Through the Third Eye; Book 1 of Third Eye Trilogy

by Bob Frank

  * * * ~~~ * * *

  Copper Canyon, Livingston, New York

  Thirty minutes later, the convoy pulled up to the main gate and guard house outside of the Copper Canyon mine. After signing in, the bus and two trucks moved forward to the administrative building. The SUV’s and their armed guards remained stationed by the main gate while the bus and trucks pulled ahead to the main office.

  Pema and Yongten went inside with Clay. From her familiarity with the staff and surroundings, it was clear Pema had personally visited the site in the past few weeks.

  The convoy was directed down the long sloping ramp into the cave entrance. A short distance inside the cave, the trucks pulled up next to a large steel-vaulted door, which was already open and waiting for them. Almost before the trucks stopped rolling, Pema was out and checking the seals on the truck doors. She cut the first set of seals and unlocked the side doors. A small crew of movers immediately began offloading the gray cases and carrying them into the vaulted room. The armed guards from the trucks stood alert and holding shotguns.

  Pema orchestrated the movement and inventory of the cases. The cases were neatly stacked in the vault, once again by color and number. The rest of the team quietly stood aside in the large storage room while Pema worked her magic with the movers.

  Clay leaned over and whispered to Shali, “Hey. Look at our three Tibetan friends huddled together in their wool robes. They have the look of a mother watching her baby being swaddled in the nursery. I’d say they like the new cave home.”

  A grin came across Shali’s face. “Yes. I’d bet that for most of their adult lives they feared the Chinese would one day find the writings in the Tibetan caves. They knew if that happened, the Chinese would probably take all the writings to Beijing to be scrutinized and ridiculed as ancient lunacy. They are old enough to have witnessed the wanton destruction during the Peoples’ Cultural Revolution in the sixties. So many ancient artifacts were destroyed in that debacle. And then they certainly experienced the Chinese occupation of Tibet.”

  Clay replied, “Had the Chinese known about these writings during that revolution, none probably would have survived.”

  “Yeah, the monks can be more confident that their treasures will be safe here.”

  Once the cases were neatly stacked in their new home, the truck engines roared to life in the hollow cave chamber. The trucks left the cave to crawl their way back up the ramp to the entrance.

  As a group, the travelers and two of the movers entered the vault and walked down the row of yellow-labeled cases until they reached number twenty-seven. At Pema’s direction, two movers carefully lifted the case off of the stack and set it on the floor to the side of the room. Pema then checked her list against the seal number of the seal on the latch of the case: it was a match. Shali and Clay looked at each other with continued wonderment at the meticulous accountability exercised by Pema. The seal was cut and the case was unlatched. The lid was carefully lifted open. Inside were neat stacks of individually wrapped and cushioned leather-bound manuscripts.

  After rechecking her list, Pema motioned to one of the custodians. He moved forward and carefully withdrew four different manuscripts from the case. He examined the binding labels on each of the four books one by one and opened the cover of each to review the first several pages, confirming they had removed the desired books. As he scanned the contents, he grinned with obvious contentment and satisfaction. His lips whispered out words in an unknown dialect.

  Clay glanced at the open book, leaned over to Shali and tapped her forearm. “All of these scribbles — Hebrew, Arabic, Aramaic? What are these written in?”

  “This one looks like an ancient Sanskrit.”

  Overhearing the discussion, Yongten smiled and affirmed her response. “Correct. These are written in Sanskrit, but you will find that the thousands of artifacts are written in a dozen different languages. It makes the job more challenging, but also more rewarding, of course.”

  “We have not been allowed to look closely at any of the writings so far,” Clay said. “We have learned very little about the source and origination of the writings.”

  “Only safety precautions, Mr. Barton,” Yongten answered. “We felt it necessary to get you and the writings out of Tibet to complete safety before we got you too ingrained in the writings. If the Chinese had discovered you, the more you knew the more dangerous it would be for both yourselves and our secrets.”

  Clay said, “I just wish we’d had an opportunity to examine them in the Himalayan cave.”

  Yongten replied, “We understand; please be patient just a little longer.” Clay’s eyebrows furrowed in query. “But if it was that dangerous, why not bring photo equipment, computers, and scanners to the Tibetan cave? You could have digitally photographed, scanned, cataloged and indexed every page of every document and scroll. At least you could have captured the knowledge.”

  “Yes, that was considered, but the risk of tipping off the Chinese was too great.”

  “But if anything had happened to these treasures on the way out of Tibet, the loss — ”

  Yongten’s face turned to a near scowl. “Believe me, Mr. Barton, we understand.”

  The four books removed from the transport case were passed to the other two custodians, who packed them in a specially padded aluminum suitcase. Smiles of contentment and satisfaction shone on their faces. The large gray case was carefully resealed and placed back in its assigned position in the stack. The group then moved down the row to a case marked with a red number forty-six. They repeated the same process and extracted three additional carefully selected manuscripts. Afterward, this case was also resealed and put back into its place.

  Pema then placed a new seal on the shiny aluminum suitcase containing the seven books just extracted. She motioned for the tired and weary entourage to proceed back to the bus, and as they walked she waited by the vault, watching as it was closed with a loud bang. The echo of the steel doors resounded throughout the giant cave. The Copper Canyon staff escorted the group onto the bus while the vault was locked and sealed.

  From the expression on her face, it was obvious Pema was relieved. The treasure of knowledge locked up in these cases was now safe from the Chinese government and from any other group who had interest in the writings, whether benevolent or malicious. Pema released the trucks, SUV’s and security guards. The rest of the entourage moved back onto the bus.

  As the bus pulled away, Clay pointed at the silver case being coddled by one of the monks and asked Pema, “What is in these seven books that you pulled out?”

  “Those books will help us with pre-indexing the other writings. It will help you prioritize the sequence of digitizing and documenting the languages used for the original texts, as well as with translation and creating databases.”

  Clay acknowledged with a nod and a smile and leaned back in his chair as the bus pulled out of the Copper Canyon parking lot and began its seven-hour journey to Washington D.C., their next stop.

  The aluminum case containing the seven leather-bound volumes was then carefully strapped into a seat across from Yongten and Pema. Clay could hear the two of them talking quietly in a foreign tongue, but couldn’t tell whether it was Chinese, Tibetan or Nepalese. Even though language proved a barrier, their body language came through loud and clear. They were obviously relieved and comforted by the knowledge the treasures were finally secure and protected after thousands of years.

  Clay glanced at Shali and mimed a question with his lips: “What are they saying?”

  “Idle chit chat,” she whispered back with a little smile.

  * * * ~~~ * * *

  Early that evening, the bus arrived at their hotel in Arlington, Virginia. Their rooms had a scenic view across the Key Bridge and Potomac River, toward Georgetown. The weary travelers settled into their rooms after the long journey from the Himalayas.

  Chapter 22

  Arlington, Virginia

  The entire team met for breakfast at the hotel the n
ext morning. Everyone was considerably more relaxed than the previous days, but were ready to begin working on next steps. Pema had rented a small meeting room in the hotel. As they made their way to the work room after breakfast, Clay said to Shali, “Until we get these documents copied, the most important thing is to ensure the writings are secure.”

  Shali gave him an intense look. “I absolutely agree. I just can’t help contrasting these writings to the Dead Sea scrolls. Those scrolls had simply been stuffed into clay pots and then left, forgotten, in little mountain caves for thousands of years. On the other hand, I’m amazed at how much care and protection our writings have had during that same time.”

  “I’ve had the same thoughts, but I don’t buy into the whole evil plot thing by some sinister group trying to destroy the documents. It sounds like an Austin Powers movie. I understand the issue with the current communist Chinese government, but they’ve only been in control of China for sixty or so years. Who, or what, could possibly see such a huge threat from simple words in old documents for thousands of years? On top of that, why would they feel that this knowledge should not have been revealed until now? Of course, besides some ancient oracle stories.”

  “I don’t know. We just have to trust them. They’ve kept the documents safe this long; who are we to argue?”

  Once settled in the work room, Yongten kicked off the morning’s session with Pema, Clay and Shali. The three Tibetan custodians were not needed at this point, and so were allowed to visit local sites in Washington during the day.

  Yongten started, “Pema has documented the story that you must use whenever discussing the writings. If you vary from the story and reveal the truth about the real location in Tsipri, many people will suffer severe consequences.”

  “What type of consequences?” asked Clay.

  “The gravest. If the Chinese authorities believe the cave and monastery were hiding the treasures, they will detain the Drukpas and everyone associated with them. The Drukpas will certainly be tortured and imprisoned; they could even be executed as traitors to the state. The government will claim ownership of all of the documents, and send their people to take the writings back. If this is so, you will not be safe. They will fight you in your courts and use your personal lives against you. They will use your family to blackmail you. There are already enough challenges without making the Chinese angry, so please do not stray from the story.”

  “Several times, you have talked about a threat greater than the Chinese,” Clay said. “If not Chinese, then who else might give us problems? What do these other people want and what will they attempt to do?”

  Yongten’s replied sternly, “There may be many organizations that do not want the world to know the truth that is in the writings. Some may go to any length to stop you. Most organized religions will try to discredit you, because revealing the truth will threaten their power base; it always has, and it always will. There are also philosophical groups, academicians, scientists and engineers who have reason to want to stop you, but they probably won’t kill you, unless they are just crazy. But you must be wary of the deeply religious groups. Don’t worry too much about Hindus, Buddhists or others like the Kabbalahists. They will not see conflict with the writings. Plus they don’t care much about others, as long as they can practice their own beliefs. They are more passive.”

  Shali asked, “I understand but what are they afraid of? What is the real truth, anyway? What are we going to find in these writings?”

  “You will find out soon enough. Your three new friends in ‘bathrobes,’ as you say, have a lot to teach you in the coming months — or should I say, years. You will not easily understand the knowledge for many years, so please be patient. You will be confused at first, but it will come to you in time. You have to learn the code to the truth.”

  Clay piped in, “But what is this knowledge? And what is this code?”

  “The knowledge is what will make it easy for us to live our lives as humans. This knowledge had to be hidden, encoded. However, the code is not simply a translation of alphabets or words. It must be internalized.”

  Shali asked, “So how did all of these ancient authors get this knowledge?”

  Yongten paused, looked at the ceiling and then slowly said, “You do this regression to get your information, yes? You found our treasures by connecting to souls and tapping their knowledge, correct?”

  “Yes,” Shali said, “but what does that have to do with the truth in the writings?”

  “Everything, my friends; everything. Do souls talk to you from between their lives on this earth?”

  Clay and Shali looked at each other, confused.

  “If you mean from between lives,” Clay said, “yes, but not freely. It takes a lot of coaxing. If we push too hard, they shut down, and we lose contact.”

  Yongten slowly expounded, “So in your regressions, it is like you need to develop a working relationship with souls on the other side. The Ancients who wrote these documents did something very similar through meditation. After they developed their skills, the knowledge was revealed to them.” Yongten glanced at Pema with a small smirk then looked back at Clay. “If you have not received any of this same knowledge in your regressions, then perhaps you have not asked the right questions. Patience, my friend; it will come to you.”

  Clay and Shali’s expressions clearly showed their confusion, but they let it drop. The four of them continued to discuss the logistics of translating the writings. Later that morning, Clay cornered Shali during a break.

  “So just what do you think Yongten is saying? That we might get the knowledge in regressions if we asked the right questions?”

  Shali turned and looked out the window across the Potomac River. She hesitated for a few moments before responding, “Well, think about it. You exploited the regression protocols for the purpose of locating physical objects in the present world. Your regressions focused on finding those treasures, and you found them. And you did this by asking the right questions.”

  “So — ”

  He paused and there was a silence between them. Shali looked deep into Clay’s eyes and lifted her eyebrows high as if saying, “Hello, Clay, wake up.”

  “Could I be that naive to think I could not get the same knowledge directly from our regression subjects? Get the answers from the source? Is that what Yongten was getting at?”

  “Maybe you should be targeting the subjects in the LBL state with an entirely different line of questions.”

  Clay moved close to Shali and said in an intense but quiet voice, “I don’t think they’ll give it to us directly. Look at how difficult it is to get souls to focus on discussing the physical lives they experienced. The elders just seem to want to focus on the experiences of the souls under their tutorship and on developing those souls.”

  Shali shot back, “I understand. But only with the right questions is it possible to get the older souls to spill the beans on the knowledge.”

  They both looked at each other in contemplation but didn’t say a word.

  * * * ~~~ * * *

  That afternoon, Pema reiterated details of the story that was to be used: “To cover the history of the treasures, we have created a verifiable trail of documentation that shows the scrolls and books have been in a private collection outside Kathmandu for over five hundred years. For fifteen hundred years before that, the writings were hidden in secret locations associated with Buddhist monasteries and Hindu temples across the region. For the past five hundred years, a private yet wealthy family in Nepal kept the writings stored in a cave on their secluded estate near the Indian border. Tibet, China and India are purposely excluded to avoid any political problems with them. Even with the political problems in Nepal, we have more control there than in these other countries.”

  Clay interrupted, “What about our three Tibetan friends?”

  “You must say that they were hired by the family to preserve, translate and interpret the writings and are part of a Buddhist sect used for man
y centuries to care for and pass down the ancient languages in the writings. Compensation for their custodianship was paid to the Buddhist sect for temples, monasteries and other expenses. It all looks legitimate, and our associates will verify the authenticity of our claims.”

  “Isn’t this going to look strange?” Clay asked. “I mean, if the documents are not directly related to Buddhism why would these monks be involved?”

  “The Buddhists were simply hired to work for them. They were paid for their time.” Pema paused to let him think, then she said, “To outsiders, this would be no different than the Swiss Guards hired to protect the Vatican in Rome. You can use that as an analogy if you are asked.”

  “Yes, but won’t the Chinese know about our three custodians from Tibet. Won’t they be in danger?”

  “They will only use their Nepalese names, not Tibetan or Chinese names. The Tibetans and Chinese won’t know them by those names. For all practical purposes, their old names will no longer exist for them. When the publicity comes out in Tibet, if any of the local Tibetans or Chinese figure it out, we will ensure their discretion. Besides, they know if they tell the authorities, they may be imprisoned for not coming forward earlier.”

  Shali’s face grew stern. “What do you mean ‘ensure their discretion’?”

  Clay and Shali looked at each other, thinking of the incident with the Tibetan driver.

  Pema sensed her concern but chose to divert her. “Shali, we have to be very careful not to allow any association with the temple in Tsipri. The consequences would be disastrous.”

  Clay injected, “So, we claim to have found the writings in Nepal. How did we get there? Someone can easily see that we went into Lhasa and spent over a month in Tibet.”

  Pema responded, “No, you did not. Have you looked at your passports since we gave them back? You left Tibet across the Peace Bridge one week after arriving. There are photos of you in Kodari, where you picked up your new driver. You then spent a month in Nepal at the custodian-family’s private compound near the Indian border, where you worked with your three new friends. Oh, and the flight from Tibet where you had a chance meeting with a Chinese MIG? That never happened. The Chinese will never admit it, either, seeing that their pilot went rogue and took a bribe from someone. The Chinese have already executed him.”