by JC Ryan
Heaving a sigh of relief, Daniel said, "Yes, that sounds like our Raj. He does believe the alien story, wholeheartedly. But that's his only crazy notion, other than being paranoid that the government would somehow make him disappear if they knew he was researching the reason for the secrecy."
"I wouldn't call that a crazy notion, son. You'd be surprised what we think and what we know is going on behind the scenes, not only in our country but worldwide. Some of it is an open secret, like the NSA and CIA illegally spying on American citizens. Other stuff is deep, deep underground."
"Like what?" Daniel asked, intrigued. "Do you know who would be after this pyramid code, besides the CIA?"
"I've heard rumors of a small group of super powerful families who control world-wide wealth," Sinclair answered. "I'm thinking it's them."
"Everyone's heard of that," Daniel scoffed. "You mean the Illuminati."
"No, I don't have an opinion about that group, if in fact they still exist. I'm talking about a group that call themselves the Orion Society. There have been strange disappearances among my acquaintances, and from the pattern it appears to be one group behind most of them. There's always a plausible but unprovable story about it. Only a couple of times has someone let slip the name of the group, and then that someone has disappeared for good."
Chilled, Sarah scooted closer to Daniel on the sofa. "Do you think they're the ones?" she asked Sinclair.
"I wouldn't be surprised. And if they are, you're going to have to be even more careful than you already are. They are ruthless and very, very determined to have whatever they set their minds on. If you dig deeply enough, you hear that they've been around for centuries, and may have been behind some incidents that affected the entire world."
Daniel was looking skeptical, which Sinclair, intent on Sarah's face, didn't notice. "Like what?" Daniel asked. Now Sinclair looked at him and saw the doubt. "Well, how about the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria?"
Shocked, Daniel blurted, "But that was some group called the Black Hand."
"True, but who was behind the group? What other actions did they take, and where are they today? Even though the history is fairly clear, you know the old saying that history is written by the victors? Who were the victors in this case?"
"The Allies, of course."
"Think again, son. The victors were those who profited from the war, arms dealers among them. Big military suppliers, financiers, and large corporations. As always."
Daniel had the peculiar impression that he was talking with an older Raj, but he had to concede that what he had learned in high school and college history classes wasn't always the whole truth. This was something that would bear investigation, and fortunately he had the time to do it when they got home. He would start with the information that Sinclair seemed willing and able to give them, and try to sort out fact from fancy.
“Thank you for bringing that to our attention. Our IT specialists has ties with virtually every conspiracy theorist on earth. I’ll see what he can dig up about them.”
“Excellent! Please pass the information on to me. I find it quite fascinating. All right,” said O’Reilly, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s say I’m in. Tell me what you know of my field, and what specific progress you’ve made.”
Daniel began to bring Sinclair up to date on their progress, letting him know also what they had learned about proto-language construction and reconstruction of unknown languages, as well as what their IT specialist hoped to do with heavy-duty computing power. Sinclair was impressed with Daniel's grasp of the basics, and with the understanding of the absent computer whiz. He made a few suggestions regarding the program that Raj was busy writing even now, and gave Daniel a list of languages to feed into it, including those using the Linear A and Linear B scripts, particularly Linear A. He explained that the language was still unknown, but was thought to be a pre-Hellenic version of Greek. He also gave Daniel a quick history of how more than a dozen languages developed in the area. Sarah was particularly fascinated by all this, and loved hearing the private lecture by a leading scholar.
When the linguistics discussion had been exhausted, Sinclair brought up the subject that Daniel and Sarah were already working on, the turmoil that their findings would undoubtedly cause. He mentioned that he'd been surrounded by such controversy all his professional life. After a quick glance at Sarah to confirm his desire to be completely honest with this man, Daniel began to explain what they were doing about the issue.
"We've started organizing our ideas around what schools of thought will be destroyed by this new information," he began. “We think the best defense is a good offense. We’re working on a white paper to release at the same time as we make the announcement about what we have found.” Detailing their process, he continued by listing the arguments against evolution, the first subject they had addressed.
Sinclair said, "It's interesting that you should bring that up first. I've questioned evolution from my professional perspective, as well. In a way, the scientific process mimics what neo-Darwinists tout as the evolutionary process, but there is a very different result. That alone should make anyone question evolution."
"How do you mean, sir?" Daniel asked.
"I know you've come across papers that promise to bring into question current thinking, as a journalist. In fact, that's what got you questioning the pyramid facts, am I right?"
"Yes, of course," Daniel answered.
"Then you know what happens to new ideas. First, the findings are published, but before they can be published in a respected journal, they must be submitted for peer review. Anything that's too far out of line is dismissed out of hand. If it has too much merit for that, the peers start massaging it and explaining it until it fits with established 'fact'." Sinclair described quotation marks with his hands in the air as he said the word fact. "If a scientist wants to have his work considered seriously, he'll do that part for himself before submitting it for peer review. Not to do so is to invite professional suicide."
Daniel understood the point very well, had made the same observations himself, in fact. But he didn't get the connection with evolution, and said so.
"Think about it. Let's say there is a favorable mutation. It's going to happen in one individual, and very likely be subsumed in the larger gene pool before it can make a difference to the genome in general. So one individual ape ancestor gets the ability to more efficiently manipulate a tool. Will that help him dominate, or will he be ostracized by the community? Very likely the latter, which would mean that his genes wouldn't be passed on.
“But, if not, if he dominates instead, what good is it if he can't convey that ability to the rest of the pack? He would have a few offspring, sure, but how many would inherit that particular trait? To make a difference in that way would require a much longer time span than the evolutionists have to work with. It's like peer review, do you see?"
Sarah had followed the conversation silently, but now broke in. "That's something we haven't put in the mindmap, Daniel. That, and environmental pressure, another argument that the evolutionists put forth. And it's a very good point, because their reasoning is circular."
Again, Daniel asked, "How do you mean?"
Sarah was so excited by the ideas that Sinclair had given her that she began talking with her hands as she explained. "Okay, some of them say that evolution was the result of environmental pressure. Not talking about humans, now, environmental pressure would be, say, that some animals developed thicker fur as they responded to an ice age. But, realistically, wouldn't that kind of pressure kill them off before mutations would allow them to grow thicker fur? Or would they have just willed themselves to grow it thicker?" The sarcasm in her last remark made Daniel and Sinclair smile, but Sarah was on a roll and continued in the same vein.
"So, for some unknown reason millions of years ago some of the apes decided to leave the jungle and move to the plains where there was no food or protection for them. Then, when they got ther
e they decided it would be great to walk on two legs rather than four and then they started shedding all their hair on their backs, even though being away from the protection and shade of the jungle they would actually need more hair on their backs to protect them from the sun. Unless they planned all along to make clothes for themselves, as soon as they started using tools like awls and needles. Oh, and by the way, they also decided to change their diet dramatically and start eating meat and other animals that required them to invent weapons to hunt with, instead of eating the bountiful fruit, leaves insects and roots and vegetables they left behind in the jungle. It makes no sense whatsoever!" Out of breath, she paused and for the first time noticed the stunned look on Daniel's face, and the look of amusement on Sinclair's.
Going on, Sarah said, "But what I meant by their logic being circular is, they have to account for why the new and improved species became dominant, because as Sinclair observed, the gene pool would more likely have absorbed a beneficial mutation before it could become widespread. Unless the mutated population was isolated until cross-breeding was no longer possible." She sat back in triumph, expecting Daniel to make the logical leap that finished the observation. Instead, he and Sinclair looked at her, obviously expecting more.
"Don't you see? How could they be that isolated?"
"Maybe there's a mountain range that's impossible to cross," Sinclair said, playing the straight man although he had already seen where she was going with it.
"Then, how did the isolated population get there in the first place?" Sarah smiled, knowing that Sinclair had anticipated the argument.
"Well," Daniel said, "it looks like we need to update that mindmap with a few more arguments against evolution, among other things."
Sinclair thought of something as they were preparing to leave. “Would it be possible for me to work directly with this computer genius you’ve enlisted?”
“He’s quite paranoid, but I’ll try to persuade him,” Daniel answered.
“Given everything you’ve told me, I believe he’s probably wise to be paranoid. And very clever to have come up with this secret way of communicating. Let me know his answer that way, and I’ll stand by to do my part when he’s finished the database.”
“Thank you sir, again, for agreeing to help. We will keep your involvement under our hats until it's time to publish, and then you'll get full credit along with Sarah, and me."
"I appreciate it, son. But please, if we're going to be colleagues, call me Sinclair."
~~~
On Saturday afternoon, Daniel sent Raj a message through the email drop that they had information he needed. He knew that Raj was still agitated about the CIA minders, so he left it to Raj to figure out a way to meet that wouldn’t reveal him to the operatives. The scheme that came back made Daniel howl. He was to go to church the next day. Not a Southern Baptist church, in which he’d been raised, but a Catholic church. After the service, he was to enter a confessional and wait for Raj to speak to him. Even funnier to Daniel than him going to confession was Raj, a non-practicing Hindu, as the priest. But, he had to admit it was clever. At least he wouldn’t have to call him Sushma this time.
At the appointed time, Daniel and Sarah left for the mass and took their seats near the front of the chapel, assuming that their minders would not approach too closely lest they be seen. Sarah appeared to enjoy the service more than Daniel did. During the times of prayer, though, he sent sincere expressions of gratitude for Sarah and her safety, and pleas for continued safety.
After the service, Sarah engaged one of the priests in conversation, while Daniel made his way to the indicated confessional. He really wondered how Raj was going to pull this off, but he needn’t have worried. He’d barely settled himself in the cramped space, when a person he couldn’t see well made a movement suspiciously like the sign of the cross. Daniel began to wonder if he’d entered the wrong confessional. Then Raj’s lilting accent in a strong whisper came through. “Daniel?
Daniel breathed a sigh of relief, and, in a moment of irreverence relieved his tension by saying, “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”
Even in a whisper, Raj’s displeasure was evident. “Do not blaspheme, Daniel. We have been granted this favor by people who would be offended by your levity. Have some respect.”
Surprised, Daniel expressed his apology. “You’re right, Raj. I apologize.”
“You have news for me, my friend?”
“Yes. We’ve made contact with Grandpa’s linguist friend. He’s in. He’d like to work with you directly if possible, and he also gave us some more information that I’d like you to run down if you can.”
“Only if it is absolutely necessary will I meet him in person, Daniel. This is already far more dangerous than we thought when you began. What other information did he give you?”
“The name of a criminal organization that may be behind the attack on Mark. I don’t know how seriously to take it, because Sinclair indicated there were probably a number of them. The Mafia might be one for all I know. But he named one called the Orion Society. I was wondering if you could find out something about them, like whether they’d have any interest in our research.” Daniel’s throat was beginning to hurt from the whispering, but he didn’t know how close his babysitter was, and this was something he wanted to keep quiet, along with Raj’s identity.
“I will make inquiries. Did you give this linguist access to our secure communication?”
“Yes,” Daniel answered.
“I will prepare a message to let him know I can meet him if necessary. Is there anything else?”
“No, Raj, except that you’re a damned devious guy.”
“Daniel, may I remind you that we are in a house of God?”
Chapter 27 – We Can’t Hear You
Septentrio was indulging himself in a now rare display of temper. In his youth, such displays often destroyed objects in his home or office, or sent his wife or son to a hospital emergency department for treatment of suspicious accidents. However, in his old age, his physician had told him that he must curb his temper or face a stroke. Calming medications usually helped, but this time he feared he was losing control of his most important assignment. First one of the key researchers had been killed, and now there were problems in monitoring communications between the remaining two.
All email and most text messaging had ceased between the primary researchers. Their cell phones were frequently turned off or left at home when they traveled, so that their whereabouts were unknown. And now mysterious silences were cropping up in conversations in the female’s home.
It hadn’t taken long to locate the person named Raj that had been mentioned in the Simms home just before he was killed, once Impes had turned over those transcripts. Further investigation revealed that he had long been interested in the Area 51 mystery, but was nowhere near the true answer when he became involved with Rossler and Clarke. It appeared his only role in their research was that of data mining, therefore he was of no importance. Nevertheless, with great difficulty because of his extreme paranoia, listening devices had been deployed in his residence as well, to no avail. Every time Septentrio’s considerable resources reported Rossler or Clarke at Sankaran’s residence, the same mysterious silences occurred there.
It was maddening and unacceptable. His response was to throw objects around the room and kick those that landed on the floor until he was exhausted and breathing hard. Only then did he have a brandy and school his voice to call his top operative in the US, code-named Sidus.
“We are extremely displeased by the way this project has gone, Sidus.
“No, sir, I’m on top of it. It’s just that there hasn’t been any progress. I can put some pressure on them to move it along, if you’d like.”
“If I’d like…” mocked Septentrio in a sneering tone. “Of course I’d like, you imbecile! Do I have to tell you everything! And while you’re at it, find out why they go silent at times. Sometimes the transcripts show a gap of twenty minut
es or half an hour with not so much as a clearing of the throat. They have to have some sort of jamming device, and it’s the most effective we’ve ever learned of. I want it. Don’t make me wait too long for either of these items, Sidus.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it. No, sir, I won’t make you wait.”
Septentrio allowed himself one last display as he slammed the receiver of the antique gold telephone set into its cradle. It really felt good to let go once in a while. Since he was still in a savage mood, he sent for his son. Time to put some backbone in the boy. Too bad he hadn’t managed to do so in the fifty-six years since his son’s birth, but he wouldn’t live forever, and time was running short to mold him in the traditions of the Society.
~~~
Sidus regarded his cell phone dispassionately as he considered how to accomplish his assignments. His employer was exacting and demanding, but he was paid well in offshore accounts that he never touched. That was for his retirement, which would take place under a different name and appearance, in a small out-of-the way place where nubile young women were willing and nothing else ever happened. He had no illusions that he would be allowed to retire peacefully otherwise. He knew too much about the Orion Society.
He considered all his options for pressure, before placing a call to Barry.
“What can you do to put pressure on Clarke?” he asked without preamble.
Barry recognized the voice instantly, and said, “Let me think a moment. Well, I could move her tenure hearing up, so she maybe wouldn’t be prepared.”
“No, we don’t want them to suspect you are anything but supportive.” This with no irony at all, though he had reason to believe they already suspected.