The Adam Enigma

by Meyer, Ronald C. ; Reeder, Mark;

  The man motioned Beecher to precede him. The hairs stuck up on the back of his neck. I’m getting too old for this kind of shit.

  Outside a black Cadillac Escalade was parked by the entrance, the engine running.

  “I have my rental,” said Beecher.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “The Edelweiss Chalet.”

  Haas nodded at the Escalade. A young man got out instantly. He was stocky, built like a linebacker. His blond hair was crew cut. He wore a dark turtleneck over dark pants. His shoes made no sound on the asphalt. “Make sure Mr. Beecher’s car gets to the Edelweiss chalet.”

  The young man held out his hand and Beecher knew this wasn’t a request. He dropped the keys into his palm. At that moment another man slid out of the vehicle and held open a back door for the two men. He hesitated and Haas said quietly, “The Reverend was very clear these are blessed steps we are taking and he wants everything handled carefully. He’ll explain once we reach the hotel.”

  Beecher looked behind. His car was already leaving the parking lot. There was no escape and even the gun wedged into his jeans at the small of his back felt so remote as to be useless. I feel like an extra in a Godfather movie. Well I won’t go whining. He straightened his shoulders and his hand slid part way around his waist. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Haas. I have no idea who you are or your relationship with the Reverend Billy Paul and the Brothers of the Lord.”

  Haas tilted his head to the side and his eyes narrowed.

  Beecher felt sweat trickle between his shoulder blades in spite of the chilly night air, but he didn’t flinch. He returned the stare evenly.

  Haas smiled and bowed slightly. “My apologies, Mr. Beecher. I assumed the Reverend had briefed you sufficiently. This must seem very cloak and dagger to you. I am the CEO of the DeVere Mining Group. Reverend Billy Paul and I share a passion for resolving the issue of Adam Gwillt.”

  Beecher thought back to a documentary he had seen on the cold-bloodedness of diamond cartels in Africa. Of course. Who better to hunt down Adam. The DeVere Mining Group would have killers on their payroll! They are notorious for ruthlessly controlling the diamond market. “Thank you,” he said and entered the SUV.

  Inside the nine-passenger Escalade were three more men dressed like the young man driving Beecher’s car. They were all ex-military or para-military. The driver wore a windbreaker over his dark clothes. It had the image of a springbok, the antelope-gazelle of South Africa, on the back.

  Beecher settled back into the soft leather seats and waited. He kept his hand away from the Glock.

  The Premier Suite was exquisitely furnished in Hopi and Navajo artifacts. Haas motioned to the bar. “Would you like a drink?”

  Beecher shook his head. The South African frowned. “Pardon me. I forgot the Reverend told me you no longer drink. How about coffee or tea?”

  “I’ll have what you’re drinking.”

  “Irish breakfast tea.” Haas smiled. “Afraid I’m still on Johannesburg time.”

  “Works for me.” Beecher settled onto a large sofa that dominated one end of the room.

  Haas called room service. Then, “The bathroom is through there.” He pointed to a hallway on the left at the far end of the room. There was a knock on the door, and it opened instantly. A middle-aged woman walked into the room. She nodded to Haas. “Everything is ready. The video feed will come on automatically in here.”

  “Hiram, this is Greta Van Horn, our invaluable communications expert. In constant contact with South Africa.” She greeted Beecher with a stern look and then broke into slight smile. “Everything’s under control.” She exited the room.

  “What are we waiting for?” Beecher was becoming more nervous by the moment as a cloud of entrapment encased his emotions.

  Haas checked his watch. “The Reverend said he would call at precisely nine pm.”

  That’s three minutes from now, Beecher told himself. “Good.”

  “I’m glad you agree.” The South African snapped his fingers and the three ex-military men left the suite. “We won’t be disturbed.”

  At precisely 9pm, the suite’s big-screen TV came to life. The Reverend Billy Paul appeared. Beecher thought he looked gaunt and anxious. He spoke with a clipped urgency. “Everything is working as planned. Ramsey has led us to Adam. Within twenty-four hours with your help Brother Pieter and his associates are going to put an end to this Adam Gwillt abomination. I don’t have to remind you that we’re close, very close to saving Christianity in the modern era, Brother Hiram.” The televangelist paused, his breathing heavy as if the speech itself were a great weight. Then, “Brother Pieter, have you told Brother Hiram what’s happened in the past few days?”

  “No, I didn’t think I should.”

  “Tell him now if you would.”

  Haas placed his teacup on a mesquite end table and settled into a large chair. “Pete Miami is this genius geographer that’s been working in northern New Mexico for the DeVere company for the past five years. He’s been trying to pinpoint the location of a diamond deposit that is responsible for all the diamonds that have shown up in this area over the years. He’s made some remarkable technological breakthroughs that allow him to detect all sorts of geophysical information no one knew even existed.

  “When the Reverend Paul sent us the video files you so beautifully captured, we concluded that the phenomena connected with Adam represented a new power and we already knew there was something unusual in Pete Miami’s raw GIS data covering the shrine. Only it was too risky to go directly to Dr. Miami and have him refine it. His skills and knowledge are way beyond anything we have in South Africa. Like many genius scientists he saw patterns no one else could. Unfortunately he’s a loose cannon. Ultimately, we wanted Miami to come up with something that would help us find Adam without his knowing and the best way to do that was to arrange for the Friends of the Shrine to hire Jonathan Ramsey. Ramsey and Miami were best friends during their postdoc work together at the University of Oregon. We made it nearly impossible for Ramsey not to ask Pete to process all the GIS information he collected on the shrine’s location. A few days ago our belief was vindicated. Pete found an anomalous field structure connected with the shrine. A kind of Adam Gwillt signature that disappeared almost entirely the day after Adam disappeared.”

  Beecher was amazed at the scale and cleverness of Reverend Billy Paul’s organization. “How do you know all this?”

  Haas looked at the Reverend and he nodded approval. “You don’t have to know the details, but everything Pete Miami does using our computer is transparent to us. We may not have the ability to understand it, but we see all of what he sees. Yesterday Miami refined some of his computational magic on an energy anomaly. Immediately our techies back in South Africa started using satellite sensors to look for the same anomaly outside of the shrine.”

  The Reverend Paul jumped in. “We’ve found him. Here’s the strange and beautiful part. It’s real close to where Miami believes the diamond pipe is located.”

  “That’s really bizarre—that the timing and the diamond discovery and the Adam signature should be so close together. Maybe it’s all a set up. Doesn’t that bother any of you?” Beecher asked.

  The Reverend shook his head. “No, it’s the Lord’s signal we are doing the right thing. Tomorrow Miami will lead us to both. It’ll be our triumph.”

  Haas added, “The Gwillt signature is centered on what we think is an old Anasazi cliff dwelling. We should be able to see it from the kimberlite site that Miami has located.”

  They’re going to kill Adam, Beecher thought. “Why do you need me?”

  “My dear brother Hiram, none of us have actually seen Adam Gwillt. There are few photographs of him and the ones we own have become mysteriously blurred. We need you to tell us if it’s him. Something is going on right now. It is the work of the devil. It needs to be stopped!”

  My God, this sounds like me just a few months ago. Beecher was no longer su
re this was doing the Lord’s work.

  The screen went blank.

  Haas turned to Beecher. “Are we good?”

  Beecher hid his loathing for Paul’s sanctimonious bullshit. There was no arguing and no escaping. “Of course.”

  “All right then, in the morning.” Haas left the room.

  Beecher was afraid to turn on his transmitter while in the room. Stepping out on the balcony he decided to take the risk. The pen hummed slightly in his hand. Moments later he heard Conklin’s voice soft over the micro speaker. “Is everything okay?” Beecher began telling Conklin that they were going to look in the morning for Adam under the guise of finding a diamond deposit.

  Conklin responded, “Somebody brought your vehicle here to the chalet. I was worried.”

  Beecher said, “I’ll start transmitting a tracking signal when I’m comfortable. Use the chalet van to follow at a safe distance.” He clicked the device to standby mode and stepped back in the room, waiting for somebody to rush in. But all was good. At least he had one small advantage in the face of what was going to happen in the morning. Conklin was a bit of an enigma, but Beecher was sure he had made the correct decision to tell the man everything. Odd how these things work out.

  March 31, 2016

  Taos, New Mexico

  Pete and Ramsey got up early and went for an exhausting run along the mountain trails that connected to Pete’s house. Ramsey was glad for the chance, since he needed the time to think. Especially since he had experienced a restless night.

  He had been wakened by one of the most vivid dreams he ever remembered. In the dream Ramsey was moving from a new house, which was to be where he would raise his family, and then was suddenly uprooted to another one and then to another one and then to another one, never able to find a home. Then in a sudden surreal shift, his father appeared. He pointed to something near the horizon. In the distance. Ramsey saw an old factory, with blown out windows crumbling red brick. In the next breath his father and the building disappeared.

  Ramsey knew this kind of big dream was trying to tell him something. This was more than an intuition; it was like a divine message. And he also knew it had something to do with Adam and the New Gnostics. It assured him that he was on the right track and that all the missing pieces would suddenly fall into place if he just remained steadfast, and allowed himself to be guided by the forces pulling him forward. Letting others take the lead in his own fate was something he was loathe to let happen, however. He hadn’t become one of the country’s leading human geographer in the business world because he handed off projects to others and let them run the show. Taking the back seat while forces drove his fate felt like handing over control of a car to a teenager on a winding icy mountain road.

  He saw Pete’s lithe form running ten yards ahead and wondered again if his old post doc buddy was one of those forces. Ramsey chuckled. At least Pete was a grown-up part of the time.

  Pete stopped and waited for Ramsey to catch up. He checked his watch. “We still have an hour. Time for another couple of miles before breakfast. Then it’s work, work, work.”

  “What’s happening?” asked Ramsey, bent over and panting.

  “Me and my favorite drone are leading a party of DeVere people to what I hope will be the most fantastic diamond pipe the world has ever seen.” Pete furled his lower lip with his teeth. “This could be the life-changing event that I’ve been waiting for. I’m getting antsy and ready to move on. I don’t suppose you have a job for me, old man?”

  Finally catching his breath, Ramsey said, “You never know. Am I going with you to experience your grand discovery?”

  “Nah. It’s all a big secret you know. You’ll drop me off where I’ll meet the pros from DeVere and then drive Nellie Bell over to Rio Chama. I’ll meet you there later.” He frowned. “I don’t need to tell you not to mention the diamonds to anyone, okay?”

  Ramsey smiled. “Already tweeted it this morning . . . told all my friends and family to invest in DeVere.”

  Pete jerked in surprise, then, “Good one.”

  With that they took off running again. Ramsey began formulating his plan. It’s not about the shrine. I need to find Adam Gwillt. And I need to get the truth from Myriam. There’s so much going on here that I’m not being told.

  After a quick shower and breakfast, the two men got into the Nash Rambler. “In case you were wondering, I named this baby ‘Nellybelle’ after Pat Brady’s jeep on the Roy Rogers Show,” Pete said.

  “Trigger and Buttercup were taken?” asked Ramsey.

  “The two drones.”

  Ramsey laughed.

  They drove along back-mountain roads until they came out onto highway 64, north of the Taos Airport. Ramsey saw they were headed toward Rio Chama. Then he remembered the kimberlite deposits were in the same general area as the shrine.

  As if reading his thoughts, Pete said, “There’s a logging road that goes into the backcountry on the way to the shrine. I’m meeting my contacts there.” He hesitated. “Look, these guys don’t know you from Adam, so just play it cool. I don’t want them spooked.”

  Interesting choice of names, Ramsey thought. He didn’t think Pete was trying to hint at anything. On the other hand, the man was brilliant and just might be trying to warn Ramsey about something.

  A gravel road swung off the highway to the north. Pete pulled onto it and waited. Thirty seconds later a black Escalade pulled in behind them.

  “There’s my ride,” Pete said.

  Six men piled out of the SUV. All of them were dressed in backcountry gear. Pete pursed his lips. Four of the men were burly and carried military issue packs and combat camo-fatigues. They were paramilitary by the way they held themselves alert, checking the road and woods surrounding them. From his picture Pete recognized the tall thin man with pale blue eyes who stood beside the Cadillac SUV. He was Pieter Haas, the DeVere Mining Group’s CEO. Beside him was a man Pete didn’t know at all.

  The military guys approached his car with one man taking point and the others flanking him. Uh-oh . . . this could be going to be dicey, mused Pete. He glanced at Ramsey who was studying the situation with great intensity. Pete shifted his attention back to Haas. He’s the brains, the one I’ve got to convince that Jonathan’s nothing more than a friend.

  Pete got out of the car and approached the CEO. He did his best to ignore the four bodyguards. “You must be Mr. Haas. Good to finally meet you,” Pete said, walking over to the SUV. “The DeVere Group security said you’d be the one meeting me. You’re much better looking than that picture on the website.”

  Ignoring Miami’s irreverence, Haas countered, “Good morning, Doctor Miami. I trust you are as excited as I am on this wonderful day when your years of hard work and our money are about to come to fruition.” The two men shook hands firmly. Haas scrutinized Ramsey. Continuing the charade planned earlier with the Reverend Billy Paul, he said, “I hope you weren’t planning on bringing your friend along. We only have room in our vehicle for yourself.”

  Pete smiled. “Sorry, this is Jonathan Ramsey. We were postdocs together at Oregon. He’s dropping my car off in Rio Chama and visiting the shrine there.” Ramsey waved. Pete looked across the hood of the car at the sixth man. He extended his hand. “Didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Hiram Beecher. I came along to protect my financial investment in the DeVere group.” The two men shook hands. Beecher looked over at Ramsey, standing beside the Nash Rambler. The two locked eyes. Each recognized the other by name. For the first time, Beecher was in the presence of the man he had hired at Reverend Paul’s urging. For his part Ramsey realized this was the man who signed the contract hiring him to work on the shrine. Neither wished to acknowledge the other beyond the cordial greeting.

  Ramsey ended the awkward charade by stepping back behind Pete’s car. From there, his eyes flicked from one bodyguard to the next. They were exceptionally fit, the thin air of the high plains desert not bothering them at all, as though used to trekking in t
he mountains. One word fought its way into his consciousness: SEALs. Only they didn’t look American. They all looked European except for Beecher. And then it hit him like a fireball—South Africa, DeVere diamonds. Shit. These guys are paramilitary. They are merciless in protecting their control of the diamond market. He kept a stupid look on his face wondering if he should tell Pete about this extraordinary coincidence. But Pete seemed to be handling himself with ease and Ramsey had to believe he had checked these guys out and knew who they were before arriving. Why else would he ask me to play it cool?

  Instead, he said to Pete, “If you’re all set, I’d like to take off. I want to spend the day at the shrine. You know, soak up the healing powers. You be safe.”

  “Sure,” Pete said tossing Ramsey the keys. “I’ll just get my things out of the back.”

  Haas smiled and said, “We’ll return him to you at the end of the day. Were you two going to meet some place in particular?”

  “At the Rio Chama Café.”

  “This evening then.” He motioned the others back into the car. Pete stowed his gear in the back and joined them.

  Ramsey watched the vehicle fishtail up the logging road and disappear out of sight over a small rise. He waited for a few minutes before starting the car and pulling out on to the highway. In the rearview mirror he saw a large pickup truck with Hispanic men sitting in the back turn onto the road. He saw they had guns. He swallowed hard, suddenly afraid for his friend Pete, and wondered if he should go after him. And do what? He asked himself. Tell Pete some Hispanic guys are following him? They’re probably hunters.

  Even more perplexing and confusing was the question of why a man involved with the shrine was now involved with a group of men from South Africa looking for a diamond pipe? One more question for Myriam.