by Vr McCoy
She gave me a sideways glance and then broke the silence in her normal fashion. “Did you talk to Dianna last night or visit her in dreamscape?”
“Yes. We talked on the phone, but I fell asleep while speaking to her.”
“Did you call her back this morning?”
“Yes,” I stated without furthering the conversation.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Nina inquired.
“No. not really,” I replied.
“Aren't you the loquacious one this morning,” she responded.
“Please forgive me, Nina, but I just need a moment.”
When we arrived at the Jemez Order, the first thing that caught my attention was the number for the address of the facility. It was the number 55, like the number the Kachinas wrote down in the dirt during my vision quest with the Great Mother. The facility was enormous and the surrounding private land that accompanied it was vast. It was designed to look like the old Spanish monasteries, but was completely modernized. It was truly a beautiful sight to see. You could tell a lot of money had gone into the building of it.
The priests were dressed plainly, donning the traditional black monks' robes. We inquired from one of the Monsignors where to find the head priest. He escorted us to the receptionist's desk at the business office. The Monsignor went behind the receptionist counter where the rest of the office was, and spoke to the receptionist. I could hear what he was saying as the receptionist picked up the telephone and pressed one of the buttons on the business line. She spoke to another priest on the phone by the name of Monsignor Davis, and told him that there were visitors at the desk waiting to speak to him. I guessed he was the one in charge.
Apparently the panther's vision and agility weren't the only things she had imprinted on me. It was impossible to hear what the receptionist was saying from this distance, especially the person to whom she was talking on the phone, and yet I heard everything clearly. The Monsignor who had escorted us returned from behind the desk to tell us Monsignor Davis would be right with us and asked if we could have a seat. After 30 minutes, Monsignor F.D. Davis arrived through the same door we had used. He wasn't even in the business office the way we had thought.
He was a tall man, taller than me. He appeared to be in good shape, like he worked out. Then again, he did run a health resort. You could tell he was the alpha male of the priests. He had an air about him like someone of importance someone who demanded your full attention and respect.
“Good morning, I'm Monsignor Davis. How are you,” he inquired with a friendly smile, looking at us.
“Very well, how are you?” I responded.
“Good morning,” Nina replied.
“How can I help you?” he inquired.
“I'm Christian Sands with the FBI, and this is Agent Blackwater with Bureau of Indian Affairs. We are investigating a case and wanted to get some background information on the Jemez Order.”
“Are we involved in this investigation?”
“We aren't at liberty to say at this point,” Nina responded.
“Well, we opened the doors after the closing of the Servants of Paraclete Ministry. We purchased the lands and facilities thereafter. We aren't a part of the Archdiocese. We assist priests from all around the world get back on track. We are funded by donations. I wouldn't mind providing you with a tour, but I must remind you that certain areas are restricted due to doctor-patient confidentiality and legal privileges,” Monsignor Davis stated. He seemed nice enough, perhaps I was wrong in my assumption.
The Monsignor escorted us around the facility, explaining their mission and goal. He didn't get into specifics. He explained the differences between the Jemez Order and the Servants of Paraclete Ministry, and why the Servants had failed. Basically they didn't have the trained medical professionals the Order had. He went on to state the differences between psychiatrists and psychologists, which they had both.
“So you see, we provide clinical treatment of the symptoms as well as spiritual treatment,” he added.
He continued to escort us around to the public areas: the dining hall, the prayer quarters, the church, library and the business center. They also had all the amenities of a resort fit for Jemez Springs; a hot sulfur bath house, fitness gym, full theater, hot springs area, swimming pool, sauna, Jacuzzi, basketball court, racquetball, tennis, bowling. Whatever your desired pleasures were, they accommodated them. They also had a full service staff.
Their staff included medical doctors, therapists and counselors. They had trainers, kitchen / wait staffers with chefs, maintenance staff and housekeepers. They even had a masseuse, but they weren't vain enough to have a spa with stylists and nail technicians. It was a religious retreat. Amongst the areas that were off limits were the treatment areas and private quarters. After we completed the tour, we sat down and questioned Monsignor Davis on the disappearances we heard about.
“We heard there were some priests who went missing from here,” I asked the Monsignor. “No, that was a rumor. We've never had any priests go missing. We've never filed a missing persons report and there has never been a case investigating this, because there is no case.” Monsignor Davis didn't appear to be upset in the least, but I was getting something totally different about his guise and demeanor deep inside my psyche.
When we left, I felt like someone who had just crawled out from under a rock. I had no idea of such places or of the existence of the Servants of Paraclete, which had been in existence since 1947. The Order and the SOP seemed to be some of the best kept secrets around. The Vatican was better than the CIA in regards to guarding secrets. We needed to conduct some quick research into the history of these groups. I thought I was just going to meet an old priest in a church and ask him a few questions, but this turned out to be something totally unexpected.
“Are you Catholic, Nina,” I inquired in the car?
“Yes,” she responded.
“Me too. Did you know about any of this?” I asked.
“Not a clue,” she said, and then shook her head in disappointment.
“What about Monsignor Davis? What did you get from him?” I asked.
“He appears to be someone who wants to help people. We can't judge the church based on the actions of a few lost souls,” Nina stated. “Not just a few Nina. They have a multi-million dollar facility, and it isn't funded for a few incidents. This appears to be rampant and systematic.
“What sort of vibe did you get from the Monsignor,” Nina inquired?
“I got the feeling like he was hiding something.”
“Chris, is it wrong not to want to air your dirty laundry in public? Most of us would choose not to. That doesn't make them any different than anyone else. At least they're attempting to make a concerted effort to repair the problems.”
“Yeah, but to what extent and at whose expense?” I asked.
“Are we investigating church transgressions or trying to find a serial killer?” Nina inquired.
“Not you too! Kayah set us on this path and my spirit guide sent me to see her. It has to tie in somehow.” Nina went silent on me. For the first time she didn't have some quip, fast and clever comeback or rebuttal.
“Look, I know this defiles everything we have been taught about the church. I'm not trying to dig up any dirt and defame them, but if this leads me down some dark corridors and skeletons are found in the closet, I won't keep them hidden. I need to know if you are still with me on this,” I asked Nina.
“Yes, I am,” she stated, looking firmly at me as if to say I will do it, but I don't like it.
We stopped for lunch at a road side diner, which seemed to be the standard here. It'd been a while since we had a good meal. Nina always seemed to look good, even on limited rest. I could only imagine how I must have appeared. I had never taken my appearance into consideration until Steve mentioned it. At least I'd showered and changed.
“Do I appear different to you?” I asked Nina.
“You mean besides the wolf look?” she commented an
d laughed. “No, I like it! You look sexy with the long hair.”
“I didn't look sexy before?” I inquired, smiling.
“There you go, looking for more compliments,” she said, smiling back. “Although, I would like to give you a shave. The scraggly beard doesn't do it. It makes you appear like a tatterdemalion,” she further stated.
“Wow. Thank you for your bluntness!”
“What?” she said, and then gave me an alluring look.
“So how do we collect information on these alleged priests if no one has reported them missing, and we can't question any priests or medical staff at the Order?” she asked.
“Who says we need to get information from them? We can subpoena the non-confidential staff. You see how many people work there?” I replied.
“Excellent idea,” Nina said. “I'll call Steve and get it approved,” I stated and called him immediately.
“Hello, Steve, can you talk right now?”
“Yeah, how's it going?”
“Very well, but I need a subpoena to question the non-confidential staff at the Jemez Order,” I stated.
“I can't do that, Chris. The A.D. will surely find out. Besides, I would need a judge to write it and we don't have probable cause for it. Chris, I'm really starting to worry about this new course of action. I don't know if I can back your play there. You might want to just sit this one out.”
“Alright, Steve; I'll talk to you later.” The pressures from the A.D. and the ticking clock might have been getting to Steve.
“How did it go?” Nina inquired.
“Not too well. We're on our own,” I replied.
“What do you mean?” Nina inquired.
“Steve said he could no longer back us here.”
“Well, we've practically been doing this on our own since we started,” Nina stated.
“Hey, I understand if you want to quit, Nina.”
“Are you kidding? We started this together, now we're gonna finish it together,” she replied.
“So once again, how do we question the staff?” Nina inquired.
“Leave it to me. It will be plausible deniability for you from here on,” I stated.
Later that day I created a fake subpoena.
We went back to the Jemez Order to question the staff. Monsignor Davis was surprised and perturbed this time with our actions. He even threatened to call their lawyers and the Governor. I had no doubt he would do so. The Order has enough money to make things very difficult for me, Nina, the FBI and BIA (Bureau of Indian Affairs). We conducted our interviews in private without the prying eyes and ears of Monsignor Davis. We hadn't completed all the interviews before their gang of lawyers entered and requested to see the subpoena, which I didn't give them.
“These interviews are over. I need to see your credentials and badges,” the lead lawyer stated.
We said thank you to all of them politely, and left without showing them anything. The Monsignor already knew our names, so I guess that would have to suffice. We departed without getting the information that we were seeking. We did acquire the address and location of a soup kitchen operated by the Jemez Order. A staffer informed us that several priests helped out there. We drove down Route 4 from Jemez Springs to Jemez Pueblo, where the soup kitchen was located.
When we arrived at the soup kitchen they were just closing up for the evening. The kitchen was in an old abandoned warehouse that was partially renovated and converted. It provided more than enough space for the kitchen and dining area for the patrons. The sign over the entrance read: This is the Jemez Order Kitchen- All Are Welcome. There were two more signs stationed outside the front of the building; the one to the left of the door read: This will be the site of the Jemez Order Mission Services. The sign to the right read: In need of volunteers.
There was no one present when we entered the building. The Monsignors and patrons had already departed and a single volunteer was left to close and lock up. The Jemez Pueblo population was 30% below the poverty line, and the kitchen was fully utilized in this poverty-stricken area. Jemez Pueblo and Jemez Springs were like night and day in reference to income.
The young Latino man was putting up chairs when we entered the warehouse. He was a small fellow in his early twenties, weasel-like in stature. He appeared to be very nervous and jittery when we approached him.
“I'm sorry, but we're closed for the night. You have to come back tomorrow,” he said in a hurried voice, not even looking up at us. “I'm sorry, but were not here for a meal,” I said as he looked up and continued to work.
“Everyone is gone for the day. The priest won't be back until the morning,” he stated.
“Perhaps you can assist us. I'm Christian Sands with the FBI and this is Agent Blackwater with the BIA. Can we ask you a few questions?”
“I don't know,” he replied, his eyes skating away from us.
“Well, if you give us a few minutes, you'll find out, and we'll be on our way,” Nina insisted.
“I don't know,” he repeated. His last recourse was to settle for playing the `I don't understand English well' routine. I had experienced this ruse on numerous occasions when a subject didn't want to answer questions. He'd understood English perfectly minutes ago. There was something definitely off about this guy. Anyone could tell.
“OK, let me finish up real quick. I need to close the door, wait here for a second,” he stated, in full command of the language again.
More than enough time went by, and he didn't return. We decided to look for him when we discovered several armed men at the entrance. They weren't here to welcome us, as the entrance sign stated. We were outnumbered and outgunned. We ran back to the sections of the warehouse that weren't renovated.
A firefight ensued; they began shooting at us, and Nina shot back. We ventured further into the depths of the warehouse to escape the mêlée of gunfire and seek cover.
“They've got us trapped back here,” I stated, panting.
“I know, and I'm running out of bullets,” Nina replied. They had us trapped behind some crates in the warehouse. This was another one of those times I wish I had taken a gun.
“Nina, look; do you see that? It's the transformer box. Can you shoot it out?”
“Yeah, but then we'll be trapped and blind,” she replied.
“Yes, and they will be blind too. Do you trust me?” I inquired.
“Yes,” she responded, looking me firmly in the eyes.
“Then shoot it out,” I urged.
I was taking the huge chance that my other abilities had progressed also since finding my animal Spirit Guide. I was gambling that my ability to see in the dark was enhanced. My night vision was already better than most. However, it would have to be enhanced exponentially for me to see in here, once the lights went completely out.
“I just got this feeling, Nina; I can hear the panther talking to me.”
Then she shot the transformer box. Thick blackness closed in on us like a blanket. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust, but it worked. I could see amazingly clearly, like a cat.
“Did it work?” she whispered in inquiry.
“Yes. Be quiet and I'll get us out of here.”
We barely escaped with our lives, leaving the assailants shooting at each other in the dark. The real question was who wanted us dead? Once again the Great Mother has been proven correct. If Nina hadn't been with me to shoot out those lights, I would have been dead and without my night vision, she'd never have escaped alive. We needed each other to complete this.
When we arrived back at the lodge, I asked Nina to join me in my suite. “I have something for you in my room,” I stated.
“What is it,” she inquired?
“You'll see,” I replied. I pulled out an unopened bottle of Grand Marnier Cuvee du Centenaire 100 year from one of my bags. “I appropriated this from the jet. I was going to drink it with you after this was over, but now seems like as good occasion than any.”
“Thank you. How did you know this was my fa
vorite?” she asked.
“I pay attention,” I responded.
“Yes, you do,” she stated.
Nina looked a little rattled after the shootout. “Are you going to be alright,” I inquired?
“Yeah; it's just that this has been the second gunfight that I've been in since taking this assignment. I never thought I would need a backup gun,” she stated.
“I never thought I'd need a gun at all. Guess we were both wrong,” I stated and poured two glasses of the GM as we toasted to being alive. Nina and I didn't talk about the `who's and why's' of the attack tonight.
Nina eventually fell asleep while we were on the sofa. I placed a blanket over her and let her rest. I watched her for a minute or two, staring at her beauty. I reflected back on what had occurred at the warehouse. It was amazing how my powers, if you can call them that, were progressing. It seems the closer I became to my Native American roots, the stronger my abilities became. I decided to put on the Indian attire the Great Mother gave me. She had given Nina and me several gifts before we departed. The clothes weren't anything fancy or ceremonial. It was just a plain ribbon shirt, a pair of buckskin pants and some moccasins. Then I got the prayer rug from my bag.
I didn't utilize the peyote or other dream inducers. I didn't really need it, and I didn't want to go too far under with Nina asleep and gunmen attempting to kill us. I thought we were safe, miles away from the town of Jemez Pueblo in a secluded lodge in the Jemez Mountains. No one knew we were here except the receptionist who signed us in, and we hadn't seen anyone since we arrived. We hadn't spent any time there to be noticed. But I wasn't taking any chances
I heard my cell beep. I had several text messages and emails I had neglected for the longest time, and needed to acknowledge. They were from Steve and Dianna. The email message from Steve read: What are you doing, Chris? The Governor called the Director. You used a fake subpoena posing as a Federal Agent. The A.D. has a warrant for your arrest for impersonating a Federal Officer, Fraud of a Federal Document, False Arrest when you detained and interviewed the staff of the Jemez Order, harassment, and breaking and entering into a Jemez Order Kitchen in Jemez Pueblo. There is no need to tell you that there's an APB out on you. There was nothing I could do to stop it. I told you to discontinue your investigations of the Jemez Order. Tell Blackwater to get back here immediately!