Secret Passages

by R D Hathaway

  She shook her head and frowned. “Okay, for now, I’ll drop the city story, but only for now. There’s activity there that needs to be exposed. Do I need or do we need to report this to law enforcement? It was pretty damned threatening from my perspective. Fine, you talk to the big shots upstairs. If my body is found somewhere, you might have another story. Bye.”

  Returning inside, she found Angie had finished her sandwich and cleared the table except for Rennie’s food. “Well, I guess I’m off the only story that I think has real teeth. I’ll focus on our professor, get that done, and hope nobody knocks me off so I can finish it. Bureaucracy!”

  “The main thing is that you stay safe. Maybe a better story will come your way.”

  “That’s a nice thought Angie, but it doesn’t get my juices pumping. Let’s get back to the library.”

  Rennie dropped the bag with the remains of her sandwich on the passenger seat of her car and started the engine. She checked the rear-view mirrors for traffic and began to move ahead when she saw it. The truck that nearly hit her. It slowly passed by in the opposite direction. The man inside stared at her as he went by.

  Fury again rose in her. She pulled on the steering wheel to make a sharp turn to follow him and nearly accelerated into cars that were passing by. She slammed a hand on the steering wheel and looked back. Cars continued to come as the truck turned a corner and disappeared. She hit the wheel again and pushed back into the seat.

  Indianola, Iowa

  Simpson College

  V - 4

  Rennie settled into her chair in the study room. Angie strolled by the table and scanned the boxes and files.

  “I need to get this professor thing off my back so I can take on the big boys. Angie, I’ll let you know when I’m done, and we can go over everything.”

  Rennie put on the gloves and nervously flipped through the pages of the journal she had been reading.

  When Angie left, Rennie picked up the e-mail message. She read again the introductory sentence.

  “This is what I have learned thus far, based on a few phone calls. I’ll be over at the records office in the morning to see the actual file. Professor Matthias Justus was observed in the River Thames …”

  She set the paper on the table removed the gloves and decided to visit the rest room. Looking in the mirror, her face revealed a quiet, deep pain within. She stepped into the hallway and appreciated the peaceful view of the campus through a wall of windows. Her vision drifted up to the tops of the trees outside. Leaves flickered in the sun and an occasional breeze brushed small branches aside.

  She thought, Why can’t the good guys win?

  Then, she saw a man sitting on a bench outside. It was the same man on the same bench she had seen the other day. She shivered when he tilted his head up and saw her. Their eyes met despite the distance. His face expressed nothing. Hers was intense. She felt her temples harden. Slowly, he stood up, turned, and walked away.

  She pressed a fist against the glass as her mind raced with questions. She felt like running down the stairs to go find him. She waited for a moment to see if he stopped and looked back at her. He didn’t.

  Rennie breathed hard. She hurried back to the work room. She reached behind her and flipped the door shut as she crashed into her chair. Her teeth were clenched.

  “Maybe, it’s time for the good guys.”

  She resumed her position with the journal, put on the gloves, and began to read the next entry.

  “I don’t know where to begin. I sobbed when I got back to my room. I can only write for a moment. This is all too overwhelming. I feel I am at risk of losing my love, my Priscilla, and at the same time I have placed in my hands a precious writing that caused my knees to buckle. It exceeds all the treasures from the crypt of the Egyptian king.

  Priscilla, my darling, fears what is going on around her. Everyone is so intense. I don’t know what to do. Our love remains but is so fragile and subject to the threats of Warrington and Worthy, not to mention Reggie. I want what is noble and good for all, but I don’t know what to do. AND, now I can examine the hidden prize from the box from Antioch.

  Mort was not at work today and Priscilla was distant, so I had a chance to return to the lower level. The box opens smoothly, now. But, I knew not what to do with the contents. Although I feared I would be discovered at any moment, I carefully lifted and peeled back the top layer of the document, and then the next wrapping layer. Under these was the first page of the document – a letter! AND! The opening words, in Aramaic, could easily be read – ‘Brother Mark, my dear friend and blessed disciple…’ Could it be? Could this be a letter to the Apostle Mark?

  I heard a noise and panicked, replacing the package into the box and returning it to the shelf. I cannot leave it alone! I must recover it and transcribe it. What am I to do?”

  Rennie stared at the page. She took a water bottle from her bag and drank half of the bottle. Her breathing was shallow. She refocused on the page and continued with the next entry.

  “Oh, joy comes again. Priscilla has agreed to leave with me! At dinner tonight, she said she has been confused with my behavior and fearful of what Warrington and Worthy could do to her and to us. I affirmed my love and devotion to her, and we agreed to go away again this weekend to plan our new lives together – in America.”

  Rennie put a hand over her mouth. She glanced at the message of Matthias’ death. She leaned back in the chair and breathed deeply. A few moments passed by before she could begin to read the last pages of his journal.

  “It occurred to me that I could never properly open and translate my secret discovery if I continued to play hide and seek games with Mort and old Warrington. Either I needed to trust what good would happen if I revealed my discovery, or I must remove it and perform the work away from the Museum.

  I have taken the manuscript and brought it to my room. If only Mrs. Whitley knew what treasure was up the stairs. Tomorrow, I can return to work without the pressures of fearing for my love and sneaking into the lower level. All is good again. Praise God.”

  Rennie jotted the words “took manuscript” into her notebook. She sat up and continued to read.

  “This has been a good day, of rest and peace and a return to hope. I still think of my Hope. She was my warmth in a cold world, my light in its darkness. I am more and more beginning to see the many gifts that God has put into my life. I have too often seen them one at a time instead of as the vast blanket of goodness with which He wraps me up. Now, he has woven Priscilla into the texture; another thread of love.

  Tonight, in the privacy of my room, I have the additional delight of further opening the hidden manuscript. When fully revealed and transcribed, I am not certain how I will disclose it to Warrington or to the world. Yet, it will be. For now, I will enjoy this special privilege.”

  A gap but no line separated the journal entries.

  “I’m barely able to hold my pen. I can hardly breathe. This first page, at least as far as I have gotten this evening, and it is now late, cannot be what I think it is. It may truly be a letter to the Apostle Mark. The writer says that this Mark is a blessed disciple of the risen Christ! AND, dear, Holy God, he speaks of the many days they shared writing down their memories of the Lord. Who and what is this??? Am I holding a personal letter from the time of Christ? from and to His followers, His disciples??? What else is said in the remainder? I must give it time and scholarly distance. I must not rush ahead! I need to sleep. Tomorrow is a fresh day.”

  A knock on the work room door broke her focus. Rennie’s eyes flashed to the door. Slowly, the door opened, and a man stepped in. He awkwardly apologized and looked at the number on the door.

  “Oh, sorry. Wrong one,” he said as he gave a light wave of his hand and softly closed the door.

  “No problem,” Rennie answered.

  She studied the doorknob. Sliding her chair back, s
he stood up. He seemed harmless. In fact, she thought he was attractive. He wasn’t the man from the bench, but her instincts connected the two. She removed the cotton gloves and slipped her fingers through her hair. Then, another knock startled her.

  Angie looked in.

  “Hi! Is this an okay time?”

  Rennie stared at her.

  “I thought you might be someone else. Was there a guy out there?”

  Angie turned and surveyed the area.

  “What guy?”

  Rennie leaned a little to see out the door.

  “It’s nothing.”

  She rubbed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little gun shy.”

  She sank into her chair and turned a page in the Field Notes volume. She noticed her hands and put down the journal.

  “Sorry. I took the gloves off for a moment. I’m not too good with procedures, but I try.”

  She tried to grin, but it was forced.

  Angie didn’t move.

  “Rennie, we recently talked about faith issues. When I think of God, I think of one who established order out of chaos. For me, that is what is needed in life, order.”

  Angie’s voice grew in strength. “Procedures are part of that. They generally have a purpose and a good one. Our procedures in the library have reasons. I need you to follow them.”

  She turned and was quickly out the door.

  Rennie followed her into the hall.

  “Angie, I’m sorry. I don’t know why, but events have made me scattered. I’ll pay attention to the gloves.”

  Rennie glanced into the study room. “I need to learn the whole story. There’s energy to it. It’s like, it’s become my purpose.”

  “Your what? What do mean your purpose?”

  “I don’t know. I only know I’m consumed with his story. I’m off the case that meant something to me, but this one has taken on special meaning. This assignment and reading can’t be little incidents in life. There must be more meaning to it. It leads somewhere I wasn’t planning to go but must go.”

  “Since this thing with Greg happened, I sometimes wonder about that. Maybe, the whole purpose of my life has been to do some simple thing that seems meaningless to me but is important on a bigger scale. My profession, and my relationships, and my hobbies are no big deal to the universe. There must be something about my being here that has a bigger meaning.”

  “So, what are you going to do about Greg? You said you would focus on yourself, but the change isn’t easy.”

  “It’s hard to think about starting over. Have you been through that?”

  “Yeah, I’ve even been through the big split, divorce. That’s really starting over. In marriage, you take on all these roles of wife and housekeeper and partner, and you question whether you should work. You think about what your babies will look like and whether you will be a good mom, or at least as good as you think your own mother was. Then, it ends. You are none of those things. You are back to aloneness. That’s your only role. Then, you wonder. I mean, I’m glad he’s gone. But I’d like there to be someone.”

  “Rennie, you’re such an independent person. It’s not easy to think of you as relationship-oriented.”

  “I know. I guess I retreated to my old rebellious self. Being tough feels safe. Speaking of relationships, is there anything else relating to the prof? Any other boxes or files?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Well, Matthias found some important document just before he died. It’s not here, and I wondered if there was anything else. It might actually be why he got whacked.”

  “I’ll check the records again, but I don’t think so. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Wait, who else is using these study rooms?”

  “You’re the only person who has a room right now. Things are quiet. Why?”

  “You mean no one is using another room?”

  She set her jaw and became tense.

  “Rennie, what’s up?”

  “Angie, what study rooms are available? Tell me.”

  “There’s the one you’re in, one down at the end of that stack, and two at that end over there. What’s going on.”

  “Some guy stepped into my room a little while ago and acted like he just made a mistake, as if he picked the wrong room. I was suspicious but let it go. Something didn’t feel right. Now, you tell me I’m the only person with a reserved room. So, who was that guy, and what was he doing?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe, he was just looking for somebody. Did he seem threatening or anything?”

  “No, he was fine. I don’t know. I’ve got to finish this. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve really done Matthias a service. Maybe, he’s returning the favor by introducing you to some nice guy.”

  Returning to the study room, she slipped on the gloves and found her place in the journal.

  “Another good day at the Museum, except Mort has been uncooperative and almost hostile. He’s most nettlesome when Priscilla and I speak with one another. Priscilla’s spirit is light, and she’s eager for our weekend. Now, I will investigate the precious letter from Antioch.”

  Rennie found a page in her notebook on which she had written and circled Mort’s name. Behind it, she added a large “plus” sign. She checked a few other pages, and then returned to her reading.

  “It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning, and it is a new day in so many ways. Christ and the Saints are alive. They are here with me. Next to this simple journal, on this humble desk, and near the hand of an even more humble man lies folded papyrus. On those sheets are the living hand strokes of ink from Matthew, a disciple of Jesus. It is in truth a letter from Matthew to Mark. I simply cannot believe it. Here in my room. I have touched the same parchment that they touched.

  Even more astounding, he describes another letter within it from the Lord’s mother, Mary. I can hardly write these words, but possibly folded within all this are letters from Jesus Himself. Here on my desk! I have decided to send a message to the museum tomorrow that I am unable to work due to illness. That will allow me the time I need to open this treasure. It must be done with utmost care and patience. I am exhausted. I am humbled beyond measure. How has this happened?”

  Angie knocked on the door and opened it.

  “Sorry to interrupt again. We got another e-mail. This is from the other intern; the one that was checking out the British Museum people. Should I just leave it or what?”

  “What do they say? Is it useful?”

  “I don’t know, but it sounds promising. Some Lady something was married in a big wedding in 1928. I guess that was after your guy’s incident. Her husband was a wealthy business tycoon who also funded archeology hunts or whatever they call them. The museum had no record of someone named Warrington after he retired in 1931. A woman named Priscilla Shefford left the museum in 1924, but her name then was MacDonald.”

  “What?” Rennie shouted. “What did you say? Priscilla married? She married that jerk? Let me see that.”

  Rennie grabbed the paper from Angie’s hand. Her eyes flashed across the words.

  “This can’t be! It doesn’t make any sense! Just months after she finds her greatest love, she runs off with some bum? Everyone lives happily ever after, except for Matthias who gets buried. Damn it. I’m sorry, Angie. This is awful.”

  Rennie fell into her chair. She tapped her gloved finger on the journal page.

  “You will not believe what he discovered! I mean, aside from finding real love, he discovers handwritten letters from Matthew, Jesus’ disciple and maybe from Mary, Jesus’ mother. So, he gets killed and everyone lives.”

  Angie’s eyes grew large. “He discovered what?”

  “That’s what Matthias wrote in his journal.”

  Angie blinked as though trying to awaken herself. “I’v
e never heard of that. Where are these letters?”

  “Probably at the British Museum. Heck, I would’ve figured they would be in a Vatican library. We have got to check that out. Who knows about this? I also need more information about what happened to Priscilla. Can you get that intern back on it? This, Angie, is where we make our final push. I need to know this.”

  Angie saluted and said, “Okay, chief, and hey, I want to know more about those letters. Now, we’re talking library business!”

  Angie checked her watch. “It’s kind of late over there, so I’ll send an urgent e-mail and ask them to get back to us ASAP. Now, I’ll leave you alone. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry I snapped, earlier. I appreciate your help. It’s just lousy news to hear about Priscilla marrying that jerk.”

  Rennie covered her eyes with her hands. “Why?” She shook her head and looked again at the journal as Angie departed.

  “Mrs. Whitley was very kind this morning. I did my best to appear sick and she did her best to tell me to rest and not allow ‘Kenny’ to work me so hard. She had a boy deliver my absence note to the museum. I hope Priscilla is not overly concerned. It would be delightful if she were to come here. I’m certain she wouldn’t, though. It would be highly inappropriate in the eyes of many.”

  Another wide gap in the journal separates the text without the break lines used before.

  “Yes, I am now certain the letter is from the Apostle Matthew to Mark. He refers to others in Antioch whom we know (Theophilus and even Matthias!). Mark is apparently on the way to Alexandria. Dear holy God, he even mentions a woman Priscilla, who was going to Ephesus. How glorious that her name and mine are written by the hand of a disciple of Jesus, and here am I reading it. I have fully transcribed this first letter and now am beginning the next. More later!”