He stripped down to nothing and dried himself. She handed him some clothes through the door. The pants were short but too big in the waist. The tee-shirt fit. A well-pressed plaid shirt almost fit, except it was two inches short in the sleeves.
He sat at the dining table, on the side near the old style two-column cast iron radiator. He was warming up quickly.
“I’ve heated some chicken soup for you. I also have sherry if you would like some.”
“Both sound great. Thanks.”
She served the soup and poured two glasses of sherry.
“Now, keep eating, but between bites tell me your story and what is so precious in your backpack.”
“Sorry about that, Vivian. It’s been hectic and dangerous these last couple weeks. I don’t know whom I can trust. So, I can’t leave my backpack out of my sight.”
“I understand. Just tell me what you can.”
“I have an artifact. One that several other people want. They want it badly. One of them tried to run me off the road tonight.
“I didn’t know archeology could be so dangerous.”
“I didn’t either. Can we leave it at that? I don’t want to expose you to danger. You can’t know what I know.”
”That’s just fine, Chad. You tell me only what you are comfortable with.”
“Thanks, Vivian. Could I bother you for another bowl of soup?”
“Certainly. Would you like a piece of toast with that? Maybe some crisps?”
“Toast would be nice. I’m going to duck into another room to make a call, if that is okay?”
“Sure. Use the sunroom through here. Tomorrow, you will see the beautiful garden behind it.”
Chad started to reach for his backpack. He hesitated. Surely, he could trust Vivian. He left it on the table. It took longer than expected to make an airline reservation. He couldn’t cover the cost, to Phoenix, but he could make it to New York. He would leave tomorrow afternoon. He needed the morning to pack and ship the urn.
As he walked into the dining room, he first saw the bowl of soup, then the urn, and then the locator stone. All were on the dining table. His backpack was turned upside down on the floor.
He froze.
Vivian walked in from the kitchen. She held a cell phone in her hand.
Chad looked at her questioningly, trying to make sense of it all. She looked past him. Behind him.
Chad turned to see who was behind him. He was shocked.
“Sandy?” he said, a mixture of surprise and happiness in his voice.
“Move away from the table, Chad,” she said evenly.
Her eyes. He looked in her eyes. He saw something there. Sadness? Sorrow?
Then he saw the gun in each hand. She pulled the trigger of the one in her left hand. He felt a pain in his right leg. His vision blurred. Sounds became muffled. He crumpled to the floor. The last thing he remembered was the sound of two gunshots.
Chapter 116
Archer registered a voice speaking to him.
“I’m going to sit you up, sir.”
He was rolled back to his left side and into a sitting position.
“I’m now going to take this dart out of your leg.”
Chad focused on a white-gloved policewoman.
“There,” she said, placing the dart in an evidence bag. “How are you feeling?”
“Groggy,” he answered trying to make sense of what was happening. He felt something under his left leg when he rolled over.
He looked to his left and saw Vivian sprawled on the floor, a small pool of blood around her head. A gun lay on the floor near her hand.
He remembered. Sandy. The stone. He tried to rise to look at the table. He struggled.
“Easy now, Archer,” a familiar voice said above a pair of black shoes.
Chad looked up. “DI Gary Smythe,” Chad said. He recognized the detective he had met in London at Scotland Yard. That’s right, he was stationed in Cambridge.
“You have a bit of a mess here. Would you like to tell me what happened?”
“Help me up?” Chad asked. He had to see the table.
Smythe assisted Chad to a chair. The detective bent back down to the floor. “Your phone,” Smythe said laying it on the table in front of Chad.
The bowl of soup was on the table. A small plate with a piece of toast was next to it. There was nothing else. No stone. No urn.
Smythe sat next to Chad. “Take your time. What happened?”
Chad thought quickly. What would they find? What did they find in his backpack? Two more sets of ID. Several burner phones. Journals. Notebooks.
He looked down at the floor, the last place that he saw his overturned backpack. It was there. There was a flag next to it. An evidence marker. A passport and his wallet lay on the floor. The GPS from the car was there. Everything else was gone.
“What happened to me?” Chad asked. “She said there was a dart?”
The detective was used to people evading questions.
“Seems that way. Just tell me what you remember.”
“Where do I start?”
“What are you doing here?” Smythe asked.
“I had car trouble. It was late. I remembered Vivian lived in Cambridge.” He looked her way. “I met her on a plane. I called and asked her if I could spend the night.”
“Someone you just met on the plane?”
Chad knew what he was asking.
“We talked together for hours. She bought me breakfast. She was nice.”
“Couldn’t go to a hotel?”
“I just thought she was close. I would have if she said no.”
“How did you get here?”
“I jogged.”
“You ran? From where? Where is your car?”
“I run a lot. No big deal. I think my car was near a town called Barton. At a school yard.”
“What company?”
“National.”
Smythe took some notes. “Could have called a cab? Road service?”
“I suppose. Vivian popped into my mind.”
“What about your clothes?” the detective asked.
“They were wet. I changed. They should be hanging upstairs in the bathroom.”
Smythe looked at a constable, standing in the corner. The police officer nodded.
“Go on.”
Chad told himself to stick to facts that they could verify.
“I came downstairs. Vivian fed me some soup. She was in the kitchen. We were talking. I heard a noise and turned. There was a guy in a ski mask with a gun. Then I blacked out. Before I did, I heard two shots. Then I was being helped by your officer.”
“Did you recognize the attacker?”
“No. He wore a mask.”
“A he?”
“I think so. Almost my height. Thin.” Chad knew angles of the shots would be measured.
“Did he say anything?”
“No.”
“Why do you think you were attacked?”
“I don’t know that I was. What’s left in my backpack? I had some things in there. Was it just a robbery? Can I look?”
“Sure,” Smythe answered. “We’ve already looked through it.”
Chad looked. There was nothing but some loose change and a toiletry kit inside.
“My laptop, some gifts, a camera. Shit.” He dug around. “And an envelope with receipts are missing. An envelope with cash. Gone.” He looked in his wallet. He held open the empty billfold to Smythe. “All my money. I was robbed.” Sandy must have taken everything and made it look like a robbery.
“I am sorry, Chad,” Smythe said genuinely. “How are you feeling? I’d like to get your statement and a list of what is missing. I’d also like to take you to a hospital. Check you out.”
Chad sat down wearily holding his wallet in one hand, passport in the other. He nodded an okay. His eyes wandered to Vivian. What a nice woman. Did Sandy kill her? Why was there a gun on the floor?
He asked Smythe, “What happened to her? The killer
left his gun?”
“Seems like she must have heard the noise and came in with a gun. Wrong thing to do. She was killed. One bullet to the head.”
“Williams,” Smythe said to his constable, “Can you get Dr. Archer’s wet clothes. Put them in a bag. Take his backpack as well. Take him to the hospital.”
“Yes sir.” Williams answered.
Smythe took the passport from Chad.
“I’ll hang on to this, Dr. Archer. You get some rest. I will see you in the morning. There are a couple things that don’t add up. Like leaving your car and jogging here. A gun that shoots a dart and a bullet. You said he had a gun, not two. A woman you know as Vivian that has several passports, lives in a house owned and leased by a shell company. A woman that owns a gun. A woman killed by an excellent shot from across the room dead center in the forehead. A robbery of just your stuff, leaving things in the house that could be hocked. She was killed. You were drugged.”
Chad felt it best to say nothing.
-----
Archer was checked out by the doctors. They drew blood to identify the drug. Chad declined any meds to help him sleep. He needed to think through his predicament and what he would do in the morning. He thought of Sandy. She killed Vivian or whatever her name was. Was Sandy really Lupa, the famed assassin? But wait. Sandy came in after the stone and urn was on the table. Vivian put them there. The phone. It wasn’t his phone under his leg. It was Vivian’s. It must have flown from her hand when she was shot. He turned it on. No password needed. It opened to the text messages. He knew the last number texted. It was Boyer’s. There was an attachment. A picture of the stone showing the last location of the tablets.
Vivian was Boyer’s agent? She was planted next to him on the plane? Chad remembered how she changed seats. She was looking him over before Chad even knew Boyer. Why? Because Doc emailed him.
Now what? Was Sandy working for the Guardians? They had the stone. Boyer and Haskin had the location. It would be a race.
He fell asleep about one, still without a plan.
At three someone shook him awake. A woman’s voice spoke quietly.
“Wake up, Dr. Archer. Time to go.”
The messenger slipped away. Chad didn’t have a chance to see who it was. He saw only the back of a white medical smock.
Chad sat up and found clothes, money, his two false passports, his iPad, a set of car keys, his Massachusetts driver’s license, and a first-class ticket to Phoenix for six AM under one of his alternate IDs. No passport. The police had that. Sandy returned them? Was that Sandy dressed as a doctor?
Chad dressed, took his mostly empty backpack, found a car in the parking lot that responded to the keys, and left. A doctor stood in the shadows and watched. When Archer was out of the lot, Lupa walked briskly to her own car, removed the stolen lab coat and ID, and then called the Professor in St. Andrews.
Chapter 117
Archer shopped in Phoenix before driving to Sedona. He used the ten-hour flight to refresh his knowledge about the tablets.
There were more traditions and contradictions than there were facts. As sacred and valuable as the tablets were, it was surprising that there was not a detailed description. As often as the Old Testament went into detail concerning events and objects, one would think someone would have made a detailed description. Perhaps this led Doc to consider the tablets had been hidden from the people.
Archer read parts of Exodus. He reviewed the various claims and counter claims about what was on them and what they looked like.
They were sapphire. They were blue. They were most likely lapis lazuli, a gold-flecked stone from Afghanistan. They were large or were they small? Moses could hold them in one hand. Or, did he just have them “in hand.” They were clear. They were written on both sides – that was Exodus 32:15. They were engraved through to the other side. But, they were miraculously read from the other side as well. Hebrew accent marks had to have floated if it was engraved through the stone. Or perhaps it wasn’t Hebrew because Hebrew writing was two hundred years in the future.
Chad’s conclusion was that no one saw anything. No one, except Moses. And, he didn’t tell, assuming he was the author of the Torah, the first five books of the Christian Old Testament.
In addition to what he read about the tablets, Chad considered what he saw in Dallas. The fragment of stones in Haskin’s possession had a code of ones and zeros. Chad also read about binary code. It was confusing. There was 8-bit, 16-bit, 5-bit, and more.
It left Archer in a dilemma. If he found the stones, how would he know they were authentic?
His reading and analysis kept him from thinking about Sandy. At least, not consciously. He knew he was suppressing what he saw in Cambridge. It didn’t line up with what he felt. However, it appeared that Haskin and Boyer’s accusation about her might be true.
Chad dialed a number he obtained at Doc’s funeral.
“Begay,”
“Hi. This is Chad Archer. I don’t know if you remember that we spoke briefly at Dr. Clark’s funeral?”
“Chad, certainly. How are you?”
“I’m doing fine. How is your dig?”
“I took your advice and did a deep dig. We chose a spot deep in the inner cave and dug down, two feet. We did find some pottery and tools that date back to 1200. It is exciting right now. We next scanned the whole cave with GPR. Have you used it?”
“No. But I am aware of it. Ground Penetrating Radar emits a pulse that can detect objects underground. It’s used for utility detection. I think it can detect both metal and non-metal objects.”
“You are right and it can detect tree roots, rocks, and pipes. We found a relativity large and uniform object about three feet down. We have dug carefully and methodically for two feet. We have one foot to go. We are looking for things along the way to help us date the depths.”
“That is exciting. How big is the object?”
“About a foot by a foot, but the depth is more difficult to determine. There are different materials. It’s something inside of something. Like a box. I estimate it to be another foot in depth.”
“Interesting. How is the dating going?”
“Well. Are you possibly coming to visit?”
“If your invitation is still open. I am taking a couple weeks to do some rock climbing in Sedona. I can put that off and work for you for a few weeks, if you’ll have me.”
“Chad, that would be wonderful. You couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“Great, Elsu. I can be there day after tomorrow. Does that work? I’ll make it mid morning.”
“Fantastic. We have some trailers near the dig. You can stay there.”
“Wonderful. I’ll check it out then and see what I need to bring.”
The two-hour drive to Sedona passed quickly. When he pulled up outside Jonathan’s trailer, he was greeted by the black and white alley cat. She hissed at Chad this time, made some deep guttural squawk, and then waited.
Jonathan opened the door of the trailer and the cat ran inside.
“Pooko, don’t be like that.”
“What does Pooko mean in English?” Chad asked.
“It is Hopi for dog.”
“That’s your dog?” Chad asked incredulously, remembering the milk Jonathan had to save for his dog.
“Pooko thinks she is a dog. She guards well. She is silent and fearless. She attacks animals bigger than herself. Yet, she still cuddles and purrs.”
Chad looked at Jonathan with questions showing on his face.
Jonathan responded. “My grandchildren. She cuddles and purrs for my grandchildren.”
“Come in,” Jonathan said. “Packages have been arriving non-stop this morning.”
They moved inside.
“What is all this?” Jonathan asked, waving his arms around the many boxes.
“Sit down, Jonathan. I have a story to tell you.”
Chad told his friend what Doc was looking for and what he was looking for. He shared details about the de
ath that fell around his quest. He spoke of the trusts and betrayals. He spoke non-stop for an hour.
“So you think the Hopi were entrusted with the protection of the tablets and they sit in the cavern where you and Doc were doing a dig?”
“Yes.”
“Now you plan to retrieve them?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Sort of.” It was Chad’s turn to wave at the boxes.
“Am I a part of this plan?”
“I want you to be. I need you. But, I understand if the danger and risk is too great.”
“Nonsense. I would have been hurt if I was not part of the plan.”
“Thanks, but wait until you hear the plan.”
“Do you know what you will do with them when, or if, you find the tablets?”
“No.”
Jonathan Ahote looked at his friend for a long time. He said quietly, “I think you do.”
It was Chad’s turn to take time before answering.
“If I find them, whom do I give them to? Israel? The Vatican? Why not a Protestant church? The Greek Orthodox Church? The Russian Orthodox Church? Which group of Muslims? Saudi Arabia, since Mecca and Medina are in their country? I have an obligation to protect them. To guard them. I think I should let those who have had that responsibility for centuries to continue their task. The Guardians.”
“I think you are right. Will they share them?”
“I don’t know.” Chad was thoughtful. “I suppose it depends on what is really written on them.”
“Tell me the plan,” Jonathan urged.
Chad explained what he wanted to do, what he expected to happen, and what he needed Jonathan to do.
When he finished, he asked, “Can you do that then? Watch my back? It will be when I am most vulnerable. You will have to be unseen, undetectable.”
“I am Hopi. We are invisible like the air, we step softly as a butterfly on a flower, and we are as silent as grass.”
A loud screech filled the trailer and a blur of black streaked from the room through a hinged cat door.
“Oh, sorry Pooko. I didn’t mean to step on your tail,” Jonathan called after the cat.
“Silent like that?” Chad laughed.
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