11: Decision

Alex sat in the bus ignoring the talk around him. He stared out the window but did not really see the scenery. He was too lost in his own thoughts to bother. He was still trying to come to grips with what had happened Tuesday night at the bar. Even as he dutifully attended the classes or the field trips, his mind kept wandering back to that night. He couldn’t get the image of Ambrose and Della out of his mind, cast as they were in the leading role of that last song Darren Harper had sung. At least, that was his assumption, since he actually had no idea what the man was singing. Yet, the story that seemed to come before his eyes had felt so real, more vivid than any dream or daydream he’d ever had.

Even now, several days later, he could almost smell the sea salt in the air and feel the wind brushing his hair. And every once in a while he caught himself humming, or trying to hum, one of the tunes he’d heard that night. The music still haunted him and once he woke from a sound sleep convinced that someone was playing the same music outside his window, which was absurd, for his room was on the third floor and the window was shut tight with the black-out shade pulled down, for the sun still ruled the night skies.

He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the seat.

And if that wasn’t enough, there was Loren DelaFiore. The last thing he’d expected was having lunch with the man. More surprising was the little boy, happily chattering in that stupid made up language and Zach even corrected him! It made no sense. And this nom d’elf business! Really!

"I think he was a king or something."

Alex opened his eyes to see Derek staring at him.

"Excuse me?"

Derek grinned. "You just asked who Finrod was and I said he was a king."

Alex grimaced. Had he been thinking out loud? That would never do. He gave himself a mental shake. "And you know this how?"

Derek’s grin grew wider. "I’ve been reading ahead in the history book," he admitted. "If I remember correctly, he was the king of some place called Nagor-something. Can’t remember exactly. He got eaten by a werewolf."

Alex felt his eyebrows leave his forehead. "Eaten by a werewolf? Are you serious? This is what they call history?" He shook his head in disbelief and turned back to the window. He felt more than saw Derek shrug.

"Hey! I’m only telling you what I read. Anyway, forget about history. You want to take that orange trail Loren recommended?"

Alex gave a shrug. "It’s as good a choice as any, I suppose. Zach said he enjoyed it and so did Mrs. Lord."

"I didn’t notice a ring on her finger," Derek said. "She may not be a missus."

"She’s got kids."

"So? Maybe the husband is out of the picture."

"And why are we suddenly interested in whether or not she’s available?" Alex couldn’t help asking, giving Derek a leer.

"Hey! Don’t look at me. You’re the one who’s eyes went all glowy at the sight of her."

"What?"

Derek nodded, giving him a sly look. "I know when a man’s been stricken by the beauty of a woman. I’m not blind, you know."

Alex just stared at his friend in disbelief. Of course he had admired the woman, who looked to be in her mid-thirties. She was quite beautiful and if her husband, assuming she had one, had done a bunk on her, he was a bloody fool. But that didn’t mean he’d fallen for her. In his line of work, such emotional entanglements were dangerous, both for him and for the woman. He’d been very careful about that.

"My eyes were not glowy," he protested with a snort of disgust. "You just had the sun in your eyes, is all."

"If you say so," Derek replied with a smirk.

"Can we change the subject?" Alex demanded and Derek was mature enough and wise enough to leave off the teasing.

"You were pretty good in the Sindarin class today," he said by way of apology. "I was impressed with how well you got what Gil was saying about accusatives and datives."

Alex gave him a startled look, not expecting the praise. "I’ve always been good with languages. That’s why I was a translator."

"So how many languages can you speak?"

"Fluently? Well, not including English, which my mom insists I don’t speak," he gave Derek a wry look and his roommate laughed, "I guess five or six and I can make myself understood in maybe three more."

Derek whistled in appreciation. "And I thought I was doing well to be able to speak Spanish and Japanese."

"It’s more than most Americans can do," Alex said with a grin.

Their conversation was interrupted by the bus arriving at the national park entrance and they were too busy getting organized for their walk to do much talking. A number of other students were also walking the orange trail. Derek seemed to know some of them but Alex did not. Introductions were made and they set off.

Almost as soon as he stepped on the trail, he felt a sense of calm and peace seep into him. When he walked under the trees and breathed in their piney scent, he felt refreshed and all the doubts and uncertainties cluttering his soul fell away. By the time they finished the walk, he was smiling and quietly engaged in conversation with a couple of the other students who were also from back East, comparing notes and becoming friends. He allowed himself to be Alex and Artemus and his mission were shunted aside for a time.

And this time, once dinner was over with, he stayed for the movie, which turned out to be "Sister Act" with Whoopi Goldberg. At first, Alex felt uncomfortable, seeing Whoopi’s character hiding in the convent pretending to be someone she wasn’t. It was a bit too close to home. But then he shrugged, deciding there was no ulterior message to the film aimed at him, and sat back to enjoy Whoopi’s performance. Still, at the end, he felt a sense of sadness steal over him. Whoopi’s character had found friendship and acceptance among the other nuns and she’d found a whole new purpose for her life. Looking around at his fellow students, laughing and joking and enjoying each other’s company, he realized that however much he might wish it otherwise, he was and always would be an outsider, living on the fringes of normal life. Espionage was a lonely business but, for the first time in his life, he knew himself to be lonely and resented it.

When Derek mentioned going with some of their friends to play cards in the game room, Alex declined, stating that all that fresh air earlier had tired him out and he wanted to get a good night’s rest. Bidding the others goodnight, he made his way to his room. When he got there he found a fat manila envelope leaning against the door.

Picking it up he saw his nom d’guerre scrawled across it and with a sinking feeling ceased to be Alex Grant and became once again Artemus Gordon Meriwether. After securing the door and turning on the light, he crossed to his desk, slitting the envelope open as he sat, drawing out several sheets of paper and some photos. As he suspected, the papers contained all the information the Agency had been able to gather on the people running the Academy. Maddy had had her people gathering the information during the intervening months before he left for Alaska and this was the result. He already knew something about each of the people running the Academy, but not every detail.

He shifted through the papers, rapidly reading, until he found the one on Loren DelaFiore. No record of birth or parentage. No known relatives. Last residence was in California where he worked in Search and Rescue. Alex stared at the date on which Loren supposedly began working in SAR and blinked.

No, that was impossible. There had to be a mistake. Maybe there’d been another Loren DelaFiore back then, perhaps a father. That would make sense — a son bearing his father’s name and going into the same line of work. And yet...

He glanced through the rest of the pages, noticing the discrepancies. Dates too early or too late. None of the people who’d been photographed seemed to have parents or family of any sort. Roy and Dan Ronaldson.... Gil Winters... Ron and Holly Brightman... Sarah... their daughter? He flipped back to re-read the information on the Brightmans. Again no record of marriage or a birth certificate for Sarah. So why is she their daughter and not Holly’s sister as he’d assumed?

He sighed in frustration. The information before him, or lack thereof, was next to useless. It was obvious that whoever put this packet together had no clue as to what they were looking at. They were just collectors of information. It was up to him to determine what it all meant and at the moment it meant nothing but more questions.

He put the papers down for the moment and picked up the photos which were paper-clipped together with a note attached. It read: ‘Ran a global photo identification scan. The computer came up with these’. Unclipping the photos, he glanced at the first one. It was a group shot in black and white, a bit grainy but the people were clearly identifiable. He stared at it for the longest time in disbelief. No... this couldn’t be. He looked on the back of the photo where someone had written a brief description of the scene and the people in it. Drawing the desk lamp closer for better illumination he studied the picture in greater depth.

There could be no mistake. It was definitely Loren DelaFiore or his twin brother and on either side of him were Roy and Dan, though he could not have said who was who. That, in and of itself, was not the problem. The problem was where the photo had been taken and when. The three were in uniform, wearing Red Cross bands on their arms. They were obviously part of a military medical corps. The problem was, the uniforms were too early. He could almost allow that they might have been involved in the Gulf War back in the nineties, but these uniforms were all wrong. He knew enough of military history to know that.

No, these uniforms were not of today’s army. According to this photograph, Loren, Dan and Roy had been part of the army medical corps back in the Second World War, nearly seventy years before. The photo was taken, according to the description on the back, in 1944 in France.

He looked at the next photo. It showed the person he knew as Barry Underwood, whom he knew was one of the other Sindarin teachers. Again it was a group shot but this time Barry was the only recognizable person in the picture. It, too, was in black and white and the people in it wore costumes of a much earlier period. From the woman’s dress, he would say somewhere in the early 20's of the last century. Looking at the description on the back, Alex wasn’t too surprised to read: ‘Egypt: Valley of the Kings, January 1923, Howard Carter, Lord Carnarvon, Lady Evelyn Herbert....’

Alex ceased to read the other names of the people in the photo. Valley of the Kings? Howard Carter? God, this must be when Carter found King Tut’s tomb! He looked again at the photo, opening a drawer in the desk and pulling out a magnifying glass and another manila envelope in which were copies of the photos sent to the Agency. He rummaged through them until he found Barry’s photo, then placed it next to the one showing Carter’s expedition. He was ready to accept that the person standing next to Lady Evelyn was perhaps Barry’s grandfather, but the similarities between the two photos were too close. Only identical twins would have the exact same features. If Barry Underwood was a descendant of the man in the photo his features may have been similar but could not have been exactly the same. Underwood’s genetic makeup would include characteristics from his mother’s side of the family. So unless cloning of humans had been possible in 1923....

Glancing at the back of the photo again he ran down the names listed. Bartholomew Woods. Well it was close to Barry Underwood. Not having an answer as to how Barry Underwood and Bartholomew Woods could be one and the same person he started to look at the other two photos when he heard a key in the door and with one swift motion, he pushed everything in the drawer, then grabbed the history textbook and opened it randomly, pretending to read. He only vaguely saw that he’d opened it to a chapter entitled, ‘The Founding of Nargothrond and Gondolin’ before he looked up as Derek entered the room.

"Hey, I thought you’d be sleeping by now," Derek said.

"Me, too, but for some perverse reason my body decided to wake up again, so I decided to read." He closed the book. "You weren’t long. I thought you were playing cards."

"I was, but for some reason, I couldn’t concentrate and kept making stupid calls. Decided I’d had enough humiliation for one night and left the others still laughing at my dismal playing abilities." He flashed him a wry grin and Alex returned it.

"Well, I guess we should both try to sleep then," he said. He stood and leaned towards the window to pull the black-out shade all the way down. "Still can’t get used to having the sun still up when I’m ready to fall into bed."

Derek chuckled. "Just wait a few months and then you’ll have the opposite problem."

Alex nodded and ten minutes later they were turning off the light. Derek was quietly snoring a few minutes after that but Alex lay there staring up at the ceiling thinking about the people in the photos, wondering how they could possibly be the same people in the here and now. He did not remember falling asleep but he remembered dreaming of Egypt and finding King Tut’s tomb.

****

Alex woke to see that it was only four-thirty. Derek was still sound asleep. Sometime in the night in the midst of his dreams he had come to a decision and it was time to put it into action. He quietly gathered his things together and went to take a shower. Coming back to the room, he scribbled a note, letting his roommate know he was going into town, and then left, but not before he took out a small case from the bottom drawer of his dresser and slipped it into a messenger bag, which he took with him. He met no one along the way as he exited the campus. Stopping at a Dunkin’ Donuts that had just opened, he ordered an egg sandwich and a cup of coffee, then continued on his way, making towards the mansion he’d discovered on his last walk into town.

When he reached his destination, he walked more slowly, taking in every detail. There were few other houses here and the grounds surrounding the house were fairly extensive, bordered by a stone wall that was only chest high, though it was topped by a wrought-iron fence with spikes that would deter all but the most determined intruder. The entrance was gated, but he noticed the gate was open and he thought perhaps it was never closed. He stood indecisively for a moment and then, stealing a glance around to see if he was alone, slipped inside the gate and made his way to the left, using some trees as cover. He should have been doing this at night, but that would’ve meant coming out here at two in the morning, which was about when it got dark enough to be considered dark and he wouldn’t have had much time for the sky would’ve been lightning up by three. He figured, this early in the morning on a Saturday, everyone would be sleeping in.

He walked the perimeter of the grounds, keeping to the cover of trees of which there were plenty, taking an inventory of the house, noting the number of windows and doors. While the front lawn was carefully manicured and fairly open with flower beds artistically placed, the back was a different story. He gave a low whistle at the profusion of flowers and trees. There wasn’t a speck of grass anywhere that he could see. A crushed-stone path wended its way through the garden and there was an open area where patio furniture was laid out surrounding what looked to be a fire pit.

Glancing up at the house, he saw the windows were all shuttered and he assumed that its inhabitants still slept. Carefully stepping through the garden, keeping as close to the wall as possible, he worked his way around to continue his surveillance, memorizing as best he could the layout of the place. Once he was satisfied that he knew where every exit was, he hunkered down between two trees, screened from the house by a large flowering bush and thought things through.

It would be impossible for him to enter the house without knowing the layout inside or the number of people who lived there. He could find an excuse to get inside the house if needed but he thought it safer not to try just yet. So, the outside would have to do. From the look of things, the back garden appeared to be a popular gathering place. He had noticed that the fire pit was full of ashes. This was probably as good as it was going to get for him. Opening the messenger bag, he slipped the small case out. It was about the size of a paperback, but thinner. Inset on the lid was a small keypad. He quickly keyed in the code that unlocked the case, hearing a satisfying click. Opening it, he carefully examined its contents, finally choosing two of the smaller electronic bugs, closing the case and shoving it back into the bag. Looking around, he could see a small table near the fire pit. Sidling carefully around the tree hiding him from the house, he crept over to the table and planted the bug underneath it.

He was about to try to plant the second bug in another location when the sound of a door opening caused him to freeze. He could hear someone speaking but couldn’t make out the words, nor could he see who it was. The voice did not get any closer and the door shut, leaving him in silence once again. He counted slowly to twenty before he dared move, listening with all his might for any sign that another was in the garden with him. Birds sang in the trees and the wind rustled through the garden but he detected no other movement. Deciding to cut his losses, he slipped the second bug in his pocket and sidled back to where he’d been hiding before, meaning to pick up his bag and maybe see if he could climb the back wall and make his escape. He had a feeling going out the front gate was no longer an option for him.

He retrieved the bag and, keeping low, headed back to the wall and began climbing it. The spikes topping the wrought-iron fence were lethal looking and would deter most people, but Alex had had experience in getting in and out of places far more fortified than this and was quickly on the other side. Instead of someone’s backyard he found himself in a small meadow with dark trees bordering it on the other side. He did not move immediately, but pulled out the case again and upon opening it, brought out what appeared to be an iPad or Blackberry but was more sophisticated than either. There was a small keypad below a screen. He punched in a code and an icon of a scarab beetle appeared on the screen. Keying in additional commands, he watched in satisfaction as the icon began glowing, telling him that it was now linked to the bug he’d planted.

The range was not far and he wouldn’t be able to take the device with him. He would have to plant it somewhere safe where it could be easily retrieved. Walking along the wall, keeping one eye on the icon to see if it still glowed and keeping the other eye out for a suitable hiding place, he was nearly back to the road when he noticed that part of the wall was crumbling and there was a section that was not as smooth as the rest. Examining it closely, he dug some of the loose stone and mortar away until there was an indented area just wide enough to shove the transceiver in where it would not move. Stepping away, he smiled in satisfaction. Unless one was looking directly at it, you could not see the hole he’d made.

Wiping the stone dust off his hands, he continued back to the road, being careful to check to see if anyone was about. The street was empty. Deciding to make the lie a truth, he turned right and headed down the street towards Kodiak, which would lead into town. Maybe he would do a bit of shopping before returning to the college. He walked in a nonchalant manner, his hands in his pockets, satisfied with himself, snickering at the thought of buying a postcard and sending it to Maddy with the typical ‘Wish you were here’ message. He could well imagine what the D.D.’s reaction to that would be.

Feeling happy and secure with himself for the first time since arriving in Wiseman, he began whistling a spritely tune, unaware that everything he’d done in planting the bug had been quietly noted.

****

Note: Howard Carter discovered King Tut’s tomb in November 1922 but did not reach the inner chamber until the following February. Until then, he and his crew were busy cataloguing the items found in the antechamber. Lady Evelyn was Lord Carnarvon’s daughter and accompanied her father when Carter summoned him to the tomb.