Conspiracy of Bones (And the Beat Goes On)

by Tracy Krauss

  He reached the spot where he had parked his SUV and stopped. It wasn’t there. Maybe he’d parked elsewhere. He looked around the parking lot. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Stolen? Surely not today, of all days. That would be just his luck, on top of everything else.

  He reached for his cellphone, ready to punch in Anthony’s number and tell him the ‘good’ news. Then he’d have to go inside and report it to the hotel staff and the police.

  He stopped abruptly on his way back toward the lobby. There was a vehicle just peeking its nose out around the back corner of the building. It looked to be the same colour as his.

  He pocketed the cell phone and strode in that direction. What in the world was going on here? His pace slowed as the entire vehicle came into view.

  "What the -?"

  Someone had taken what looked to be a baseball bat to the body of the car. Huge dents to the roof and side panels, a crumpled grill, and slashed tires greeted his eyes like yawning wounds. Anger, mixed with a touch of fear, welled up inside. He wondered if the motor still ran.

  He approached the vehicle, about to pop the hood, when suddenly he was jumped from behind.

  What happened next was a blur of blows. He was punched, kicked and kneed by some unknown assailant with vice like arms and quick movements. He never got a good look at him, although he did note the ski mask over the face, and the grunts of breath being expelled. By the time he came to on the pavement, lying next to his equally battered SUV, the perpetrator was long gone.

  With a groan, Mark pulled himself into an upright position. No doubt about it now. This was no random act of violence. Somebody was out to play hardball.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  "You’re late." Anthony stopped in his tracks. "Oh my goodness, what happened to you?"

  "I’m thinking of cancelling,” Mark mumbled out of the side of his mouth. It hurt to talk and even more so to smile.

  "What? You can’t do that. After all we’ve been through."

  "Look at me.” Mark gestured to a blackened eye. "It was no phantom that did this."

  "What happened?" Anthony asked.

  "I was jumped coming out of my hotel this morning. I think I got one good shot in before I got the you-know-what totally kicked out of me," Mark said. "Somebody took a baseball bat to my car besides. So, let’s see. By the time I called the cops and then went down to the hospital, I’d say I did pretty well to show up at all."

  "But you did" Rocco slapped Mark on the back, causing him to wince. "Oh, sorry, Amigo."

  "Rocco?" Mark blinked. He turned to Anthony. “Who let this guy in?" he smiled and instantly regretted it.

  "He just showed up off the street.” Anthony grinned. "Not long before you arrived, in fact."

  "I knew you wouldn’t let them stop you," Rocco said.

  "Who?" Anthony asked.

  "The International Conspiracy," Mark supplied glibly. "I’m not sure it’s worth it."

  "You can’t let them win," Rocco stated. "Not when we’re this close."

  "This isn’t it," Mark said, gesturing at his bruised face. "Last night I received some threatening phone calls, too.”

  "What kind of threats?" Anthony asked.

  "Against my girlfriend back home."

  "You’ve taken up with somebody new?” Rocco asked.

  Mark just nodded. "My Dad’s looking out for her. In the mean time, I’m just not sure it’s really worth it. I don’t care so much about my own safety, but if anything ever happened to her or my family, I’d never forgive myself.”

  "Don’t you get it, man?" Rocco asked. "This is exactly why you need to get the information out there, and fast. If it means that much to the international conspiracy, then it must be worth sharing. You’re the man of the hour. It’s up to you to blow the lid on this thing once and for all."

  Mark let out a deep sigh. "Right."

  He’d come this far. There was no turning back now.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  Mark stepped out of the lecture hall where the presentation had been scheduled for seven o’clock that evening. It was six thirty eight. He had just needed one last sweep of the place to make sure everything was in order. He felt nervous, but ready. There was little more that could be done now, except hope for the best. That and pray for the safety of his loved ones.

  He rounded a corner and noticed Anthony and Rocco engaged in what appeared to be some kind of heated debate. As he approached, he could definitely detect the sound of anger in their whispers.

  "Hey, you two. Everything alright?"

  "Um, absolutely," Anthony replied quickly. "Just another one of our debates. You know how it is."

  Mark nodded. He did know all about it, especially with these two. "Rocco?"

  Rocco grunted something unintelligible and turned without excusing himself. Mark and Anthony watched him stalk away.

  "He’s frowning so hard his eyebrows almost touched his moustache," Mark joked. "What did you do to ruffle his feathers now?"

  "Nothing important.” Anthony waved dismissively. "You know how he is. Sometimes, I tend to agree with Laura on the subject. The guy is definitely not stable." Anthony sighed and then his countenance brightened. "So? You all ready?"

  "Ready as I’ll ever be," Mark replied.

  Anthony nodded. "Good, good. I hate to admit this, but as much as I’ve been having a good time, with all the subterfuge and all, I’ll be glad when it’s over."

  "Amen to that," Mark agreed.

  "Shall we?" Anthony asked, gesturing toward the lecture hall doors.

  "After you," Mark said.

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  "And now, without further adieu, may I present to you, Dr. Mark Graham." Dr. Hazzard stepped back from the podium to resounding applause. Even though the event had been practically kept under wraps, there was still a good crowd. News traveled fast, apparently.

  Mark was seated in the front row and stood slowly. It was now or never. As he approached the podium, he scanned the crowd. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Potential assassins, perhaps? He put that thought well away. Besides Anthony and the faculty members he had met, there was no one else familiar. Just do it, come what may.

  "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues and fellow scientists. I hope you’re ready to be amazed, for that is what I was, and still am, after discovering what I am about to share with you tonight. For some of you, it may seem like the stuff of legends; it may rock some firmly entrenched ideas about the history of our planet, as it did for me. For others it will solidify what you already believe to be true. In either case, let me assure you of the most painstaking and meticulous methodology possible. Let me take you now on a journey, to a faraway place in a far away time…”

  ◇ ◇ ◇

  More applause. Congratulations, handshakes, questions, schmoozing. It was all a blur as Mark was circulated through the room. That the presentation was well received there was no doubt, but then again, this was a Christian institution. Only time would tell how the rest of the scientific community responded.

  "Excellent job, partner," Anthony enthused, slapping Mark on the back.

  Mark winced, still feeling the bruises from earlier that morning.

  "Oh, sorry. I forgot already."

  "I haven’t, believe me," Mark said with a grin.

  "So? When do you think we’ll hear from the opposition?"

  "You tell me," Mark said. "You’re the one who’s been hanging around with them all these months." He hesitated. "Did I tell you Laura was in my room last night when I let myself in?"

  "No way," Anthony breathed. He seemed genuinely shocked. "For serious?"

  Mark looked at Anthony closely. "You mean you really didn’t know?" He wasn’t sure whom he could trust any more. He would like to think that Anthony was trustworthy, but he had been fooled more than once in the recent past.

  "What is that supposed to mean?" Anthony asked, clearly offended. "You think I tipped her off or something?"

  Mark j
ust shook his head dismissively. "Sorry. I guess I’m still smarting over Laura and John. Especially John."

  "Okay. Apology accepted. If that can actually be classed as an apology. So why didn’t you tell me earlier that you’d seen her?"

  "I was otherwise occupied, remember?" Mark gestured at his black eye.

  "Good thing field archaeologists of your calibre are supposed to look rugged," Anthony said with a smirk, peering more closely at the damage. "So, I’d say that if Laura already had the tip off, she’ll be publishing her rebuttal as we speak. Funny she wasn’t here herself."

  Mark nodded. "My thought exactly, but I didn’t see her anywhere in the crowd. Did you?"

  "I already said I didn’t.” Anthony frowned. “But if Rocco is right, there will be plenty of other spies just waiting to fill them in."

  “Speaking of Rocco, I didn’t see him either. I fully expected him here, you know?"

  Anthony shrugged. “Who knows with that guy?”

  Mark glanced sideways at his friend. "What were you two fighting about earlier, anyway?"

  "I think I offended him when I questioned his secret intelligence sources a little too closely. I mean, I agree that there is definitely something going on that is not above board, but he makes it sound like some kind of ‘mission impossible’ operation."

  "Whoever attacked me and wrecked my car was real enough."

  "True."

  "Which reminds me, I need to make a phone call."

  "Want me to come along?" Anthony asked. "You might need a body guard."

  "No, that’s okay. I’ll just find a quiet corner. I won’t go too far." He noticed another enthusiastic audience member approaching with more questions. "Take these ones for me, will you?"

  "Gotcha.” Anthony saluted. "I’ll add question deferrer to my list of credentials."

  Mark slipped from the room and found an empty corner in a nearby hallway to make his call.

  "Amy!" His heart flooded with relief when she answered.

  "Mark?"

  "I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice. You’re okay? Everything is okay?"

  "Um, yeah."

  "I really miss you." He waited but she didn’t respond. "About this morning, I’m sorry it seemed like I was being over protective. It’s just, well, when I get home I can explain everything."

  "I should hope so."

  Mark frowned. There was a definite edge of annoyance to her voice. "Listen, Amy. I know you don’t want to hear it, but just be careful, okay?"

  "Just what is going on, Mark?" she asked point blank.

  "I gave a presentation today on my findings in Africa," he tried to sound enthusiastic. "It went well, I think."

  "Oh right. You and your archaeologist friends."

  "It is what I do for a living." There was silence on the other end for a moment. Mark thought he heard the distinct sound of a sob. "Amy? What’s happened? Are you alright?" he asked anxiously.

  "Why can’t you just come right out and say it?" Amy cried. "I thought you had at least that much integrity?"

  "Amy? What are you talking about? If it’s the fact that I haven’t told you much about my trip, I promise I’ll fill you in when it’s safe to do so."

  "I’ll just bet!"

  "Pardon me?"

  "When were you going to tell me about her, Mark?" Amy asked, her voice full of despair. "Or were you planning on keeping both of us? A woman in each country, so you’d never have to sleep alone!"

  "Whoa! Hold on a minute! Now you’re making no sense at all," Mark sputtered. "Have you been talking to Harmony again? I swear when I see her next -"

  "Don’t lie to me, Mark. You’re better than that. Just tell me, honestly. Have you seen Laura since you’ve been in Texas?"

  "Well, yes, but -" Renewed crying on the other end drowned out whatever else he might have said. "Amy, it’s not like that. We’re former colleagues. Of course we’re bound to meet up with one other on occasion."

  "But you invited her to your room!" Amy cried. "And to think I almost slept with you!"

  "Amy! That’s not true. Who told you that? It’s ridiculous! It’s -"

  "Was she or was she not in your room with you - alone?" Amy asked.

  "Okay, now I’m getting angry," Mark said. "Just who have you been talking to?"

  "Answer the question."

  "Yes, but -"

  "I never want to see you again, Mark," she stated. The finality in her voice gave Mark the shivers.

  He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Amy, you don’t know what you’re saying. Did Laura contact you? Is that it?" He let out a frustrated growl. "I can’t believe she would stoop that low. I told her flat out that I was not interested in her anymore. That I was seeing someone else now. You."

  "Good bye, Mark," Amy whispered.

  "Amy, wait," Mark pleaded. "Please, just let me explain."

  Click. She’d hung up on him.

  All the elation he’d felt after his presentation was now as flat as a deflated balloon. It meant very little, when his heart was breaking.

  The urge to redial was strong. If he could just get her to listen to reason. Her phone rang until the voice mail picked up. He listened intently to the sweet sound of her voice telling him to leave a message. What could he say? He ended the call without saying anything and pushed off the wall with his shoulder.

  Just as he turned, he saw Dr. Hazzard approaching, and nodded.

  "Well done!" Dr. Hazzard enthused. "Your colleague said you had just slipped out to make a call. Everything all right?"

  “A family emergency," Mark said.

  "Oh? Not too grave, I hope?”

  "It’ll keep till tomorrow," Mark hedged.

  "Good, good. So many people have so many questions. Your findings are absolutely ground breaking. Shall we go back inside?"

  "Yes, of course," Mark replied woodenly.

  "About that incandescent lighting in the antechamber…”

  Mark followed the professor back into the room, nodding like an automaton to passing well-wishers as he tried to concentrate on what the doctor was saying.

  "Dr. Graham?"

  "Yes?? Mark snapped himself back to attention.

  "I thought I had lost you there for a moment," Dr. Hazzard laughed good-naturedly.

  "Oh, sorry," Mark apologized.

  "Thinking of that family emergency?" Dr. Hazzard asked sympathetically.

  "Uh, yes," Mark agreed with a sheepish grin. "And the irony of this whole evening."

  "Irony? What do you mean?"

  "Well, it does seem a tad ironic that a fence sitter like me should be the current hero at a Christian university."

  "Ah.” Dr. Hazzard nodded. "Of course, the difficulty with the creation model for most people is not the logic behind it, or the evidence, for that matter. Quite simply, if one believes in the creation model, then one must also believe in a Creator. And there, as they say, is the rub." Dr. Hazzard’s eyes twinkled.

  "Indeed," Mark agreed flatly.

  "No pressure.” Dr. Hazzard slapped him on the back, bringing a wince from mark. "Just think on it later, after you’ve enjoyed your accolades."

  “Do you mind if I excuse myself for just a minute? I find I’m in need of some fresh air."

  "No problem," the doctor said. "This party isn’t going anywhere."

  Mark pushed his way through the crowd, avoiding eye contact that might lead to more questions. Once outside the building, he let out a pent up breath.

  He believed it himself, deep down. Of course all the evidence pointed to God - to the Biblical model. It was wearing him out trying to justify his findings and still not put his faith in the one who created it all. So why was he still resisting? It’s what his family wanted. What Amy wanted. Why was he so stubborn in not just doing it?

  Accept Christ now, idiot!

  He looked up at the night sky, glowing orange with the artificial light of urbanity. It was a far cry from the African sky, bejewelled each night with diamonds from he
aven. It was a far cry from what the ancients would have seen, magnified tenfold under the canopy of crystalline hydrogen.

  What would it have been like, he wondered? To live back then, so close to the beginning of creation? Men were as evil then as they are now. They didn't believe, even though the evidence was right before their eyes.

  Mark blinked. Okay, so it wasn’t an audible voice, but if ever he’d felt like God had just talked to him…

  He shivered.

  "Okay, God," he said aloud. "I can’t deny your existence any longer. But like Dr. Hazzard said, if I believe in the creator, I have to take the whole package. You know I’m kind of stubborn, though. So you’re going to have to help me in that department. P.S. Can you help me win Amy back?"

  He smiled, a very surreal peace coming over him. Should he go back inside and field more questions? Naw… he’d talked enough for one night. He just wanted to go back to his hotel room and mull this new faith thing over a bit. Wait until he told his folks.

  Until he told Amy, if she would listen.

  He dialled the cab company he had used earlier that day.

  Let whomever come and beat him to a pulp while he waited. He didn’t care about much right at the moment, except basking in this strange light that had nothing to do with the urban glow.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mark opened his eyes gradually to greet the morning light that was filtering through the partly opened drapes in his hotel room. He hadn’t slept this well in weeks, he realized. With a satisfied smile, he stretched languorously and relaxed back against the pillows, arms behind his head. It was his first day as a brand new person. Despite all that could happen, he felt strangely peaceful about the future.

  He should probably call his folks. Then he would work on Amy. Or maybe he should wait until he got back home and deliver the good news in person. Yeah, that seemed like a better idea. But Anthony - now that guy deserved a bit of gloating time, even if it was way too early in the morning. That would be half the fun. Mark smiled at the thought of what Anthony would say, and reached for the phone.