“Many years ago my grandfather and I made a similar trip to this museum to deposit the same two objects we came to retrieve this morning. These objects have been in our family for as long as any of us can remember, passed down from one generation to the next, and treated with a loving respect and kindness that lives in the deepest reaches of our hearts. We are the caretakers of these two very special members of our family, and our task has always been to protect and nurture them. Many years ago, a man with a very bad-heart poisoned my grandfather and stole these two objects from us. It was all part of a larger plan of destruction and greed. Luckily, grandfather had the proper medicine on hand so I could help extract the poison. It was strong poison though, and it took almost six months for him to regain all his strength back. We both knew that we were going to need all our strength to recover that which was stolen from us.”
“That’s right. Now I remember.” Paul sat up in his chair. “The collector’s note in the acquisition database mentioned that these two objects were deposited by an Old Indian. If I remember correctly, it was the Director of the Geological Survey, Alfred Selwyn, who made the notation. But that was back in 1882!”
“I’ve never had much use for dates.” Iyash shrugged his shoulders. “Linear time is all an arbitrary construct meant to confuse the mind from the heart.”
“But what George is saying is impossible.” Paul pressed Iyash further. “Unless both of you are over one-hundred years old.”
“Let George finish Paul.” Sue ran her hands nervously through her hair.
George pulled the four feathers, tied together with a single red ribbon, out of his bag and carefully extracted two of them. He handed one to Sue and the other to Paul.
“That day in the museum many years ago, we thought we were doing the right thing. At first, we were very upset at these museums. Anthropologists were coming into our communities and buying our most sacred objects and digging up our ancestors in the name of science. This science was a mean, mixed-up version of what we understood as human kindness and our people were being frozen into an ethnographic present in these museums. The last thing we wanted was to bring our most sacred objects here to this museum so that they too could be frozen in time.”
“But that all changed when we received these,” continued Iyash, “these two feathers were left as a kind of calling card, a taunt of sorts, by a man called Raven.”
“They look exactly the same as the two feathers that were left on the shelf this afternoon.” Paul turned the feather gently over, running his fingers through its soft tip.
“They are the same feathers. Well not identical but from the same source.”
“I still don’t understand how a man could so easily steal these objects.” Sue handed the feather back to George. “I mean, I understand the figurative use of narrative in oral histories to discuss otherworldly phenomena and wonderment, but those are stories, this is reality.”
“I’m surprised at your naivety.” George placed the bundle of feathers back in his bag. “You should understand that reality is but a fiction of the rational mind. That time and space can be either trapped or liberated through norms and behaviors mediated by cultural factors such as religion and psychology, family and law, matter and substance. Once you start peeling back the imposed layers of cultural imprinting you can begin to experience the world in a very different fashion.”
“Are you’re telling me to suspend disbelief?”
“If only for a moment.”
“Ok. I follow. Please continue.”
“After we discovered that the two objects had disappeared completely, we had to figure out some way of locating them. Neither my grandfather or I could pick up a signal of their whereabouts.”
“Sort of like right now?” Paul was starting to believe more strongly in the possibility that their guests might actually be telling the truth.
“Exactly. Although there is still a faint signal, but it keeps fading in and out.”
George tilted his head to one side for an instant, as if he was listening for something.
“We journeyed northeast by canoe to the land of the Innu. There was an old man my grandfather knew who was very skilled at finding lost objects. He agreed to help us and sat for seven days in his tent. On the seventh day, the tent shook so violently we thought that it was going to fall apart at the seams. We heard the distinct laugh of a raven and then the old man emerged from his tent, bent and shaken, but with a large smile on his face.”
The phone rang loudly interrupting George’s story. On the second ring Sue picked it up.
Chapter 15
“Yes, Dr. Hasser speaking.” Sue gestured to George with her hands, apologizing for the interruption. “Oh, hi Stephen, thanks for calling back. No, no problem. Really? Are you sure? Yes. Ok, thanks again. Yep, talk to you later.” Sue hung the phone up and then unplugged it from the wall. “Well you were right. Conservation definitely does not have the two objects. In fact, Stephen said he couldn’t even find a record of them in the database.”
“That’s odd.” Paul knew there was a record of the objects in the database; He had seen it for himself only two hours ago. “I just called those two records up from the database two hours ago.”
“I know. And I double-checked the numbers myself.”
“He’s covering his tracks, like a good hunter.” Iyash looked unfazed. “Although he was a bit too late on this last bit of mischief.”
Sue went over to her computer and logged into the acquisition database. After inputting the two numbers into the database, she waited patiently for the information to come up onto her screen.
“This thing is always so damn slow.”
“Tell me about it. I had to wait almost five minutes this afternoon to get the information I needed in collections.” Paul sighed. “The administration really needs to think about upgrading the system, if you ask me.”
“Ah. Here we go.” Sue clicked her mouse and the computer returned the message no records found please try again. “I can’t believe it! Utterly amazing. The computer is telling me that those two objects don’t exist.”
“Impossible!” Paul got up from his chair and went over to Sue’s desk to see for himself. “Are you sure you typed the right numbers in?”
“Absolutely. But let’s try again.”
Sue imputed the two numbers into the database. After a couple of minutes, the computer returned the same error message—no records found please try again.
“You’re wasting your time.” Iyash stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “Like I said, he’s covered his tracks.”
“Be patient grandfather. This is all very new to them.”
“I know. I’m just trying to help. We could be spending what little time we have left being more constructive.”
“Well they had to figure out for themselves that we’re telling the truth. Maybe now they’ll be ready to hear the rest of our story.”
Sue got up from her desk and turned her computer off.
“Come on Paul. Lets finish hearing George’s story. Maybe it will make more sense if we actually believe it.”
“Where was I now?” George closed his eyes to try and remember where he had left off in his story.
“The tent. Your friend had just come out of the tent after seven days.”
“Old Man Pikagan was a master of the shaking tent,” continued George. “His conjuring lodge was a small booth built out of three birch and two spruce saplings. He hung caribou and deer hooves on the frame and covered the floor with freshly cut spruce boughs. There was a special seat where the Old Man Pikagan would sit, suspended off the ground. For seven days we listened to many different sounds inside that tent, watching it sway wildly from side to side. There were even small lights like stars around the top.”
“On that seventh day, the old Shaman came out of that tent,” recalled Iyash. “He told us where to find our objects. And he was right. But he also warned us that a later point in time a Raven was going to try to stea
l them for an evil man, bent on destroying Earth and ensuring that the human race continued their shift away from the light and into the darkness.”
“But I thought you said that this Raven was a man?” asked Susan.
“He is a man. But he is also a bird.”
“So he’s a shape shifter?” smirked Paul.
“You’re smarter than you look young man,” replied Iyash patiently.
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but this is getting pretty far-fetched,” said Susan, noticeably concerned..” I can’t report to the Director that a shape shifter on the payroll of an evil man interested in destroying the world flew into the museum and stole two very precious and expensive objects.
“Nobody said you had to tell the Director anything,” replied George. “Even if you wanted to, there isn’t any time. We have to act quickly to retrieve these items from Raven or all hope is lost.”
“What do you mean all hope is lost?” asked Paul.
“We need our sacred objects to complete the circle in an important ceremony that is supposed to happen tomorrow evening. Winter Solstice is the time when the energy is the most powerful and conducive to assisting the shift that is occurring right now.”
“What happens if this ceremony is postponed indefinitely?”
“This evil man will continue to shift the creation of the new world order into the darkness and away from the light.
“That’s ridiculous,” responded Susan.
“My medicine bag holds a small amount of the original earth used in all to previous creations of this world. Whoever holds this earth can greatly influence the shape of this new Creation. The pipe that Raven has stolen from us is as old as the few particles of earth within the medicine bag. These are very sacred and special items.”
‘I really don’t like the sound of these dark forces,” admitted Paul matter of factly. “I can only imagine what kind of miserable world they’d have us all living in.”
“I suggest we call the police,” asserted Susan.
Iyash and George stood up and made their way to the door of Susan’s office. George pulled out a small card from the inside of his jacket and handed it to Susan.
“If you ever need to get in touch with me, all my contact info is on this card.”
“I hope you are more successful with your search than we were this morning. I think you should reconsider and let me call the police. They can help.”
“But we know this city better than you do,” interjected Paul enthusiastically. “With time so precious, you can’t afford to get lost.”
Chapter 16
Detective Coon couldn’t figure out whether Will, the young security guard at the museum, really saw a man in the collections room, or whether it was a detox induced hallucination.
Coon could smell the alcoholics a mile away, especially when they were coming off the booze. Although he decided this time to give the young security guard the benefit of the doubt, since the large gash on his face corroborated his story of being attacked.
“We need to make sure that our national cultural property is safe. ”Tom, the head of Museum security had taken the whole situation very seriously. “That’s why we installed this new security system. Biometrics, laser sensors, cost us a fortune.”
Coon had asked Tom to accompany he and Will to the collections room to investigate. After replaying the scenario, the guard agreed that he must have mistaken the bird for a man.
“Those ravens get pretty big you know.” Tom tried to support the young guard. “It’d be real easy to mistake it for a man. Some of those birds have a wingspan of almost two meters you know.”
After taking their statements, Coon made his way up to the main office of the ethnology division. He was eager to talk to the curator of eastern woodlands and wrap up this database project early so he could go home and sleep off his hangover.
Now I know why the Commander gave me this assignment. He’s been trying to get me to take time off ever since Allison split. Now I can go home early and still feel like I’m not a total bag of useless shit.
Coon found the main office in the long narrow hallway. Inside was a young woman busy typing on her computer.
“I’m looking for Dr. Hasser’.” Coon startled the young woman. “Can you show me where her office is.”
“Down the hall and to your left. But she’s busy with visitors this afternoon.” The secretary went back to typing. “Best thing is to call and leave a message on her voicemail.”
“Thanks,” Coon walked down the hallway to her office anyways.
Maybe she’s there, and maybe her visitors never showed up. You never know.
Coon recognized a lot of the posters of past museum exhibits hanging on the wall of the narrow corridor as he walked down towards the Curator's corner office. Allison collected and framed a lot of the same posters and had decorated their house with them.
All these reminders of Allison aren’t helping me at all. The Commander thought that this assignment would help to get me back on the game. It’s doing the complete opposite.
Coon kept walking down the hall, looking at the nameplates on the doors. The last office was the one he was looking for. The door was closed and a note pinned to it read: emergency. back tomorrow. for anything urgent, see Andrea.
Well I guess that settles it then. Maybe Andrea has a cell number for her.
Coon walked back to the main office, this time knocking on the door to announce his presence.
“Hi again, do you have a cell number for Dr. Hasser.”
“Who’s asking?” Andrea kept typing. “Official policy is not to give out personal information to strangers.”
“I’m on official business, Detective Bradley Coon.” He flashed his badge and waited for Andrea to look up from her typing. “I have an urgent matter I need to discuss with the Curator.”
“Of course Detective.” Andrea went back to typing. “Unfortunately, the Curator doesn’t keep a cell phone. You might want to try her assistant Paul Saya.”
“Ok, do you have a number for him.”
“Unfortunately no, but I saw them leaving together. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Andrea picked up the phone. “I have an important call to make.”
“Sure, sure. Thanks.”
Coon took out his notebook and jotted down the name Andrea had given him.
I’ll call it in and see if they have a number for guy.
He went back out into the hall and dialed the station.
“Hey Ginney, I need some contact info on a Paul Saya. Anything you got. Thanks. Call me back when you get something.”
After a few seconds his phone rang.
“What do you got for me Ginney?”
“Detective Coon?”
“Yes.” Coon didn’t recognize the voice. “How can I help you?”
“This is Felisa Sylvestre, Director of Bast Security Services in Cairo. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. I’m just waiting on a call from the station.” Coon liked the soft purr of Felisa’s voice. “What’s up? Kinda surprised to hear from you so soon. I don’t have any leads yet. My Commander just handed me the file yesterday. Honestly, I think we’re dealing with a well organized group, not an individual like your photos suggest.”
“We weren’t expecting you to have any leads. That’s why I’m calling. We have reason to believe that our suspect is in your city or very close. He’s after something very dear to him Detective. I’m afraid you may even be too late. This man works very fast and very efficiently.”
“I really think you should reconsider this whole line of investigation.”
“I heard you the first time Detective. Bast Security Services has put a lot of time and energy into this investigation. We know what we’re looking for.”
“Ok, so where do I fit into all of this?”
“We’re counting on you to find our suspect and bring him in for questioning. You have a good track record Detective. Don’t disappoint me.”
“So where did
you say he was?”
“Wakefield. A small village north of your present location. You’re going to have to move fast.”
“I’m on it.”
As soon as Coon hung his phone up it rang again.
“Hi Coon, it’s Ginney. I’ve got the info you were looking for.”
Coon jotted downs the info on Paul Saya into his notebook.
“Thanks Ginney. I’m off to Wakefield. Apparently our Interpol suspect has been sighted there.”
“Do you want me to send backup?”
“Not yet. I’ll keep you posted.”
Chapter 17
Maeve made her way back home after closing the store up for the evening. She couldn’t stop thinking about the creepy Irish guy who had called and asked her out. It seemed rather odd that he’d first come into her store and ask her to sell her necklace, just at the time when she was thinking she needed money so badly she’d do anything, within reason, to pay the bills that were stacking up. Then he called her up and asked her out on a date.
I can’t figure it out. Usually it’s the women who are totally unpredictable, not the men. The funny thing is I kind of thought he was charming. But there was something kind of sleazy about him. Like he was hiding something behind all that charm.
When Maeve got home she heated up some leftover soup and drank her last cold beer. Ever since her roommate Izzy had moved out to work on a farm north of Rupert, the apartment was really quiet. She missed Izzy’s laugh and unconditional jovial nature. Izzy always had a way of spinning situations to look at the positive side of things.
“I believe in profound optimism,” Izzy once told Maeve. “It’s a real clear and present connection you cultivate with your self. It’s not just about seeing the glass half full, it’s about drinking that glass and pouring yourself another!”
The Friday night, just before Izzy moved out, they had a bunch of friends over for a party. In typical Izzy fashion, by the end of the night they all ended up outside, drunk, looking at the stars and sharing what they were most grateful for.
When it was Maeve’s turn to share, she thought long and hard about what she was most grateful for. So many things came into her mind, but she wanted to be clear and concise.
“First of all, I’m grateful for my store, my friends, and my health. But most of all, to Izzy for showing me how to pour myself another glass when it’s half empty.”
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