Secret Passages

by R D Hathaway

  Rennie opened her car door, got in, and locked the doors. When she started the car, the men stepped behind an adjacent car to avoid her quick exit.

  She drove fast but was not sure where to go. For six blocks, she glanced into her rear-view mirrors. She wove through the downtown area for fifteen minutes until she realized she needed to stop and make some decisions.

  She swerved into the entrance of a City parking ramp and drove up two levels before stopping. Rennie got out of the car, leaving the engine running. She paced back and forth in the safe haven of concrete and steel, alert for any cars that followed her. None appeared.

  Her heart pounded and her breathing quickened. She returned to the car and called Angie. The call went to voice mail. She sensed she was beginning to panic, so she took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes. When calm eased through her, she called Roger.

  “Roger, I wondered how things were going.”

  “You sound a little frazzled. What’s up?”

  “I’m staying one step ahead of disaster right now. I am not sure what the next step is.”

  “I heard once that when you get into that spot, consider what you might tell someone else to do.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m feeling a little alone right now.”

  “Are you alone, or are you just not with those who are with you?”

  Rennie laughed. “Since when did you become the Zen master? Okay, I understand.”

  “Since you think I’m funny, I’ll ask you another one. When are you ever really alone?”

  “Maybe, I’m trying too hard. I’m not doing this for me, so it would seem the burden isn’t mine either.”

  “There you go,” he replied. “When you introduced me to Matthew, I could tell you were into something very big. Rennie, if you are following a call of some kind, it’s like going downstream in a fast current. You don’t have to row. But you have to steer. Try to enjoy the ride.”

  “Thanks. I got distracted by the water and the rocks.”

  “Stay focused on where you are going, not where you are.”

  “It’s time I got back at it. Tell Matthew I’ll be there soon. How is he?”

  “I checked on him a little bit ago. He came to the door but wouldn’t open it. He basically told me to take a hike.”

  A cold chill went through Rennie. She thought of what Agent Maxwell said about Matthew. She wondered who she could trust. “Roger, I wondered if I could park in your garage. Do you have room?”

  “No problem. Should I get the door now?”

  “No, I’ll call you when I’m ten minutes away. You’re the best.”

  “Well, you haven’t gotten my bill, yet. See ya, kid.”

  Rennie called Angie, told her about meeting the FBI agents, and what Roger saw happen at her house.

  “Oh, no. Did someone go in your house?”

  “I don’t know. My gosh, I don’t remember if we left the journals upstairs. Angie, what do we do?”

  “You and I need to get with Matthew and hear what he has to say about what is in that tin box. That determines how important this is. If those manuscripts are not what we thought, then some of the heat is off. Otherwise, we need to take decisive action.”

  “You’re right. Roger said we could come to his house instead of mine. It’s on a different street and they won’t notice. How are you doing?”

  “This has been an awkward time. Somebody from IT called a minute ago and said they need to work on the system, so I had to log off my computer.”

  “You know, that happened to me, yesterday. They want to know who you’ve been communicating with. They’ll check your e-mail. Can you get back in and delete anything related to our project?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Yes, I can still get back in.”

  “Print whatever you can, or send it to yourself, and then delete everything.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you back when I’m done.”

  Des Moines, IA

  Offices of the Des Moines Record

  XI - 5

  Rennie sat quietly in her car for a fresh perspective. With renewed focus, she left the parking ramp and stopped at a drive-up ATM machine. After withdrawing the maximum $300, she considered how to approach Roger’s house without being seen. It wasn’t going to be easy.

  She turned into traffic and saw a police car approach from the opposite direction. The driver seemed to watch her as they passed. At the next corner, she turned, then turned again at the next light.

  Taking side streets, Rennie worked her way to the baseball stadium. Attentive to everything around her, she crossed the bridge over the river and left the downtown area.

  Her energy grew as she felt in touch with her purpose. It was even more fun to do in such a stealthy way. Who would play me in the movie? She wondered.

  Two blocks from Roger’s house, she slowed to an unobtrusive glide. As she approached the last stop sign before her turn, she noticed a vehicle half a block down the street. It looked like the van Roger had described that morning. She realized she forgot to call Roger to open his garage door.

  She pulled over to the curb and grabbed her cell phone. “Roger, I’m almost there. I’m sorry I didn’t give you more notice.”

  “It’s good you called. Stay where you are right now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been watching your place and the neighborhood from my second-floor windows. That van I saw this morning is on a side street leading to your house on the east side. There’s a dark sedan on your street but to the west. It arrived a little over an hour ago, and it’s still there.”

  “I’m parked on your street about three houses down.”

  “You’re what? Stay there for now. I think they have someone in your house. If they happen to look at my place from yours, and if they see you come into my driveway, it could get difficult for everyone.”

  “What do you suggest? I need to see this through. Hold on, I have a call coming in.”

  She switched calls.

  “Angie what’s up?”

  “I think I got everything wiped out.”

  “Good job. You won’t believe this. I’m parked about three houses down from Roger’s house and he says my place is being watched. Angie, we’ve got to get with Matthew, and do it now.”

  “I had an idea earlier. I have a place for us all to meet and stay if we have to. It’s secluded, comfortable, and safe.”

  “Where?”

  “Have you ever heard of Wesley Woods? It’s a retreat center and camp for kids, just a few miles south of town.”

  “I know it. I did a story on a non-profit here in town. They took inner city kids out to that place.”

  “I know the director out there. I called him and he has a few open cabins. All I need to do is let him know and we have our pick.”

  “Angie, you’ve done it. That’s exactly what we need. Let’s meet there.”

  “Deal.”

  “Make the call and get us a place big enough for you and me, Roger, and Matthew.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “Angie, be safe, and don’t go home. Assume they know your car.”

  “Got it. By the way, if you have any clothes at the cleaners, you might pick them up. You could need them.”

  “What a little conspiracy junkie you are. Thanks, see you soon.”

  Just as Rennie hung up, a dark sedan turned onto the street and slowly rolled toward her. She laid down across the seat of her car and heard it go by. She glanced in the window to see its reflection. When it passed, she got up and started her car.

  She drove past Roger’s house to the corner, turning away from the block their houses shared. She continued down two more quiet streets, and turned left, parking in the middle of the next block. She called Roger again. “Hey neighbor, we have a plan.”

&nb
sp; “It’s about time.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Matthew is ready to brief you. I’d like to know what he’s been studying. He went through two tablets with notes. I’ve never seen a guy go from being full of energy to such spent, quiet peace, in such a short time.”

  “Roger, have you ever heard of Wesley Woods? It’s a camp or retreat center located south of Des Moines.”

  “Sure, I take my RV there. Nice place.”

  “I didn’t know you had a motorhome.”

  “Yeah, I keep it at a storage place.”

  “Tell me where you store it, and I’ll meet you there. We can park our cars there, take the motorhome down to Wesley Woods, and no one will notice us. Pack up some food and some clothes, too.”

  Rennie jotted down the directions on the margin of her newspaper. A determined smile formed on her face.

  After picking up clothes at the dry cleaners, she got food at a drive-through. She reached the storage facility in a few minutes. She wasn’t sure what Roger’s car looked like, so she parked in the middle of a small group of cars, turned off the engine, and waited.

  At the far end of the lot, a large RV came around a corner and slowly rolled toward the parking lot. A small pickup truck followed it. Rennie saw Roger driving the RV. Then she realized Matthew was driving the truck.

  She got out of her car and removed her dry cleaning, the food, and her other things. When the RV stopped, Roger opened his window and yelled, “Hey lady, you want a lift?”

  Rennie hurried across the front of the motorhome and stepped in the open door.

  “This is amazing. What’s with Matthew driving that truck?”

  “That’s my truck. We couldn’t leave it out back. What’s with all the stuff? You moving in?”

  “Wow, this is big enough to live in. I had no idea you were a road warrior.”

  “It’s okay. She’s only thirty-one feet, which is good enough for this ol’ boy.”

  Matthew locked the truck and dashed over to the RV. He had a big smile. Rennie stepped outside and hugged him.

  “Hey, big guy. It’s good to see you.” She looked into his eyes. “So, are they the letters Matthias said they were?”

  Matthew’s expression grew serious. “Dear friend, they are,” he whispered.

  Rennie’s breath slipped away. She held him more tightly. “Let’s get on board. We need to talk.”

  He nodded and motioned her to the door.

  “Do we have all we need, at least for now?” Roger asked. “I’m getting this buggy on the road, and there’s no stopping until we reach our destination.”

  “What’s it going to be, thirty minutes?” Rennie pretended to complain.

  “The peanut gallery can sit down now.”

  Matthew laughed. “So, how long have the two of you been married?”

  Rennie glared at him pretending to be shocked. “You’re in big trouble, now.”

  Roger waited as Rennie hung up her clothes and set aside her bag and other items. Matthew placed on the table a notebook, pens, and tablets from a leather attaché that Roger loaned to him.

  Soon, they were on the road to the campground. Rennie sat next to Matthew at the table. “Where do we begin?”

  Matthew adjusted the tablets and pens on the table. “I don’t know what to say. The only way I have been able to proceed, after discovering the letters, opening them, and realizing what lay before me, has been to compartmentalize my emotions and the gravity of this treasure. Somehow, I set aside my heart, operating on intellect alone.”

  His right hand began to shake. They both noticed it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I must be careful in getting in touch with all this.”

  Matthew opened his notepads. They revealed names, timelines, phrases in Aramaic, Latin, Greek, and a series of questions. “Based upon what was in his journals, —”

  “Are they here,” Rennie interrupted, “or were they left at the house?”

  “I have them. Aside from the letters, those journals may be my greatest possessions. I hope to spend some meaningful time with them when this immediate excitement has waned.”

  “I hope you can. After I had read them, I felt I knew Matthias. You can be very proud of your heritage. Are the letters what he described?”

  “Oh my, yes,” Matthew said with energy. “My father did not have access to the latest information and reference texts, such as the Gnostic documents or the Qumran find. Even so, those documents help to place these letters in an appropriate structure. There is one item that father was a bit in error with. Perhaps out of an emotional reaction, I believe he referred to the apostle Mark, who was in Alexandria according to tradition. The date and unfortunate method of his death there is well known. But my father’s journal refers to the gospel writer and the disciple Mark as the same. Scholars believe they were different people.”

  Matthew took a deep breath. “I could not help but think of the gospel of Thomas, one of the Gnostic books, when I read the letters from Jesus. All in all, except for carbon dating of the material and confirmation by more specialized experts, I must admit that these are the real thing.”

  Matthew’s face expressed an innocent joy. “What is so extraordinary is that the letters also offer insight into where Jesus was and what He was doing in those missing years between twelve and thirty. This is going to take exhaustive study and deep reflection.”

  Rennie sat back; her arms folded against her chest. “So, what did you learn?”

  Matthew briefly looked at his notes. “Jesus wasn’t too specific, but He apparently traveled quite a bit. He taught, and what’s interesting, in one letter, it seems that when He was young, He wasn’t quite clear what His purpose was. It was later when that became real for Him.”

  Rennie was stunned. “So, just like the rest of us. That’s incredible.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far. The letter doesn’t say that. His situation was definitely not like the rest of us. Consider who He was and the conflicts in that condition. He could have devoted Himself to goals such as conquering the world, healing people, or teaching divine wisdom. Instead, He did all three in a perfect and unlikely way.”

  “Could these have been faked in any way?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I have considered that. If you found them in this box, and if he found them as he described in the journal, we must take it as leading to only one conclusion. Jesus was a fairly common name, and there may have been one by that name who wrote home while he was away, but with the surrounding letters from his mother and from one named Matthew, which by the way makes me most proud, prove that this is the one we know as Jesus Christ. It almost takes my breath away to say it.”

  “Hey, back there,” Roger yelled. “I won’t have anyone swearing in my house!”

  “Settle down,” Rennie shouted back. “We are talking about Him. We aren’t using His name in vain.”

  Roger gave a thumbs-up signal and continued to drive. “We’ll be there in a few minutes. Take a look at that corn out there, Matthew. Have you ever seen anything like it?”

  Matthew moved to the seat next to Roger. “Brilliant, truly remarkable. The productivity of this land, its expanse, and its beauty is beyond measure. Is this what they call the ‘food basket’ of the country?”

  “Bread-basket, my friend, but I like food basket better. Corn, soybeans, hogs, and much more comes out of this little state in sufficient levels to feed whole nations. This is God’s country.”

  Matthew glanced back at Rennie.

  “Yes, my friend, I believe we have found God in this country.”

  PART TWELVE

  A Campground

  Outside Indianola, IA

  XII - 1

  Roger jerked at the steering wheel as the motorhome lurched along the rough dirt road entering the campground. Matthew and Rennie held on
to their chairs to keep from being thrown around. Rennie spotted Angie’s car parked near some cabins about fifty yards away.

  “Go over there, Roger,” she directed.

  “Aye, aye skipper,” he answered with a salute.

  “Park so people can’t see her car from the road,” Rennie suggested.

  When they stopped, Angie came out of a cabin. She had an odd smile. “There must be a very good story that comes with all this,” she said.

  “There is,” Rennie replied, “but let’s get inside so we can discuss it more privately. We should bring everything in with us.”

  Everyone grabbed the things they needed from the RV and carried them into the cabin. Angie gave a brief tour of the layout. Everyone agreed that the two bedrooms and two bathrooms would serve them well. Rennie worried about Angie’s car out front even though Roger’s RV blocked it from view. She suggested that Angie move her car to a more distant and secluded place in the campground.

  They settled into the cabin and Roger offered to go to a grocery store to pick up more food.

  “That’s a good suggestion, Roger,” Rennie replied, “but you’re owed a full explanation about what we’re doing.”

  “No, you don’t owe me anything.”

  “We not only owe you that, but we also need to discuss it and plan what’s next.”

  Angie returned from moving her car, so they gathered around the dining table. Rennie felt the intense anticipation of explaining their situation.

  She turned to Roger. “In the course of a routine story investigation, I came upon what might be one of the most historic discoveries known to humanity.”

  She felt a rush of emotion and swallowed. “Roger, we have found letters written by the hand of Jesus Christ. That is why Matthew is here.”

  Roger’s face went pale. “Matthew is an expert in this area, and he has confirmed that Jesus appears to be the author. Yesterday, I submitted my story about this to the paper, with all the appropriate wiggle language about further testing and review. It has generated the specter of a threat that was unexpected but is very real.”