The Royal Stones of Eden (Royal Secrecies Book 1)

by Rae T. Alexander

  “San Francisco!”—David grabbed a small suitcase in the closet on his right side of the room.

  “Ok. Once again. Wait!”—Mattie comically paused. With wider eyes, she talked while she walked out of the bedroom and stepped into the cramped kitchen. Breakfast waited at the table. She opened up the donut box and looked back to the bedroom. David feverishly continued to pack.

  “We are driving to San Francisco? That is like a fifteen-hour drive isn’t it?” she spoke while she chewed the sugar and dough.

  David peeked out from the bedroom to speak—“We are taking a plane. A sort of—security plane—from my company.”

  Mattie heard him while she shoved part of a donut in her mouth. She looked for instant coffee in the stuffed kitchen cabinets. The cabinets needed new brown paint, she thought. The floor needed new tile. Where was the damn coffee, she asked herself. More caffeine would sort everything out, she thought.

  David nagged, “Mattie? Baby? We don’t have much time. We can eat on the plane if you want.”

  Mattie did not know what surprised her the most. Does David own a plane? Are we truly going to San Francisco? Is it almost dawn? Am I dreaming all of this? She felt dizzy and euphoric. She was much too giddy to list her objections, so she succumbed to the situation. She left the kitchen, returned to the bedroom, and continued to pack.

  David sorted through his luggage, sprawled on the plush comforter on their bed. His suitcase had false sides and bottoms that he opened and inspected. It was full of various devices with wires and dials. He reached up to the top of the shared bedroom closet and grabbed his Beretta Bobcat, hidden behind a stuffed teddy bear, but Mattie saw him take it down. She mumbled something then turned away.

  David had to ask, “What was that?”

  “I thought you said you got rid of that?”—Mattie showed little concern for a proper answer—the sugar rush had not yet begun.

  “I was going to, but…”—David stopped mid-sentence. He suddenly spotted something on the wall. Something flashed and blinked, just above the interior bedroom door.

  He pushed his suitcase back on the bed to give him some room. He slowly sat on the bed, and he stared at the white smoke detector, just above the architrave of the door frame. Something was different about it. He quietly but rapidly waved his arms to Mattie to get her attention. He held a finger to his lips to silence any response from her. When she finally looked at him, she stood and remained briefly motionless at her dresser on the left side of the room.

  “Honey, did you remember to change the batteries in all of the alarm clocks and smoke detectors?”—David intentionally mocked and condescended. He wondered if Mattie had understood all of his inferences and his game. They were being recorded, and the bug was in the smoke detector.

  David moved silently and gradually toward the kitchen. He lifted one of the kitchen chairs. He tried not to make a single sound. He carried it into the bedroom and placed it underneath the bedroom door frame, just below the smoke detector. He stepped up on the chair and cautiously inspected the object, and then he motioned to Mattie. He mouthed something silently to her. She did not understand his mime, but she instinctively played along.

  “Oh no! Honey, I forgot to change the batteries. Maybe you should check everything out.”—Mattie started to enjoy the game. She grinned back playfully at David.

  Then David grabbed the outer part of the smoke detector. He slowly turned its outer shell to open it up. He saw an oddly shaped battery with purple wires and flashing diodes. David pulled one of the purple wires out. The flashing stopped.

  “Ok, so much for that!”—David got down from the chair and showed Mattie the device that he had taken down with him. “Someone was listening in,” he confirmed. “Feed the cat and let’s go!”

  They finished their packing and hurried to begin the short fifteen-minute drive to the airport. Although it was a brief drive, Mattie managed to doze off in the car. She drifted into a peaceful dream state as a result of her sheer exhaustion. She did not wake from her dream until she was disturbed from her slumber by a sudden disturbance underneath her. It felt like the floor dropped out from below her.

  Mattie opened her eyes and looked around. She observed that she was in a reclined airplane seat, strapped in by a seatbelt. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her surroundings. She was in a very dimly lit airplane cabin. She looked to her right and saw David strapped in a reclined seat beside her.

  “Sorry, that was a little turbulence.”—David reached out a reassuring hand to her and rested it on her arm.

  “Where are we? How did I get here?”—Mattie stretched her legs while David pushed a button on a panel on the arm of his chair. Lights slowly came on in the plane’s cabin, and several of the window panels lifted. The sunlight poured in its rays as they highlighted and painted everything in a warm glow. The cabin was full of the smells of recycled air and deodorized carpet.

  “This is my plane, the Tiger 7. Are you hungry?”—David unbuckled his seatbelt.

  The Tiger 7 was a refurbished Boeing 737. The first-class seats were very plush and comfortable. The area that they were in was formerly an original first-class seating area. It was modified to sit only eight, four on each side of the plane, two rows of two seats on each side. Each of the two seats was physically joined and placed next to oval windows. In front of the seats was the enclosed and locked cockpit door, and behind them was a latched door that was not locked. It led to the rear section of the plane where there was a dining area. The sounds of the Tiger’s engines were calming, rhythmic, and consistent to Mattie. Anything steady and reassuring was a good thing, under the circumstances.

  David explained to Mattie that they had traveled to San Francisco. The plane had even landed, but then it quickly had departed for Las Vegas, only to leave there as well. David explained that because someone had bugged their condo he wasn’t taking any chances.

  David offered to escort Mattie to breakfast at the rear of the plane, and a confused Mattie followed him. Over a meal served by two attendants, one male, and one female, David explained everything that had happened at Peter’s offices the night before. They dined at a petite but elegant table while Mattie’s mind reeled in astonishment. She thought of the implausibility of a security company owner enjoying the kind of wealth that she had seen.

  “We are now heading to Monterey and will be there soon. We better take our seats in the front.”—David said this while he wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin that had been moistened and warmed by an attendant.

  “Monterey, California? By the Bay Area? It is mind-blowing enough that our dearest of friends is on some kind of secret government project, so-called—and that he kidnapped another friend of ours—and our lives are in danger. That by itself would be unbelievable except for the fact that my former boyfriend and wannabe fiancé has some kind of spy plane and life that I never knew existed—now suddenly I’m going to Monterey—I mean honestly—what is really going on here, and why have you been lying to me about who you really are and what you do?”—Mattie was on the verge of hyperventilating.

  “Lying? You wanna talk about lying, Mattie? You really wanna talk about lying? Is that where this is going?”—David was obviously just getting started with a rant of his own.

  David got up from the table and reached for a black briefcase on a shelf near a window. He then opened it and propelled its contents on the table. Some of his orange juice spilled and their plates bumped to the side.

  “What about this Mattie? Huh?”—David waited for a response from Mattie. His eyes gave her a rare look of anger.

  Mattie looked at what was thrown down in front of her. On the table was a folder marked Dr. Robert Diaz: Notes on Mary Madison, Confidential. There was also a book entitled Past Lives: The Realities and the Falsehoods, and a birthday card from a Sylvia Reeves, addressed to Mary Harrison, that read, “Mary! Good luck in your new life!”

  “Is your name Mary Madison or Mary Harrison? Would you like to talk about lies now?”�
�David sat back down and was interrupted by an indignant Mattie.

  “Where did you get all of this? And how dare you invade my personal privacy!”—Mattie returned David’s angry look with one of her own, and her posture stiffened.

  “I got these from the files and desk of our dear friend, our good old buddy, our old boy, our one and only, Peter Jenkins—a few days ago!”—David got up with an air of disgust and stormed to the front of the plane. As he exited, he slammed the thin door that led to the seats in the front, and then Mattie got up and followed him. She found David sulking and back in his seat, and she unobtrusively sat down beside him. She mulled over David’s newfound knowledge about some elements of her past. They both sat in their seats stubbornly and remained speechless for several minutes until David broke the silence.

  “I‘ve been investigating Peter since Cairo, Mattie. I didn’t take those personal belongings. Peter did!” he confessed. Mattie remained quiet as her mind still processed the earlier intrusion into her privacy. They both kept their peace for several more minutes and awkwardly continued to avoid eye contact. They were full of embarrassment from the unusual and rare conversation of displeasure. So much information was incomplete.

  Mattie finally spoke to David, but she changed the subject.

  “David, where are we going?”—Mattie had started to compose herself for more questions.

  What does he know? How much does he know? What questions do I ask him? Who is he really? Is our love or relationship for real?

  “We are going to a house in Monterey that I own. It was once my grandmother’s house. It’s a house you’ve never seen.”—David tried to be as genuine as possible, despite his earlier outburst.

  “I thought you were barely getting by—I thought you lost your grandmother’s houses—I thought you spent all of your money on your school loans,” Mattie queried.

  The plane interrupted the answer as it landed with its usual bump and the sound of the rubber tires hitting the pavement. It taxied to a private area of the airport where a car waited on them.

  “I did lose my money, Mattie,” David answered while the plane maneuvered to its destination. “That is a fact—but I found a way to make money by working an honest living, hiring out services, and leasing inventions on the side. I really do own a small security company. I did not lie about any of that. I just didn’t mention my services were being hired by a private company. That is how I got all of this. I was able to buy one of my grandmother’s houses back. That is also the truth.” He paused and added, “I did meet and fall in love with you. That is also a fact. And, I was going to surprise you on our honeymoon one day with this place in Monterey.”—David could hear himself rambling like a kid in love.

  “You were going to marry me despite my going to a psychologist?”—Mattie attempted to stop the insistent tears.

  “I never thought you were crazy. Well, I mean you were crazy to love a guy like me, but beyond that…”—David heard Mattie’s seat belt click, and he felt Mattie’s head on his shoulders as he continued. “Mattie, all I knew was that you had a challenging marriage and some kind of accident or some kind of major trauma in your life. You obviously needed some help. So what! You talked to a psycho doctor. Who cares? I don’t need to know any details. I only know that I love you. Your past doesn’t matter to me. That’s ancient history.”

  The noise from the outside world interrupted them as the aircraft door opened with the assistance of the pilot who appeared from the cockpit. Mattie and David were in the middle of a kiss when Tom Childers entered the plane and blurted out, “If you two are quite finished with all of this rubbish, then perhaps we can get going!”

  “Mattie, meet Mr. Tom Childers, my house…uh…assistant…and Tom, this is…”—David started to bumble the whole introduction.

  “I think I can introduce myself, thank you!” Tom retorted. “Madam, I am David’s personal assistant, Thomas Childers, but you can call me Tom!”—Tom reached his hand for a formal handshake. Tom was a slim, middle-aged man, and he carried himself with a quick step. He had a keen eye, despite the fact that he had a few grey hairs mixed in with his short black hair. He was quite tall at just over six feet. He looked elegantly dressed in a three-piece suit, and he quite promptly, and properly, offered to escort the pair off the plane.

  “You have a butler!”—Mattie looked at David while she smirked, and David’s face reddened in embarrassment.

  They walked down the steps off the plane as they braced against a sudden and vigorous gust of the wind that came in from the sea. A chauffeur and limousine awaited them. Mattie’s red hair waved and danced gracefully in the wind as she peeked back at David, and then she got into the waiting chariot of leisure. Tom sat in the back seat with Mattie and David, and the long black car sped away from the tarmac.

  During the drive to David’s house, Mattie verbally pointed out the many passing sights. She happily drowned in the views of the incredible blue waters of Monterey Bay. The brisk and clean air flooded into her nostrils. The smell of cooked meat was also in the air—the aromas of both fish and beef. As they passed Cannery Row, they saw several crowded conventions. Couples shivered and walked close to each other on the sandy shores in the distance. Horns from a couple of ships mingled with the sounds of the water that broke and the seagulls that nagged.

  After a drive of just a few minutes, they arrived at a private driveway that led to a bygone house on a steep hill. An old but newly painted iron gate blocked the front entrance. The chauffeur rolled down his window and entered a code into an access control box. The automatic gate slid to its right, opened with a steady creak, and then allowed them in.

  The Victorian house was elegant, but it had an air of simplicity and homeliness. It was an obscure place for a hideaway, but it was private. The lot, stoically fenced, contained steady and leafy trees that encircled the house and added to its privacy. At a higher place in the two-story house were the sleeping accommodations with big windows in each that allowed any visitor to take in the ocean below as it was considerably above the cut trees.

  David escorted Mattie upstairs to a room that he had planned on sharing with her before their fight. It was a journey up old steps that showed their age and wisdom. Every other step seemed to groan as if the house spoke and revealed its hidden stories. The wooden floors had only an occasional rug throughout the whole house. It was a damp atmosphere that greeted them, and there was limited furniture in most of the rooms. It was an old house, but Mattie loved it.

  When Mattie saw the magnificent view from the bedroom window, she performed an action of instinct. She pulled from her very nature. She reached for the window lock to unlatch it, and then she swung the window open to take in the full view. She breathed in the complex and wondrous ocean smells coming in from the bay. The smells contained hints of the sea, the white sands, and the dirtiness of decaying shells. It also had in it the smell of the wharf where selected marine life was being cooked. Nearby there were sea lions that sounded their approval of the whole situation while they basked in the warm sun with their fat bellies exposed.

  All of this was familiar to Mattie as if she had been in this area before—as if she was reliving a distant but dying dream. Then David gave some assurance to Mattie that seemed to add to the calmness of the scene.

  “Mattie, I want you to know that your file was empty when I found it—the one from your doctor. I didn’t read anything. There was no information in it.”—David placed his hands on her shoulders as she turned toward him.

  “David, I think it’s time to tell you everything that I remember—as much as I can remember.”—Mattie brushed away more fresh tears that released some of the earlier tensions.

  “Do you have anything to write with?” she asked. “I want to gather some thoughts and write them down before we talk?”

  “Of course. But you don’t have to do this, Mattie. I really am sorry that I upset you.”—David smiled and walked to an antique desk in the corner of the room. He opened the top
drawer after only a brief struggle, and then he hunted through it until he found some paper and a pen that he handed to her.

  “We both have a lot to share and talk about,” she told him. “I also want you to tell me everything about what it is that you truly do. Can you give me some time to gather some thoughts before we talk? I want to write down a few things.”—her eyes pleaded permission. She had said the same thing twice to push for some alone time.

  “Sure! I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready, and then we can talk.”—David turned and walked away after a brief, warm, and non-judgmental kiss.

  After a few minutes, Mattie decided to write while she sat in a padded chair, at a desk that faced the view of the ocean. She began to write:

  “As God is my witness, the words I write to you are indeed truthful. I believe that I know the truth very well, but I know of no one who truly knows what the composition of it is.”

  “...And I remember so many things and forget so many others…”

  Chapter 7

  Peter’s Trip to Wales

  Before Egypt

  Peter was still somewhat shaken after he learned of his father’s death. During the train trip to Wales, he seemed to be in another world as the train sped by holiday parks, rivers and a few castles in the distance. He considered his thoughts that mindlessly rambled.

  Why did an archaeologist in Egypt have the same stone that my mother wore? Or, am I just obsessed with her loss and looking to find a link to her that doesn’t even exist? Were my parents truly from a royal lineage? Did the term “royal” simply refer to people who only thought that they were important, but instead were merely the prudish, prideful, and arrogant wealthy?

  After the four-hour train trip from London, Peter took a taxi out to his Uncle Willie’s home in Carmarthen. Uncle Willie lived in a semi-detached bungalow, a few miles north of the station. Peter arrived just in time to see the evening sky darken as ominous grey colors with intermingled shades of orange and red bled out the final goodbye to the uninvited night.