Chapter Twenty-Six
October, 2011
The fading daylight emanating from the darkening horizon leaked slivers of white between the slats of the dusty, broken blinds that covered the windows. The howling wind rocked the trees, their branches scrapping against the window pane, cutting through the silence of the approaching night.
Books and papers were scattered around the floor. A yellowish glow from a small wattage bulb hid under an oversized lampshade, hanging precariously on the base, which rested on the floor next to a table. Shallow, noisy breaths and scrawling pen gliding across paper with a strange intensity filled the air in the small, sparsely furnished room.
The table was rickety and rocked from the pressure of the writer’s hand, but the words, written in Sanskrit flowed easily.
Be still. Be light.
Cease the renegades darken path
Awaken still with sight.
Those that sleep outside the wall
Trust not for they will awaken and without forethought
Be the cause of your fall.
All rises and sit in order in its season
Observe only from afar, transgress not against their appointed order
Lest you commit treason.
More than what is of this world
Heard, above that remembered
Those are for true the things not to be unfurled.
Be still. Be light.
For death can come quickly
When care for what you do is slight.
It was done. The pen stopped. And the writer relaxed.
Justin Dickerson was walking on shaky ground. She needed to stop, or be stopped. Surely such a learned woman as her couldn’t overlook the seriousness of what she was doing. She’d best take heed to this warning.
It was put into an envelope marked “Urgent” readied to send to her. Her trip to Israel better be Justin’s last on this mission she seemed bound to do.
Unless, of course, she wanted to die.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
Jack was tall. Perfect posture. Brawny. I could see military as soon as he told me he was in the Air Force, even in his blue jeans and Nike t-shirt. Handsome, I thought, late thirties. Seemed like a nice guy, other than him just confronting me.
“Excuse me,” I said.
“I need to know how much you know about the nuclear activity on Mars.”
“I only know what was in the manuscripts. And I wrote that in my book.”
He eyed me accusingly.
“It’s not like I could’ve put the stuff up there, Jack. The nuclear residue. I don’t even know how it got there. If you’ve read the book, you know that. I don’t know if it was an accident or some kind of war.”
“Do you know how much panic you could cause by putting this information out? People will think that there are Martians who will come with nuclear ray guns and kill us all.”
“I certainly wouldn’t say anything like that. Nor do I think people would believe something like that. The Martians, as it were, are us. You know that. I don’t intend to cause any panic.
“Listen, Jack,” I said. “Our history is wrong. I have worked more than half my life to find our biblical history and present it to the world. To prove that it was true.” I looked up into his face. “I am an archaeologist, a re-creator of history. I learn about our history from the fragmentary remains of artifacts left behind by past civilizations.” He didn’t say anything.
“What I am trying to prove won’t change man’s belief in God, in the way he conducts business, or in his everyday life. It will cure diseases. It will turn around climate change. It will allow us to travel through space.” I took in a breath. “I’m scared. I’m worried about putting it all out there. And yes, honestly mostly worried how it’ll affect me and my family. But I’m worried about mankind, too. So I wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone.”
“And you think what you’re doing . . .” he said, and paused. “Finding proof about ancient space travel, from a planet that has a surface full of evidence of nuclear activity, is okay?”
I couldn’t glean anything from his face. Was he turning out to be one of those “government people” that Addie talked about that would be after me?
He just stood looking at me. Waiting for me to answer, maybe to say the wrong thing. Was he angry? Was he going to turn me in, and I’d have to spend the rest of my days in Gitmo? Maybe he really didn’t believe what was in the AHM manuscripts.
I thought about what I should say, then I said, “Yes, I do. I do think it’s okay. I think I have to share the knowledge with the world. For our own good.”
And then he smiled.
“Addie,” he said, and turned around and walked toward her. “How do you think you can help Dr. Dickerson? You and that little mutt of yours will be just as lost in her world of academia as Dorothy and Toto were in Oz.”
And that was it. He didn’t say anything else to me about it. I couldn’t believe I’d convinced him, when I was still so unsure myself. I kept thinking, what did I say to him? Because, whatever it was, it needed to be my mantra, to give me the courage I needed. Yet, even with Jack confronting me, in my own house no less, was kind of weird, okay, very weird, I decided to tell them about my trip to Israel.
Sitting back down at my kitchen table, I told them that the proof I wrote about getting was what Dr. Sabir had left planted under a cypress tree in Israel.
“The Knesset,” I explained, is the national legislature of Israel, and it convened for the first time on February 14, 1949, which fell on the holiday, Tu Bishvat, the Jewish New Year for Trees. So, the Constituent Assembly, gathering for the first time, honored the holiday by planting trees.
“Dr. Sabir was there for that tree planting holiday, and he planted a tree. But he also planted evidence. He figured that since he was digging a hole, no one would notice if he dug two. So he picked a spot under an older tree, where the roots had already taken hold, and buried what I suspect is the key needed to decipher the hidden clues in the Book of Enoch. Clues that will give the knowledge to make us as advanced as our ancestors from Mars had been.”
I looked at Rennie and Addie. Their faces were filled with excitement. They had a look of amusement in their eyes, their mouths hanging open.
“Evidence?” Addie said, wide eyed.
“Yep. And, I’m going to dig it up. Me and Claire.”
“It that what we’re going to Israel for? Manual labor?” Claire asked, and shook her head. “I probably should have asked the reason you were going before I said, ‘Yes’.”
“We’ll come,” Addie offered. “We’ll help dig.”
“I can’t go to Israel,” Rennie said. I don’t have a passport. I don’t have the money to go all the way to Israel. And, I can’t take time off from work.”
“Then I guess it’s just me and Jack.” Addie glanced at her brother, and he gave a nod to confirm. “But wait, Justin, you said February 1949 was the day that they planted trees.”
“That’s right.”
“Dr. Sabir didn’t present those manuscripts to Dr. Yeoman until October.”
“You really do know my book.” I said, and laughed. “And that’s right. He wrote, in those last pages of his notebook, that he held on to them for a while. Trying to find more evidence to help substantiate his story. That’s when he came up with the idea of the Book of Enoch. It was found a couple of caves over from where the manuscript about man’s migration was found.”
She opened her mouth to speak, and Mase came in. I introduced him to everyone. When Addie asked if he would be going with me, he told her, “No. She never takes me anywhere. She’d rather take Greg, her brother.” Then he invited Jack to come and hang out with him, telling me I should have let him know it was a guy in the house. He was sure Jack didn’t want to be with us girls. Addie nor Jack protested and Addie didn’t waste any time getting back to the hidden evidence.
“Where is Dr. Sabir’s notebook? Can I see
it?”
“Don’t you remember, in the book, I said I mailed it to Ghazi.”
“Wasn’t sure if you did that to protect yourself.”
“You’re funny. No. I really did it.”
“When we get to Israel, we should go and see him. And see the notebook, too, if we can.”
“I haven’t heard from Ghazi since I mailed him that notebook.”
“And you haven’t called him.”
“No.” I glanced over at Claire. “Have you heard from him?” She shook her head.
“So, everything is in the Book of Enoch?” Addie asked. “That book tells the truth about humans coming from Mars,” she said thoughtfully. “So, it’s is in the Bible?”
“The Book of Enoch is not in the Bible,” I began to explain, and then almost on cue, Simon’s name popped up on my Caller ID.
Again.
I excused myself and took the phone call.
He seemed to have gotten somewhat frantic since we talked only a couple hours earlier. He kept saying my name, as if he wanted to tell me something, but didn’t know how to how to say it. I told him that I had just planned my trip back to Israel with my new travel partners. That didn’t sit well with him.
He said that I shouldn’t take anyone with me that didn’t understand what was going on. Which seemed strange because I had never told him what was going on. His usual playfulness gone, he said that he and I should go. I looked around the room and saw the excitement buzzing around the room as Addie, Claire and Rennie talked about what we were working on. Even Jack and Mase had wandered back in and had joined the conversation.
I felt like my amateur sleuths and I could handle it. And when I told him, he said he would come, too. I told him don’t, but when I got back I would go over the things I had with him. I was sure, although I didn’t say it to him, I would need more help with the Book of Enoch. I figured I would get him to help me with that.
He asked me when I was leaving, and where was I staying. I told him, reluctantly. But once I hung up the phone I regretted it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Villa Mondragone, Jesuit Community
Frascati, Italy, 1912
“What have you done?” Rector Roberto Bershoni stood with his hands behind his back, looking out the window. He didn’t face Father Realini as he spoke to him.
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, it’s done.”
“But why?” Rector Bershoni turned, his eyes pleading.
“Its secrets have stayed hidden too long. Someone must tell.” Father Realini steadfastness shown in his eyes.
“They don’t have all the parts to it. No one will be able to decipher it.”
“They will all be found.”
“But you do not know when.” The Rector raised his hands and dropped them in exasperation. “And when they all are found, by then our manuscript may be lost or destroyed. It was safe here.”
“It won’t be destroyed.”
“You don’t know that. It was a foolish thing to do.”
“It will be safe with him. Wilfrid Voynich. He cares for books.”
“You have no idea the nature of that man.”
“If you don’t agree then get it back. Indeed, why did you let it go in the first place?”
The Rector lowered his head. It had stunned him to see the book there among the others put out for sale.
“The Provincial Superior,” the Rector said, looking away as if chastened by his own inability to stop the sale. “He had told Mr. Voynich that he could choose from whatever was set out. How was I to go against that? And, I certainly couldn’t give the reason why he couldn’t take it.” His hands came shakily up to his face. He put his fingers to his temple. “And what of Father Marquette?” the Rector looked at Father Realini. “Did you tell him?”
“He knows the secret about the book.”
Rector Bershoni grimaced at the thought. He opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. He sat down in his chair and covered his face with his hands.
Father Realini held up his hand. “But not the true story. Only one I made up, so he would help me.”
“And that letter you left in the book. All those lies. That made up history. How could you?”
“Should I have told the truth? Should I have called it by its real name? Or, told that it was a book that holds the secrets of our ancestors?” Father Realini asked.
Rector Bershoni could take no more. He dismissed Father Realini with a wave of his hand. Afterwards, he sat for a long time. The fear, disgust and weariness that he felt lingered stagnant in the air, making it hard for him to breath. After a long while the Rector, with a sudden intensity, reached over and pulled the heavy red, velvet sash that hung from his ceiling and that was attached to a bell in an inner room of his office. It was a call for his Superintendent to come into his office.
Then, he rang it again, pulling it down hard, and giving out a shout, “Rapidamente Padre! Vieni presto!”
He needed to send a telegram. That book must be watched. And, he needed to put the plan into action. A plan that had laid dormant for thousands of years. A plan older than the Society of Jesus. Older than Jesus himself.
“Rapidamente Padre,” he said, pulling down the sash again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cleveland Heights, Ohio
2011
“Maybe it’s another manuscript that Dr. Sabir found.” Addie’s eyes were as big as a child’s on Christmas morning. “Something that has to be deciphered. A book with all the clues in it. Like in The DaVinci Code. Something that no one else has been able to decode before.”
“Or in a mysterious ancient language,” Rennie added.
The two of them were back to their book references. Still sitting in my kitchen, for more than three hours, Addie and Rennie hadn’t run out of energy, and seemed to want to solve the whole mystery in one night. Jack had gone outta sight again, probably somewhere with Mase, watching sports on TV.
“We just saw something like that. The other day. Didn’t we, Justin?” Claire looked at me.
“Something like what?” I asked, confused.
“An undecipherable manuscript. When we were at Professor Abelson’s house.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, and paused. I don’t know what look I had on my face, but everyone stopped and stared at me.
“What?” Addie said.
“Is that it? Is that the other manuscript of clues?” Claire asked.
“There’s no other manuscript with clues,” I said. “It’s all in the Book of Enoch.”
“Then why did you make that face,” Claire said.
“I made a face?” I asked. Claire nodded.
I looked at them, looking at me. “It’s just that this guy, well a priest, came over here today, and asked me if I wanted to be among a group of scholars that go to Italy to help decipher it.”
“Decipher what?” Addison pounced on me. “Did you say you would? Maybe you shouldn’t go.” Her mind was swinging like a pendulum.
“I would what?” I asked Addie. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“Uh-huh. An undecipherable manuscript that you saw the other day, and then today a mysterious man came over to ask you more about it.”
“He was a priest.”
“Yeah, right, like in the book We’re No Angels. Killers, dressed up like priests. I saw him. The one that was leaving when we got here, right? Indian guy. Kept smiling, and it was nothing to smile about. He was up to something.”
“Are you always this suspicious?” I asked.
“What kind of book was it, Claire.” I guess I wasn’t giving up information quickly enough for Addie.
“It’s called the Voynich Manuscript,” Claire answered.
“What’s the Voynich Manuscript?” Rennie asked.
“I’m not quite sure,” I said. “Didn’t really interest me.”
“You got a computer?” Addie said, making herself at home and getting up to put on another pot of coffee
. “We can find out.”
“The Voynich Manuscript. Okay.” Addie started, shifting in the kitchen chair to get comfortable. I had found her a computer. I’d given her and Rennie my laptop, and me and Claire were searching for information on Mase’s.
“Here, this says that the Voynich Manuscript,” Addie was reading from the computer screen, “is a manuscript, or book, that is written in some unknown language with unknown plants drawn in it.”
“An unknown language? Could that really be true?” Rennie asked.
“Yep. No one can decipher the language, and most people who’ve studied it don’t believe that it’s a hoax. The pages were dated to about the fourteen or fifteen hundreds.” Claire said.
“How do you know that?” I asked Claire. “We just started looking it up.” I looked at the computer screen to see where she could be reading that from.
“Professor Abelson told me.”
I should have known.
“What else did she tell you?”
“She said that she used to work at the Hebrew University for Samuel Yeoman.” Claire raised her eyebrows and looked at me. “She said that he knew several languages. He was fluent in them, and that’s why she became a linguist, and why she can speak different languages. And, she said that she was very good at what she did. She was a genius at it.”
“She said ‘genuis’?” I asked.
“Genius,” Claire said definitively, I’m sure mimicking how Professor Abelson had said it. “And she said that Samuel Yeoman was a genius, too.”
“That’s probably who her fake husband Samuel is, Dr. Yeoman.”
Me and Claire started laughing. That woman must hate me for some reason. She told Claire all that stuff about the manuscript when I was the one who had asked the question about it. And then telling Claire all that personal stuff about herself. Who cares?
“Okay,” Addie started reading again, evidently trying to get the conversation back on track. “The manuscript was named after Wilfrid Voynich, a rare book dealer who bought it in 1912 from Jesuit priests in Italy.
Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin I Series Book II Page 13
