“If it was originally the symbol for pagan reproduction, Curt,” Sherri interjected, “how did it come to represent Christianity?”
“According to Lila, the fish was probably adopted by early Christians for several reasons. Jesus’ ministry is strongly associated with fish: he chose several fishermen to be his disciples and, as written in the New Testament, declared he would make them ‘fishers of men.’ Also, the fish would not be an obvious symbol to persecutors.
“It bothered Lila when we discovered the cave on Isla de la Palma that the etching of a small Christian fish was on both the outer wall and an inner wall. We had expected to see a fish as the marker, but not drawn in this Christian fashion, since the current symbol only came about within the last 2,000 years around the time of Jesus Christ. It’s clear now why they were there: someone discovered the cave, but not in antiquity; a Spaniard who rebuilt the walls to seal the cave, then stamped their own image of the fish upon them when they left in order to mark the spot as holy.
“This brings us back to the first line of text Lila mentioned: Visited by a poor knight on his journey.”
“You’re not going to tell us this is a reference to the Knights Templar, are you?” Scott commented. “I’ve gotten tired of those guys lately. They pop up in so many novels and movies.”
“Nope, not the Templars,” Curt said. “In the 1400s, there was a man born in San Tervas de Campos, Spain. As a boy, he served as a squire and earned the nickname, ‘Poor Knight.’ Later, the man became a seaman and joined Christopher Columbus on his second voyage to the New World, eventually settling in the Caribbean Islands. Then, in 1506, he discovered Puerto Rico and soon became governor there. Any guesses?”
“Are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?” Scott asked.
“Juan Ponce de Leon?!” Sherri blurted out.
“The one and only; the man credited with first discovering the mainland of the United States when he landed in Florida in 1513: a Poor Knight on his journey. From what we’ve discovered, it seems he wasn’t looking for the Fountain of Youth at all. Actually, I think there’s a good chance he found the cave on Isla de la Palma—remember, even though the Canary Islands are off the coast of Africa, they’re Spanish territory—and discovered the Fish skeleton at the bottom of the drained stone pool. When he left, he brought it with him across the Atlantic Ocean. The symbol will guide me and exist where I am bound. Although he didn’t know it at the time, he was bound for Florida. I believe he brought it here, and left it…to exist here.”
A look of wonderment spread over Scott’s face. “So he was never actually looking for the Fountain of Youth, but he may be responsible for the start of the legend when he brought the Fish to Florida!”
“If you recall, Marvin told us the Indians didn’t know about the Fish until just before the mid-1500s. That aligns to the dates of Ponce de Leon’s trips to Florida in the early part of the century. Then, when the French arrived, Pinot LeFlore learned of the Fish’s existence—wherever it was—possibly from the local Indians, and acquired it for his own use before he was captured by the Spanish and sealed in the gunpowder magazine.
“Marvin also said the text from the Indian Legend book mentioned that the Fish was given to the elder to assist man and creatures. It’s obvious now that this is a reference to Noah, as the elder.”
“That still leaves a very important question: Who broke into the Castillo and found the second sealed room, and why?” Sherri said.
“I believe it’s the same person who tried to kill Curt and me, who now has the Fish, and who also took Marvin,” Scott said.
“Do you think Uncle Sydney is also involved? The timing can’t be ignored,” Sherri asked.
“If so, we still don’t know the common connection,” Curt said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Wednesday, August 17, 2:26 p.m. – St. Augustine, Florida
Scott called the police and reported the break-in and disappearance of Marvin Sellon. They elected not to report the stolen Fish to authorities. That could have taken days to try and explain and, quite frankly, might have landed them in padded rooms, not to mention the consequences for Curt when word got back to Dr. Peklis and City Commission Manager Shottier. Based on the splintered door frame, and thus probable criminal activity, the police began an immediate search for the professor.
Sherri continued unsuccessfully to call Sydney Couperin at his home and on his cell phone. She then contacted the St. Johns Country Sheriff’s Office for any updates. There had been no progress in the case of his disappearance.
After the police left, Scott suggested the threesome take a drive. Even as he spoke the words, he signaled for silence, placing a finger to his lips. Curt and Sherri looked at him curiously, but they complied nevertheless and climbed into Curt’s Mustang without objection. The first thing Scott did as he settled into the back seat was to ask Sherri to dig a piece of paper out of the glove compartment box. She did, and he fished a pen from his pocket and scribbled some words on it.
He showed it to Curt then Sherri. Each nodded their head in understanding.
On the way there, they spoke only of mundane topics, steering clear of any discussions regarding the Fish or the recent discovery on Isla de la Palma as Scott had instructed on his note.
Curt drove them back across the Bridge of Lions which lifted high over Matanzas Bay. The tourist town was feeling the effects of the pending hurricane. There were few people on the streets, and some attractions and businesses had already shut down and boarded up their windows. It was less than four hours until the mandatory evacuation, but it appeared most people were not waiting. Traffic reports already warned of major snarls on the main highways and interstate roads leaving the area. The clouds had gathered overhead and the town felt like a gloomy, empty shell.
A short way past the Castillo on San Marco Avenue, Curt turned right onto a side street. Two blocks beyond, he brought the Mustang to a stop at the intersection of Magnolia Avenue. Scott looked left where the road tunneled majestically through a long row of trees which arched over the two-lane road.
Immediately before them was the Fountain of Youth Archaeological Park. Curt drove through the manmade arched entrance and parked. The three exited the car. A handful of tourists still wandered the grounds, most moving toward the ticket office. Scott was happy to see the exhibit was still operational. Wordlessly, they moved in the same direction.
Scott was warned by the ticket booth attendant that the park would close at 3:30 p.m.; less than an hour. Nevertheless, he insisted on buying three tickets. He led them inside the grounds down a long cement walkway bordered by a low wooden fence. To their left, several peacocks roamed the manicured area, some displaying their full regalia of plumage. With the approaching storm, the oppressive humidity had eased somewhat.
Ahead, a set of cannons perched on platforms, and farther beyond, other buildings, including the domed planetarium, rose on the pristine grounds. Already, park workers were scurrying about, wheeling cages out to hold the peacocks and performing other sundry activities to brace the grounds in advance of the lethal storm that would strike in the morning.
Scott directed them to the Spring House, the large room made of coquina and cypress that covered the “spring.” Although considered by most to be a tongue-in-cheek depiction of the fabled pond, thousands of visitors drank from the well water each year.
Inside the tall, expansive room, Scott strolled past the long pew-style bench that provided seating before the 27 coquina stones arranged in the form of a cross on the ground, believed to have been placed there by Juan Ponce de León himself upon his historic landing. Behind this natural ground were raised dioramas of the Seloy Indian village and the first landing. He moved down the few stone steps, followed by Curt and Sherri, and stopped before the low, wood-rail barrier. On the other side, a cement boil sunk into the floor where the surface of the spring water lay in the st
one collar several feet below.
“Can we talk now?” Curt asked, pulling beside Scott. Except for the three of them, the room was empty.
“Yes.”
“You think we’re being bugged? Some kind of planted devices?” Sherri asked.
“Yes,” Scott responded again, “in our cars and possibly our houses. Here’s my rationale: I believe someone knew Curt and I had gone to Bolivia and subsequently discovered the Fish…that, and everything else we’ve done, uncovered, or were planning to do. They knew I was driving to St. Augustine today and punctured my brake line so I’d have an accident.”
“It sounds like spy movie stuff, but I agree with you,” Curt said. “I really hate to admit this, but it sure as hell feels like a conspiracy. They’ve been one step ahead of us the whole time.”
“Why did you refer to whoever is responsible as ‘they,’ as in plural?” Sherri asked.
Curt turned to Scott and was about to speak when Scott stole his words.
“The Blue Council,” Scott said. “The thought occurred to me last night as I was driving to St. Augustine.”
“You’re going to have to enlighten me on what a Blue Council is,” Sherri said.
Curt explained, “The Blue Council is rumored to be a secret society based in St. Augustine who reportedly guard the location of the Fountain of Youth. We don’t know anything else about it other than their origin dates to the 1700s, and they keep a constant number of members to match the number of books in the Old Testament: 39.”
“The Fountain of Youth is not real. This is not real,” she pointed to the water below. “It’s just a legend.”
“I’m not implying this is the fountain, but I think there may actually be a spring, or a pool of water,” Scott said.
“And you think this society is responsible for taking your...Fish...and Professor Sellon? If they already have access to the Fountain, why would they do that?”
“Consider the following,” Curt began. “Pretend you’re a card-carrying member of the Blue Council, and you not only know where the Fountain of Youth is located, but you actually use it. Reportedly, the best results they get with the fountain is the ability to live approximately 120 years. That’s not bad, since that would be about 150 percent of what most humans achieve on average.
“Then, last month when the gunpowder magazine is opened, out pops a 500-year-old French Huguenot. Maybe the Blue Council knew his true age right away, maybe they didn’t. But somehow, like us, they confirmed he lived a very, very long time. Now, if you’re a member of the Blue Council, wouldn’t you want to know why Pinot LeFlore lived over four times as long as you’re going to live using the Fountain?”
Sherri asked, “Do you think it was the Blue Council that assaulted Father En looking for information as to how Pinot Guillaume achieved such long life? It would make sense.”
“And maybe it was Father En who told them about the Fish,” Curt added. “I got the sense he held information back when Scott and I spoke with him in Bolivia.” He turned to Scott. “From his questions, it seems he knew about the existence of the Fish.”
“Somehow, possibly by planting bugs, the Blue Council knew you found the Fish and that it was being kept at Professor Sellon’s house,” Sherri said.
“I believe they took it and also have Marvin,” Scott added.
A family of four entered the room. Scott, Curt, and Sherri held their discussion and stepped away from the portal, allowing the mother, father, and their two daughters access to the fountain. Once the family left, they continued their conversation.
“It still doesn’t explain how they knew about the second sealed room in the Castillo or why it was important?” Curt said.
“Curt,” Scott began, “the plastic tube you mentioned that you and Dr. Peklis found in that room...was it about yea long?” Scott widened his thumb and index finger on his right hand to proportion. “And about this thick?” He curled his index finger to make a circle.
“Yeah, give or take a centimeter.”
“Could you see inside the hole at the nippled end? Did it pass through?”
“I think so. The nipple was wrapped in a small casing of rubber.”
“And was the middle section of the tube made of hard plastic and hollow?”
Curt nodded. “Do you know what it was?”
Scott leaned forward. “It was a tranquilizer dart.”
Curt sat for a second digesting the information.
“Why would someone have a tranquilizer dart inside a sealed room?” Sherri asked, confused.
Curt’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God.”
Sherri startled. “What?”
Scott spoke, his eyes reflecting the epiphany as well. “There was a second person alive, sealed inside the Castillo. When the Blue Council opened the second room, they used a tranquilizer gun to subdue whoever was inside. They have the Fish, and now they’re desperately searching for the answer regarding how to use it to elongate life. They hope the man inside the second sealed room can tell them.”
It was Sherri’s turn to speculate. “You said Pinot LeFlore was insane when he came out after being locked up, after being sensory deprived for so long. If they had to use a tranquilizer dart on this second person, it was probably because he was in the same rabid condition. How are they going to get useful information from a madman?”
Curt nodded. “Good question. I also suspect his tongue has been cut out as well. The Spanish would have done the same to him as they did to Pinot. So even if he is partially lucid, he won’t be able to talk.”
“Which is probably why they grabbed Marvin. They hope he might have answers, too. God I hope he’s okay,” Scott said, bowing his head.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Wednesday, August 17, 2:51 p.m. – West of St. Augustine, Florida
Amos stood on the grass inside the cement enclosure and looked down into the water where the skeleton of the Fish would soon be placed. The water level, which had declined with each passing year, was less than six inches deep now.
The original pond was located near Wakulla Springs south of Tallahassee about 190 miles away. It was unclear if it had been fed by an offshoot of a spring that was somehow cut off, leaving the pond as an isolated body of water, or if it had always been a standalone pond ordained with its power to elongate life. Not surprisingly, Wakulla is a Seminole Indian word meaning “Place of Mystery.” Some might wonder if the Indians had been referring to the small pond instead of the springs.
In the 1940s and 1950s, when Hollywood discovered Wakulla Springs as an ideal location to film some of the early Tarzan movies and many scenes from the classic movie, Creature from the Black Lagoon, Blue Council members grew concerned someone would stumble upon the secluded pond and uncover its abilities. Thus, in 1957, they purchased a wooded, four-acre lot outside St. Augustine, and built a simple cinder-block structure with an arched roof. When the pond was first siphoned and transferred here by Blue Council members over 50 years ago, the hard, plastic mold set into the earth held more than 7,600 gallons in nine feet of water. Through the years, as the members had drunk from it, it had slowly been depleted. Now, it was estimated the remaining water would last the Blue Council members a mere three years.
Wherever it had come from, whatever had given it its miraculous ability to keep the Blue Council members alive well after 100 years of age, it would be forever lost. This had been the glum topic of discussion at council meetings for a dozen years now. Members had explored the Wakulla Springs area in vain searching for other ponds which might hold the same regenerative properties to no avail.
The proverbial well was running dry.
Then a new glimmer of hope had emerged. Somehow a French Huguenot soldier had survived inside the sealed room at the Castillo for over 500 years. The evidence was irrefutable. Unfortunately, he had been killed before any secrets could be obtained, but it signif
ied that there were other ways beyond the pond to lengthen life.
When the issue was raised at an emergency meeting by Amos, to his astonishment, most of the Blue Council members did not feel the need to pursue this new discovery. They claimed God would provide them with a divine solution to the impending end of their drinking water. Amos had argued the Almighty had most certainly done so; revealing a 500-year-old man to them. In fact, it was His will that was showing them the way. Yet a majority of the members argued that whatever had kept the French Huguenot alive was an unholy force, not to be tampered with, no matter what the prize. Eventually, 19 members, nearly half of the Council, had separated from the core group in order to seek the answer to the catalyst of this alternate source of long life, with Amos as their leader.
So with the division of goals, the fledgling group had seen their views coalesce and had begun their own covert activity.
Amos considered their actions with a sense of pride. First, they had electronically tapped the households and cars of key people involved with the man inside the gunpowder magazine. They wanted to know about any discussions that took place on the topic. Then Amos had directed Judges to research the identity of the French Huguenot to try to understand his background, what he had done, and where he had gone that might lead to the answer.
It was the listening device inside Curt Lohan’s Mustang which eventually led them to the Bolivian monk, who, after coercion, imparted the information regarding the Fish, although it was information about which Amos was somewhat skeptical. Nonetheless, the existence of the Fish had proven to be true, and they had been successful in obtaining it.
In a few minutes, Amos would find out if the second part of what the monk had said was accurate.
Judges, on the other hand, had turned out to be problematic. It was a situation which would have to be rectified now that the Fish was in their possession. Amos had already used deadly means to achieve the group’s goal. The wealth that would be gained by the discovery would be monumental, not to mention the fact that they would acquire the Fish’s power. Long life and money: mankind’s two greatest desires achieved in one fell swoop.
Death in the Beginning (The God Tools Book 1) Page 18
