The Adam Enigma

by Meyer, Ronald C. ; Reeder, Mark;

  “That’s a lot of people and doesn’t seem probable,” Conklin cautioned. “It more likely has something to do with the South Africans.”

  Beecher nodded and resumed walking up the steep slope. “It’s just that I don’t want to take any chances with Myriam.”

  “Makes sense. When we get back to the chalet you can sort it all out.”

  “Sure.”

  Beecher wasn’t convinced. He worried about Myriam and whether he needed to move her out of Rio Chama to somewhere safe from the Reverend Billy Paul and the South Africans. He moved faster and the rest of the trip to the van was uneventful.

  Beecher tried to ease his leg so the knee wouldn’t hurt. No position worked. The van’s bucket seats were just too cramped. He finally settled himself as comfortably as he could. He stared at the dark shadows flashing by. Here and there flakes of snow started to fall, the van’s headlights turning them into miniature shooting stars. They still had several miles to go before they reached the chalet, and with the snow it would take them longer.

  Once more Beecher scrutinized Conklin. Does he have a bigger role in all this? Then his attention turned to what to do next. There was no clear course of action. He knew he no longer was working with the Reverend Billy Paul or the South Africans. But where did he go from here? Deep down he felt himself siding with Adam. It was all so confusing.

  When they arrived at the chalet, Beecher discovered Conklin had called ahead. The caretaker had a warm meal waiting for them in the large dining room. As they were eating, Beecher was drawn to a breaking news bulletin interrupting the basketball game the caretaker was watching. Beecher watched for a few minutes and then leaned over to Conklin. “That’s Greta Van horn. She works for DeVere and most certainly isn’t anybody’s wife.”

  Conklin thought for a moment. “Obviously they haven’t made it out yet.” He saw consternation spread across Beecher’s face. “What are you thinking?”

  “Should I tell somebody? They could all die. I can’t be responsible for their deaths no matter what assholes they might be.”

  “If they are as tough as you say, they’ll make it through the night.” Conklin’s words seem to placate Beecher. Once again he wondered why Conklin was doing this. Why is he helping me? What does he want? Then a nagging urge that had been with him since Conklin found him exploded. “Can I use your phone?” Conklin handed it to him as Beecher got up and walked to the far end of the large dining hall.

  He called Myriam. To his surprise she knew about what happened. Even more surprising was that she was with Jonathan Ramsey and Pete Miami. Nothing made sense to him.

  April 1, 2016

  Taos, New Mexico

  Pete was still full of energy and dashed off to his lab, leaving Ramsey in the living room of his cabin. He was alone. Earlier a handsome, middle-aged man had showed up at Pete’s front door, saying his name was Sam Conklin and that he had come to take Myriam to Beecher. But the day’s revelations had caught up with Ramsey and all he wanted to do was lay back and relax, going over what had happened. He settled on the couch with another glass of Courvoisier Cognac.

  It had been a madhouse just a half an hour earlier before Pete had left. Myriam had spoken to Hiram, and though her anguish had vanished, it was now replaced by a somber confusion. Turning to Ramsey, she had said, “Hiram told me to tell you your job is done. You’ll be paid in full. He said Adam has been found. I don’t understand what he means by that, but if you’re interested I’ll tell you once I know more.”

  Pete’s brow furrowed and he ran his fingers through his red hair. “Just like that . . . we’re done, finito, over and out.”

  Myriam had said. “Hiram has a different message for you. He’s greatly relieved you got out safely and says for you to be very careful how you proceed with the South Africans, even if Haas and his men don’t make it out.”

  The lines in Pete’s forehead deepened. Then his eyes flashed with understanding, “I have to go work on some stuff. Make yourselves comfortable.” He dashed for the lab and Ramsey heard the click of the lock being thrown.

  Myriam said, “Actually I won’t be staying. Hiram said somebody’s on the way to get me. Turns out he’s nearby.”

  “Are you sure you want to see Hiram?” Ramsey asked.

  Myriam nodded. “He has a lot of explaining to do but needs to do it face to face alone with just me. Do you suppose Pete has anything to drink here?”

  Ramsey was going to say, “Of course . . . it’s Pete.” Then he recalled his old friend had stopped drinking. “I’ll look.” He found the Courvoisier Cognac kept for guests and poured them stiff shots in a pair of coffee mugs.

  Myriam smiled and tipped her glass to Ramsey. “Pete always had class.”

  “I have a lot of questions,” Ramsey said.

  “I supposed you would.”

  “First, I don’t think I’m done with this.”

  “I don’t think you are either. It might just be the beginning.”

  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. You never mentioned any healing experience of your own.”

  “I never had one, unless you count this odd dream I had a few months ago where a man I thought could have been Adam appeared as Christ.”

  “Why do you think that is? That you never had an experience of healing energy?”

  “I really don’t know, but I saw all the good it did for other people, and that was enough.”

  “You know this Adam shrine thing is really about a big change occurring in the world.” He twirled the Cognac in the glass, smelled the fragrant bouquet. “Are you a Gnostic?”

  Myriam’s eyebrows knitted together. “What are you talking about? That Christian sect was wiped out by the Catholics 1800 years ago.”

  Ramsey smiled. “There’s a twenty-first century group of people, calling themselves the New Gnostics. They’ve been influenced by the Milagro Shrine and are building something global in nature. I believe they are creating a new religion. I think it all revolves around Adam and his healing capabilities.”

  Ramsey pulled out his phone and punched the link to the New Gnostic website. He handed it to Myriam.

  “I know nothing about this.”

  “That’s hard to believe, you being so involved in the management of the shrine.”

  “Considering our history, I don’t see any reason you should trust me, but it’s true.”

  Before Ramsey could reply, Conklin had knocked. She was out the door moments later. The last thing she had said was, “I’ll get back to you.”

  Ramsey settled back in his chair. Pete’s living room was eerily quiet as though someone had gone to great lengths to give Ramsey all the privacy he needed. He couldn’t help but notice the exaggerated limp in Myriam’s step as she rushed out the door. It reminded him of the early stages of Parkinson’s. He took a sip of the cognac. He hoped Myriam did not have the disease that had devastated his mother.

  He took another sip of the cognac. The warmth filling his body demanded that he sleep. For the moment he was relieved to think he could be done with the shrine and Adam Gwillt. But he knew this was just his fatigue speaking. The whole question of Adam and his relationship to the New Gnostics gnawed at him. There’s more happening here than Beecher or Myriam or the South Africans suspect, Ramsey told himself. It’s like the proverbial tip of the iceberg. But he was too tired to go any deeper at this point.

  “I need a good night’s sleep,” he said aloud with a yawn.

  Then the smart phone in his pocket buzzed. It was a text message. The header read, “Unavailable.” He opened it. “Adam awaits you.”

  April 2, 2016

  Taos, New Mexico

  Ramsey woke up just where he had fallen asleep, on Pete’s couch. He opened his eyes and Pete’s wry smile beamed down at him. He held out a cup of steaming coffee. “Get up, old man. I have something to show you. It’ll blow your mind.”

  Ramsey sat up. Taking the cup of Pete’s special home-brewed coffee, he gulped down a large swal
low. “I’m getting too old for this shit. Did you sleep at all?”

  “Finish your coffee and we’ll be off on our morning run.”

  Every muscle in Ramsey’s body protested at the thought.

  “Just kidding. Have any interesting dreams?”

  Ramsey searched his memory for a few minutes. “There was something but it’s gone.” The coffee was working its magic as the cobwebs lifted. “I see you cleaned yourself up.”

  “Of course. You want to hear what I discovered about Adam.”

  “I’m off the case, remember? Myriam’s old man fired me.”

  Pete grinned. “No you’re not.”

  “Why is that?” Ramsey retorted sarcastically.

  “I can see you’re not going to let it go. Clean yourself up and I’ll show you what this is all about. Remember the shower’s down the hall.”

  As the hot water raced down Ramsey’s body, steam swirled around him, bathing him in a warm fog. It tore away suddenly, like a veil had been lifted. He was transported back to Peru. He was walking in a rainforest yet at the same time he was looking down at it as though from another and higher world. What he saw dazzled his senses. His heart was beating rapidly and his limbs trembled. The ordinary jungle had turned luminescent; individual trees shone ethereally as if someone had injected phosphorescent particles in the sap; butterflies glowed and shot like meteors through the dense canopy; bird song filled the air with a glorious benediction. Somehow it was more real than anything he had ever experienced. An urge welled up in him to bring this indescribable numinosity into the world. It contained unlimited power. But in the next heartbeat the jungle vanished and a dreamlike vision of Adam and the strange old man from England named Loki appeared, nodding their approval. And just as quickly they melded into a heavy rain that washed away the luminescence until there was only warm water pouring over Ramsey’s face. Then the rain ended and his consciousness focused on his hand as he turned off the faucet. The strange experience had been brief but powerful.

  Refreshed, Ramsey dressed quickly and went into lab.

  “I tell you you’re not done at all,” Pete said. “Come over here. Up until now the South Africans have been able to see everything I’m doing with my GIS work. By the way I have a third drone collecting data 24/7 from my research area. Its flight path takes it in a spiral spreading outward, covering northern New Mexico down to Albuquerque every twelve hours. The info has been collected and sent off to South Africa.”

  Ramsey looked puzzled. “Why let the South Africans see what you are doing?”

  “Why not? They’re paying for it all. What they don’t know is I’ve been sharing all the data with a buddy of mine at NCAR in Boulder Colorado.”

  The reason hit Ramsey and he smiled. “Of course, for climate research.”

  “Naturally.”

  “What did you get out of the deal?”

  “I get to date his sister whenever I’m in town.”

  “What’s the real reason?”

  “Time on their supercomputer.”

  “And the point of all this?”

  “They didn’t see what I did last night. I used the NCAR computer to do some investigating. Remember, two days ago I showed you how a large number of geophysical fields and forces cohered into one large harmonious field around and over the Milagro Shrine.”

  “You said you’d found God.”

  “Perhaps a bit overzealous. After what Myriam told us, I thought it was your Adam guy producing it. But it’s more like he’s a conduit for some sort of power that’s organizing those fields. If I were writing science fiction, I would say Adam is a human wormhole to another universe.”

  “There is a peripheral theory in human geography that hypothesizes there certain places are transparent to a different kinds of forces.” Ramsey responded.

  “Not as trendy as wormholes, but I’ll bite.”

  “In early Christianity, it was proposed that sacred sites were ‘thin places’ wherein the realm of normal appearances becomes transparent to the spiritual reality that lies outside of normal reality. This idea was recently expressed by Christian contemplative Thomas Merton who wrote, ‘We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent, and God is shining through it all the time.’”

  “That’s some heavy shit.”

  “Not as heavy as wormholes.”

  Pete nodded. “I suppose. Look, when I refined my analysis of the data I was able to track the movement of what I call the ‘Adam Effect.’ Over the five years I have of data, the coherent field strength at the Milagro Shrine fluctuated a bit but stayed within some defined parameters. Except there were two days when the field greatly diminished. The coherence began to break down. Then on the third day everything was back to normal. I think Adam left the site for those two days.”

  Ramsey immediately remembered what Grossinger had told him about the time he took Adam to Albuquerque. “Can you tell me when?”

  “I could but later. Today, the coherence at the shrine is pretty much gone. It started rapidly destabilizing after the first of the year.” He pointed to a graphic representation of the Adam Effect on one of the screens. “Look there. Two weeks later in Taos, a coherence field is forming and it stays there gaining greater coherence for nearly a month and then it moves again to where new field coherence emerges right near the famous Catholic El Santuario de Chimayo. Then gone again until ten days ago when a new field starts cohering. Guess where?”

  “Right next to the kimberlite site,” said Ramsey excitedly.

  “Not too shabby for an old man.” Pete looked at his glass. He sighed. “Times like these, I wish I hadn’t given up drinking.”

  “I haven’t,” Ramsey said grinning. “Got anything that goes with orange juice?”

  Pete came back with tequila, gave Ramsey a shot, looked at his own glass and set the bottle aside.

  “So Adam was there yesterday,” Ramsey asked.

  “I’d put money on that.”

  “And now?”

  “It was a weak field to begin with and now it’s nearly gone.”

  “He left?”

  “Gone like the wind,” retorted Pete.

  “Where did he go? Can you follow him?”

  “Unless he stops in an area long enough for a field to start to cohere, I can’t say.”

  Ramsey added another finger of Tequilla to his glass. “So you think the South Africans know all this?”

  “I’m sure they do. I’m remotely using their computer most of the time.

  “So they were after Adam and not the diamonds?”

  Pete pursed his lips. “My best guess is that they’re after both. After all, diamonds are DeVere’s biggest source of income.”

  Ramsey nodded his head. “Even so, this morning they’ll be as much in the dark about Adam’s location as we are.”

  Pete drummed his fingers on the desktop. He looked at Ramsey out of the corner of his eye and shook his head.

  “What?” asked Ramsey?

  “Don’t know if I should say anything. It could be an error in the data.”

  “So tell me and let me decide.”

  Pete brought up a different screen showing a map of New Mexico. His house and the shrine were highlighted. Then Miami switched images. Ramsey could see embryonic coherent fields briefly building at both places. Ramsey studied the timecode on the display. His eyes widened as he recognized what it meant. “Is this for real?”

  Pete shrugged. “It isn’t the Easter bunny.”

  “So Adam was near your house a couple of days back and at the shrine a week ago?”

  “Appears so, unless there’s another explanation.”

  Ramsey shook his head. He’d had the experience of the Adam apparition at the shrine the day he first arrived there. Maybe it wasn’t an apparition at all.

  The search for another explanation would have to wait. Pete’s phone buzzed and a text message tweeted: “Missing South Africans found alive. Unrelated Hispanic man found dead.” He showed it to Ramsey. “Ne
w game, old man.”

  April 2, 2016

  Taos, New Mexico

  Myriam walked out onto the chalet’s porch that looked out on the ski slopes. Low-lying fog hovered near the piñon pines that lined the five runs. The dark gray envelope of mist suited her mood. She had stormed off the evening before into one of the chalet’s guestrooms after Hiram revealed his involvement in the various plots to kill or capture Adam. The revelation had shocked her. At the same time she still longed to find herself in his powerful embrace. As he had told his story, she could see his pain and his hope that she would somehow forgive him. Myriam could also see that he was frightened. That was an emotion she had never seen in Hiram before.

  As Myriam stretched, she realized she had hardly slept. Through the night she had played over and over in her mind the many “what-ifs,” trying to make sense of the story she heard from the man that had become more than just a lover. A man who was her best friend. Can grown men in today’s modern world really act this way? How could Hiram be a part of such ignorance and evil?

  Unexpectedly, her attention was drawn inside the chalet where the German caretaker and Conklin gathered around the television. As she approached, Myriam could see a reporter interviewing two men. They were talking about their previous night’s ordeal and the dramatic rescue efforts by the local Forest Service rangers. The man spoke with a smooth South African accent. She recognized him immediately. He had come to the Milagro Shrine a couple of months ago. Raphael Núnez introduced him on a shrine tour. She was amazed at how well he looked even after a sleepless night of fighting the rain and cold.

  From behind her a voice boomed through the chalet, “That’s Haas.” Everybody turned and looked at Beecher.

  PIETER HAAS WALKED away from the newswoman relieved the interview was over. Skirting the news crew’s truck, Greta Van Horn ran up to him and threw her arms around his broad shoulders in a mad embrace. She whispered in his ear, “I know this is embarrassing but play along. They think I’m your wife.”