Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin I Series Book II

by Abby L. Vandiver

  Now it was my turn to tell someone how they were blowing things out of proportion. But before I could speak, she turned and looked at me.

  “I really am not asking you, you know.” She sounded defiant. “I’ll go by myself.”

  “I’m sure you would,” I said. But I knew I wasn’t staying in while she went around Jerusalem on her little adventure. I’d just wait until Greg wasn’t in earshot, so he couldn’t comment, ‘That’s not what we came to do.” I would let her know once we got to Israel that I’d go with her.

  •≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•≈•

  Jack Hughes excused himself from his travel partners about twenty minutes before boarding time, saying he needed to use the restroom. He walked past the restroom right around the corner from his gate, and headed down Delta’s Concourse B in the opposite direction of the next closest lavatory.

  He found a boarding area two gates down from his own, and tucked himself into a corner of the room. The waiting area was nearly empty and the desk was dark and unoccupied. He stood leaning up against the wall in his corner and stared out of the glass window overlooking several 747s refueling and being cleaned. He was very familiar with the operations of readying a plane for its next destination.

  He surveyed the tarmac and saw flight workers hustling about and the motorized carts scurrying across the gray tarmac. It was a clear day, tufts of whitish clouds banded across the sky. He shook his head slowly from side to side and sighed. He was about to board one of those planes going off with a scientist to look for proof that man came from Mars. How absolutely absurd. And it was probably dangerous, too. Not for him, but possibly for the world.

  His mind swirled with questions. How does that woman think she’s going to do this? She hasn’t involved the academic community. She has to know that the only way to establish credibility is to assemble a team of archaeologists, geologists, and what have you, who will corroborate her findings. Why would she try to do this with a retired lawyer and a research doctor? She hadn’t told the federal government, or Israel, for that matter, she was coming over there to dig. Granted a small hole, still, it was foreign soil. Just a lone wolf and her band of siblings out on a crusade to disrupt the flow of human existence. And now she’s pulled my sister into the mix, a laid-off telephone company worker who reads too many books and drinks too much coffee.

  He walked over to one of the blue bucket upholstered chairs and sat. He spread his legs, placed his elbows on his knee and cupped his hands together propping them under his chin. Staring out of the window, Jack sat for a while, oblivious to the other sounds and people around him, grimacing the whole time.

  Tightening the muscles in his jaw, he leaned back against the seat, lifted himself slightly off the chair and dug in his front jean pocket for his phone. Scrolling through his contact list, he touched the screen next to Robert Kevron’s number and put the phone up to his ear.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Jack and Greg became fast friends on the plane ride over to Israel. Just like Jack had with Mase. But then, Mase and Greg were always best buds, so it only stood to reason that Jack would get along with them both.

  Once we boarded and got the signal that we could “move about the cabin,” Greg walked back from first class to chat with us. He liked Jack, and I think he liked Addie making google eyes at him, even if he didn’t, which I wasn’t sure of, share her feelings. Usually, once Greg got settled into first class, that’s the last I’d see of him until we got to where we were going.

  We made good time to Israel, and through customs. We rented a small SUV and took off toward Jerusalem. Addie ooo’d and aww’d at everything she saw on the way from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. Me and Claire enjoyed her excitement. Just like the last trip I took with Greg, Claire and Michael, Claire, Addie and I got a suite, and Jack and Greg bunked together.

  But Addie, after she changed clothes, and took her hair down (I’m guessing all to look good for Greg), had us out of our rooms before we could unpack. She was ready to go to the Population Registry of the State and get a copy of Ghazi’s death certificate. She had Googled where to go on her phone while we were waiting in line to go through customs.

  When she announced it, Greg didn’t even protest. If I’d known that all I needed was a love struck girl by my side to make Greg do what I wanted him to do, I would have tried that approach years ago.

  On the way there we stopped at Hebrew University. I wanted to check to see whether Dr. Sabir’s notebook that I had sent to Ghazi had ever made it there. When we got to the University, I found that nothing of Dr. Sabir’s was there. Not recognition of his participation, and certainly not the notebook. It was gone.

  Piling back into the car, I was starting to get worried. Maybe all this had to do with that notebook. I didn’t say anything about it, though, as we headed over to the Population Registry. Claire got the death certificate for us. She told the rest of us to stand out in the hallway, she’d go in with Greg. Then she asked Greg if he had his bar card.

  “Never leave home without it,” he said.

  She concocted a story, she told us later, that Greg executed perfectly, or so Claire claimed. He was representing a family member in the States who wanted to find out about an insurance policy, but needed a copy of the death certificate. If, he told them, he couldn’t take it with him, he’d brought a medical doctor with him. Claire said that then Greg introduced her and told the guy at the counter that she could take a look at it and determine if there appeared to be any discrepancies as to the cause of death.

  And they handed it right over.

  I shook my head. Claire, coming up with such a plausible story? I couldn’t believe it. I was thinking that the charade wasn’t even necessary. They probably just pass out death certificates to anyone with twenty bucks just like they do back home. But I didn’t say that to Claire. She was proud of her and Greg’s acting. She had come back out waving it in the air, and we stood in the hallway, all five of us huddled around her, and looked at the document.

  Claire said, “Oh my goodness. Ghazi was poisoned.”

  “Oh my, God,” I said. My mouth got dry, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

  Addie made an ‘I told you so face.’

  “How?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “With belladonna,” Claire said, and looked up at me. Her usual sparkling brown eyes said it all. They were watered over and sad.

  “Belladonna? Isn’t that the stuff people used to put in their eyes to make them more alluring?” Greg asked.

  “How do you know that, Greg,” I asked.

  “Because he’s smart,” Addie said.

  “And, I’m all about beautiful women. Isn’t that right, Addie.” She blushed. I wanted to gag.

  “Yeah,” Claire said. “The same belladonna. It’s poisonous if ingested. It wouldn’t have been a quick, painless death either. He would have suffered. Maybe a headache, leading to confusion, hallucinations and possibly even delirium.

  “His heart would have beaten so fast that he would have felt like it was coming out of his chest. His mind would have been fuzzy. He would’ve been so disoriented that he probably wouldn’t have been able to even stand.

  “It’s written on here, on the certificate, the amount he ingested. Let me think . . .” She hesitated, seemed to be calculating in her head. “Yeah, you know I can’t be sure but it looks like, if I remember, that with the amount he ingested, the onset of the symptoms would have been immediate, and he probably would have died within fifteen to twenty minutes. But I’ll check for sure when we get back to hotel.”

  “His death had been ruled a homicide,” Greg added. He took the death certificate from Claire, folded it, and put it in his pocket. “I’ll hang on to it,” he said.

  I hugged Claire. I remembered how she and Ghazi had become friends when we all went to Jerusalem. She had even commented that he was salacious. Never did find out what was going on between the two of them.

  Addie pulled out her phone again. “Let’s
find out if there was a murder investigation. It’ll be just like one of Harlan Coben’s books, solving a murder from years ago to help solve a new crime.”

  “What’s the new crime, Addie?” I asked. “No one else has turned up dead, have they?”

  She wasn’t paying any attention to me. “Here, just let me look up where to find a homicide detective, if that’s what they’re called over here. Maybe I can get one over the phone.”

  She found the number and after a long game of “hold and get transferred ten times,” we found out from the Ministry of Public Safety that the crime had never been solved. Instead of trying to figure out where the investigation was on Ghazi’s death over the phone, if it was even still an open case, we decided to head over to the office of a nearby Israel Police.

  No luck there. We weren’t next of kin, and even Claire’s medical credentials didn’t work like at the coroners. And no one cared that Greg was a big shot lawyer from little ole’ Cleveland, Ohio.

  So, Jack and Greg got a cab and went back to the hotel. They wanted to get everything ready for the dig to find Dr. Sabir’s buried treasure, and do a trial run. They were going to get another rental car and drive out to where the stuff was buried. We girls set off to see what else we could find out about Ghazi.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  First stop, Dr. Margulies’ old office. It was at the Israel Antiquities Authority, housed in the Rockefeller Museum. On our way there Addie suggested we use Facebook, and maybe try to find a relative or something.

  “We don’t have the name of a family member,” I said.

  “Oh shoot,” Claire said. “Greg’s got the death certificate. We could’ve found a name on that.”

  “We could call him,” I said, digging around in my purse for my phone.

  Looking at me, Addie said, “Aren’t you, like, able to remember everything you see?”

  “How do you know that?” I eyed her suspiciously.

  “Your book. You wrote that in your book.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said, hesitantly. “But I see words. It’s not necessarily everything I see.”

  “Well, didn’t you see a family member’s name on the death certificate?”

  I closed my eyes and saw the paper in my mind. A grin emerged across my face.

  “What’s the name?” Addie said. “I know you got it.”

  I did. It was his sister’s name.

  Addie and Claire waited in the lobby to try and find a Facebook page or something for his sister on Addie’s iPhone. I went to Dr. Margulies’ old office.

  After not finding anyone in that office and walking the halls of Antiquities Authority for what felt like more than half an hour, I realized this method was getting me nowhere. Some people remembered Dr. Margulies, and one or two Ghazi, but all they knew was that they both were dead.

  I headed back down to the lobby hoping Claire and Addie had had more luck.

  From the look on Claire’s face when I arrived, they had apparently had more luck than me.

  “We talked to his sister,” Claire said.

  “What’d she say?” I asked.

  “You won’t believe this.”

  “Claire, you’re making me nervous. Just tell me what happened.”

  “His sister said that Ghazi had been in perfect health. That’s how she knew, after she got to the hospital and heard what happened, that somebody must have done something to him. It couldn’t be a heart attack or anything. She made the ME check, and that’s when they found traces of the Belladonna. She said the police weren’t doing much, so she looked into it. She said he had gone to a café on Hillel Street, and when he left, he collapsed not twenty yards away. Just right there on the street corner. He died about four hours after they got him to the hospital.

  “Some guy, who had been at the café and left around the same time, was walking behind Ghazi. He said that Ghazi was stumbling and acting confused, and then he just fell. He caught him and rode in the ambulance with him. Just out the goodness of his heart. And he told Ghazi’s sister what happened as far as he knew.

  “Evidently, Ghazi had had coffee at Hillel Café with an older woman, the guy said. This woman looked to be in her late fifties, early sixties. So Ghazi’s sister goes down to the café and finds this waiter that brought him coffee. The waiter, she said, remembered both he and this woman well. Not only because a man got up from one of his tables and dropped dead not more than a block down, but because he said the woman smelled like roses.”

  “Roses? I asked. “Are you sure she said the waiter said the woman smelled like roses?” Claire nodded. “C’mon.” I said, grabbing Claire’s arm and walking hurriedly down the hallway towards the door.

  Addison trotted to catch up with us.

  “Hold on,” Addie said. “I just got another message from her. She said that Ghazi’s building manager said some woman that smelled like roses had come to his apartment that same day and said she was his aunt.” Addie looked up from reading the message. She stared at me and Claire and said, “She says she doesn’t have an aunt who would have gone to his apartment.”

  “We have to find out if Professor Abelson was around when Ghazi died,” I said.

  “Who?” Addie asked.

  “Ghazi’s sister said they were never able to find that woman. When did she come to Case, Justin?” Claire asked.

  “Who?” Addie asked again, as she did a side-step to keep up with us.

  “I don’t know when she came,” I said, answering Claire’s question. “But I’m calling home to find out, as soon as we get back to the room.”

  “Who is Professor Abelson?” Addie stopped in her tracks and put up her hands.

  “The lady who smells like roses,” I yelled back over my shoulder.

  We had some digging to do. No pun intended.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  “This looks like some really serious stuff you’re in to, Justin,” Jack said, studying me. “If Ghazi’s death has anything to do with this . . .”

  “I know,” I said.

  We all sat around our hotel suite after we got back from the Israel Antiquities Authority. Jack and Greg had gone out to the cypress tree where Dr. Sabir had buried his box. They had assessed the grounds where we needed to dig, the amount of traffic around it, and if the topography still looked like Dr. Sabir’s map. They were going back after dark to see how it would look at night. We were set to go and dig the next night.

  We all sat silently. Jack sat on one of the two bar stools at the breakfast bar where Addie was percolating through the room the smell of hazelnut. She’d brought her own coffee and was brewing it in the kitchenette. Me and Greg sat on the brick-colored couch, Greg slouched down in it. He had two or three of the gold, red, and cream-colored pillows propped behind his back. He had laid another pillow on his stomach, and wrapped his arms around it. He seemed lost in thought. I had one leg bent under me, my arm resting along the back of the sofa. I looked over at Claire. Maybe this time, I tried to convey with my look, we should be worried about people getting killed. She nodded as if she understood.

  The stretched silence was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Who are you expecting, Justin?” Greg asked. He and Jack both stood up.

  “Nobody.”

  “I’ll get the door,” Greg said.

  Jack crossed the room and stood opposite Greg. They did some little head nod. So dramatic. What were they going to do if someone was there to harm me, or us? What could they do? The rest of us just leaned forward, almost at the same time, and looked toward the door.

  Greg called out, “Who is it.”

  “Simon Melas.”

  “Simon,” I said, hopping up. “Open the door, Greg.”

  Simon stood there in blue jeans, a plaid shirt, and a burnt orange pull-over jacket with a sheepish grin on his face. His straight, shiny black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he had a knapsack slung over one shoulder. He looked so cute.

  “So, you gonna give me a hug, or is your h
usband lurking in the shadows somewhere?” He poked his head in the door and looked around.

  Back to the old Simon.

  “You know he’s not here.” I grabbed him, and gave him a big ole’ squeeze. “What are you doing here?” I said, pulling him inside, and closing the door.

  “Came to check up on you and this motley crew you traded me in for.” He glanced around the room. “Anybody here an archaeologist?” he said, looking back at me.

  “Me. And, now that you’re here, that makes two.”

  He laughed. “I’m not staying. I’m going to help out some archaeologists excavating in the ancient Ophel area near the Temple Mount.”

  “Help out? Mr. Big time is helping out? You’re usually one of the ones running the site. What’s going on with you and MIT that they’re letting you do this?”

  “What is going on with you? Going on treasure hunts,” he said.

  “I am not on a treasure hunt. I’m just looking into some things.”

  “Yeah, some secretive things.”

  “Ha-ha. Well, my secrets may not be much of a secret to you much longer, because like I said, I may need your help. I might need help with deciphering some of the clues in Enoch.”

  “Clues? Clues to what? Your buried treasure?” He teased. “I really think you should leave all of this alone. It seems kind of weird.”

  “Justin,” Greg said, rudely interrupting my conversation. “Me and Jack got some stuff to do. You’ll be alright with Simon here?”

  “Oh sorry. Simon, this is my brother, Greg.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Greg, pleasure to meet you.” Simon reached out to shake Greg’s hand.

  Greg grunted something at him, and said, “C’mon, Jack.” He turned back and looked at me. “You okay, right?”