by R D Hathaway
“Did you read the results of his translations?”
“No, but the box from which they came is indeed a wonderful find, a clue to a wondrous history. Antioch was a hotbed of early church formative efforts. The same is true for Alexandria, which sustained some of the most articulate early Christian voices.”
He relaxed with a great sigh. “After a short break here, I am eager to finish the journal.”
“Well, that might be a while. When you finish this part of the journal, you may be compelled to pursue something new and more profound.”
“Really?”
“Since I need to get into my office for a bit, I’ve arranged for you to continue your studies next door at my neighbor’s place. He’s a great guy. His name is Roger, and he’s kind of a tough old Norwegian, but he’s as good as a person can be. I told him you needed some private space to work on a special project while you’re here. He’d like the company, so I’ll call him now. I hope that’s okay.”
“I’d be perfectly fine here, but if in your wisdom I need to be elsewhere, I trust your judgment. I’m sure Roger and I will get along fine.”
Matthew slipped off the stool and looked out the window to the backyard. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
Matthew’s weary eyes narrowed so the puffy lids nearly closed together. His lips became thin.
“A dramatic event occurred on the day we met at the restaurant. When I returned to my home, I discovered that vandals had ransacked the place. Given that we were together for less than two hours, there must have been at least three or four people moving very fast. It was shocking. I fear what they would have done if I had been at home.”
Rennie rested her hands on his shoulders. His body sagged under the weight of the memory.
He looked past her and struggled as moisture glistened in the lashes of one eye. “Receiving your call to come to Iowa was a wonderful opportunity to escape the violation of my space. I called a few friends who promptly came to my rescue that day. They cleaned and straightened everything immediately, but I must admit I needed to get away.”
“I’m so sorry. I feel responsible. There is so much you need to know. Your life will be changed when you hear everything.”
“Thank you for trusting me with the truth. I place myself in your hands for how this is to proceed. If you think I should spend some time with your neighbor, then that is where I will be. Let us begin the grand finale.”
Matthew gave her a light kiss on her cheek.
“I’ll be working on my computer for a few minutes and will make a few calls. If you need me, just stomp on the floor. Whatever happens, please know it’s okay.”
Matthew started up the stairs and gave a little salute. She laughed.
As Rennie headed to the computer, her new cell phone rang. “Hello? Angie?”
“Did he read it all yet?”
“No, he didn’t get to the revelation near the end. He took a break, but he’s back upstairs now. Angie, you will not believe this. After we met him for lunch in London, he discovered that people had ransacked his house. He’s really wounded by it.”
“How sad. That does it. Whoever did it must have seen us with him and figured he must know what we know. My gosh, they might have thought he had the letters. What are we going to do?”
“At this point, we’ve got to keep moving forward. For the moment, we’re alright. Let’s not forget our mission.”
“Fine, but a strange thing happened at school. I’ve been called to the office of the Vice President of Business. It’s very odd. I don’t know what’s up.”
“Stay focused, but relaxed. We’ve done nothing wrong, but I think wrong is trying to force its way into this situation. Maybe it’s something simple. You might have won an award or something.”
“Yeah, right.” Angie’s deep breath could be heard on the phone. “I like the idea of these phones, Rennie. Good call. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“Angie, do me a favor? Don’t go and hit anyone in the head with your lamp of truth.”
“Got’cha. No whacking. Be safe.”
Rennie settled into her chair, logged on to her computer, and found the story file. She read with a discerning eye every facet of her historic report.
Twenty-five minutes later, she realized that she had not heard anything from upstairs since Matthew went up there. She sat back to listen for any noise. There was nothing. She grabbed her cell phone and approached the stairway.
When she started up the stairs, Matthew appeared on the next level and beckoned her to join him. She hurried up. Tears poured from his eyes. His lips quivered. She wrapped her arms around him.
“It’s okay.”
They slowly sank to the floor where he sat like a large child. He buried his face in his hands. “You were right. It is too profound for words. How glorious a find. How wonderful that he could have held such a treasure. He read them, Rennie, the very words! Whatever became of it all?”
“This is where it gets really amazing,” she whispered. “I think I may have them.”
He looked up at her with shock.
“Quite by accident, I might have ended up with them. That’s why you’re here. You’re the only person with the talents we could trust. You can look at them, translate them, verify them. Then we need you to help us decide what to do.”
“You have them?” he whispered.
She nodded. Taking his arm, they went down the stairs. She walked him through the kitchen and turned on the faucet again. She pulled down the window shade. Rennie opened the canvas bag and removed the tin box wrapped with rubber bands.
Matthew gave her a perplexed look. “Is that —?”
“This was Matthias’ lunch box. It must be what he used to secret the treasure from the museum.”
“How ironic.” Matthew grinned. “There is an old find in Egypt called Oxyrhynchus that yielded hundreds of quality documents. Those who discovered them ended up using biscuit tins like this to deliver them out of the country.”
“I think the box in which Matthias found these came from Oxyrhynchus.”
“Rennie, is what is in this humble box what I think it is?”
“I believe so. Matthew, I think we all came together for this, to find this and reveal it.”
“Do others know of this? People at your newspaper?”
“Yes,” she said. “That’s why we must be careful. That’s why Roger’s place is perfect for doing your analysis. No one will see you go over there, and Roger will keep you safe. I can reach him on his phone when I need him. Are you ready?”
“This may be what I have been prepared for through my entire life. In my heart, I know I am unworthy to touch what may be in this box. But I will do this in honor of my father.”
His eyes twinkled as he looked at the box in his hands. “Call Roger. I need to get to work.”
Des Moines, IA
Offices of the Des Moines Record
XI - 4
Rennie strode through the newsroom and headed straight toward Bud’s office. She didn’t stop at her cubicle first or notice that no one greeted her as she passed by. As she neared his office, she stopped. His room was dark, and the door was closed. She had never seen it that way in seven years. She felt confused and looked for help.
“Hey Molly,” she called to a woman several cubicles away. “Where’s Bud?”
Molly seemed to be focused on something.
“I don’t know. Strange, huh? Check with Sherry over there.”
Rennie hustled over to a confident, peaceful woman who was reviewing a document. “What’s the deal with Bud? Is he all right?”
The woman glanced at his office. “I’m not sure. We got a call from the eighth floor saying he wouldn’t be in today. Someone tried his house, but there was no answer. Katherine’s secretary said he was okay. He told her he was takin
g your advice and knew that you would do the right thing. Some say you know what’s going on. Why do you think he isn’t in?”
Rennie’s face showed nothing. “I don’t know. But I’m glad he’s taking care of himself. If you hear from him, tell him he knows who loves him.”
Back in her cubicle, her desk phone indicated she had a message. She eased into her chair and stared at the phone for a moment before picking up the receiver. The message was from Will, down in the vault.
“Hey, this is Will. You asked me about some Simpson prof from back in the twenties. Don’t say anything about this to anyone, but a guy I never heard of called me wanting similar information. He asked if I gave you any information, and if so, what. I asked him who he was, but he said if I had any questions, I should call the eighth floor. What’s going on? Be sure to delete this message. Be safe, girl!”
Rennie continued to hold the phone to her ear. “Okay,” she said quietly.
She pushed the message delete button on the phone and hung up. She took her new cell phone out of her bag, but then stood up and looked across the newsroom.
She grabbed her bag and headed across the office to the small conference room in the opposite corner. Her new cell phone rang. Rennie smoothly but quickly entered the conference room and closed the door. “What’s up?”
Angie spoke in a hushed voice. “I just got out of my meeting. Someone called the school. You were right on target. They said some alumni or donor had made certain inquiries about the archives and how we manage things. It seemed innocent at first, until they asked about Matthias and his records. They had pulled the in-out records. They wanted to know if we have anything from the archives. I didn’t lie, but I did mislead them. Is that okay?”
“We can’t let them in on anything, yet. Matthew has to do his work.”
“What happened this morning? What was his reaction?”
“It hit him. He’s a tough, smart cookie, but he was overwhelmed. I took him to Roger’s place. Roger set him up in a good room, with privacy, layout space. Where are you now?”
“I’m in my car. Are you at work?”
“Yeah, and it’s spooky. Bud is gone. Nobody knows what’s up. I found out someone is on my trail at the paper. We’ve got to try to act natural and not arouse suspicion. Matthew needs the time.”
“Where is this going, Rennie?”
“I’m one of the pawns. All we can do is what we’re called to do. What is important now is disclosing those letters. I don’t see my story running at this point.”
“I’ve got to get back. Be careful.”
The moment Rennie hung up her phone, it rang again.
“Hi, this is Roger. Is that you?”
“Yes, what’s happening?”
“Matthew’s working away, I guess. But there’s something odd going on here.”
Rennie’s mouth went dry. “What’s odd?”
“Do you have cable at your place?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Have you had problems with it?”
“No. What’s happening?”
“Well, there are a few guys in your backyard. They drove up in what looks like a repair van and they’re wearing hardhats. Two of them have some kind of detection devices and they’re walking along the property line. The other guy was up on the back porch. Hold on. I don’t see the one that was on the porch. Rennie, I’m going over there. There’s something wrong here.”
“Wait, Roger. Don’t do that. I’ll call the cops. Please, just take care of Matthew.”
There was a long silence. He finally responded. “Okay kid, whatever you say. I don’t know what’s going on, but you be safe.”
“I will, thanks. Please keep Matthew there.”
Rennie dialed 911 on her new cell phone but stopped. It occurred to her the 911 operator would identify her new number. She ended the call and picked up the receiver of the conference room phone. She dialed out and then the number for the police dispatcher.
“Hi, this is Rennie Haran from the Record. I’ve just received information that someone may be breaking into a house. Can you send someone over there right away?”
She gave them the address information and her business cell phone number. When she hung up, she sat down and gazed at the empty white board on the wall. Her eyes flowed across the board as if she was reading a diagram.
Her phone rang. “It’s me again. I was watching those guys. All of a sudden, one of them put his hand to his ear and he called the others. They raced to the van and took off. I don’t know where that third guy ever ended up, but he was with them. Hey, wait a minute. There’s a police car coming into your drive. Did you call them?”
“Yes. Did the van get away?”
“It sure did, but not by much. Seems like they got tipped off.”
“Is Matthew still okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“You take care. Bye.”
Rennie drifted back to her cubicle. Along the way, a thought came to her. We’ve got to do this on our own. She stopped and rubbed her temple. “How?” she whispered.
She logged on to the computer system and found the Record’s intranet. She wondered if she could post her story of Matthias and the letters somewhere in the system to expose it to a large number of people. After reviewing several pages, she picked up her phone and called a friend in the advertising department.
“Bob, this is Rennie. It’s been awhile. Say, I’ve got a quick question. You know how popular blogs are, especially for sharing information. I wondered if we had any way of doing that on our intranet.”
“Not yet? Yeah, progress happens when some people are pushed screaming into the future.”
Anxiety suddenly pulsed through her. Her story was dormant. Her boss was gone. She couldn’t trust the system or anyone in it. She needed to take action, and it was time to move ahead. She logged off her computer and hustled out of the office ready for battle.
She was only a few feet from her car door when two men in dark suits got out of a nearby car and came toward her. She struggled to locate her car keys to jump into her car. When they were nearly there, she searched for the can of pepper spray in her bag.
“Miss Haran, may we speak with you for a moment?” one man called out. “Please Miss Haran, we’re with the government.”
Her breathing had left her for a moment. She felt cold but focused. “What do you want?” she asked in a hard tone. Her jaw locked her teeth together.
The men stopped near the end of her car. A stocky man in rumpled suit pants reached slowly into his coat and removed a wallet. He flipped it open, revealing a gold badge next to some kind of identification card.
Returning it to his pocket, he said, “Miss Haran, we are with the local office of the FBI. Information has come into our office from the Department of Homeland Security, and we would like to ask you a few questions. Would you come with us to our office?”
“Gentlemen,” she said with confidence, “I’m a reporter, and the local stories I do have no connection with any threats to our national security, except —” she paused and smiled, “except for investigation opportunities I may have regarding elected officials.”
The men glanced at each other and relaxed. They seemed safe. “We understand. Sometimes, information might come from unlikely situations and have an impact on much larger issues. As a good reporter, you recognize that. Would you come with us, please?”
“As a good reporter, which is what you said, I have some questions for you. You didn’t allow me to see the identification card you briefly flashed, so I don’t really know who you are. I’m always happy to help with law enforcement activities, as long as it doesn’t compromise the media’s protected interests.”
She found her keys and unlocked her car. “What area of inquiry would you like to pursue? We can set a time for us to sit down, in the paper’s offices over there
or yours. Our corporate counsel may need to be informed first. So, gentlemen, how can this member of the press help you? What is the topic?”
The man in front took a noticeable breath. One eye twitched as he shifted his weight. He took a step toward Rennie. She crossed her arms and stared at him. “Miss Haran, this is not an appropriate place for us to discuss something this important. May we come by your house later today?”
“I’m sorry gentlemen, but I didn’t get any names here.”
He took a deeper breath. “I’m Agent Maxwell.”
“Agent Maxwell, what’s the topic?”
“Miss Haran, if you wish to make this difficult, we can pursue this at another time. Tell me what you know about a man from the UK by the name of Matthew MacDonald.”
Rennie hoped she showed no emotion in response to the question. Her mind raced with ideas. “Matthew MacDonald?”
“We know you’re acquainted.”
“I do know someone by that name. A retired professor who is about eighty or ninety years old? Is he a threat to the security of the United States?”
“Sometimes people are not all they seem to be. Professor MacDonald has made frequent trips to the Middle East and even to Syria. Syria is on this nation’s list of terrorist states.”
Rennie couldn’t contain a burst of laughter. “Are you serious, or do you have too much time on your hands?”
The man’s face puffed with anger. “We never fool around with national security, Miss Haran. You can tell us what you know now, or we can pursue this in more formal ways.”
“Let’s do it more formally, gentlemen. I’d prefer to be better dressed when my newspaper hears about this. By the way, is it true that under the so-called Patriot Act, you can go into a person’s house without a court order?”
“I’m here with just one question. Will you cooperate?”
“You and I are not in opposition. I encourage you though, to look carefully at why you’ve been sent to me. Consider who sent you. Who are you really serving?”