SPENCER CALLAGHAN : The Fight for Heaven and Earth

by Ryan Conway

  "It's a pleasure to meet you all," Spencer greeted the three other musicians, and Tom echoed his sentiments.

  "Likewise, gentlemen," Tong Qing reciprocated. "And welcome to Claremont."

  Man Yi added, "I hope your experience at IFCU is awe-inspiring."

  "So, what are your majors?" Ping Heng asked. Spencer and Tom repeated what they had already told Chao Yue.

  "Yeah, I told Spencer that he'll find the inspiration at IFCU to decide his true passion," Chao Yue noted.

  "Truly, don't pressure yourself about that right now," Ping Heng advised them. "If you're not sure yet, then you're not ready to settle on a career path. But your true calling will be revealed when the time is right, so don't sweat it."

  "In the meantime, just savor your experience at IFCU," Man Yi suggested. "That's the best way to decide your educational path."

  "Also, consider what you want to give back to others when considering which path you should follow," Tong Qing added. "Serving others is a very fulfilling experience that makes it all worthwhile. That would be the most fulfilling life."

  "Thank you," Spencer said, feeling a little overwhelmed but sincerely grateful. "I hadn't really thought about it, but that makes sense."

  "They're calling us to the stage now. It's time to set up the instruments," Ping Heng informed his bandmates.

  "Spencer, Tom, you two have a great evening," Chao Yue said. "We'll see you 'round."

  Chao Yue grabbed his lute and accompanied his band members onto the stage. He stood at the microphone as lead vocalist, and introduced himself and the band before delving into an exotic song with a culturally diverse backing of instruments.

  "Those were some… unique individuals," Spencer opined.

  "Yeah, that's something I've noticed around here. Like Chao Yue said, the people here are very interesting… And he's one of them." As the Chinese group's first song wound down, Spencer finished the last few bites of his pastry and took the last sip of his tea. Seeing that, Tom stood up and swung his backpack onto his back, so Spencer closed the book and joined him.

  "I understand now why my parents used to speak so highly of this place," Spencer said.

  "They'd be proud of you, ya know," Tom told him.

  "I hope so," Spencer said with a crooked smile. He checked his watch. "Well, we'd better head back to the dorm now. Big day tomorrow.”

  Chapter Seven

  Chinatown Troubles

  A fter an early breakfast in the IFCU cafeteria, Spencer and Thomas headed south for New York City. During the ride, they discussed their plans for meeting up after Spencer's visit to the Chinese restaurant. They covered the greatest distance during their trip while driving through the countryside, but probably spent just as much time waiting in traffic after entering the city.

  Since the instructions for the Chinatown restaurant were so secretive, Spencer knew he had to enter the place alone. Thomas dropped Spencer off in Chinatown near the restaurant. Before he left for his own adventure, Spencer told Tom he would phone him after he concluded his mysterious meeting.

  As Spencer entered the restaurant, he found himself standing before a wide, octagonal koi pond with a tall, trickling fountain towering above its center. On the other side of the pond was the front counter and waiting area, where several customers were still waiting to be seated. The restaurant was busy with families, couples, and businessmen occupying tables and booths spread across the main floor. Most of the tables were equipped with circular, rotating platforms upon which the waiters and waitresses placed steaming bowls of rice, small dishes of pastries, teapots, and cylindrical metal containers full of steamy dumplings and vegetables. An ornate wooden divider of latticed carvings separated the waiting area from the rest of the restaurant. Red Chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling like chandeliers, and tapestries covered most of the walls, illustrating cloud-covered mountains and figures in traditional clothing. Along the far back of the restaurant ran an enormous aquarium full of exotic fish.

  A young woman wearing a Chinese gown appeared and greeted Spencer from behind the counter. "Welcome to the Dragon's Pearl. How many people in your party?"

  "Oh, good morning." Spencer responded. "I'm actually here to see Mr. Wong. Is he in today?"

  The young lady's pleasant expression morphed into a look of suspicion. "If this is about the location, Mr. Wong isn't interested in selling," she declared.

  Spencer was momentarily surprised by her reaction. "Oh no, no, I'm not here about the restaurant." He leaned over the counter, bracing himself on the edge, and he spoke quietly, attempting to maintain a level of privacy. "This is a personal matter, and I kind of need his help. Please, can I talk to him?"

  The girl became more sympathetic. "I'm sorry for overreacting. I can let him know you're here." She began to turn and leave the counter when she remembered she hadn't gotten his name. "I'm sorry… Who should I say wants to speak with him?"

  "Spencer Callaghan," he articulated clearly. It immediately dawned on him that blurting his name along with the confidential circumstances of his visit probably wasn't the wisest move, especially when he noticed a man eating at a nearby table glance up at him as soon as he mentioned his name. The man sat alone, and held a little book open with one hand while pinching chopsticks in the other. He'd been reading his book when Spencer had first seen him, but afterward, he'd started glancing up at Spencer and around the room periodically. He was clean-shaven with short, dark blond hair and deep, piercing eyes. When he wasn't looking up at Spencer, he seemed to be studying the restaurant, as if looking for someone else. The man looked oddly familiar, but Spencer had no recollection of where or when he might have seen him before.

  "Please, accompany me to the back," a voice suddenly and softly requested from behind, startling Spencer. He turned to see a middle-aged Chinese man standing beside the counter.

  "Mr. Wong?" Spencer inquired.

  "Yes, but let us not talk here. Please come with me, Mr. Callaghan. We have a VIP area for visitors such as yourself." Mr. Wong lightly placed his hand on Spencer's shoulder, as if to guide him in the right direction across the main floor. They wove back and forth among tables filled with customers toward the back, past the gigantic aquarium, continuing through to the VIP section where businessmen in suits and ties sat around sturdy cherry-wood tables. Some of them greeted Mr. Wong as he and Spencer passed through the room. Others looked at Spencer with suspicion, and a few with interest. Some of the businessmen were busy with cellphones, laptops, or tablets.

  Mr. Wong guided Spencer through the two-way double doors of the kitchen. Waiters and waitresses rushed past them on their way out of the kitchen, carrying platters of hot dishes and pushing meal carts. The steam became denser as they walked past the cooks and chefs to the other side of the kitchen. Mr. Wong finally stopped at an office door and opened it, gesturing for Spencer to enter first.

  The office looked partially like a library, partially like a museum. There were two tall bookshelves full of books labeled in Chinese. Traditional lanterns hung from the ceiling, and statues of legendary Chinese figures and dragons stood against the walls at various points. The office was as neat and well-kept as it was intriguing. Mr. Wong's desk was no exception, although a slew of interesting objects sat atop it. Wong closed the door for privacy and walked over to his desk. "Please, Mr. Callaghan, have a seat."

  Spencer lowered himself into a decorative chair in front of the desk. Mr. Wong sat down at his desk on the other side. "I'm truly glad you showed up," he said, looking Spencer directly in the eyes. "I was aware that you'd just graduated high school, and I've been expecting you. Hoping for your arrival, actually. This first step was entirely dependent upon you alone, totally your decision. But from here on out, we will be able to help you and guide you for most of the way."

  That doesn't sound ominous at all, Spencer thought wryly. "So, what's this all about?" he inquired. "My father left me instructions to come here in a letter he wrote over eight years ago. I only recently received it,
when I graduated."

  Mr. Wong's face displayed an expression of sympathy. "Yes, I know, and I'm terribly sorry about your mother and father. Both of your parents were wonderful people, and your father was a great friend of mine."

  Spencer reached inside the neckline of his shirt. He pulled the thong over his head from both sides and held up the medallion that dangled from the end. "He also left me this." Spencer handed the medallion to Mr. Wong, who spent a long moment examining it. "Do you know why he left it for me? What does it mean?"

  "Honestly, I can't explain much to you here," Mr. Wong said regretfully. "But you'll be going to other, safer locations, where you'll find out what you want to know...." Mr. Wong paused momentarily. "Or at least, what you need to know." He laid the medallion down on his desk before Spencer. "I'm afraid I also don't know enough about this medallion to answer your questions. I can't even read the ancient Chinese on the front, but I can tell it's around 5,000 years old based on the look of the inscriptions."

  "Seriously?" Spencer exclaimed in astonishment. "It's that old? Shouldn't this be in a museum or something?"

  Mr. Wong pulled one of the books from the shelf behind him and began thumbing through the pages. "Ah, yes. Yes, it's from before the Xia Dynasty era, and that was around 2,100 BC." Mr. Wong held the book open on a page illustrating Chinese writing from ancient times. He handed the book to Spencer to look at it for himself, then went on, "This kind of writing can be found in a few museums, on tortoise shells and pottery sherds and such."

  Nodding, Spencer handed the open book back to Mr. Wong. "So, will you be taking me to meet someone else who can translate it, then?"

  "Actually, I'm just a point of contact," Mr. Wong stated. "I won't be accompanying you from this point. Mr. Galloway will take you to your next destination."

  "Where are we going, and why do I need to? And where can I find this Mr. Galloway?” Spencer asked, feeling worried. He hadn't expected to be rushed into some kind of trip, or situation, or whatever, and wondered what he was getting himself into.

  "I can't tell you where you're going or why," Mr. Wong said regretfully.

  "Can't, or won't?" Spencer challenged.

  Wong looked at him steadily. "A little of both, actually. Mr. Galloway is your… handler, let's say."

  "Handler? You make this sound like some kind of John Le Carré novel! What, I'm gonna be some kind of spy or something now? That's crazy!"

  Wong said nothing, just looking at Spencer with his penetrating gaze. Finally, Spencer's anger and confusion faded, leaving him feeling somewhat deflated. "All right, fine. Where's this Galloway character?" he demanded.

  "Mr. Galloway is here in the restaurant," Mr. Wong replied calmly, "and frankly I'm surprised he hasn't come back here yet. He must've seen you when you walked in, and he knows who you are." Mr. Wong took on an introspective look. "He must be preoccupied with something…"

  "Mr. Wong, I have to be honest with you. I almost didn't come," Spencer admitted. "I debated on whether to ignore the instructions or not. I'm surprised that you'd still be expecting me after all this time."

  Mr. Wong smiled. "Well, I'm glad you did come. Your parents always intended for you to become part of their world; this ancient civilization. I think you will, once you hear what we have to tell you."

  "So, you were friends with my dad?" Spencer asked curiously. "Were you both members of a secret society, like the Freemasons?"

  "Freemasons?" Mr. Wong exclaimed, then laughed. "No, we weren't Freemasons or Illuminati or members of any intelligence agency or anything like that, despite the rumors I'm sure you've heard." He peered at Spencer with raised eyebrows. "Why do you ask? You seem worried about it."

  Spencer thought for a moment, then said, "Because my dad's life was so mysterious, and yes, I've heard just about every conspiracy theory possible, even from my closest family members. And mostly negative ones, too, like he was maybe even an agent for an impending New World Order or something like that." He looked down at the medallion and picked it up. "I guess I just need to hear something different than what I'm used to hearing, for the sake of closure."

  Mr. Wong smirked. "If the Freemasons and Illuminati are secret societies, then how do you know of their existence?" he asked in a rhetorical way, as if sneaking a meaningful lesson into their discussion. Spencer considered what Mr. Wong had just proposed. “And it’s ironic, considering your current surrounding, that you don’t mention Tiandihui,” He said, as if alluding to another hidden truth.

  “Tian… Di… Who?” Spencer questioned, displaying his full lack of knowledge about any such organization.

  “Tiandihui,” Mr. Wong repeated. “Otherwise known as the Heaven and Earth Society,”

  Spencer was intrigued, but began questioning, whether he should have already known about this particular group. “Should I know about them? What is The Heaven and Earth Society exactly?”

  “It’s a society with a lot of secrets, similar to the western concept of Freemasons; I suppose,” Mr. Wong said. “They have much more ancient roots, than public knowledge lets on, but it’s usually said, that it was founded in the 1700s… during the British colonial period by four men… Ti Xi, Li Amin, Tao Yuan, and Zhu Dingyuan.”

  “And what are the intentions of the Tiandihui? Spencer asked.

  “It’s original purpose, and still it’s most prominent goal, is freedom from oppression, enlightenment, and so on,” Mr. Wong claimed. “But other ideas and intentions, not so innocent, eventually rose up among Tiandihui groups and their members too,” He grimaced slightly. “Groups like the Triad and even different savior cults have their beginnings in Tiandihui as well.”

  Spencer found some of the conversation with Mr. Wong interesting but still questioned what his parents’ lives and affiliations were about. “Is that the group you and my parents were members of then?” Spencer asked, hoping to finally get an adequate answer.

  “Your parents, no, they’re weren’t,” Mr. Wong responded. “As for me, yes.”

  Since it apparently had nothing to do with his parents, Spencer began to feel less than impressed with Mr. Wong mentioning this secret society at all.

  ”Well, as I said before, I won't be able to go into much detail here," Wong continued. "But we didn't and don't belong to a secret society bent on global domination and establishing a new world order. Not at all."

  Relieved, Spencer said, "Good. That makes me feel a lot better to hear.”

  “Your parents and I belong to something much, much bigger,” Wong said. He leaned in closer and whispered "Actually, we belong to a secret civilization of the oldest world order, bent on global freedom and universal truth."

  Spencer's relief turned into intrigue. "The oldest world order? About how old would that be?"

  "Ancient. Well before anything you’d find in any history book," Mr. Wong asserted calmly. "In fact, the oldest religious texts and legends only vaguely allude to this reality, which we've preserved."

  "Why can't this reality you're talking about be taught openly to the world?" Spencer asked.

  "Because just as we stand for individual freedom and universal truth, there are forces that really do desire global dominance and a new world order. Many of them know about and live in the reality I just told you about." Mr. Wong dropped his gaze in disappointment. "But they find it more beneficial to themselves to suppress it."

  Spencer frowned. "So, are our world leaders part of this system?"

  "No, not exactly," Wong replied. "They usually don't know that they act in favor of this system, this dark ignorance that's lasted for millennia. But world leaders and even many religious and economic leaders benefit from this suppression of knowledge. If the others dangle material incentives in front of these top people, they'll work to keep this corrupt system running, " He looked up sharply. "Even when some discover this reality, most would still rather benefit from the temporary gratification of this world than experience eternal bliss and share it with others. They don't even respect themselves enough
to accept true reality."

  Spencer sat and watched thoughtfully as Mr. Wong stood and walked over to the far bookcase. He pulled another book off the shelf, and turned back toward the desk. Thumbing through the book, he took his seat. "One who governs, respects those over whom he governs, no more than himself. If he loved himself enough to let his being rest in original truth, then he would govern over others without hurting them."

  "That was deep," Spencer commented.

  "That was Lao Tzu, the ancient Chinese philosopher," Mr. Wong informed him. "He understood the importance of that universal truth." Mr. Wong closed the book and handed it to Spencer. "I would like you to have this book. It's a compilation of the classics. It's got the whole Tao Te Ching inside. You need to read it."

  Spencer held the book up and read the title. It was a rather thick book, and he was happy to see that it was printed in English, unlike most of the books occupying Mr. Wong's shelves. He thanked the restauranteur for the unexpected gift, and slid it into his backpack. "So, these dark forces you spoke about. Are they… human?"

  "That is a surprisingly perceptive question," Mr. Wong replied with a furrowed brow. "Some are, some are not. Why do you ask?"

  "Something unusual happened a few nights ago. It involved the medallion."

  "Oh," Mr. Wong reacted quietly, almost in a gasp.

  "Yeah, on my high school graduation day," Spencer continued. "The same night my uncle gave me the medallion and the note from Dad." Mr. Wong seemed momentarily troubled when Spencer mentioned that his uncle had gifted it to him from his father. "Anyway, we had some visitors at the house—a friend of my uncle's and one of his associates. They were going to stay the night, but the new visitor tried to attack me in the middle of the night—and he changed into something frightening. Or at least, he seemed to."