by Bob Frank
Shali put her fingers on her lips in contemplation. “I have the same questions, but my biggest concern right now is who bombed Georgetown. They’ll do it again, so we have to figure out how to deal with them. It’s interesting that they blew it up when so few bystanders were there. They were targeting the writings, and perhaps the three monks who knew everything that was in them. But they kept the collateral damage to a minimum. Would a hard-core terrorist group be so careful? I think not. Terrorists would blast away for maximum effect, but these people had some scruples. Although I think they intended to get us, too. My other question is, will they come for you and me again, beyond a simple break-in of our condos? Are we a threat to them, particularly if we continue? Unless these bad guys are dealt with, they’re going to blow up any set of writings we might find.”
Clay said, “Total agreement.”
“This is particularly so since the press has been all over us the past month. They started working on me after they realized they couldn’t crack your shell. I saw that 60 Minutes clip about the bombing in Georgetown. They cynically called it ‘Kathmandu’s Secrets of the Universe.’ You made me laugh when the cameras pinned you against your car in the grocery store parking lot. I loved your comment about pretending to be Indiana Jones looking for the magic ruby cabbage in the vegetable section. You’re precious.”
They both laughed.
“Unfortunately, they made us look like zealots or cultist quacks,” she continued. “Now that they know about the regressions, they’re just painting weirdo pictures of us as ‘ghost talkers.’ I’d guess it is only a matter of time before a couple of our past regression subjects come out in the open and get us really blasted.”
Clay looked at Shali with conciliation. “I’m not sure they will. We used Protocol 75 on all of them except Sogui. None of them should remember anything about the regressions. They may not even recognize us if they saw us on TV. But first the press has to find them. That’s why it is all the more important to keep our data and systems locked down. Some young, weasel-like roving reporter would do anything to crack us wide open. They won’t care what it takes.”
Shali said with a teasing tone, “You know, we’re going to end up on the road doing regressions, regardless of the path we take.”
Clay smiled back at her. “For sure. But that’s the fun part. Hey, there’s a Giants baseball game tonight. Are you up for taking the train to the city?”
“Only if you buy me a big hot dog.”
Clay nodded. “Deal. So, are you breaking your vegan shroud tonight?”
“Hey, if the beer and the dogs are free and it’s a good game, I’ll lower myself to barbarian meat-eating habits. But I want the fat, juicy polish sausage, not a cheap beef dog. And deli mustard, with extra relish, and kraut on the side.”
* * * ~~~ * * *
The next morning after the San Francisco Giants took a whopping defeat by San Diego, Clay jumped straight into work at his office condo. At her townhouse, Shali went to work on arranging translation of the seven surviving books.
Clay started by reviewing the series of regressions on the three souls that had led them to the writings. He loaded up the SRD database and retrieved the incarnation summary for the three target subjects. He remembered their soul registration numbers by heart:
SE49-5433 Iqbal Al-Suhari
TP88-4546 Tommy Evans
DF73-7221 Sogui Iglesias
Two days later, they had lunch in downtown Palo Alto to catch up on progress.
After cordialities Clay opened the discussion. “I retraced our footsteps over the past year in hopes of picking up some clue that we missed. I was hoping we could get enough data points to connect the dots. I started on Iqbal’s regression by reading the English transcripts from the encrypted database, but I’ve found nothing more than what we had before. I’ll spend the next several days working on Tommy’s files.
“I suspect you won’t find anything new in Tommy’s file, either,” Shali replied, “but there was something different about Sogui’s soul.”
“Yeah, her guide clammed up several times. The guide got us to the writings, but there’s more there than meets the eye, Third Eye, that is.” The corner of Clay’s mouth turned up in a smile at his own little pun. “So, did you make any progress on getting a Sanskrit guru to translate the books?”
“I narrowed it to a couple of college professors from India who claimed they can do the job. I also found a multi-lingual translator from Nepal down in LA.” She hesitated and then said in a reserved voice, “Clay, somebody has been digging around and asking Sanskrit translators about us. This Nepalese lady told me she was contacted by someone who offered a lot of money to get a copy of anything she translated for us. I went back and asked the other two if they had also been contacted. Neither one would own up to it, but I could tell they had also been approached.”
Clay just sat with a blank stare. “They are going to get paid off to take what we have.”
Shali continued, “I called the FBI agent this morning and told him. He said they would check it out and let us know if they get any leads. However, he feels positive that the same group that blew up the writings is trying to find out what we are doing.”
Clay nodded, still thinking over her words.
Shali continued, “I did a rough translation of the Sanskrit on an extract from one of the books,” Shali said. “I gave the extract to the translator, just to test her skills. After I get her version back, I’ll check for accuracy and clarity. If I can get her cracking on the books, it will take a couple of weeks to get the translations done, by her estimates. I’ll want to translate the prophecy, first. It is a small book, so we could get that back in a few days.”
“Sounds like a plan, but can we trust her?”
“I think so. She asked if these were part of the writings that were destroyed in Georgetown. She seemed to be truly appalled. Plus she openly told me about the strangers inquiring about our work.”
“Agree. Let’s go back to work.”
* * * ~~~ * * *
A few days later they met at Clay’s office to catch up on progress again.
“I got nothing new out of reviewing Tommy’s recordings,” he said. “But I feel we may get a lead if we regress him again. Tommy’s life as Dolpopa the Buddha seems key to me. When we regressed him before, we didn’t know that the writings were hidden in Tibet. Tibet was a hangout for Dolpopa. It’s too much of a coincidence. His soul might know about one of the other sets.”
Shali shook her head in disagreement. “I don’t know. Whoever was hiding the writings would not want any connection between the hiding locations. It’s a bit like Al-Qaeda’s technique of keeping terrorist cells independent of one another. None of the 9/11 World Trade Center bombers knew each other. I don’t know if his soul would be aware of the other writings just because he knew about our first set.” Turning more conciliatory, she added, “But it’s worth a try.”
Clay said, “I hear you, but even if Tommy’s soul doesn’t know, maybe his guide does. Let me finish reviewing Sogui’s recordings this week and then we can decide what to do next. Are you making progress with the books?”
“Yeah, I hired the lady translator in LA. She finished the prophecies and a couple of the other books. The oracle or oracles that made these predictions lived in Claros, Turkey. This was just north of Ephesus, where Jesus Christ’s mother Mary lived out her life after his crucifixion. Claros was a hot bed of oracles and psychics as far back as 500 BC. In fact, even Alexander the Great used to have his fortune told in Claros. Supposedly the oracles told Alexander where to build the great city of Alexandria. Maybe there is some connection to the library of Alexandria. Anyways, the prophecies were written in a poetic style of stanzas. The translations were not as cryptic as I expected. They contained poetic filler to make the prediction fit the flowing style. On the other hand, there could be more prophetic secrets hidden in the filler. I just can’t tell at this point.”
Clay asked, “What ti
me frame were the prophecies written in?”
“From the style, the translator thought it was written about 100 to 200 BC. It’s a little spooky, but the predictions described our appearance at the Drukpa Monastery in Tibet with a fair amount of accuracy. It is no wonder the custodians felt it was time to relinquish control of the writings to us. The auditorium and bombing were also described in enough detail to be scary, including the fate of the three custodians during the explosion.”
Looking a bit stunned, Clay asked, “They knew they were going to die, didn’t they? They knew their destiny.”
Shali’s face turned serious, showing she was obviously disturbed. “They not only knew they would die, they knew we would not die; they had to get us out of the auditorium that night to let the prophecy play out.”
“What are you saying?”
Shali’s voice dropped low. “They purposely stayed behind that night. Remember they told us to leave and go back to the hotel while they finished up? They were simply enabling the prophecy to be fulfilled. The prophecy ended abruptly at that point. We were not to die that night. Listen to the last stanza:
‘And hence on the night of first announce,
To world of men who doubt and deny,
From flame and fire, burn the skins of truth,
And the three who protect, shall perish from earth.
The ones who came from land afar,
To bring the truth to all who shall hear,
Have no proof from which to speak,
But continue the quest for truth to teach.’”
Silence permeated the room as a tear slid down Clay’s cheek. Shali had trouble seeing Clay through her own tear-filled eyes. Neither understood why, or how, they were destined to continue the search and bring out the truth.
Shali finally broke the silence. “Do you think there are other prophecies that take us to the next step?”
Clay said, “There probably are, but we don’t have them. I’d like to find them, though, because if we can’t control destiny, I’d at least like to have some idea of what is going to happen next.”
Clay walked over to a small liquor cabinet in the back of the office and pulled out two crystal snifters and a bottle of cognac. He poured a small amount into each glass and passed one to Shali.
He lifted his glass in the air. “To our three friends: may we have their courage to continue the quest, and may we be as strong as they were to look destiny in the eye.”
Chapter 29
Early the next week they met at the office again. Clay leaned back in his chair, interlaced his fingers behind his head, and exhaled slowly. “After going through the recordings and transcripts of all three regressions, I think we’ve got two options. First, we should get back to Tommy in Wales. I’d like to target his life as Dolpopa. I still think there’s a chance that he, or the soul, was aware of our writings hidden under the Drukpa Monastery. He might even have been one of the earlier custodians, or his soul might have been a more recent custodian of one of the other set of writings.”
Shali said, “I’m up for it. What’s the other?”
“We go back to see Sogui in Panama. We got the location of the first set of writings from the guide, not the soul. Seeing how this pod is intertwined, maybe another soul the guide mentors is aware of another set of writings. Besides, I’ve still got the feeling that Sogui’s soul and the guide were purposely holding back.”
Shali reared her head back. “Holding back? Holy cow, Clay, she gave us the location without us even having to pry it out. That’s holding back?” She smiled with raised eyebrows to show she was playing devil’s advocate.
“That’s not what I mean. We know there were a couple of four- or five-hundred-year stints that didn’t reveal any incarnations. Does that sound normal for a soul that is used to being so prominent in society, to just take off to the beach and relax for half a millennium at a time?”
Shali shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, but she did live a couple of tough lives where her soul may have needed time to recuperate. The life as Hypatia still bothers me. We damn near killed Sogui. Clay, I agree we need to regress Sogui again, but we have to stay away from Hypatia’s life. It was just too traumatic for her.”
“Agreed. I suggest we go see Tommy first and then head down to Panama.”
Shali smiled. “Let’s do it. I could use some of that golden Welsh lager with a big squirt of lime juice. I’ll call Tommy and Sogui as soon as we wrap up today. I’ll be ready as soon as you are. ”
“What about the last of the books? Did you find anything?”
“Yes and no. I didn’t find much more in the prophecies. It just stops, like the Mayan Calendar. There’s no end of the world in 2012 or anything like that, but the prophecy just ends at the destruction of the writings.”
“What about the other books?” he asked.
“We finished all the translations, but at this point I’m not sure there’s much to work with. It looks like most of the books were written only about one thousand years ago, as far as I can tell. The books are mostly summaries of the collection that was blown up with our three friends in D.C. The content simply explains what Yongten and Pema told us about the secrets.”
“Does it give any leads about the secrets that we could use in future regressions — you know, to help us ask the right questions?”
“Just that the seven secrets were categorized by discipline: medical and the body, energy generation, magnetics and gravity, elemental transformation, life and soul transitions, and time and destiny.”
Clay counted on his fingers and looked at her inquisitively. “That’s only six.”
“There was another category but I couldn’t figure out what the hell it was; some weird stuff. I’m speculating the authors used some cryptic writing technique. There was reference to what I believe was the Akashic records. I know this much, though: There are no real details of the secrets in these seven books. Some have diagrams that appear to be schematics or design drawings of physical devices or mechanical things, but probably nothing that could be used to prove anything or develop any type of prototype.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.
Clay answered the door and was greeted by a neighbor from across the hall. “Clay, I’m really sorry, but I just backed into your car in the parking lot. Can you come down and check it out? I’ll pay for the damages.”
Suddenly there was a thunderous explosion outside the condo that nearly knocked them off their feet, followed by the ear-piercing sound of shattering glass. After gaining their composure they all rushed to the balcony of Clay’s condo and looked down to the parking lot at the side of the building. Car alarms were blaring as smoke billowed out of the heaped chassis of metal that used to be Clay’s car and the other cars parked around it.
Clay and Shali looked at each other with a dumb-founded gaze filled with paranoia. That explosion had been meant for Clay, if not for both of them.
* * * ~~~ * * *
A week after the car bombing, with advice and consult from the FBI, Clay and Shali decided to go underground. The police and FBI investigation had discovered that when the neighbor’s car bumped Clay’s fender, the bomb’s timer had been triggered. Forensics found more of the same Italian T-4 plastic explosive that had been used in the Georgetown explosion. However, no more evidence or leads were found. All that Clay and Shali knew now was that this organization was motivated to stop them permanently.
Analysts from the FBI’s witness protection program guided them in how to assume different identities and evade the unknown organization that was targeting them. Until the logistics could be arranged, for the next week heavily armed FBI agents and local police provided twenty-four-hour surveillance for Clay and Shali.
Several days later, while packing up Clay’s office condo, Shali’s cell phone rang.
“Hello?” She heard the momentary clicking of the connection from a long distance international call.
A quiet and subdued,
yet familiar voice choked out a greeting. “Shali?”
“Yes. Pema? Is that you, Pema?”
“Yes, Shali. Are you okay? Is Clay okay?”
“We are both fine. So you heard about the car bomb?”
Pema exclaimed, “What car bomb? A bomb?”
“Yes, someone tried to kill us with a car bomb. But we are just fine. No one was in the car when it exploded. The FBI believes it was the same people who blew up the writings. It was the same plastic explosive from Italy.”
Out of character, Pema almost screamed, “Oh, no! You must go away and hide. They will not stop until they kill you!”
Clay, seeing the expression on Shali’s face and only hearing her side of the conversation, gave her a puzzled look.
Shali asked, “But how did you know to call us?”
A cry burst out on the far end of phone, loud enough for Clay to hear five feet away.
“Oh, Shali,” Pema sobbed into the phone. “They killed him. They put a bomb in our house and they killed him and everyone else. The explosion was so large. Everything and everybody is dead. I had gone into the wine cellar to get a special bottle of wine, in the cave below the house, when the bomb exploded. I wasn’t hurt, but I was trapped for two days. They killed my daddy. He is gone.”
Shali’s face showed utter shock and Clay could see her pulse beating in the arteries in her neck, but he was still totally confused as to what was going on.
“Pema, why would someone kill your father and everyone else? Why would they blow up your house?”
“They killed him because we said we had the writings. They killed my daddy and my family and tried to kill me, too.”
“Pema, was Yongten your father? Is your family the one that supposedly had the writings for all those years? Was your house our cover story in Kathmandu?”
Shali could hear Pema sobbing, completely out of character for her professional style.
“Yes, yes, yes. Shali, you have to get away before they kill you. Go away and hide. I have to hide, also. We must all hide. They will not stop until they destroy us, the same as it has been for a thousand years.”
Shali had tears rolling down her cheeks now. Clay simply stared at the phone trembling in Shali’s hand.
