Chasing the Wind

by Norma Beishir

  “I wasn’t,” I admitted, “but the odds were in our favor here. They’d remove the contents of the cash drawer at night, and who would want to steal laundry?”

  “Right now, I would,” she said. “My clothes are soaked.”

  “Mine, too.” I looked around. “We’re going to be here a while. We could throw our things into a dryer.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “And what would we wear while they’re drying?” she wanted to know.

  I laughed for the first time since we escaped the giant on the bus. “There’s only the two of us here, and we are married, after all,” I reminded her. “Why would we have to wear anything?”

  “Right. If we should happen to get caught, I’d prefer not to be caught naked,” she said.

  “Very well,” I said. “We can find something in these carts, I’m sure.”

  I searched through one cart while she looked through another. I finally found things that would fit but looked ridiculous. Lynne ended up with a baggy housedress with a loud floral pattern, while I donned a pair of painter’s pants that had to be belted in order to keep them from falling down.

  “Well,” Lynne said, putting on the dress, “I must look pretty unappealing now.”

  “I think you look hot,” I said with a grin. It was the truth. She'd appeal to me wearing a burlap sack.

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s official. There is absolutely nothing on the face of the earth that doesn’t get you aroused.”

  I piled some blankets on the floor in one corner. “Better get some sleep,” I told her. “We may not have a chance again for a while.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “One of us has to stand watch,” I reminded her.

  “We take turns, then.”

  I shook my head. “You sleep. I’ll be fine.”

  She pulled a comb from her bag. “I think I may have to shave it off,” she said as she struggled to drag the wide-tooth comb through her wet, tangled hair.

  “Here, let me try,” I said, taking the comb from her. I worked it through slowly, gently, starting at the ends, until I’d removed all the tangles.

  “You missed your calling,” she teased me. “You could have been a darn good hairdresser. Or at the very least a great shampoo person.”

  “Always good to have a backup plan,” I said, rolling up a small blanket for her to use as a pillow. She lay down, falling asleep almost immediately. I sat beside her, leaning back against the wall, my right hand in my pocket, gripping my handgun.

  I fought sleep, drifting off, then abruptly waking myself. I had to stay awake. We couldn’t be caught off guard. One slip-up could prove fatal.

  I watched Lynne sleep. She was four months pregnant now. She was beginning to show. Soon, it would be impossible to conceal the pregnancy. It would be impossible to hide her. She would be unable to keep living on the run. We had to find a safe house. Somewhere she could rest and, if necessary, give birth.

  I knew the risks involved in a pregnancy, especially a first pregnancy, for a woman past forty. She needs to be getting regular prenatal monitoring. She needs to give birth in a hospital. But that might not be possible.

  I asked myself if I would still have married her, had I known the truth about Edward and his associates. I wanted to believe I would not have put her at risk, but I wasn’t sure how I would have reacted. I’d been such a selfish bastard then…

  “Stop trying to be who you think you should be and allow yourself to be who you really are.”

  “Practice what you preach, Merlin.”

  Merlin. She was the only one who had ever given me a pet name. As silly as it was, I loved it. I loved the playfulness we’d shared before our world was shattered. I closed my eyes and saw her standing at the kitchen sink with soapsuds on her nose…the morning after the papyri was discovered, when she’d had too much champagne in celebration…the morning after we’d made love for the first time…

  “I love you.”

  “You don’t look like a man in love. You look terrified.”

  “I am terrified.”

  I twisted the gold wedding band on my finger. Even in the dim light, I could see the tiny infinity symbol engraved on it. I recalled the day we were married…standing before the preacher in that little church in Jerusalem, listening to him read from the Song of Solomon…

  “Love is invincible facing danger and death…passion laughs at the terrors of hell…the fire of love stops at nothing…”

  I recalled the day she brought me home from the hospital after my encounter with the desert horned viper. I’d been angry and frustrated by my temporary impotence—and she’d been angry with me for it.

  “Is that all you think you have to offer? Is that all you believe you are to me? Listen to me—even if we could never have sex again, you are the only man I could ever want.”

  I drew in a deep breath. I had to put an end to this insanity. I had to protect her and the baby.

  All my life, I’d been disappointed by everyone I’d known, men and women. They’d all wanted something from me, whether it was my money, my connections, my genius, or even my body. Lynne was different. She loved me for the one thing only she could see.

  My soul.

  I stared at the monitor, perplexed. How have they been able to predict our every move? It’s as if they know every alias we’ve used—

  Marshall.

  I knew he was a risk. Dammit, he sold us out before he even delivered.

  He was working for Edward. Why didn't I see that? He was probably the one who falsified the ID I was given to get me out of the US.

  What am I missing? Why are they so determined to find us?

  I gave it some thought. Lynne believed I was the prophet mentioned in the papyrus we’d found in Egypt. I couldn’t wrap my brain around that. You were born for a special purpose, Andrew. It was my mother’s voice. You were given to me by an angel.

  Then why was that angel not there to save you, Mother?

  They want you, Edward had said. They believe you’re the key to creating a master race.

  His IQ is off the charts. The headmaster at my school.

  You are the future of the human race, young man, Sadowski had said.

  This is impossible….

  49

  Caitlin

  “I was just looking at the NOTICES from Interpol," Jack said as he entered my office. "Julian Marshall's dead."

  I looked up from my computer. "Natural causes or disgruntled client?" I asked.

  "The latter." He pulled up a chair. "Bullet in the back of the head, fired at close range—but he must've gotten in a shot, too. His body was found at the site of a vehicle crash—SUV went through the guardrail into a ravine.”

  I was barely paying attention. Julian Marshall was old news. He'd been on Interpol's radar for years, notorious for providing new identities for criminals trying to stay beneath law enforcement radar. He was a master at falsifying records.

  But he was not our problem. Not anymore.

  "One of the two in the vehicle was American," Jack was saying. "An American—an archaeologist, Dr. Lynne Raven."

  Recognizing the name, I stopped what I was doing. "Are they sure?" I asked.

  "Positive ID hasn't been made yet, but there were personal effects at the site," he said. "The man with her was her husband."

  "Husband?" I stopped what I was doing, closed the file and opened a new one on Marshall.

  "Yeah. Just recently married, according to the report."

  “Wait a minute….” I punched some more keys, then looked up again. “Apparently, Italian police found his laptop in his hotel room. They say he was meeting with somebody there, more than once. According to his engagement calendar, he was supposed to meet this man the night before his body was found.”

  "Anyone we know?" Jack asked.

  “Someone named Connor Mackenzie,” I said. “He had on his person an envelope containing a large sum of cash.” I reached for my phone…

  50
>
  Darcy

  I was on a flight approaching Jordan when my cell phone rang. The number on the display took me by surprise. I pushed the button and put the phone to my ear. “Cat—I always knew the day would come when you’d wake up and come back to me,” I greeted her.

  “Shut up, Darcy.” She was in no mood for my warped sense of humor. “This isn’t a social call.”

  “The FBI wants me? If you’ll tell me what I’m guilty of, I’ll know how to plead.”

  “You’re a world-class SOB, but unfortunately, that’s presently not a capital offense,” she said.

  “I knew you still loved me,” I chuckled.

  “I need some information on your ex-wife,” she said impatiently.

  “Which one?”

  “Number three. The archaeologist.”

  I laughed at that. “Why would the Feds be interested in Lynne?” I asked. “She’s as squeaky-clean as it gets.”

  “Are you aware that she remarried?”

  “Yeah. I was their official wedding photographer. He’s an odd one. He didn’t like the idea of me being there, let alone photographing the ceremony.”

  “And that qualifies him as strange?” Caitlin asked skeptically.

  “No, but you didn’t let me finish,” I said, waving off the flight attendant who was trying to tell me I’d have to end my call until the plane landed.

  “He’s secretive. I photographed him at their wedding, but he erupted when I tried to get shots of him working on the excavation site. When he saw me taking his picture, he took my camera, tore the film out of it, then smashed it.”

  Caitlin laughed. “You still use film?”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “You said you photographed him—did you salvage any of those photos of him?” she wanted to know.

  “Yeah.”

  “E-mail them to me.” It was an order, not a request.

  “Sure, but why?”

  “What did she tell you about him?”

  “Not much. Why?”

  “E-mail me those photos, Darcy,” Caitlin told me again. “I have to go.”

  “Wait a minute!” I halted her. Now the flight attendant was threatening to confiscate my phone. “Aren’t you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “You know I can’t discuss my cases.” She hung up.

  51

  Caitlin

  “Wake up, Jack!” I gave a sharp kick, sending my sleeping partner crashing to the floor. He often napped in the office, making me wonder what he did all night when he should have been sleeping. He opened his eyes and gave me a dazed look. “I think I have the missing piece to the puzzle,” I told him.

  “What puzzle?” he asked, still not quite awake.

  “The Sadowski puzzle, numbnuts,” I responded impatiently. “I believe we finally have a link between Rhys-Williams, Marshall and Sadowski.”

  “Great,” he said, rubbing his hip as he made his way across the room to the table where his computer was set up. “What am I looking for?”

  “Three men. Three different men. The man on the right is the elusive Dr. Stewart, Sadowski’s right-hand man. The one on the left is the man who calls himself Connor Mackenzie, the one who supposedly died in Subiaco.”

  “And the one in the center?”

  “Edward Rhys-Williams’ stepson, Andrew Stewart. Dr. A. J. Stewart.”

  52

  Darcy

  I tried to call Lynne’s satellite phone three times but it went to voicemail each time. Finally, I located a number for her partner, Tim O’Halloran. I called and waited through several rings before a male voice finally answered. “Tim O’Halloran.”

  “This is Darcy, Tim. Is Lynne there?” I asked.

  There was a long pause. “You don’t know,” Tim said slowly.

  “Don’t know what?” I asked impatiently. Where was Lynne?

  “Lynne and Connor—they were killed in an accident a few weeks ago.”

  I was stunned. “Killed?” I couldn’t have heard correctly.

  “They were in Italy. Their car went off a cliff.” Tim sounded distracted. “Look, there’s nothing else I can tell you. We’re shutting down the excavation here.”

  The line went dead. I stared at the phone in my hand for a moment, then put it aside. I leaned forward, elbows on the desk in front of me, head in my hands. I knew it. I knew something wasn’t right. No one would listen to me….

  “I was just about to call you,” Alberta told me when I reached her in New York. “I have some news about your ex-wife.”

  “I already heard. She and the Lord of the Geeks are dead.” I shook my head. “What the hell did Mackenzie get her into?” I wondered aloud.

  “How can you be so sure this was her husband’s fault?” Alberta asked.

  “Come on, Ally! Lynne is—was—such a straight arrow, she wouldn’t even litter,” I said, irritated. “She gets involved with him and—wham! She’s dead, and the FBI is investigating her and her husband. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to connect those dots! What does anybody really know about him or his family?”

  “Maybe it’s time someone found out,” Alberta said quietly.

  “I want this story, Ally,” I said. “This time, it’s personal.”

  “You’re a photographer, not a journalist,” she reminded me.

  “Then put Charlie on the story and assign me to do the photos,” I persisted.

  “For once, Darcy, you and I are on the same page.”

  “Caitlin, don’t hang up, please,” I said quickly, as soon as she answered her phone.

  “Did I hear correctly?” she asked. “Did you actually say please?”

  “I need answers,” I said, not bothering to even try to conceal the desperation I was feeling.

  “I told you before, I can’t discuss my cases,” she responded, knowing what he was referring to.

  “You came to me for information. You owe me an answer,” I argued.

  “I owe you?” she asked incredulously. “I owe you?”

  “Look, I know I treated you like shit,” I admitted. “I know I was a real pig—”

  “Pig?”

  “SOB?”

  “For lack of a better word.”

  “You grill me about my ex-wife but give me no explanation. Then I find out she and her new husband are dead—”

  “We don’t believe the Mackenzies are dead,” Caitlin said quietly.

  I was stunned. “Not dead?”

  “For reasons we have yet to determine, your ex-wife and her new husband may have faked their deaths,” Caitlin revealed.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “We don’t know—yet. There was a man shot at the accident site, a known criminal wanted by us and by Interpol. Notorious for helping criminals establish aliases.” She paused. “We’re still trying to piece it all together. We have very few answers at this time.”

  “I knew the guy was weird, but nobody would listen when I was trying to warn them,” I told her. “I remember how he regaled the group at the dig by telling us how to clone Jesus.”

  “What?”

  I could almost hear the light going on in her head. “Yeah. One of the people working on the archaeological site said he once told them that it would be possible to extract DNA from the Shroud of Turin and use it to Xerox the Almighty. Crazy, huh?”

  She cut me off abruptly. “Darcy, I have to go. Let me know if you think of anything else.”

  “And you’ll do the same?” I asked.

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” I insisted. “Quid pro quo.”

  “Darcy—”

  “I’m tired of being treated like a mushroom, Cat,” I said.

  “Mushroom?”

  “Yeah. Kept in the dark and fed a lot of shit.”

  “All right,” she reluctantly agreed. “Quid pro quo.”

  “Okay, I know, I owe you an apology,” Charlie conceded. “I thought you were just shitting me.”

  “I wish I had been,” I sai
d.

  Charlie looked at me, surprised by my grim manner. “This has hit you hard, huh?” he asked.

  My jaw tightened. “I knew, Charlie,” I said. “I knew right off there was something not right about that guy. Everybody thought I was either nuts or jealous. I knew, dammit.”

  Charlie patted my shoulder. “It sounded crazy, pal,” he acknowledged. “You couldn’t have been surprised nobody bought your spook theory.”

  I looked at him. “If anyone had, they might still be alive.”

  “Yeah, right.” Charlie negotiated a sharp turn on the road leading to the crash site. “As I recall, Mackenzie had some pretty bizarre ideas on religion and cloning and the like. Maybe he was actually involved with some global cult. You know—bring about the Second Coming in a lab. Or maybe even the antichrist.”

  I leaned back in the passenger seat. “Sometimes I think he is the antichrist,” I said.

  53

  Connor

  I lay in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shut out the voices that had roused me from sleep. I didn’t know what time Lynne had finally fallen asleep. I wanted to tell her it was going to be all right, but the truth was that I was no longer certain of anything except that I would do whatever was necessary to protect my wife and child.

  “Take her to Christ’s church. There you will find sanctuary.”

  Leave me alone. I have enough crap to deal with.

  “Take your child’s mother to Christ’s church. There she will be safe. She will give birth there in the wilderness, attended by angels.”

  Right.

  “You will all be safe there, under God’s protection.”

  Stop talking in riddles, dammit!

  “Take her to Christ’s church….”