But the one thing she needed had eluded her. She needed to find another artifact, another tool, figure or item that could be also authenticated as being Roman. The figure she had discovered had raised the eyebrows of the archaeological societies all over the world, but one discovery would be discounted as an aberration something that wasn't truly representative of the link between Rome and North America.
She also knew that she might spend the next five years digging and not finding that needed bit of confirmation. Oh, she also knew that she would continue discovering the early History Of Man In Mexico And That Would Be An Added Chapter In The History Of Man. But She did want to confirm this early connection.
Since returning from Canada she hadn't had the nightmare that had so shaken her. For that she was thankful. Nightmares were hellish things. She had heard a physiologist say that a nightmare was a part of your inner self fighting with who you thought you were, who you wanted to be and who you actual were. That was a terrible thing to say and the talk show host had to spent the next 30 minutes calming the irate callers that it was just one man's opinion. Did she already have the answer that she thought she needed? Or was she just fooling herself? The remembrance of that terrible scene on board the bomber with a scream of engines and the feeling of the plane plunging to its death was so real that she still shuddered to thing about it. Nightmares were terrible things!
* * *
Nightmares affect people in different ways. Some use alcohol to reduce the terror by drowning them. Others fight the needs of the body, as well as the mind by avoiding sleep. Others still just cross their fingers and hope that they could survive the night and not suffer from the journey into hell.
Alexus Kromanskia's nights often ended in screams of terror. He knew that if he looked himself in a mirror he would see a man reduced to a screaming maniac. But he couldn't help it. Too many years living in a man-made steel coffin; too many years knowing that the pressures of water on the hull could crush his submarine had left scars. He had been too long at sea and maybe that night when a Canadian frigate had thrown a depth charge in front of them as a sign of things to come had marred his psyche for life.
He remembered each second of that night. He had thought himself clever in getting to the spot on the northern tip of Vancouver Island. He had already avoided a confrontation with a Canadian destroyer earlier. But he had never expected to be caught like a rat in a trap.
The frigate had come up to them without them seeing it in time. Somehow his lookouts had failed to see the ship make its stealthy approach. But the shock of that depth charge had blown away any pretense of getting away. His eardrums had nearly been shattered. He had left the bridge for just a moment and that explosion had made him scream in fright like a small stupid boy. When he had rushed to the bridge he saw the danger and knew there was no escape.
Miracles do happen. All governments whether West or East have incompetent leaders and that night they had avoided having the real reason for being inside Canadian territorial waters discovered. For two days they had their scuba teams working on the sea bottom gathering up the remains of an atomic bomb. It was not the one they had hoped to find, it was a good consolation prize. The bomber had disappeared into the dark night. That was strange in itself. They had been near where the bomb had been jettisoned just like the official plan. The bomber was in trouble. Through his binoculars he had seen the three engines aglow with flames. Nothing could survive long once flames like that took hold of a wing. It was only a matter of seconds or minutes before the gas tanks would ignite and blow the plane into oblivion.
He had seen the parachutes fluttering down like dandelion seeds, but he had not attempted to rescue any of the aircrew.
No, someone else would do that. He couldn't afford to have his presence known. So, some might drown. Some might be injured and not be able to fend for themselves. But he had his orders and that's what he did.
And so he had concocted the stupid story of a storm at sea and him losing his way. God, it was so thin a tale anyone who had sailed in anything larger than a row boat could see it was a lie. But it worked. He wasn't forced to allow Canadian sailors on board to check things out. If they had seen how their submarine had been modified to carry a large 15,000 pound bomb then all hell would have broken out. But no one had called him on his foolish tale. They had been escorted outside the 12-mile limit and left to fend for themselves.
He had been thankful. Maybe there was a God after all. But that experience and the memory of having a depth charge explode off their bow had done more damage than anyone could see.
So each night was a living hell. Too many times he had been caught in the sonar pings of the enemy. Too many times he had lain on the seabed breathing air that had long since gone stale to avoid the waiting hunters on the surface. Praying with the rest of the crew that they would not throw any more depth charges. That night off the Canadian shore had been the straw that had not only broken his back, but destroyed his mind.
He never heard what happened to the men who had planned the mission. Had they died in the crash? The bosses were happy to have something to work on. The remains of the bomb would be used to help them keep up with the might of the American military machine. But it was the other bomb that had been important. That bomb was not just the standard bomb. He had been briefed that it was the latest design and had more bells and whistles that would put an enemy permanently in the subservient role for a long time. Somewhere in some hidden place a bomb was waiting. He doubted that the U.S. would admit that it was missing. Somewhere, whether at the bottom of the sea or in the mountains of B.C. that bomb was waiting! Maybe the man who had concocted this bold scheme was out there looking.
Chapter Twelve - Questions And Death
Jake didn't really expect the call from General Forest to come so quickly. He knew that the General would have to make subtle and discreet calls to old buddies and people who owed him for past promotions and the like. So when the call came on the third evening of his visit to New York he knew that something had happened.
It was the soft and efficient voice of the General's secretary's, Betty Fretin, on the line. She played her role well, but both knew that she was part of the conspiracy if one could categorize what they were doing as a conspiracy.
"Jake, I hope you haven't made plans to dinner tonight!"
It wasn't a question, but a direct order.
"The General is having an intimate dinner this evening with one or two close friends and he wondered if you could be a member of that group?"
So the General had called in his troops. Jake couldn't help wondering what was going to happen.
"Yes Betty, that would be very nice indeed. I hope you will grace us with your presence?"
He could almost see the smile spread across her face.
"Jake, you old smoothie I wouldn't miss it for the world. There are some very strange items on the menu. I think you might have to order 'a la carte'!"
When Jake put the phone back on its cradle he had to smile. Betty always had the ability of saying the last word. The last word from her was usually more like a thousand words. So the information he needed to clear up the mystery of Sarah's father's flight might be at this dinner meeting. He wondered if he was now on dangerous ground. Some secrets were not the sort to be shared. Some secrets carried a penalty and he was not immune to the knowledge that some secrets carried the death penalty.
"Oh Sarah, I hope I know what I am doing!" he said out loud, putting into words what was troubling him. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound as the British might say.
It was time to dress. But right now he didn't know if he should dress in black to fit the mood that was now taking over his mind.
"Sarah, I would much rather be with you tonight. Watching you, feeling happy to be alive in your presence. Soon, I'll come to you. Soon, I hope to know the secret that has been kept from you and your mother."
These words would be in his mind all night. But he had made a commitment and he never wen
t back on his word. And his word held a hope that he might be able to share a world of archaeology, history and maybe the world of small business with a woman who had captured his heart.
He dressed in the one and only suit he had brought with him. The shade was dark, not black, but it would do. He had not intended to dress for dinner. He was not here to impress anyone.
As he walked to his rented car a figure stepped out of the shadows under a grove of trees and quickly walked up from behind him. A sixth sense may have warned him. But it didn't and he felt a touch on his shoulder.
He nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to confront the stranger.
"Now what brings you out on a night like this? I thought your nights were usually booked?"
The woman smiled in her demur way.
"Jake, I'm here for only a minute and as far as you are concerned you've never seen me! Understand?"
There was something in her words that made the back of his neck tightened and he felt as if someone had just walked on his grave.
"Yes, you know me always the professional. My lips are sealed. Shoot." Why he said shoot was something that bothered him later.
"Jake, I understand that you are having an intimate dinner with a few friends!"
The way she said friends had no warmth in it.
"Yes, I am, but how you discovered that when I only just was told is beyond me."
Belinda smiled. "I'm not just a pretty face. But you are in danger. The General is on the up and up, but one of the other two is a plant. So I suggest that you avoid any conversation about what you asked me to do. I'm still working on it. But there are people who don't want certain things made public. You see it would highlight their own stupidity or worse. So be careful. If you can tell the General what is happening without anyone else overhearing you, it would be good idea. Jake, you are now on very thin ice. Your inquiry has ruffled
the feathers of more than one person. It may have been 20 years ago, but for some it's still as if that crash happened yesterday. Now I must go. Call me tomorrow night."
He watched her fade into the night. She was quite a woman and someone he was proud to call a friend. She may have slept her way to the top, but for all that she was class with a capital C.
He didn't know what to make of her warning. But he knew that she wouldn't have come to him if it weren't serious.
God, things were getting complicated. Damn, all he wanted to do was to put Sarah's mind at rest. Now it appeared that other people were more interested in putting him to rest permanently. He was late for the meeting and that was because it took him time to work out a strategy.
"Jake, you're late! They're waiting for you." Betty said, as she greeted him at the door.
There was no falseness about her greeting although now Jake doubted every one and everything.
"Oh, I was mulling over my future. Someone told me to look at my horoscope." Betty's eyes smiled. "Oh that stuff is poppy-cock."
"That's what I always believed until today. It said beware the friendly stranger. I think it has more truth than one normally expects."
Betty looked at him strangely, "are you feeling well?" she asked.
"To tell you the truth I'm not sure. But I guess I shouldn't keep them waiting."
Betty watched and then shook her head. Something was bothering Jake. He was no longer the young man she had come to expect.
"Jake, we were wondering what happened to you. May I introduce.."
But Jake didn't let him say another word,
"General, I came to you with a business proposition. I came to you as a friend to help raise funds for a profitable enterprise that needs an infusion of funds. Everything I said to you was said in private. Now I find that you have brought total strangers to this meeting. Well, I'm appalled. I didn't expect my private personal life to be broadcast as a public service announcement."
The look in the General's eyes first recorded complete shock and then something clicked in his mind. Why was Jake behaving this way? What was all this bull shit about a business proposition?
"Jake, I'm not trying to embarrass you. I just thought that some of my colleague might…"
Again Jake stopped him.
"Look, you know that The Fat Lady is well past her prime. She is dangerous and those that depend on her can be hurt. Three weeks ago she nearly killed me. I need a younger model. I need more power, more force and with a bigger reserve to do the job. That's why I came to you. I need to put the old girl out to pasture and replace her with a younger, more attuned, example. But that costs big time money. If I wanted you to go and talk to a lawyer or get the advice of a banker then I would have stayed home. I wouldn't have come to you!"
The three men looked at each other. The two strangers looked like Jake has started to flip his lid. They hadn't a clue
what Jake was talking about. The General looked crestfallen. He was no slouch as an actor once he picked up on the new agenda item.
"Jake, I'm sorry about this. Maybe we had better call the whole thing off. Gentlemen, I'm sorry I got you here tonight. I thought I had an interesting proposition to make to you, but I see that I have the cart before the horse.
Betty will see you out and once again; I'm sorry I got you here on a wild goose chase."
When the other two left, Jake remained as if he wanted to continue his outrage.
"Jake, what the hell are you playing at? I thought you were certifiable back there. Damn it, Jake, you embarrassed me and my old friends."
"I'm sorry for that General, but one of those two isn't much of a friend. I just learned minutes before coming here that one is a plant and what we were about to discuss was going to be duly reported to a higher authority that have good reasons for wanting to keep things quiet."
"What have you been drinking? That preposterous!"
Betty had heard the altercation and had wondered what had come over Jake.
"General, Jake has never played us false so we should listen to him. What was all the brown sugar about replacing The Fat Lady? I thought it was disgusting the way men use woman. Use up their beauty, their youth and then dump them for a flashier, younger model."
Jake's eyes grinned and it only made Betty angrier. "Jake, I thought you were different and now I find you like all the other males!"
"Betty, General, what I said about getting rid of or replacing The Fat Lady is the truth. Three weeks ago she just about killed me when her crane threw a wire cable. The gear released and when it did that it pinned me in forty feet of water between the two giant submerged logs. By rights I should be dead. But a younger lady jumped in and rescued me. She's the one I told you about. She's the reason I came here to ask for your help. That story tonight was a business proposal and everything I said was the truth. As for the rest and the strange behaviour General someone with their own avenues into those who control power told me my life was in danger. One of your friends was about to use what we discussed to determine if I or you or all three of us should continue to live."
Betty's face fell open and the General couldn't find anything to say. He went over to the sideboard and poured three stiff drinks and handed Betty and Jake one and held one in his own trembling hands.
"Jesus, Jake when you play ball you play hard ball!"
Jake smiled and tried to control his own shakes. "I guess I'll have to do that if I want to find out the truth about Sarah father's flight."
Betty started to laugh although she knew it was more in response to the tension than from any real humour. But the tears that rolled down her face when she discovered that The Fat Lady was a barge and not an ill-used woman, were real. She may have identified with The Fat Lady because she had always had an uphill battle to keep her own weight under control. When she heard Jake say those disparaging words well she had assumed something and now found that she was wrong.
"So you actually are talking about a business venture, as well as that other thing?" she questioned.
"Now that you ask me a direct question I guess I am. T
he Fat Lady is old, her crane is under-powered and the motor has seen better times. To get a new barge will cost money and to finance on my own only after my first healthy and profitable year is still taking a risk. So maybe I am looking for a silent partner or partners."
"Now as to that other matter," the General said, "from what you just told me things are going to be difficult. I expect they will be watching you and me like hawks so we have to be careful and discreet.
That flight is marked at the highest level of security. That means that something happened and it's not for everyone's eyes"
"Whatever it is, it smells to high heaven. There is a corollary to that flight and it might be linked to an incident in New Mexico. I know it sounds like I'm reaching for a connection, but we had one of our prototype bombs stolen right out from under our noses. It wasn't mislaid. Nor was security lax. Someone had all the papers and all the necessary clearances to move a large crate. No one can remember who it was and actually when it was moved, but the last time that crate had been verified was three weeks before Flight 2075. Now it had to take a lot of contracts and more than an army of dedicated spies or false Americans to do that. Not only did they take the bomb right out from one of the most secure weapons storage sites in this country, but they successfully removed it from the area. I think that Flight 2075 somehow was chosen to carry it.
In interviews with the surviving crews, several inconsistencies came up.
The first: was that there were unknown crew members who came on board that flight to replace two crew who had suffered either a road accident or food poisoning. Then there was an unexpected stranger who had all the credentials of military intelligence. No one knew who he was or where he came from, but he was on that flight. He has yet to be identified and was not with the group of survivors."
"As well, Flight 2075 carried extra cargo. The pilot believed that it was a sand bag weight equivalent to having a full bomb load."
"Wouldn't someone have verified if that crate was carrying what it was said to be?" Jake asked.
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