Stone of Truth

by Adam Hiatt

  “I see we have a skeptic in our presence. Are you certain you’re not a historian?” Hall teased. “I was once of the same mind as you, Reddic. If that singular story was all that existed I wouldn’t believe it either. But there is more evidence. For example, an ancient tradition in India held that if a ruby was subjected to intense heat for a period of nine years the gem would transform into a perfectly clear, transparent crystal that would shine as bright as the sun in the darkest of chambers. Some people would argue that strange beliefs of that nature are to be expected from geographic regions that practice sorcery and voodoo.” A shrewd grin formed near the side of his mouth. “But I’ve managed to trace the legend back to distant civilizations of the West, particularly those of the Middle Ages where great minds, such as Albert Magnus have given it notorious mention.”

  “What was the name or appellation that you researched?” Jaxon asked pensively.

  “I’m glad you asked. In ancient writings the most common name for the shining stone was pyrophilus, which literally meant, ‘friend of fire,’ because of its fiery power and resplendent illumination. The Indian sources designated it Jalakanta, a word that denoted, ‘causing the waters to part.’ This Indian word was of particular significance. Of all the miraculous powers attributed to these stones, the most heralded was the capacity for facilitating or enabling its possessor to venture unharmed through the depths of water. According to Hindu tradition, the Jalakanta was a shining stone that was banded of green and white, and when the stripes crossed, the stone was able to protect against poison or the dangers of any water crossing.”

  Reddic’s eyes widened as he tried to remember what Jaxon had explained the previous night when they spoke about this. He had contended that Moses might have had a stone when the Hebrews crossed the Red Sea, echoing Hall’s allusion. But how could a stone control water and produce fiery light? It couldn’t. It was impossible. It was just another fictitious tale meant to entertain the naïve mind.

  He glanced in Jaxon’s direction to get a read on his reaction to this new information. He was surprised to see that Jaxon had his black leather-bound planner open on his lap, taking notes. Hall reached down to the folder on the floor next to his chair. He fumbled through some papers until he found the right one, holding it up in front of him.

  “The philosopher, Aesculapius, wrote a letter to the Roman Emperor Augustus describing the pyrophilus. I have in my hand a reproduction of that letter. It revealed that the stone seemed to have been the prize possession of Alexander the Great. Allegedly, he carried it under his belt and never parted with it. That was until one fateful day he decided to bathe in a stream and removed the belt containing the jewel, placing it on the bank. Legend held that a diabolical serpent appeared out of nowhere and carried it off to the Euphrates River where it was lost forever. According to the legend, Alexander’s greatness substantially diminished from that day forward. His mentor, Aristotle, also mentioned the stone in a lost piece of writing. But even before the great philosopher put his stamp on history the story was prevalent.”

  The scholar enthusiastically shuffled pages. “The pyrophilus was also believed to be a life-giving stone, possessing the power of regeneration. This was a Greek tradition. They called it the pharmakon agerasias, meaning the ‘medicine of immortality.’ It was said that whoever possessed it was momentarily immune to the afflictions and scourges of mortal life, so long as it remained with them.”

  “May I interrupt?” Jaxon asked, raising his hand like a student.

  “By all means.”

  “Whether these stones possessed all these attributes is irrelevant to me. I do believe without reservation that they were special gems of magnificent value and worth. I would have to imagine that a slew of, shall we say, truculent characters made tremendous efforts to acquire them illegally.”

  “Are you asking if any attempts were ever made to steal them?” Reddic cut in.

  “I suppose that’s one way of saying it.”

  “We can’t know specifics,” Hall said. “But we can infer from historical records that certain precautions taken to preserve the stones corresponded to such activity. Allow me to elaborate. The ancient possessors of these stones usually came across them in some form of a miraculous manner. In other words, it was revealed to them where it should be found. You see, this wasn’t your typical family heirloom passed down through generations. It was believed to be a sacred, unearthly object of unspeakable power. To prevent it from falling into the wrong hands it was hidden in the earth until it was revealed unto the next anointed person where it laid.”

  “How many were there?” Jaxon wondered.

  “That I don’t know. The accounts are so varied that it would only seem logical that more than one existed, but that, I’m afraid, is only speculation.”

  “It would be something if one of them were found today though, wouldn’t it?” Reddic inserted. He noticed a slight twitch in the scholar’s eye.

  “Most every serious scholar abandoned that suggestion years ago,” he said contemptuously. He tried to force a smile. “But, if there was the minimalist chance of locating one, there would be many who would stop at nothing to obtain it.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Unbeknownst to Dr. Raymond Hall his words were prophetic. Jaxon and Reddic learned firsthand that there were people intent on locating this object and they definitely were not playing nicely.

  Frustration and distress began to swell in Jaxon’s chest. Yesterday he would have felt satisfied with finding a safe haven while things blew over, but those feelings no longer existed. He accepted the fact that there had to be some truth to the legends and oral traditions that surrounded these peculiar stones. Nothing else could explain the condition of his beloved mentor, Matthew Langford. Somebody obviously found out that he had found a clue, or a starting point. Otherwise, why would someone try to slay an innocent scholar?

  It was impossible to eradicate the image of his mentor from his mind. The lifeless pale body painted with coagulated blood was a macabre scene he didn’t want to revisit. Yet, it persisted, and it enraged him. Langford was a good man, a great scholar, and a good husband and father. Jaxon wondered how his wife and kids were holding up.

  He quickly pushed away the thought. Too much emotion would cloud his judgment, a lesson Reddic had taught him. He refocused on the stone, or pyrophilus, or urim, or any of the multiple titles by which it was known. Something was missing; some vital piece of information that could break open the bizarre legend.

  “That doesn’t scan with me, Dr. Hall,” interposed Reddic. “At the end of the day it’s still just a stone. It may have been rumored to have possessed all these special properties, but don’t you think the skill was found with the handler?”

  “What do you mean?” the professor asked.

  “It’s the same as the shoe business. These companies make a killing by convincing the public that the skill and ability is rooted in the shoe, not the player. You spoke of prophets and great leaders as being the ancient possessors, not peasants or slaves. I find it hard to believe that a divine power was found in a rock.”

  “You present a compelling argument, Reddic,” Hall said. “An argument that has been made by thousands, even millions of people since the beginning of time I might add. How many different theories have been formulated in our time trying to discredit the bible or even religion at that? They are innumerable. A large quantity of people don’t want to believe in Noah’s deluge story, or Moses’ stroll through water, or Elijah’s ascension in a chariot of fire, nor even Christ’s walk on water. You see, the funny thing about the human mind is that if something emerges as inexplicable, the automatic assumption is that it’s a lie. How could there be any other solution? We as humans like to delude ourselves and believe that we have all the answers.”

  The professor arose from his seat and began pacing across the small office. “Now, I’m not professing to be a religious man. However, my father told me something of immense value when I was comp
leting my doctorate degree. You should know that I was once an incredulous skeptic attempting to disprove any established piece of religion to enhance my reputation and ultimately accelerate my career. My father told me that he pitied me, and those like me. These stories and teachings, he used to say, had been circulating for thousands of years. ‘How many great minds have tried their hand at disparaging them?’ he would ask. ‘And yet the bible continues to top the best-seller list each year.’” Hall grabbed hold of the bible on his desktop. ‘“Are you telling me that you know something about this book that millions of people over time didn’t,’ he asked? How was I supposed to answer that question?”

  “You can’t persuade someone that their beliefs are wrong just by telling them so,” Jaxon responded. “Even proof or credible evidence will usually not change a person’s deep rooted conviction.”

  “You’re exactly right, Jaxon. I often asked myself why someone would fail to notice the error in his ideology if the right proof was presented to him. Then it dawned on me. My father may have been right all along. Maybe I didn’t know more than those millions that came before me. I considered the possibility that maybe they knew something that I couldn’t see. They may not have known it in their minds, but they believed it in their hearts and souls. That feeling is terribly difficult to erase, you know. And what’s more, there may be some truth to it.

  “Along those lines, my young friends, is why I believe that this stone existed. Did you know that in a remote spot in Western Asia, close to modern day Turkey, a shrine was erected to commemorate the spot where the waters of the great deluge were supposed to have retreated? According to legend, at that very place the world’s first shrine was erected using the wood from the Ark. Legend stated that this building was special, for inside it hung an extraordinary stone that gave off a great amount of light by night, illuminating the whole edifice like a lantern. Flocks of people began making pilgrimage for years to follow, even after the stone was long gone. They still felt compelled to go just to hear the story of the extraordinary jewel. That is in and of itself remarkable and, I believe, helps to prove my point.”

  Reddic deliberated the scholar’s logic. It was flawed, he determined, as far as his line of reasoning was concerned. There was no hard and fast rule stating that if a majority holds true to a specific ideology than there must be some authenticity to it. If that were the case than the earth would be flat and at the center of the universe; for that’s what the masses believed historically. In spite of that, what the learned professor proclaimed made some sense. Not necessarily in a sophisticated or intellectual way, but more in a mantic, emotionally appealing manner.

  Thousands, maybe even millions of theories have come about over time. Some found a niche with large groups of people and gained momentum while others never caught on. But, Reddic instantly realized, when it was all said and done, very few ever sustained much longevity. Only those that were viewed as true or factual endured the scrutiny of time. Christianity has proven to be one of those rare success stories. Could this precious gem be included in that category?

  Maybe.

  “You’re a brilliant man, Dr. Hall,” Jaxon sycophantically declared. “We appreciate the time that you made to meet with us this morning. Dr. Langford will be most pleased by my progress and I’ll be sure to acknowledge you in my dissertation.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself. It is my job to educate and teach. You will be a great historian if you trust your instinct when researching.” The academic pulled open the top desk drawer and removed a white business card. “Take this,” he said. “If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Thank you,” Jaxon replied, taking the card. He slid it into a sleeve inside of his planner. “I may take you up on that offer.”

  Inconspicuously, Reddic reached for his backpack lying to the left of his chair. He watched the congenial interaction between his brother and the professor closely as he moved. His hand fumbled through the front zipper-pocket of the pack as he tried to feel for the device. He was sure it was there.

  He found it. He held the small plastic gadget in the palm of his hand. It resembled an oversized lighter, which was the effect it was to give off should it ever be spotted. He looked around the stuffy office for a possible place to hide it.

  As Jaxon stood with his arm extended, preparing to shake hands and part, a hint of anxiety passed over Reddic. He didn’t expect his brother to get up and leave so abruptly. The farewell gesture couldn’t have been more untimely. He needed a few more seconds to set the device in an ideal place.

  Familiar words from his past rang in his head: don’t over-think just react. They were words of instruction that he adhered to frequently. He popped out of his chair and strolled to the tan bookshelf leaning against the wall closest to the door. Insouciantly, he pulled a book off the shelf, turning it over to browse the back cover. Reddic lifted his head slightly to survey the other two individuals in the room. Neither had acknowledged his change of position.

  With the plastic device held firmly in his off hand, he elevated it to the top of the bookshelf and opened his fingers. The gadget landed softly next to a green flowerpot.

  “Ready to go?” asked Jaxon, just as Reddic hand slid off the wooden shelf.

  “Interesting stuff,” Reddic said, tapping the book with his finger before replacing it. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  ***

  Hall escorted them to the door and heartily shook their hands one more time before they left. Standing in the doorframe he watched them walk down the carpeted corridor and disappear around the corner. As soon as they were out of sight he closed the office door tightly and sat down behind his desk. He reached for the telephone and dialed the number he had committed to memory.

  “It’s me,” the scholar said. “They just left.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The older man clicked off the phone and threw it to the floor. He was perturbed, irate. He had underestimated the ambition of Langford’s doctoral candidate. Worse, he would have to admit to his contact that he had made a mistake. A deplorable thought, since he rarely made a faux pa. He would not be who he was today by being careless or error prone.

  Two questions preyed on his mind: how much had they learned and whom had they spoken with? The incompetent Raymond Hall was one, and he had already said too much. His ineptitude was intolerable and would be dealt with accordingly. But who else? Had Langford divulged anything? He considered it for a moment. It was highly improbable. The man’s ego would never permit him to give away the discovery of a lifetime. Or was he misjudging again?

  He knew of only two other brilliant minds that could have fed them information, but only he knew where they were. He had agreed to finance their research in order to lure them to Egypt. They were far removed from the action. A shrewd smile pursed his lips. The understatement was comical.

  The wildcard was the protégé’s brother. What was his involvement? Moreover, where did his loyalties lie? If he was as good as his contact stated then he could be either extremely useful or deleterious. He hoped for the former.

  Scooping up the small phone, he urgently dialed another number. After two rings the soft Arabic voice answered.

  “What have you found?”

  “You were right to suspect the professor’s understudy,” the older man said resentfully. “My contact informed me that they just left his office.”

  “I know. My men are there watching.”

  “I want them brought to me. They may be of value.”

  “What of the professor?”

  “I pay you well to make those decisions.”

  The call ended.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Reddic stopped on the fourth step and pivoted around. He brought his index finger up to his lips and then pointed it down before continuing his descent. Bemused, but not taken aback, Jaxon followed in his footsteps.

  They exited the yellow brick building in the rear and walked straight toward the parked Mercedes.
Out of habit, Reddic cautiously scanned the periphery for any possible trace of surveillance activity before stepping into the vehicle.

  Only one thing stood out. A lone blue sedan was on the top level of the parking structure. He couldn’t tell if anybody was in the vehicle from where he was. Besides the professor and his brother, Reddic didn’t expect any other person to be there on a Sunday morning. Nonetheless, there were numerous possible explanations. Perhaps he was making too much of it. After all, nobody knew where they were.

  With the driver’s side door shut securely, Reddic shifted the manual transmission into reverse and backed out of the parking space. At the exit the car made a right turn toward the interchange regulating the heavy traffic flow only a half a block away. The white Mercedes merged onto 1300 East and headed south along the easternmost border of the small college campus.

  The blue sedan came out of the parking garage and moved into traffic only two vehicles behind the Mercedes. After two blocks Reddic turned the car left up a street that led them into an older residential neighborhood. Red and brown brick bungalows with spacious front porches ran along both sides of the street. Three more blocks passed before the car changed directions again, turning left and moving north along a narrow side street.

  “Where are you going?” Jaxon asked inquisitively.

  “I’m making certain that nobody is following us.”

  Jaxon twisted around in his seat, straining to see through the small, rectangular rear window. “Is somebody back there?” he asked, suddenly worried.

  “I don’t know. We shouldn’t take any chances, though.”

  He decided that he would take one more turn before acting. If the car continued to follow, then he would take drastic measures to outmaneuver it. His heart pounded against his chest cavity when he made the turn. He pulled over to the side of the road, sliding behind a fallen black plastic garbage bin, watching closely through the mirror for the blue car to emerge.