The men in this room were the answer.

  Chad answered his own question. “They want to know where the information I gather is going. They want to know who you are. They could stop me, but you would just replace me. Is that what happened to Doc? What they want is to stop you. ”

  Haskin answered, “Yes. But, it does not stop them from stopping others that you talk to and share with. Like in Israel.”

  Chad thought about that. What about France, what about Mexico? He knew Juan Ramirez disappeared. What about the rabbi’s brother in France? There had been no reason to check. Now he had a reason. He should also check on Acosta in Mexico City. Maybe even Jason Michaels.

  “What about Sandy being at risk? If she knows so much, why hasn’t she been stopped?” Chad thought he had a solid argument to eliminate Sandy from suspicion. “She cannot be working for both Aman and the Guardians. Whoever she does not work for would see her as a threat.”

  “That’s the wild card, I mentioned earlier,” George re-entered the discussion. “There is a character that may be involved with this project, working for one of those two groups. A person named Lupa.”

  “The assassin?” Chad asked.

  George was impressed. “You know the name?”

  “Interpol mentioned it.”

  George gave an alarming look to Haskin and Boyer, silently asking if Interpol knew about the project.

  Chad sensed the question. “A different project. A murder case. What does Lupa have to do with us?”

  “Lupa is an assassin for hire. Sometimes as an assassin, sometimes as a tracker, sometimes as a finder,” George explained.

  “I still don’t understand. Has Aman or the Guardians hired Lupa?”

  “How’s your Latin, Dr. Archer?” George asked. “Do you know what Lupa means?”

  “Lupa is Latin for wolf. Wolves are trackers and killers,” Chad answered.

  “Actually, Latin for wolf is lupus. Lupa is a female wolf. The assassin and tracker involved with us is Lupa, a female.” George let this sink in.

  “No way,” Chad finally cried out. “You’re saying Sandy is Lupa? That is impossible. A killer?” He paused and then laughed. This is all crazy. You think Sandy killed people? Tried to kill me?”

  George leaned back and packed away his notes. “We knew this would be difficult for you, Dr. Archer. I would ask you to think about it. Where was she when other events occurred? Like Doc’s death. She was in York. Where was she when the murders occurred in Israel?”

  Chad answered quickly. “She was in England.”

  George asked, “Are you sure? Where in England? She was between York and London. Unaccounted for in either place. Speaking of London. Was it just coincidence she was assigned there once it was known you were going to be there? And when you were in Mexico, where was she?”

  “She was in London,” Chad said calmly.

  “You know that for sure? Any problems calling her? Could she have been in Mexico?”

  “Wait a minute,” Chad said. “She could have killed me anytime, why would she push me off a pyramid?”

  “To make it look like an accident. You said you didn’t see your assailant, just like you didn’t see the one that rushed past you at the rabbi’s flat.”

  Chad was quiet, thinking.

  George asked, “Could Alan Evers have overheard something on their stakeout? Does it really make sense that Biskell killed Evers?”

  George let Chad think about these things. Then he added. “She was with you at Stonehenge. She was with you in York. She knew about Ipswich. Look, Chad, you know more than we do about where you were and where she was. Think about it. Make your own conclusions. Forensic history is your best skill. My only caution is that if you question her or investigate her, you may place yourself in even more danger. I am available to you for guidance and protection. We really encourage you to consider letting us provide a bodyguard.”

  George left. Boyer remained motionless. Haskin moved toward the bar. Chad’s stomach turned over. He felt empty inside. A battle between forensic facts and his instincts was raging inside of him. Something else besides Sandy was gnawing at him, trying to get some brain time. He couldn’t see what it was.

  Chapter 99

  Archer accepted a refill without comment.

  “Chad, can you stay for dinner?” Haskin asked.

  “Thanks, Wayne, but I’d rather not just now. I have a lot to think about.”

  “I understand. Well. You have George’s offer of protection. Boyer thinks that you should continue to use throwaway phones. Use them a couple times. It makes getting hold of you difficult, but we haven’t had the need. Let us know where you are travelling. Where do you go next?”

  “I still plan to go to Sedona.”

  “Good. And after that?”

  “I’ll start at Stonehenge. Moffat’s Secret. But I still believe it’s just a starting point. I’ll find the locator stone at some point east and a hundred seventy miles north. A lot of work yet. Does that sound okay?”

  “You know best, Chad,” Haskin said and looked toward Boyer.

  “Sounds good to me,” Boyer agreed.

  “Great,” Haskin clapped his hands. “Chad, take a walk with me. I’d like to show you something. Maybe give you a renewed purpose. Bring your drink.”

  He led the way from the study, down a long hall, two rights, and up a half flight of stairs to another wing.

  A large steel door barred their way. Haskin entered a code on a keypad and then was prompted for his handprint. The door slid open.

  The lights inside the large room came on when he entered. It was muted lighting. The walls were lined with small glass enclosures, each housing one to five artifacts. Chad stepped in and gazed around the room. He saw vases, pottery, masks, carvings, sculptures, and just about every other type of artifact he could imagine. Haskin’s collection surpassed many museums. Chad could imagine the route these took to get here. Not all by legal means.

  “I told you I believe in sharing. You’re going to look at this and think that I lied. There are many in here I could share with the public, and some that I can’t. Well, I could. However, they would be seized. I could donate them to a museum, you’re thinking. Truth is, I like coming in here. I like the history. I like the connection to the past, the connection to the world. However, when you find the tablets, I plan to turn all of this over to the public. Along with the tablets. The pleasure I have had, can then be shared by thousands, maybe millions. That’s my prom
ise to myself. What do you think?”

  I think you are getting rid of years of guilt. Chad didn’t say that aloud. Instead he replied, “I think that is the definition of a philanthropist. Thinking of the welfare of others.”

  “I think you are right. Please look around.”

  Twenty minutes later, Chad had an even greater appreciation for the scope of the collection. In the last aisle, he stopped suddenly. “What’s this?”

  “That is from Egypt. It was sent to me last year.”

  Chad looked closer at the vertical lines and small circles etched into a piece of blue stone. He recalled the description the rabbi gave him of the original tablet fragments.

  “What do you think it is?” Chad asked.

  “I was told it was from the building of the pyramids, some sort of accounting of materials. That’s what the symbols are – counts.”

  “I see,” Chad lied, adding his lie to Haskin’s. He saw them for what they were, thanks to his trip to Ipswich. Binary code. They knew what Doc found. They knew what he learned in Ipswich. But, they had not shared. What else are they keeping from me? What about Doc’s death? Was there more to that than Boyer had said?

  “Nice collection, eh?” Haskin said seeking a compliment.

  Chad looked at his host. Haskin almost glowed with pride. “Yes. It’s a great collection. I understand your passion for it.”

  “These are not my real passion. C’mon. I have something else to show you.” Haskin led Chad outside and around the house to a six-car garage.

  Withdrawing a remote from his pocket, Haskin pushed buttons. A steel grill on the first three doors was raised. More buttons opened the overhead doors. Bright lights came on automatically. They reflected off highly polished vintage automobiles.

  “Door number one,” Haskin said proudly, “A 1970 Ferrari racer. Cost me four million. Door number two. Zenvo ST1. One of fifteen ever produced. Door number 3. 1964 Aston Martin DB5.”

  “James Bond?” Chad asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “These must be difficult to get hold of?” Chad asked, like those items in the artifact room, he thought.

  “Very. Very much.”

  A gut instinct grabbed Archer. An instinct that was spawned by his newfound mistrust. “Can I get a picture of you next to each of them?”

  Haskin’s vanity agreed to the photos.

  Chapter 100

  Archer braced for the touchdown in Phoenix after the two and a half hour flight from Dallas. He had awakened early that morning in Dallas, sometime around three. He didn’t want more time to think about things – things that he didn’t want to think about. He couldn’t help it. Over and over, he reviewed Sandy’s whereabouts during the incidents. He had lots of questions, but no answers.

  Finally at first light, five o’clock, he went for a run.

  The drive from Phoenix Sky Harbor to Sedona was another two and a half hours. The air became clearer. The temperature became cooler. Unfortunately, Chad’s mind didn’t become clearer and his anger didn’t cool. There was no way, he kept repeating, sometimes aloud. No way Sandy was anything other than the person he knew. He admitted he had not known her for long. Still, he did not doubt her honesty and her sincerity. She never had done anything secretive or deceptive. He knew he should talk with her. But, he was not ready. Not yet. Certainly not by phone. He tried to concentrate on the change of scenery from desert scrubs to lofty pines.

  Archer arrived in Sedona and went directly to a small trailer home on an isolated piece of dry land on the northern side of the city.

  Jonathan Ahote lived here. Jonathan was a first name added to his given Hopi name of Ahote, the restless one. He made his living giving private tours of Sedona and its mystical powers to small groups of four or less. Jonathan was expecting Chad. He opened the door before Chad even knocked.

  “Doctor, you have aged,” Jonathan said extending his hand.

  “It’s only been three years. Besides, Jonathan, you told me wrinkles would be evidence of learning, evidence of knowledge. So I look smarter now?”

  “You were always smart. It is to be seen if you have become wise. Come in my friend.”

  “Coffee?” Jonathan asked.

  “Sure,” Chad said. He sat at one of the two chairs aside a small table. The trailer had not changed in three years. Sparsely decorated, sparsely stocked. Simple was the word that came to mind.

  “I only have a little milk. I need to save it for Dog. Sugar?”

  “Ill take it black.” Chad looked around for a dog. All he saw was a cat chasing birds outside the trailer.

  “Chad, I was sorry to hear about Doc. I heard it was a car accident?”

  “Yes. You might also have heard it was to do with drinking too much. We, the police and I, think it was a theft gone wrong. I don’t want you to think ill of Doc.” Chad didn’t add any of his recent doubts and connection to Boyer.

  “Thanks. But I won’t. Doc could handle his whiskey. I don’t drink, but I was with him a couple times in town. Never saw him out of control.”

  “It was a mixture of beer and whiskey according to the barman,” Chad commented.

  “Not Doc,” Jonathan said. “Doc didn’t drink beer.”

  “I never saw him drink beer, either. I think it may have been the pub atmosphere. Someone bought him a couple pints.”

  “Really? I thought Doc didn’t drink beer because of a medical reason.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Chad said thoughtfully.

  “What brings you here? You were evasive on the phone, but you said rock climbing?”

  “I took it up after we left here.”

  “Any good?”

  “I’m a beginner. Basic. I cannot do the tough ones here in Sedona. It’s a mecca for rock climbers, all the sandstone cliffs and chimneys.”

  “That is what I hear,” Jonathan said.

  “I was thinking about the back side of the hills where we had our dig. I remember driving around there once. If I remember it correctly, it should be low in difficulty. Much of it is just steep hiking and a couple vertical wall sections. They appeared to be about twenty feet high. I can handle that. However, I need your help. I know it is government land but I respect the unofficial claim to the land by the Hopi and other tribes. You taught me that before. I know there are many sacred places. And some locations just held in reverence. I want to go through you, so I don’t offend anyone.”

  “We can do that. I know the area that you refer to. I will go with you if it is okay?”

  “You climb, Jonathan?”

  “No. I will take a path that I know and meet you at the top. I’ll pack some food and drink. I could even throw you a rope down for safety. When do you want to go?”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “First light. It will be hot later in the day. In fact we should leave before first light. Be here at four. I will make some calls now. Why don’t you take a walk? It looks like you have some things bothering you. Then I’ll fix you some dinner. And you can tell me what you couldn’t on the phone. You like macaroni and baked beans?”

  “Depends on what brand of beans,” Chad quipped.

  “Get out.”

  Chad walked the property admiring the distant sandstone peaks and tree-lined hills. The red clay and other geologic features he knew about from school. The mystic powers of Sedona he knew about from Jonathan. The cat followed him at a distance.

  An hour later, Chad was back in the same seat at the kitchen table. He watched Jonathan cook. Chad didn’t know his age. His face had creases weathered from years spent outdoors. His raven black hair was shoulder length. He was trim - a strong, lean look. His hands were big compared to the rest of his five-six frame. He wore jeans as always. His long sleeved shirts were of colors that blended with the natural colors of the trees and earth around him. A single turquoise medallion on a silver chain hung around his neck.

  “There’s a shadow over you, Chad,” Jonathan said, his back to Archer. “Is that why you are really here?”<
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  “I don’t think so. The shadow is a woman. I’m here for something else.” Chad knew better than try to fool Jonathan. The Indian always could see through him.

  “Is this Doc’s quest?” Jonathan asked.

  “You know about that?”

  “He didn’t tell me but word traveled from Colorado and New Mexico. Doc was visiting cliff dwellings and asking questions. I was hurt he didn’t see me, but I don’t know what he was looking for.”

  Jonathan said it as a statement but Chad heard it as the question that it was.

  “We’re looking for a sacred artifact. I believe it came from Mexico. I traced it through two cities and I wondered if it was sent this far north for safety.”

  “When?” Jonathan asked.

  “Before 900 CE, maybe even as early as 800. Things down south were in a state of flux. Old powers were declining. I have some clues that it was headed north.”

  “What is it?” Jonathan asked.

  “Tablets. Ever hear any tales or myths about tablets?”

  “Sure there are many in the Hopi history.”

  Chad got excited, “Really?”

  “Yes, I could tell you about them. But, it would be better if I take you to the reservation and you can hear the stories from our elders. The Hopi were very late in establishing any written record. Ours is an oral history.”

  “That would be great,” Chad said. “The sacred item might not have been revealed as tablets. It could have been just considered a sacred object that needed protected and hidden.”

  “I see,” Jonathan said thoughtfully. “Maybe we don’t talk with them of tablets, not immediately. Nor about your artifacts. I can ask questions about our history and maybe they will tell the myths of the tablets.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  “There is a saying. A secret is a secret because it is secret. We do not tell everything. In fact sometimes we tell outsiders what they want to hear.”