Secret Passages

by R D Hathaway

“Really?” Rennie gasped. “May we see it?”

  “Of course. It’s right over here.”

  Dale led them across the lobby and through a doorway. He gestured to a comfortable sitting room.

  “This is it, and over there is the table.”

  Rennie felt drawn across the room to the simple oak dining set. She brushed her fingertips across the table surface and sat in one of the chairs. She rested her arms on the tabletop and closed her eyes. The question, Matthias, what happened? filled her thoughts. She wanted to warn him. Angie came to her and rested her hand on Rennie’s shoulder.

  Dale cleared his throat. “Ladies, is there anything else?”

  “No, thank you, this is fine,” Angie responded. “We’ll go now. We appreciate your time.”

  They said nothing as they got into the taxi. When the driver asked where they wanted to go, Angie read the address from a circled note in Rennie’s file. The cab moved into traffic.

  “Thanks, Angie. When I sat at that table, I felt so close to him while having a great sense of loss. I had hoped for some connection.”

  A few minutes later, they made a hard left from Bow Street onto Aldwych and drove by the Waldorf Hilton Hotel.

  “Look, Angie. That’s where Matthias and Priscilla ate on the night of their big date. I’m so happy for them.”

  The cab continued to Strand and then Fleet Street. They passed through Ludgate Circus and continued a few blocks, then turning right again. The taxi slowed as it approached Queen Victoria Street.

  “Nearly there, ma’am,” the driver said. He continued down the block for the listed address until he was at St. Andrews, just a block from the Blackfriar’s Underpass. In a jerking moment, he turned right at the church and stopped.

  “Ladies, we cabbies need to know this city but I’m not sure about the address you provided. It doesn’t appear to be on the properties here on Queen Victoria. Did you say it was a residence?”

  Rennie shifted nearer the partition. “Yes, this is the address we had, and it was for a house. It was a very long time ago. Have there been many changes to the properties here?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Considering the war, the fires, just your normal development interests, it’s not likely that a house would still be there. From the address, it was probably located where the park swimming pool is now. Much of that park and recreation area was built long ago. I’m sorry ladies.”

  Rennie fell back in the seat. She had enough disappointment.

  Angie asked the driver to wait for a few minutes.

  Angie opened the door and stepped out. “Rennie, let’s walk down the street and get some fresh air. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Rennie pressed her fingers to her temples. “Okay, let’s do this, but I’m getting really ticked off.”

  They walked to the corner and then down the street one block. They said nothing, but simply observed buildings and traffic. They crossed the street to the pool facility.

  “I don’t know why I’m surprised or disappointed that everything has changed.” Rennie blurted out. “It’s just hard to let them go.”

  Angie hooked her arm through Rennie’s. “It seems you’re still trying to find them, as you did at the museum. Maybe this is how Matthias felt when he realized he was holding handwritten letters from Jesus. For the first time, he realized the present, living essence of someone he had studied but who had not been real flesh and blood to him.”

  Rennie looked away. “Matthias is a real person to us because we held his words in our hands.”

  Rennie turned to face her friend. “We’ve got to find those letters or learn what happened to them. This trip isn’t about Matthias anymore, it’s about the letters. At this moment, I am realizing that this is my purpose. It’s all coming together. Those letters were safeguarded from the Romans or from the Jewish authorities and sent to Egypt. Then they came here, to London, where Matthias found them. He told us about them, so it’s now our job to find and reveal them.”

  Rennie’s thoughts were clear and determined.

  “Wow,” Angie whispered. “It’s a little overwhelming. Should we forget about going over to Lady Jane’s house?”

  “No. She is the one person who might have ended up with the letters. He trusted her, or at least liked her. She seemed harmless but resourceful. Angie, consider the fact that she married some guy who traveled to the Middle East and was involved in antiquities. There are just too many connections. Tiffini and Joshua need to get back into this.”

  “Rennie, what if Matthias put them back into that box, from where he got them?”

  “I don’t think he had time. He wouldn’t go back to the museum because he thought they were after him. He wanted to get them to someone who would value them and do the right thing, reveal them to the world.”

  Angie nodded. “What about Professor MacDonald? He might be able to help in some way.”

  “I forgot about him. We have so little time. Let’s find out if he called our hotel.” Rennie turned to cross the street. Angie pulled her back just as a car raced by and nearly hit them.

  “Dang it!” Rennie yelled. “Can’t they drive on the right side of the road?” She glared at the car as it disappeared around a corner. “We’ve got to keep going, Angie. Nothing must stop us.”

  “Rennie, listen to me. You’ve got to be careful or something bad could happen. Remember, there might be people out there who could cause us trouble.”

  They hurried back to the taxi. Getting in, they realized the driver was turned in his seat and looking at them.

  “Ladies, as I waited for you, a car stopped behind me about a hundred feet. The driver seemed to be waiting, as I was waiting for you. When you stopped to cross the street, he suddenly raced forward. That’s when you were nearly hit. His brake lights never flashed. Maybe, it was just a coincidence. Everyone drives crazy, today.”

  Angie pointed at Rennie. “That’s it. We’ve got to tell someone about this.”

  “Not yet. We must press on. We don’t have time for any distractions.”

  Angie told the driver to return to their hotel.

  As they drove away, Rennie shifted to see out the back window, imagining where Priscilla had lived. She realized they were all gone. Those times were gone.

  When they arrived at the hotel, Angie ran in to see if they had any calls.

  Angie’s complexion was pale when she returned to the cab.

  “Angie, what happened?”

  Finally, Angie grinned.

  “I’m so nervous. Professor MacDonald left a message that he will be pleased to share a few minutes with us in his home this evening at seven o’clock. Can you believe it? The clerk said he sounded distinguished. At last, we get to meet him.”

  “Let’s make it count. We have to get over to Lady Jane’s townhouse, return here, and check our notes. Then, we’ll meet Matthew.”

  Rennie gave the driver the address.

  After half an hour of traffic, the taxi eased to a stop in front of 47 Berkeley Square. The driver turned and looked at his passengers.

  “Here you are, ladies. That house right next door was the home of Clive of India. Is this where you wanted to be?”

  Rennie peered out the window at the elegant home. Its white trimmed windows glistened against light blue walls, accented with window boxes overflowing with multi-colored flowers.

  Angie checked her notes. “This is the right address,” she said. “Driver, who was this Clive of India fellow?”

  “He was a controversial chap. He served the British government in India and came back quite wealthy. Questions arose from his activities and there were investigations, of course. Mayfair is all about prominence and influence. Even Handel lived here, you know. Was your person someone like that?”

  Rennie thought about the subtle power that Lady Jane must have wielded. “Oh, yes she was,” she said firml
y. “I’ve got a quick question. If it was 1923 and I needed to get from that first stop on Broad Court to this place, how long would that have taken?”

  The driver studied her in his rear-view mirror. “Times have changed things a lot. There probably were plenty of taxis for someone to catch back then. Traffic may have been a bit different, but I’d say half an hour would be an easy time frame.”

  “Okay,” Rennie said, “And, what if one then wanted to go from here in Mayfair to that location on Queen Victoria Street?”

  The driver stroked his cheek. “That might be a little longer, perhaps close to an hour. I don’t know what traffic might have been like that day, and the time of day, just as now, plays a strong role in the timing.”

  “What are you thinking?” Angie asked.

  Rennie tilted toward her and said in a low voice, “When he left his house, the boarding house, what did he do? What could he do? He either had to take the letters to Priscilla, to Lady Jane, or to Reverend Worthy. Priscilla was probably still at work. Even if she wasn’t, giving the letters to her would have shifted the risk to her, and he would not do that. Besides, what would she do with them? He must have planned to take them to Lady Jane or to Worthy. I think Jane is the more likely of the two choices. We have to focus on her now.”

  Angie’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, my gosh, what if Lady Jane got them, and in her crafty way, she was able to get them back into the museum? Her benefactor role would have made that a possibility! The letters could be on a shelf back where they started. She could have even gotten them into the collection through her husband’s activities. He might have not known about it.”

  “You’re right,” Rennie whispered. “How do we track that down and do it discreetly? We can’t just go to the British Museum and ask, ‘Do you happen to have in your collection some hand-written letters from Jesus, the Son of God?’ Let’s get back and prepare to meet Matthew.”

  Arriving at the hotel, they quickly surveyed the area for anyone suspicious. Rennie got out and hurried to the hotel entrance. Angie paid and thanked the driver. She asked him for a receipt.

  He prepared the form and handed it to her. “Miss,” he said, “I’d like to offer a thought.” He hesitated. “I see a lot of people, and I don’t know what it is that you and the other lady are here for. It seems you are on a quest of sorts. If it involves the high and mighty of Mayfair, or something with the British Museum and their like, you need to be careful. There are good people in both places. There are also strong but quiet forces you may not see coming until they are there. They don’t like intruders in their world. I just hope you’re careful.”

  Rennie stood at the door, holding it open. She studied who was out on the street. As Angie approached, Rennie said, “hurry, get in.”

  They stopped in the lobby. “Angie, I think someone was watching us. There was a guy down the street who seemed to be just standing there doing nothing. When we got out of the cab, he turned and walked away.”

  “Should I go out and look?” Angie replied.

  “No, don’t do that.”

  “What are we going to do? They seem to be everywhere.”

  “Let’s do this. We’ll freshen up for a few minutes, then I’ll meet you down here. We’ll find some place to eat, review our notes for our meeting with Matthew, and then we’ll go see him. All the time, with every step, we need to be extra careful.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I don’t know how to say this, but that taxi driver used the word ‘quest’ and that’s what this feels like.” Angie took a deep breath.

  “I feel the same way. The neat thing is that we didn’t choose this. Maybe more interesting, we might not be in charge. Do you feel that? It’s strange and sometimes ominous. Events are pushing us forward. Okay, let’s meet in fifteen minutes.”

  PART EIGHT

  London, UK

  VIII - 1

  Rennie and Angie left a small restaurant just north of the University of London campus. They strolled in silence through the light of the late day, but they were on guard for who might be watching them.

  “That’s a nice place. I’m glad we went there,” Rennie said, trying to lighten the moment.

  “Yeah, it was. The hotel was right; decent food, nice atmosphere. I’m looking forward to our meeting with Professor MacDonald. It’ll be interesting to see if he even knows about Professor Justus. There’s no telling if Priscilla even mentioned him.”

  Rennie laughed. “I’m beginning to think there is no point to our planning anything here. It’s just one surprise after another. Of course, some surprises are not welcome.”

  She stopped, suddenly intense. “Angie, in some ways I’m sorry you’re involved in this because of the risks. I didn’t expect it would turn out like this. I don’t know who wants to cause me or us harm.”

  “That’s alright. Neither of us expected something sinister. I think the main reason I’m on this journey is my experiencing a renewal of faith. The story of Matthias and what he found made me aware of a new, personal connection we have with God.”

  “That’s what hit me, too. I’m determined to see this through, wherever it goes. At some point, we need to take a stand. If those letters can be found, I’ll get them and make them known to the world.”

  Rennie noticed a taxi coming and stepped toward the street, waving at the vehicle. She held back at the curb and looked for the direction of traffic. Glancing at Angie, she said, “I’ll never figure out what direction cars are coming from. Let’s go!”

  They dashed across the empty street to the awaiting cab and gave the driver the address for Professor MacDonald.

  Once settled in the back seat, Angie said, “I’m excited about meeting Matthew. I hope it works for his benefit as well as ours. From what Mary told us, he’s had a rough life.”

  Rennie was energized. “Besides finding out what happened to Matthias, we’ve got to track down the letters. Matthew’s knowledge of the museum and expertise in the ancient Middle East might be useful.”

  Although light outside, the sun slipped behind the buildings, casting blocks of darkness. The taxi quietly rolled along the narrow road flanked with flat-fronted buildings rising a uniform three stories high. The evening light and gentle ride provided the calm they needed to prepare for their encounter.

  Torrington Place continued on as Tavistock Place when they crossed Woburn Place. Fifteen minutes later, the taxi turned left onto Gray’s Inn Road and then another left on Cromer Street. The driver stopped and turned on the interior lights of the vehicle.

  “Here we are, ladies. Enjoy your evening.”

  Angie paid the driver. She stepped onto the sidewalk where Rennie was waiting. “Are you ready?”

  Rennie took a deep breath. “This will be interesting.”

  They checked the address against their notes and then stepped up to the door. Rennie gently placed her fingertip against the doorbell button. Her thoughts filled with questions about Matthew and whether he would help them. She pressed the button, took another breath, and then saw a light go on through a small pane of glass at the top of the door.

  The lock on the door snapped open. A light next to the door went on, surprising them. As the door opened, they stepped back.

  “Good evening, ladies,” the old man said crisply. “Please come in.” He stepped to the side and gestured down the hall.

  Rennie stepped forward and extended her hand to the man. “Professor MacDonald? I’m Rennie Haran, and this is Angie McGrady. We’re very pleased to meet you. Thank you for taking this time to see us.”

  Standing so close to him gave her a chance to see his face clearly. She was pleasantly surprised with the idea that he looked a little like Santa Claus. His short beard was white. The top of his head was bald but the hair on the sides of his head was thick and also white. He had a gentle smile, and his eyes truly seemed to have a twinkle in them. She motioned to Angie
to step forward.

  Professor MacDonald shook their hands and offered a slight bow to each.

  “Please come in, ladies. I’ll get the door and we can visit as you may need. I’m not clear as to why I may be honored with your effort. Please follow me to my study.”

  As they proceeded down the dimly lit hallway, they glanced at photos on the walls. There were shots of people from different eras, drawings of ancient places and maps, and small artwork.

  The professor walked with a slow grace, his shoulders slightly forward, as though he had carried many burdens in his life. Although the temperature was comfortable, he wore a sweater. On his feet were woolen stockings and sandals.

  In the study, he gestured to a small couch. He eased himself into a wingback leather chair that looked as old as he was. Music played at a low level in the background.

  Rennie cleared her throat. “Professor, I’d like to thank you again. It’s a delight to meet you. I don’t know exactly where to begin.”

  “Sometimes there is no beginning and no ending,” he said with a smile.

  Rennie chuckled. “Well said, sir. That seems to be the case with this adventure. I’m not sure when it began, and I don’t have a clue when it might end.”

  “Who is it again that you ladies are with?”

  “I’m a reporter with a newspaper in Des Moines, Iowa, in the central part of the United States. Miss McGrady here is with a small college just south of Des Moines, called Simpson College. She’s the librarian and director of the archives there. I’m doing a story on a professor from Simpson who came to work at the British Museum in the 1920’s. His name was Matthias Justus.”

  The professor nodded and clasped his hands together in his lap.

  “Angie helped gather materials from the library archives. I researched old information indicating he had known various people while he worked at the museum. One of them was a young woman by the name of Priscilla Shefford.”

  The old man’s gaze didn’t flinch.

  Rennie continued. “We thought that she and you might have been related.” She waited again. He said nothing.